Autism, Dancing, & Kittens

In our household, a pet has been a pretty difficult thing for us to squeeze into our already hectic life. Logan's aggression issues would be a real problem if we got a dog. I am afraid a dog would bite him if provoked.

My oldest son, with high functioning autism, is an animal lover. He loves all animals big and small. So I bought him a fish. He wasn't completely disappointed with the fish. Let's be honest, a fish is hard to snuggle with, take on walks, pet, or play fetch with.

Everything changed the day before Hurricane Irene came. My husband in a hurry for work was walking down the steps and heard a small cry come from the bushes. He stopped and listened and sure enough..."meow"..."meow". He got down and looked in the bush and there sat the most adorable blonde tabby kitten. We live next to my in-laws that have three black labs that are not known for their love of cats so my husband scooped the kitten up and brought him in the house.

I said, "What are we going to do with it?" with a look of shock on my face.

Most moms would have been freaking about letting the kitten take it's chances with Hurricane Irene or the three ferocious black labs next door, but not me.

All I could think was..."Logan is going to squeeze the juice out of this kitten".

My husband was like, well we can't leave him out for the storm to sweep him away and you know if the storm doesn't get him then the labs will.

"This is true", I thought. So we named her (appropriately) Irene.

Now we are talking about an almost three year old child that has just recently gotten over his texture aversions to fleece and fur (stuffed animals and the like) and we are going to throw a fuzzy kitten into the mix. Someone shoot me now!

The boys had already left for school and when Logan woke up I showed him the kitten. The biggest grin came over him and he kept saying "Cat"..."Cat"..."Cat"...in echolalia style.

Day 1 did not go so great. It was Logan versus the Kitten and let's say...Logan won hands down.

Day 2, not much better.

Day 3, some improvement.

Day 4, the shiny started wearing off a little.

And the days came and went and after lots of scratches and lots of scolding, Logan began to realize that the cat is our friend. It took a few days but slowly but surely, Nick Jr. began to take it's number one spot back and the kitten was eased in the the second place spot.

Because we all know that dancing comes first with Logan, the cat actually got repreive when Logan's favorite shows came on. I think I actually saw the kitten smile in relief when the Fresh Beat Band comes on.

"Ahhhh...Thank God!", the cat must be saying.

I think things are going to work out just fine. Now to figure out how to keep Logan from drinking out of the water bowl.

Life's A Beach...Sometimes (Part II)

Most of you who follow my blog have already read my previous post, "Life's A Beach...Sometimes", about my son Logan's first trip to the beach. Long story short, it was a huge success. So, feeling brave we decided to go for Round 2 and stay overnight. I think considering it was an overnight trip and his schedule was not being adhered to, he did extremely well. I thought instead of telling you about how wonderful it was, I would just show you...


These are photos of Logan and his two older brothers, Blake and Landon, playing on the beaches of Emerald Isle, North Carolina.

I think the photos speak for themselves. The beach is definitely a positive sensory experience for Logan and all the children. It looks like it is our new getaway.

Just Say No To Negativity

I have noticed that I only seem to want to blog when I'm mad or need to vent.  I don't think that is doing service to my readers or my intent to spread awareness about autism.  It seems like recently, I am mad a lot.  I have tried so hard to have a positive spin and outlook on our situation.  Lately, though, it seems like everything has gotten so difficult, tiring, and overwhelming. 

I could blog about the frustration of how people mistreat us in public, or how I think we are going to have to change therapists again, or how Logan's fixations and meltdowns are ever present.  I have covered most of these topics and will cover them again here I am sure.

I was thinking a lot today about being so frustrated and overwhelemed all the time.  I don't remember ever needing to vent this much in my entire life.  What was life like before autism?  What happened to my dreams and aspirations?

Who was I before I became Autism Mom, Warrior, Advocate, and Crybaby?  Who was I?  I used to have dreams.  I used to dream of being a writer or a journalist.  I was editor of my high school newspaper and won lots of journalism awards and had my writing published.  I changed paths and went into the medical field and was darn good at what I did.  The biggest challenge I ever had to face was whether to wear white after labor day.  Those days are gone. 

Now I am constantly trying to decide if we should do floor time versus ABA.  I am trying to decide if I should peel the grape or give it to Logan with the skin on it because he doesn't like the texture.  I have to plan a trip to Walmart like a CIA operative.  Every turn, twist, and bend in the road has to be strategically planned out with backup plans and Plan B options.  I have never had to think ahead so much in my entire life. 

There are lots of things in my life that should be celebrated and my children are at the top of that list.  I don't mean to sound like a Debbie-Downer.  I just seem to always have plenty to say about the negatives and the down-side of raising children with autism.

I think it is selfish to think about my dreams and wishes, so I push them out of my mind.  I think that may be why I am finding myself more and more negative.  I can't even remember the last time I had my hair cut?  Everyone keeps saying, "Oh, you are growing your hair out!".  I just smile.  Truth is...I hate it.  I just can't find an hour to make an appointment at the salon and then there is the dilemma of who will keep Logan. 

There is this little part of me that wants to cry and stomp my feet and bang my head.  I want to go to the mall and go shopping...alone.  I want to drive the beach and stay for the weekend.  I want to get a pedicure and manicure.  Just little things that lots of women do that I don't get to do.  At this point in my life dreams aren't even really dreams...they are just simple daily activities that normal women do that I don't get to do.  I am sad about it.

So when I hear a woman complaining about how she wants to go back to school and get her Masters but she has to wait until her kids are out of school, I cringe because all I can think is how I need a pap smear and can't get one.  What is wrong with me?  This is not the right attitude, but I can't shake these negative feelings and jealousy that has started creeping up on me. 

I am jealous when I read on Facebook that one of my friends is about to start their vacation.  I am jealous when I see a Facebook status that says "Girls Night".  I am even jealous when I read, "Just read the best book on my Kindle".  These things are foreign to me because I am cleaning crayon out of my child's mouth, wiping poop off the crib bars, and heading off meltdowns. 

The insanity has to stop.  I don't like the person that I am becoming.  It seems I can be positive and inspirational to every parent out there raising a child with autism, other than myself. 

Going to start working on cleansing my mind and my attitude.  It all starts with me, not the autism.

Welcome To The Future

Welcome me into the future because we now have DVR.  Yes, it's true, we went from dragging our knuckles last week to now having a dvr receiver in our home.  Who knew that life could be so good?



The dvr was originally supposed to be for me, but, of course, it is being dominated by Logan.  This is a good thing, though.  After receiving the dvr, I realized that I can record all of Logan's favorite shows and new episodes.  No more dvds and changing them out every 10 minutes.  This is revolutionary, although I am about a decade behind, I think.




Logan was also assigned a new service coordinator this week.  Let's just say I have been at a loss for words regarding his previous service coordinator.  Not to sound pretentious, but she was really a redneck, missing teeth, just very backwoods and was constantly telling me that Logan "ain't that badly autistic".  What does that even mean?  She came one day in 1984 acid washed jeans, a pre-pubescent, hot pink, skin-tight, athletic jersey-style t-shirt with the "14" on the front and a pair of rubber flip flops.  You know the flip flops...the ones that we used to get out of the bin at the dime store when we were kids.  Please don't misread what I am saying, I am not being condescending.  My point is this lady works for a state agency and comes into people's homes as a professional and this is just not an outfit or a persona that is screaming "trust me" or "you are in good hands".



Our Service Coordinator (ok...maybe I am exaggerating just a little)


So our new service coordinator came this week and to put it mildly, I wasn't expecting anything earthshattering.  I was pleasantly surprised.  His new coordinator was professional, articulate, and most importantly KNOWLEDGABLE. 

She was very concerned that Logan melted down for the entire time we tried to visit in my house.  We took him outside to try to divert his attention.  Going outside usually diverts his attention, but it poses other problems.  He runs away and won't stay in the backyard.  He kept darting off and I kept having to chase him down while she and I were talking.  Again...she was concerned.  She asked me how often did that happen and I told her frequently and told her how we have to put him in a harness in public places.  I also told her about 40 feet behind our house in the woods is a pond and that I am fearful of him wandering away and drowning in that pond.  I told her the only thing I felt good about was the fact that we live really far off the road where it would take him a long time to reach the highway.  She asked me why our other service coordinator hadn't offered us "fence service". 

Perplexed, I told her I had no idea what she was talking about.  She told me that we should have been offered a free backyard privacy fence for Logan due to his elopement issues.  She was visibly frustrated that I didn't have a clue about the program.  She told me that she would put it in the works for us to receive the fence.  She said that they have local contractors and donors that volunteer the material and the services to families in need with children with autism.  I was floored and ecstatic all at the same time.  She also told me that I could have received a weighted blanket from the agency she is with when I told her I had been shopping for one.  She agreed to bring me one next week.  She also told me that I am eligible for respite care, which I have never been offered.  She was very upset by the fact that none of these services had been offered to me by the other coordinator.  I bit back the urge to tell her that she may have offered them but I may not have heard her due to the snuff in her mouth.  I have a tendency to let my sarcasm get the better of me sometimes. 

So, we are super excited about some of the upcoming services we are going to be receiving for Logan.  I have heard lots of moms talk about respite and because it had never been offered to me, I had just assumed we weren't eligible.  Amazing.

Good things are happening in the Hill household this week.





Mommy gets to watch Young & The Restless after everyone has gone to bed.  Logan can watch new episodes of Yo Gabba Gabba uninterrupted.  I can now pause a television show during a meltdown (I am sure the inventors of the DVD never imagined it would be such a gem for a parent of a child with autism).  And last, but definitely not least, we are going to be receiving lots of new services that should take some stress off this family. 

Ain't Too Proud To Beg

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Here's Your Sign

So...I've been good lately.  I have been on my best "Autism Mom" behavior.  I have been understanding when other's aren't.  I have been really on a roll with the "in their defense, they have never heard of autism" standpoint.  I have been substantiating other people's ignorant behavior because I don't want to be that snarky, bitchy "autism mom".  You know the one...the one that is out to get everyone who doesn't jump on board the autism wagon, the one that wants to beat everyone's ass who stares at their child, the mother that is on a mission to shove their child's autism down someone's throat and "by God they are gonna like it!!!!".  That autism mom.  I have been forcing myself to poop butterflies and rainbows while taking the high road.  

It isn't working.

I do try to promote peace, love, and autism, (don't get me wrong), but lately I have just really had it with the explaining, the educating, and the hand-holding when it comes to family members and complete strangers.  I mean...I can understand having to occasionally break things down for family members.  I have to associate with them and share holidays with them and I can somehow find the patience to explain a meltdown or another behavior.  I can find it within myself to explain that my child isn't "a slow leak" because he eats crayons and that he does it because he craves sensory stimulation (while shooting the bird at them when they walk way).  I can do these things.  But, why the hell do I continue to try to explain autism to complete strangers?  I answer my own question..."Because Jessica, you run an autism support group and you have to set an example."  "Jessica, (I like to address myself when I am trying to rationalize a situation) how are people supposed to learn about autism if you don't snatch them out of the darkness and bring them into the light?"  "Jessica, you have to be the bigger person and advocate for your son."  Yes!!!  Advocate!!!  I just get tired of advocating and my words falling on deaf ears.

I told you our shopping trips have gotten better and when I say better I am being positive.  They aren't met with screams, headbutting, or severe self-injurious behavior...except of course if Logan is in Toys R Us and sees an aisle full of Crayola Heaven.  We were there yesterday and bless him, this child knows nothing of the word or concept of patience.  He doesn't understand that when you see something you want...you have to pay for it.  His concept is, "Crayons=MINE".  I picked out a couple of Color Wonder sets and put them into the cart and he began to scream at the top of his lungs..."Color-Color, Color-Color, Color-Color!!!!".  I kept saying lets look around and find you some new dvds (cause Mommy needs a break from Diego and the Three-Toed Sloth episode....uggggghhhh).  All he could focus on was getting that Color Wonder set out of the package and those crayons into his little hands.  He lost all sense of reality and fell down the rabbit-hole of insane.  Right there between the Melissa & Doug puzzles and the coloring section, my child began to transform into mayhem.  This was one nasty meltdown, let me tell you.  And you could say in a way, especially to someone who doesn't know he is autistic...that this was spoiled and bad behavior.  I give it to you (by you, I mean strangers who are looking at the drama unfolding), this child wanted to color right there in the middle of the store and I wasn't allowing it and he was pissed...but the meltdown ensued not only from not getting his way, but from not being able to communicate and understand that in five minutes he could have the whole Color Wonder set to himself. 

He was wearing his famous t-shirt...the one from CafePress that reads "I Am Not Naughty.  I Am Autistic.  Please Be Understanding".  It usually helps.  People see a child having a complete exorcism...they read the shirt...they stare in horror for a couple of minutes and they move on.  I can take the stares...stare away...just don't approach me and say anything to me or my son...those are my rules.  My other rule is if you are close enough to me for me to hear your nasty comment under your breath about my child and my parenting then you are also fair game, but I digress.

So, where was I?  Oh yeah...here we were in the middle of Toys R Us having a disasterous meltdown over "Color Colors" and I am standing my ground.  "We aren't leaving", I say to myself,  "Let em' stare...I don't care".  And stare they did.  We finally made it to the video section and he was in full meltdown mode.  I picked him up and put him on my hip and began to show him all the different video choices.  I probably looked insane because I was extremely calm and nonchalant while picking through the videos while I had this wild animal headbutting me and pulling my hair while screaming and kicking.  I just continued to shop like I didn't notice it. 

I get the to register to pay for the videos (and they could have been pornos for all I knew at that point) and let's not forget the Color Wonder sets that ignited the fire to begin with and the guy behind the counter began to ask me if I had my Toys R Us rewards card with me.  Mind you, my child is still on my hip headbanging, screaming, and kicking.  I politely said, "no".  He then proceeded to ask me if I wanted to open up a Toys R Us rewards card to save and to receive coupons on future purchases.  I had a Toys R Us rewards card in my wallet but didn't want to have to juggle through the meltdown to find it so I just told him I didn't have one...not realizing he was going to give me the whole spill on how great it was and how it only took a second to apply.  I mean, REALLY????  Do you see this child attacking me and you think I am concerned about getting 10% off ?????  Surely, he didn't think I was a secret shopper grading him on his check-out protocol?  I was trying so hard not to be rude, but I felt my inner sarcastic bitch coming out in me and I said, "Do I look like I want a rewards card?".  He just looked at me and Logan for a second and replied, "No Ma'am, you don't".  I said, "Then is there anyway you can ring me up so I can get out of here and handle my son please".  He immediately began to ring up all the stuff in my cart with a fury that I have never seen before.  I almost felt bad for snapping at him, until it happened. 

There is always that one moment that will stop me in my tracks.  The comment or remark that will make me turn on one heel and come back and let someone hold it.  His female coworker said (loud enough for me to hear), "Dese parents wid dese hyperactive kids need to start gittin dem on some pills in stuff cause I am gon lose my mind up in here."

This comment came from an employee of the largest retailer that supports Autism Speaks and obviously there is no training on how to handle a customer or child in the store with autism.  Hmmm?  My next thought was, "Gee, he is wearing a t-shirt that says in very large print that he has autism and you still utter ignorance?".  My third thought was, "I have to correct her grammer." because I am and always will be a "Grammer Diva".  I was an Honors English student, a communications/journalism major, and the editor of my high school newspaper and to hear her spew a sentence of such jibberish shook me to my core.  I didn't know where to start first...defending my son's autism or the English language itself...it was a toughie let me tell you, but the autism won out. 

"Ma'am", I said, "what you are witnessing isn't hyperactivity and can't be washed away with a pill.  This child has autism and he becomes overstimulated in stores and has communication breakdowns which cause him to exhibit extreme behavior.  This happens on a regular basis and I can promise you if I haven't "lost my mind" yet then surely you can hold it together.  By the way, he has on a t-shirt that clearly states he has autism and asks for your patience, so your patience would be greatly appreciated.  And for the record, I donated $20.00 to Autism Speaks the last time I was in here and am saddened to see the lack of autism understanding from a store that sponsors such a large supporter for autism research and advocacy."  There...I had done it...I put this woman in her place and set her straight and it felt good.  I was expecting Bill Engval to jump out and yell at her, "Here's Your Sign".

I took a step back, feeling very accomplished in my advocacy and I was met with a very unenthused, uninterested expression and a very simple response...

"I didn't know.  You should let somebody know before dey say sumthing." 

I want you to take that all in...that's right...think about what she just said. 

"Let somebody know before dey say sumthing". 

Priceless.

This is why it is so hard to continue fighting this fight.  It is so hard to stay politically correct when you are dealing with ignorance of this magnitude.  I am either going back to handing out cards again to explain my son's autism or either I am going to start using the middle finger, but vocalization is becoming completely futile. 

Don't Count Him Out

For two and a half years we have been running in circles between Logan's therapies and appointments...just trying to push him into some sort of normalcy.  It finally dawned on me about 6 months ago that no matter how much he progresses or improves, he will always be autistic and he will never be "normal".  That is hard for a mother to swallow.

I have been reluctantly gathering his toys together for a yard sale.  This has been a very depressing thing for me to do.  You see, there is nothing wrong with these toys except for the fact that they take up space and no one plays with them.  We have bought all sorts of toys in blind faith, hoping and praying that Logan will one day wake up and play with them.  You name it and we have bought it...Thomas the Train sets, Little People, ride on toys, McDonald's play/pretend toys, Spiderman, Buzz Lightyear, and of course the stuffed animals.  They all line the walls and just stare blankly from across the room.  It is almost like they are begging me to take them to a child that will love them.  Logan has thrown them across the room, broken their arms and legs off, and destructed most of them.  He has never truly "played" with them.  He has no concept of playing pretend and that is common with most children with autism.  The stuffed animals are the worst of the toys for Logan.  He doesn't like the way they feel and if you touch him with a stuffed animal he screams and has a meltdown. 

We have been trying to get him hug a teddy bear since he was a few months old and the reaction we would get from that was not pleasant.  His occupational therapist determined that stuffed animals pose lots of sensory problems for Logan.  First, most of them have fleece or fur that he has a tactile aversion to.  She also determined that he doesn't like to look toys "in the eye".  We started noticing that she was right...he would have nothing to do with any toys that had faces or eyes.  Just like people, he did not want to engage the toys or make eye contact with them.  For over a year and a half, he has been receiving therapy to help him tolerate the touch and feel of a stuffed animal and therapy to help him learn to "play" with them and show them affection.  This has been a very difficult process. 

This therapy started out with letting Logan jump on the trampoline (which is something he loves to do) while his therapist rubbed a stuffed animal under his shirt, across his arms, and down his legs.  It was not a well-received practice but eventually, week by week, he began to accept and tolerate the practice.  A few months ago she switched to a furry mouse puppet that she would put on her hand and pretend to talk to Logan.  He was terrified of the mouse and didn't want any part of it.  He would tell the mouse "go" and "no" and would scream for her to put it away.  Over the last month he has allowed her to play with the mouse and he has actually put his hand in the puppets mouth, squealed with laughter, and rubbed the mouse.  It is amazing what his therapist can get him to accomplish.  I accepted that this was tolerance and that he may never love a stuffed animal or even want one but that he could now at least tolerate the idea and not freak out everytime he saw one.  I was satisfied with that. 

I have several bags and piles of toys stacked up in Logan's room waiting for a free weekend to have our yard sale.  I have a pile of beautiful stuffed teddy bears and stuffed puppies that were given to him as a newborn that he has never shown any interest in.  There is a monkey in a red jogging suit that we gave him on his first Valentine's Day that was met with screams and violent behavior.  There is a soft little blue bunny my mother gave him for his first Easter.  None of these toys have ever been hugged or loved like they would have been if they had been given to a different toddler...a toddler without autism.  I have been hoping someone would buy them at the yard sale and give them to a child that would appreciate them.

Last night at bedtime I told Logan to tell everyone goodnight and he did his usual repetition of "nite nite" "nite nite" "nite nite" all the way through the house.  I picked him up and swung him over the baby gate and saw him take off into his bedroom.  I climbed over the gate and rounded the corner into his room only to find him standing there with his back to me at the pile of stuffed animals.  I stopped and watched for a minute.  He bent down and picked up the brown stuffed dog that my grandmother had given him when he was born.  He brought it up to his face and looked at it and then turned around and said "Bear".  I said..."Yes, it is a teddy bear"...even though it was a dog.  It didn't matter at that point.  He wrapped his little arms around it and gave it a hug and said "nite nite".  I said, "Would you like the bear to go 'nite nite' with you?".  He walked toward his crib with the bear in his hand.  I picked him up and layed him on the pillow and told him that I loved him and I gave him a kiss and he leaned over and kissed his "bear".  He closed his eyes. 

I walked out of his bedroom and cried like a baby.  They weren't sad tears and they weren't happy tears.  I think they were tears of relief.  He can show affection.  He can be interested in things that other children are interested in.  He doesn't need to be written off.  I learn a new lesson every week and this week was no different.  He might take him a little extra time and a little prompting and patience...but I will never say that my child isn't "normal" again and I will never count him out.

This One's For You

I haven't blogged in a while and let's face it...I haven't had time.  Since school has been out we have been on a roller coaster of dysfunction.  Schedules are out the window, house looks like disaster zone, and there is no rhyme or reason to be found.  But that is okay...this is our life and we have to live it.

I am not going to stress over it too much.  I am keeping meltdowns to a minimal these days basically trying to keep everyone happy.  If that means a little dysfunction then so be it. 

I am happy to report that usually my children on the spectrum dominate our time and the rest of us and our neurotypical children take a backseat to the madness but for the past few weeks our world has been revolving around my ten year old.  My ten year old is usually always the child that gets put on the back burner at our house because of autism.  He does what he is asked, makes straight As in school, is well-behaved and for the most part goes with the flow.  Sometimes this is hard for him though, and as a parent it is hard to watch.  I know it isn't fair for us parents to be dealt the hand of autism, and for some of us it is more than one child in the house with autism.  But, how unfair is it for our children that aren't autistic?  They certainly didn't ask for this and most of the time my son is accepting and understanding.  Then there are times where he gets frustrated, just like me, and wants to curse autism. 

Landon plays baseball and it is his thing.  It is his outlet...his time to shine.  It causes lots of upheaval in our house of autism, but I cannot deny my son his love of baseball and his time to break away from the madness.  I have hauled up and down the roads to baseball games all season.  I have toted my two year old kicking and screaming in the throws of autism to the car.  I have chased him around and around on the baseball field with nothing more than the length of his harness keeping him from disaster.  We have gotten home so late that all bedtime routines and schedules were merely a memory.  But it has been worth it just to see Landon smile.  It has been worth all the bumps and curves just to see him in the spotlight for once...not being pushed to the back of the line.  So this blog is usually dedicated to my children on the spectrum, but today it is dedicated to the unsung child.  The child that accepts.  The child that never complains.  The child that is a hero to his brothers.  The child that deserves every once in a while to just be a child and not a miniature adult. 

This is Landon pitching during his regular season with the Contentnea Indians 10-U baseball team. 

These are pictures of Landon playing in the All-Star Tournament.  We had to drive over an hour away for three days for him to play in the tournament.  It was great to show Landon that our family can make sacrafices for him just like the other children.

This is Landon on July 4th with the Kinston Indians, our local minor league baseball team.  They are a division of the Cleveland Indians.  This was a big day for a ten year old little boy who loves the game. 

So, yes, our summer has been crazy and dysfunctional.  I have laundry piled up and housework to do.  I have pushed my children with autism to their breaking points, along with mine and my husband's sanity.  But lots of special things have happened for a child that never complains, always perserveres, and somehow endures this life that he didn't ask for.  This one is for you, Landon.

Life's A Beach...Sometimes

We recently took Logan on his first trip to the beach.  He is two years old, but considering the eventful last couple of years a trip to the beach seemed unimportant in the grand scheme of things.  With all of Logan's sensory issues and problems with traveling and riding in the car for any length of time we were nervous about making an hour long road trip to the coast.  But just like all other adventures with autism...we have to try. 

Everyone always prepares for a beach trip, but when you have a child with autism, preparation is key!  We made sure we had plenty of "comfort" foods like gummy fruits, plenty of juice, a weighted pillow for the car if needed, and of course and endless supply of DVDs for the car.  We made sure he had lots of sand toys in case sand just happened to be his thing, because you never know if he will have an aversion for something or all out love it.

The car ride there was a hit.  He watched Yo Gabba Gabba, Nick Jr., Thomas The Train, and Spongebob the entire way there.  Of course, we couldn't get him to look out the window at any of the scenery along the way, but as long as he was meltdown free I was happy with that. 

So we arrive at the beach and decide to take him the the North Carolina Aquarium at Pine Knoll Shores. We figured in case the beach were a complete sensory overload to go ahead and take him the aquarium first in case it wasn't an option later.  We walked in and he went wild over the fish and the exhibits.  He especially loved this interactive floor that he could walk on that appeared to have fish swimming under his feet.  In fact, we could hardly get him to leave that particular display.  He loved the fish and was especially excited by the sharks.  We were so thrilled at how well he did inside the aquarium because it was dark, had unusual lighting, there were lots of people everywhere, and it was extremely loud due to echoeing.  He was completely unphased.  We were so proud of how well he did there.  So far on this trip...we were winning.

Now we were feeling brave.  We left the aquarium and headed for the beach.  We unloaded all our stuff which looked like we were moving.  Then I put Logan in his harness.  I try to prepare for all scenarios.  I could just envision us walking up the beach and him sprinting off into the ocean without warning.  I can't even describe to you the stares we got for having my child on a "leash" at the beach.  I am pretty sure I heard someone say "looks like a dog", but I can't be sure.  I have become completely oblivious to the ignorance of the public eye.  I don't care about the scrutiny.  I just care about keeping my child safe and no one can ensure that safety but his dad and I. 

We found a great spot.  Not too close to the water, but yet not too far away and the best part was we were right beside a lifeguard stand.  I felt very good about that.  My older boys took off with their boogie boards and my husband and I set up "camp".  After everything was settled, I took Logan out of his harness and he sat right down in the sand and starting running his hands through it and rubbing his feet around.  1-2-3...I was waiting for the fallout.  Nothing yet.  My husband got out his sand toys and he started playing with them in the sand.  Big wave of relief washed over me.  He likes it!  Awesome!

Now our next hurdle is the ocean.  He has been glancing at the water but not making any indication that he wants to test it out.  We aren't about to have this much success and not attempt it so my husband walks him out to the ocean.  For a little boy who is such a fish in the pool, he was clearly intimidated by it.  He wasn't so intimidated, though, that he was frantic but just enough that he was cautious.  I was pleased with that reaction.  Sometimes he is too fearless for his own good and it was nice to see him a little guarded about something so big and foreign.  He slowly warmed up to the water but never letting go of his dad and that is the way I wanted it to be.  It was good to see him reasonable and rational regarding something that could potentially be dangerous for him.  We spent almost two hours on the beach and it was wonderful and meltdown free.



Now it is important to mention that by the time we left it was late in the afternoon and Logan had not had his nap and was clearly off his routine.  I was silently bracing myself for a meltdown or a complete breakdown, but nothing.  We put him in the car and turned on his video and he was all smiles.  We decided to push our luck even further by finding a great seafood resteraunt and having dinner on the coast.  We found this great seafood buffet resteraunt and had the most wonderful seafood dinner and Logan remained calm and happy.  By the time we left it was getting dark and close to Logan's bedtime.  He never showed any signs of becoming upset or insecure about his schedule disruption.  He had a wonderful and fulfilling day.  He rode home focused on his DVDs and very content.  We came home and gave him his bath (he had sand in places I didn't know were possible) and put him to bed.  I don't think he cried one time the entire day.  It was in my opinion one of the most perfect days since he has been born.  We have had plenty of rough days since our trip to the beach and several meltdowns, but this day proves to me that he can do things like other children and life is a beach...sometimes.

Thank You, Thank You, Thank You

Just wanted to post a quick thank you to Dana Sears of Designs By Dana for designing my awesome new blog design.  This poor girl has to use her creative genius to come up with a design that fit my family and my quirky personality.  I know very little about blog design so she had to be especially patient with me and do a lot of hand-holding but she got the job done.  She is a real professional and highly recommend her work if you are in search of a blog designer.  Please click on her button on my blog to see some of her other designs and contact her about designing a blog for you!

A Fish Called Spongebob

In the days leading up to Memorial Day weekend I felt almost as if I couldn't breathe.  Three day weekend...routines off schedule...and dysfunction...no thanks!  I literally dread holidays or extended weekends where two of my children on the spectrum are going to be turned inside out.  While most people are packing their suitcases, booking hotel rooms, lounging on the beach, or riding some waves, we are stuck at home on a rigid routine. 

This weekend was no differently planned.  I tried to focus on how I could keep things normal and structured.  Now I wasn't going to let a beautiful; warm North Carolina weekend go by without some water play so we did hang out by our backyard pool most of the weekend and I immediately began to see that the pool was the answer to most of my routine issues.  I kept all of our boys in the pool most the weekend making sure to break for lunch and for my youngest son's nap at the appropriate times and somehow managed to keep everyone on course.  As long as Logan is splashing in water he doesn't even think about his Yo Gabba Gabba fixation.  In fact...we only had to look at Yo Gabba Gabba first thing in the morning before breakfast and right after dinner before bedtime.  It was nice to get a break from the insanity for once. 

Logan has been hanging out in his baby pool for the last couple of weeks and he loves it.  He could sit there and splash for hours if we would let him.  This weekend we decided to try in him the big pool and I was nervous that it may overwhelm him and might ruin his want to ever get back in the water again.  But just like with everything else in the world of autism...we have to try.  I slowly eased him into the water with me and began to walk around the pool with him slowly letting him get used to the feel of it all.  He was quiet to start with and then once he realized he was fine he began to squeal and laugh.  Then he began to kick his feet and splash.  After about 20-30 minutes he was trying to break out of my arms and wanted to swim and paddle on his own.  He wanted nothing to do with the pool floats.  This child truly wanted to swim and wanted no help from me or his dad.

It was amazing to me and was definitely wonderful to see him so happy and excited about something new.   It also struck a chord of fear in me.  If he is this fearless how will I keep him out of the pool when we aren't looking?  I could tell immediately that we are going to have problems.  After taking him out of the pool he layed down in the grass and began to convulse.  Screaming, headbanging, and legs thrashing everytime we had to pull him off the bottom rung of the ladder.  It was now crystal clear to me that the pool ladder will have to removed after every swim and that we are going to have to put latches on both the front and back doors to prevent Logan from being able to get outside on his own.  We received a Big Red Safety Box from the National Autism Association that included two door chimes.  We really didn't think we would need them anytime soon, but after seeing our son's new facination with water it looks like those chimes are going to be needed sooner than later. 

But this is alright.  We knew there would be things like this that we would encounter along the road.  We new there would be things he would be overly interested in just like the things that he has aversions for.  I am not so scared for his safety that I will deny him the enjoyment of the swimming pool.  This child needs happiness and pleasure in his world of torment and confusion.  I will not deny him that.  I will just continue to be the overly-cautious, proactive mother that I have been and I will continue to second-guess his every move.  It is worth it to see one second of pure joy on his little face.

Color Him Happy

I know children on the spectrum are overly obsessive.  I get that.  Everyday I am watching my two year old become more and more fixated on certain objects, videos, and activities.  One part of me is excited to see him interested in something...more like anything.  Then there is the part of me that is slightly frightened after eight hours of Yo Gabba Gabba Dancy Dance Bunch on auto-repeat.

These new fixations have become the nucleus of our household existence.  How can I get Logan to take a nap without having a meltdown when he has to leave his video?  I have to go to the grocery store...don't forget the Yo Gabba Gabba video for the car!  If I have to get him out of the car to go into a store he is now not only melting down because he doesn't like being in the store, but he is also melting down because he had to leave his video.  It is like adding insult to injury.  Not only is he completely enthralled with the Yo Gabba Gabba video, but he is now taken up an unusually focused interest in coloring.  He doesn't want to put the crayons down to play, read, or eat.  He is constantly walking around either saying "Color-color" or "Gabba Gabba".  He doesn't want to sit at the table anymore for meals because that means he has to leave his video.  He sits through an entire meal while screaming "Gabba Gabba" and throwing his food on the floor.  My husband and I can't even watch the evening news.  The older kids are limited to watching television in their rooms because Logan is dominating the television in our living room.

To make matters worse I made a huge mistake last week and calmed a meltdown in a store by (out of sheer desperation) saying "Do you want Mommy to buy you some "color-colors"?  The screaming ceased and he began to repeat "color-colors" for the next 10 minutes as I wheeled around looking for coloring books and crayons.  I actually took him out of the seat of the shopping cart and placed him in the back of the cart and opened up the crayons right in the middle of the store and let him go to town.  There he was on his knees coloring furiously in the bottom of a shopping cart, babbling "color-color" repeatedly and for one single moment there was peace. 

Now I know what you are thinking.  You are thinking that I turned my son's obession into something positive and I know you are thinking this because I was thinking it myself.  I was actually pretty smug when I rolled up to the cash register and paid for everything free of screaming and head-banging.  But, (there is always a but) now I have created a monster.  I am now the proud mother of the "Color-Color" King.  Everytime I walk into a store he begins to scream at the top of his lungs "Color-color!!!!!!" over and over again.  He figured out instantly that the store has crayons and he must have them!  I tried taking the crayons I had already bought him on the next shopping trip, but that wasn't good enough.  He has to have more "color-colors"...better "color-colors"...the world will not be his until he has claimed all the crayons from all over the globe!!!!   I have three brand new packs of crayons that haven't even been opened just to prevent a meltdown.  Now you know I am one sick puppy for giving into this madness...but I am just plain desperate for peace and serenity on an outing.  I know I am being selfish for giving into the obsessions but they can come in handy in times like shopping or times that I have four tons of laundry piled up on the sofa.  It is amazing how many household chores I can get done now while someone is fixated in front of the television.  The challenge of breaking these routines is so difficult that I am giving into them and I know these things need to be limited but I seriously don't know how to do this without my son erupting like Mt. Saint Helens. 

I discussed the obsessions with my son's developmental pediatrician and he firmly told me to break the routines and to take the video away cold turkey.  I suddenly had a mental picture of me throwing the video in the trash can and watching my son spontaneously combusting.  Then I thought about me having to deal with the fall out from taking the video away cold turkey and imagined my son's pediatrician kicked back at home watching Sports Center on ESPN, eating a turkey sandwich in his underwear.  It is easy for these professionals to render what should and shouldn't be when they don't have to come home with you and help.  He can point fingers and then get off work and have a drink with a friend or go hit some golf balls.  Yes, I know professionals are educated in their field and know what they are talking about but they don't have to live it.  On our last visit I was also scolded because I was allowing Logan to eat gummy bears in the waiting room.  Gummy bears are the magical fruit.  They calm meltdowns.  They improve attention spans.  They create patience in a child that ordinarily doesn't have any.  My son's doctor told me that they were full of sugar and that only adds to his hyperness and that I should know better.  I told him when he stopped making me wait for 45 minutes to an hour to be seen then I will get rid of the gummy bears.  He didn't say anything else to me about that, but I digress.

So here I sit, typing this blog listening to five felt-like alien-mutants singing about social skills with their friend, a strange man in an orange jumpsuit with a toilet-seat cover for a hat, and I wonder am I doing my son an injustice by allowing these behaviors or am I making his life a little happier.  He is clearly happy as a clam and it is making my life easier, as well.  Am I just being selfish and trying to justify this behavior because it is appeasing my child and myself?  The verdict is still out.  I know at some point these obsessions are going to have to be broken but right now it is just a lot easier to give in. 

"It Can't Get Any Worse"

Whenever you say the words "It can't get worse" it usually does.  Last week was no exception.  It is amazing how many castastrophes went down in the course of a few short days.  It all started with trying to get my car inspected.  My license plate tags were about to expire so I had to take my car in for an inspection first before I could renew my tags.  I arranged to take my two year old to Play Date (a drop in child care facility that only charges by the hour) and after dropping him off headed across the street to a local oil changing center.  After waiting about an hour and a half they told me my car was ready and that it had passed inspection.  Sweet!  No bumps in the road today.  Smooth sailing it seemed.  I picked up Spongebob from Play Date and he was having a great time playing and running around.  We headed to lunch and then home. 

I had noticed earlier the day before a strange and foul smelling odor coming from what I thought was my toddler's breath.  All the possibilities flooded my mind.  Strep?  Decaying tooth?  Being the worrier I am I asked his developmental pediatrician at his follow-up appointment the morning of my inspection what he made of the odor.  After fighting off a wild animal and not getting a very good look in his mouth, he told me that he thought it was just drainage and it would run its course.  I had no other reason not to believe that and so I did.  After 24 hours the odor was now pungent and I knew of course that it couldn't be drainage.  We were sitting at my older son's baseball game and I noticed the odor was so prevalent that I could smell my son playing in the grass a few feet from me.  I was embarrassed that the other mother's could smell it also.

As the evening progressed I noticed the gnats and mosquitos were making their way into the evening.  I began to notice that the gnats were pitching in groups around my son's nostril.  They were literally covering the end of his nose.  I looked around and noticed no one else had an army of gnats gathering on their face and I knew right then and there that something was not right.

When my son woke up the next morning the smell greeted me as soon as I entered his room and I noticed his left cheek was swollen and red.  Back to the pediatrician's office we went.  I was worried that we would have to see a different physician because we were being worked in but thank goodness his regular pediatrician was the attending on call.  She walked in and inquired as to why we were there and she immediately noted the smell.  I told her about the gnat incident and my concerns that something may be inside of his nose and she agreed.  After holding him down and looking up both nostrils with a light she said she definitely thought something was up there.  This resulted in an immediate emergency referral to the ENT office.  I arranged to have my in-laws pick up my older boys from school and headed over to ENT.

It is important to mention that for someone unknown reason my son is extremely partial to having meltdowns in this particular office.  I am not sure if it is the length of time he is required to wait to see the ENT or if it is the closed-off play area they have for children, but everytime we have been in this office over the last year he has had a hellatious meltdown.  This day was no exception.  His ENT specialist had indicated that my child shouldn't wait when he has appointments and immediately be put into a room, but somehow they receptionist missed that tidbit and told us to have a seat.  I don't like to use Autism as an excuse everywhere we go so I thought we should at least try to see how things went without asking for special treatment.  Not so good, I tell you.  Not so good.

He heads right over to the play area where there is a little girl a couple years older than him.  She may have been four or five.  You could tell she was a bossy, domineering type of child.  The type that would set my son off.  I kept trying to get my son to sit with me but that was completely futile.  He kept heading back into the play area.  Every toy my son would pick up this other little girl would snatch from him and I could see him getting visibly upset.  Hmmm...looks like for once my son has better social skills than another NT child.  Imagine that, I thought.  This give and take went on for a while and then my son got really upset and somehow flipped off the back of a small wooden chair and I heard his head crack against the wooden molding near the floor.  Piercing screams now filled the waiting room.  I picked him up and he began to butt his head over and over in my chest and continued to scream.  Everyone was staring (what's new).  I walked with him in my arms up to the reception desk and said very politely, "Excuse me, but my son has autism and his doctor indicated in his chart that we should not wait here in the waiting room because he gets overstimulated.  Is there any way that he could be put into a room".  She rolled her eyes and took another big smack off of her gigantic mound of chewing gum and said, "Shug, we can't just let you jump ahead of all the other patient's just because your son has a problem".  I responded, "I am not trying to jump ahead of anyone I am trying to control my child from having a complete meltdown and your help would be greatly appreciated."  Somehow, after about ten deep huffs and a few more eyerolls my request was accomodated.

But it was too late.  He was in full meltdown mode at this point.  As soon as the door shut behind us in the exam room his meltdown when from minor to major.  He ran around the room screaming and then began slamming his head against the wall repeatedly.  I grabbed him and tried to hold him tightly but he just continued to fight me.  I put him down and he ran over to the exam chair and went to slam his head into it but somehow missed his mark and busted his mouth on the arm of the chair so hard that he split his lip open.  Blood spewed everywhere.  At this point I began to freak.  Holy Hell he is a bloody mess and the doctor hasn't even come in here.  What am I going to do???  I peaked my head out the door and didn't see anyone so I grabbed my son (still screaming and melting) and we walked down the hall.  I can only imagine what we looked like all covered in blood and him screaming.  I probably looked like "Parent of the Year".  I finally saw a nurse and when I saw her I just busted into tears.  I told her what happened and she ran and got a bag of ice and some cloths.  I just stood there like a blubbering whale while she cleaned him up.  I kept apologizing and she was very nice about the whole incident.  I must have looked like a mental patient.  Sometimes autism catches up with you when you least expect it.  I can see the headlines now..."Strong Warrior Mom Turns Into A Pile Of Mush At Local ENT Office".  Finally, his doctor arrives.  When I think back on his facial expression when he walked in the room and sees me and my son sitting there all covered in blood and I tell him he has a foreign body up his nose, well, I just want to laugh.  He looked super confused and I told him just to ignore all the blood,  that we had a mishap and it was fine now.  He just laughed and proceeded to look up my son's nose.  Yep, he confirmed there was definitely something up there.  After a few numbing drops up the nose out it came...a gigantic wad of paper that had been intricately wrapped around a staple.  Only my child could have come up with something so creative and wanted to preserve it for future reference...where better than in his nostril?  Finally we were out the door.  I got in the car and strapped on my seatbelt and took a huge deep breath.  It can't get any worse, I thought.  Boy, was I wrong.

While we spent all day Thursday in the ENT office I was supposed to be at the DMV getting my tags renewed after getting my inspection done on Wednesday.  That didn't happen so we were in a real pinch.  My tags were scheduled to expire on my car over the weekend on Sunday, so Friday (last Friday the 13th) was my last chance for getting my tags renewed before they expired.  My husband, trying to be a sweetie, offered to take my registration with him to work on Friday to handle this for me since I had been under so much stress already over the past week.  He ended up getting behind and didn't get to take lunch until around 2pm and called me after leaving the DMV.  He didn't know what to say other than he couldn't get my tags because the computer system showed that my car had an out of date inspection.  "Impossible", I screamed through the phone.  I explained to him that I had it done Wednesday and for him to have them run it again...again...no inspection in the system.  I was livid.  I called the oil changing station and told them what happened.  After some investigating it seems as if they did an inspection on someone else's car and I paid for it and was given their inspection paper showing my car had passed and a receipt for my payment but nothing was actually done on my vehicle.  I had to pick the boys up from school by 3pm and knew that there was no way I would be able to get another inspection done and tags renewed by 5pm when the DMV closes.  As pissed off as I have ever been, I hauled ass to the school and picked up the two oldest boys and flew like Speed Racer to the oil changing place.  The guy comes out and apologizes and tells me to wait in the their waiting area and for me to know that there is going to be a wait.  A wait???  Oh, hell no there isn't!!!  See Dude...you messed with the wrong Autism Mom today!!!!  Oh yes you did!!! 

"No, Sir, there isn't going to be a wait.  You see I came here Wednesday and paid for two hours of babysitting services for my son who is autistic and sat here in your waiting area for an hour and a half while you inspected someone else car and I paid for it.  Now you are going to cause me not to be able to get to the DMV by 5pm and my tags are going to expire on Sunday.  Unless you want your waiting room to look like aftermath from Hurricane Katrina (because I can promise that you have never seen devastation until you unleash my son on a stack of magazines and some potted plants) then I suggest you take me right NOW!!!!!  He suddenly had some sort of epiphany and agreed to take my car straight back for inspection.  While inside Logan proceeded to wipe out a whole stand of business cards, tear up two magazines, unplug the drink machine, and type on their computer system...and for the first time ever I didn't even try to stop it.  I was numb and irate.  We left that place in a pile of dust and I think our Governor has now declared it a State of Emergency and they are getting some funding from FEMA to repair the damages, but I am not carrying that on my concscience.  Nope...not worrying about that!

I did manage to get my tags first thing on Monday morning without getting pulled and I did so after learning another valuable lesson in the world of Autism.  Never...never...ever...say it can't get worse...because it always does.  And for the record...Friday the 13th for me was an entire week, but hell, Friday the 13th is just another day in this Life With Spongebob.

Lysol, Magic Erasers, and Tears

Many of us moms raising children on the spectrum have had their fair-share of mishaps, but nothing takes the cake like a child that enjoys the smell, taste, and feel of their own poop. 

I can tolerate the meltdowns.  I can conquer the headbutting.  I can even shake my head when my child, who craves sensory stimulation, sticks his fingers in his spaghetti and meatballs.  But, I cannot get used to the idea that my child's idea of a good time is finger-painting me a mosaic out of turd.

This all started about six weeks ago and it happened with a single isolated episode.  I layed my son down for a nap and when I came back to get him an hour later I thought I had stumbled upon the Apocalypse.   Feces was smeared from the top of his head all the way down inbetween his tiny toes.  He had a Groucho Marx mustache made out of dingleberries.  Even after extensive restoration and steaming and sandblasting I still found poop inside his ear three days later.  It's okay, I told myself.  He is just exploring.  Lots of toddlers check out their diapers at least once in their life.  No biggie!

A couple of weeks later...it happened again.  And then again.  And then again.  Now it had gone from biweekly to Daily!!!!  What went from a random occurrance or two was turning into part of our daily schedule. 

9:00am...speech therapy...10:00am...Occupational Therapy...11:30am...Lunch...12:00pm...Nap...12:15...Art and Personal Expression.   

I felt like the Dunkin Doughnuts guy..."Time to Clean The Pooooop!".  It was becoming a cycle.

Lunch...Nap...Poop...Bath...Clean Crib...Lunch...Nap...Poop...Bath...Clean Crib. 

I was actually beginning to taste the Lysol.  I am not sure how much exposure to Lysol is appropriate.  After three straight days of cleaning up stinky we sat down to eat dinner and my husband asked how is the chicken and I told him is tasted like "fresh citrus".  I had also gone through an entire box of Magic Erasers.  You know, the little square block of a sponge that will usually take the grease out of a biscuit.  Yeah...somewhere on the box it should read...will erase your regrets, memory, bank account, but does not erase SHIT.

The final straw finally came when I went into my sons room and found him, yet again, stark naked and covered in poop. I felt the tears begin to pour down my face.  I have been working with my son on expressing emotions and he immediately shouted "Sad!!!" when he saw me crying.  I said, "Yes, Mommy is Sad and Mad!" very dramatically.  He then started laughing and smiling just like he always does when he doesn't recognize that I am not pleased with him.  He then began to walk around the crib and say "Round and Round" and clap for himself.  I always clap for him when he tries to sing wheels on the bus...but this time I did not clap.  I just continued to scrub the poop off the crib bars.  He then tried to touch my face with his little brown fingers.  Just as I tried to step away from him I felt my bare foot squish right down into a pile of poop.  "That's It!!!!", I shouted.  I can not take this anymore.

Later, after a bath and more cleaning, I went online and searched through several websites and found http://www.ikidsfashions.com/ and they have the most wonderful one piece jumpsuits that zip up the back.  I ordered three and anxiously awaited their arrival.  They arrived quickly and I was so impressed with the quality of the suits and crossed my fingers and said a short prayer and then dressed my son in the Wonder Jumper for bedtime.  He immediately began pulling on it trying to figure out where the entrance and exit was and when he could find none he began to scream and throw a ginormous fit.  I was unmoved by his anger and after about ten minutes all was quiet.  I came in to get him the next morning and the jumpsuit was intact and better still...there was no poop!  As soon as he saw me he pulled on the jumpsuit and said very emphatically..."Mad!!!".  Oh well...scratch your butt, little man, and get glad!!!

I would like to report that I have now retired the Lysol, Magic Erasers, and the tears and replaced them with the Wonder Jumper!  We are on day two of success and I pray our days of brown expression are over!

"Simply Mommy"

　
This Mother’s Day I am going to celebrate being a mother to my children. I am going to bask in the glow of their smiles and the warmth of their touch. I am going to forget about the everyday chaos that is autism.

I am going to be the mother that bakes cookies and not the mother that hauls children to therapy appointments. I am going to be the mother that celebrates my children’s lives and not their milestones. I am going to be the mother that plays board games instead of charting routines. This Mother’s Day I am just going to be “Mom”.

I am the mother of four boys and the oldest is twelve with Asperger’s Syndrome and the youngest is two with classic autism. I don’t get the luxury of ever just being “Mom”. You see, most mothers celebrate motherhood and raising their children everyday. But in the life of an autism mom we don’t have time to stop and cherish the simple things, for the simple things are lost. They are lost like the voices of our children and their gazes that never meet our own. Mothers raising children with autism are constantly planning and weaving in and out of routines and meltdowns…dodging the next obstacle or challenge.
Mother’s raising children on the spectrum aren’t taking children to play dates, baseball games, dance classes, or birthday parties. No, we are different creatures, us autism moms. We are blowing bubbles, using deep pressure therapy, singing, motivating, encouraging, soothing…and there are no breaks.

There isn’t a “Mommy’s Night Out” for us mothers. We don’t leave our children for a simple dinner date. We don’t trust a babysitter to watch the kids for an hour. We also never rest, even when we sleep. We lie down at night and pray that tomorrow will be a better day for our babies and we wake up the next morning only to face the same struggles that we endured the day before. Again, there is no time to cherish the little things.

So this Mother’s Day I am going to celebrate being a mother to my children. That’s it. Just being a mother. I don’t need flowers, or a bracelet, or lunch at a fancy restaurant. I just want to be “Mommy”. I just want to watch my children laugh and play. I just want to soak them up for one day. I just want to take it all in…all the things I don‘t get to enjoy because autism controls our life. The things most people take for granted are the gifts that I will treasure this Mother’s Day.

Slap Happy

"Baseball Tournament"...what a melodious sound!  The only sound that could be better would be a buzzsaw knawing through the cartilage in my left knee cap. 

I have four kids and two of them are on the autism spectrum.  My 10 year old son who does not have a spectrum disorder is a little league pitcher and eats, sleeps, and breathes baseball.  I am a very proud mommy and I know that we do not have a dollhouse perfect life and try to accomodate his needs being that he is the PB&J of a neurotic household sandwich.  But, it damn near kills me to haul my two-year-old son with autism to that baseball field.

A baseball practice is enough to ruin a perfectly good routine, but these tournament games start an hour later than practice so this is really going to define disruption.  All day long I watched the clock in misery knowing that the big event was drawing near.  The hands on the clock appeared to wave at me as they ticked by...almost saying, "two more hours until your date with Hell."  To try to soften the blow I cooked supper an hour early to fill up my child's tummy hoping that a full stomach will hold off his usual exorcism.  I packed a huge totebag full of things to keep him occupied...five bags of gummy fruits, a sippy cup, a toy laptop, three different types of bubbles, oatmeal cookies, and his "child saftey harness" (aka...Leash).  Then I put on my warpaint, knee and elbow pads, and protective head gear and we were ready to go. 

We arrive at the field and set up camp which is usually close enough to the field to see my older son play ball and just close enough to the car to make an escape.  I settled my toddler in with his little chair and a bag of gummy fruit...so far so good.  I just might be able to take my helmet off tonight <insert sarcasm>.

My older son took the pitcher's mound as the other players took their places.  The game had begun...literally.  First pitch went out...Strike!!!!  Second pitch...Strike!!!  Strike!!!  One batter up and down.  My toddler was on his third bag of gummy fruits and I went ahead and lined up the next item of pacification from the intervention bag.  I handed him his toy laptop and he began to bang on the keys and the sound of "B says Buh...B says Buh" began to float through the air.  He is so happy. 

Heading into the third inning, bases loaded, and my two year old is still content with some oatmeal cookies and laughing and smiling as he tries to pop the bubbles that are floating by.  I was smiling and letting my guard down some by this point.  Then a pop fly was hit deep into center field...looks like a homerun.  The crowd stands and cheers...LOUDLY.  My little man jumped up out of his chair and began to cry and scream.  He wasn't expecting such a display and such loud clapping and yelling.  I tried to blow more bubbles but he was still very upset.  I offered him the last item of serenity from my dwindling bag of happiness...the toy train.  I watched in slow motion as it was tossed into the dirt.  His meltdown was beginning to escalate at this point.  He then took off in a sprint across the grassy parking area and my heart sank.  I had not put his safety harness on him.  I took off behind him screaming and yelling for him to stop.  No reaction.  I wasn't sure if he just wasn't responding or if he couldn't hear me over the sound of my thighs rubbing together and my muffin top flapping against my waistline.  I finally grabbed him and brought him back kicking and screaming.  My husband slid his harness on him and walked him away still wailing and crying.  I looked down and then looked around to scan the bleachers...several parents were staring at me and several were staring at my child.  The usual...but it still bothers me. 

It was now the bottom of the sixth inning and somehow my husband had managed to calm him and they were walking around and I saw my youngest son picking dandelions and smiling.  I felt a rush of relief.  We are almost through this game and so far only one meltdown.  I was feeling pretty good about things at this point.  "Lord, thank you for this evening", I thought. 

All of a sudden I heard piercing screams.  I felt my entire body tighten up.  "What has set him off this time?", I thought.  I turned to look in the direction of my child, but it wasn't him that was crying.  It was the little girl that he was slapping and physically attacking near the other set of bleachers.  I jumped up and ran as fast as I could.  I saw my husband trying to pry him away from the other child.  Just as I got there the little girls mother was stepping off the bottom bleacher.  Here is goes...it's time to play the famous Autism Card.  "Ma'am...I am so sorry.  He has autism and he just doesn't understand that hitting isn't appropriate.  I really am truly sorry.  Could I buy your daughter something from concessions to make up for this?"  I was expecting her to spit on me when she just wiped her daughters tears away and smiled at my son and then looked up at me and said, "It's fine.  I completely understand.  These things happen and she will be just fine.  No need to buy her a thing.".  I thanked her and apologized again. 

I was in absolute disbelief.  Who was this alien creature from an unparalleled universe?  No dirty looks?  No ridicule of my parenting skills?  No ugly comments muttered under someone's breath?  There are people in the world that understand...imagine that.

My son's team lost the game by six runs, but that night my family had won by a mile.

Autism and Scrambled Eggs

I am beginning to learn that sometimes it doesn't matter what I do...things just tend to be chaotic.  I would love to blame everything that is dysfunctional in my life on autism, but that just wouldn't quite be fair.  I had my fair of dysfunction before I had my children...the autism just adds whip cream and a cherry on an already super-crazy life-sundae.  So lately when life has been handing me lemons, I have been pointing the finger at the Big-A.  If it weren't for autism we could all go out to eat more often.  If it weren't for autism we could do this, that, and the other.  If it weren't for autism my life would be so much easier.  It is so nice to have a punching bag for everything that goes wrong.  When you don't have a dog to kick...just blame it on autism. 

This past Saturday was especially challenging.  Our very small community (Tickbite...not even making that up) has a festival every year to celebrate shad.  Most every small town in North Carolina has a festival of some sort.  They celebrate dogwoods, magnolia trees, watermelons, and even collards.  Well, in our community we celebrate The Shad.  For those of you who aren't aware a shad is a seasonal fish that runs in local fresh water rivers and creeks during early spring.  People here worship the Shad Festival like it is the running of the bulls in Spain.  They celebrate the festival at the end of the week with a huge parade and all the participants are your neighbors and family. 

My husband was so excited to take the kids that he started planning our family outing to the shad parade.  I stopped him.  I reminded him how Logan couldn't tolerate the last parade we took him to and that parades cause him to become overly stimulated and would ultimately cause him unnecessary stress and meltdowns.  We agreed that my husband would take our four year old and I would take Logan with me to his older brother's baseball practice.  Logan loves to be outside and I thought baseball practice was the lesser of the evils. 

We get to practice and my oldest son (who has Aspergers and dislikes parades as well) climbed up on the top bleacher and involved himself in a Nintendo DS while my 10 year old ran out on the field.  I strapped "Spongebob" into his harness and we began to walk around the outside of the field.  I had my reinforcements...a pack of gummy bears, bottle of bubbles, and a musical toy.  After the gummy bears were gone and the bubble solution was now soaked through the leg of my capri pants and the musical toy tossed into a tuft of clover that hadn't been mowed, the madness ensued.  Smiling one minute while having the time of his life, now my child was in the throws of what might go down as one of the most famous and notorious tantrums of all time.  What set him off you might ask?   That is only to be answered by him and the good Lord.  There he was on his stomach lying in the grass...headbutting, shrieking, and screaming.  I was looking around like I always do to scan to see who was staring...initial headcount revealed two coaches, 9 ballplayers, five mothers, and six kids playing nearby.  The only person who wasn't staring was my oldest son who had probably just unlocked a new Poke'mon and has become so completely immune to these episodes he hadn't noticed.  I made eye contact with my 10 year old who was standing on the pitcher's mound and I was met with a look of utter horror.  I decided for the sake of everyone else's sanity I would sacrafice my own and hauled my son, kicking and screaming, to the car. 

Once in the car, after inhaling 3 juice boxes, the meltdown continued.  At this point, his clothes were completely soaked with Hi-C fruit punch and there was no way I was about to get him back out of the car.  While he headbutted, thrashed, and screamed for 45 minutes, I sat in the driver's seat listening to some 80s/90s radio station.  I could see some of the other mother's staring over at our suv, which was now swaying like two teenagers parked on Lover's Lane.  I wasn't sure if they were staring at the rocking of our car or the screams and shrieks that were being emitted.  I turned up the radio to try to drown him out..."Just a small town girl, livin' in a lonely world, she took the midnight train goin' anywhere....".  I was thinking about how great that midnight train was sounding when I saw the coaches calling all the players in and my older boys came to the car.  My ten year old starts complaining as soon as he gets in the car.  "We can't go anywhere"  "Why did you have to bring him".  I just shook my head and headed home.  "Damn Autism.", I thought.

Once home my husband pulls up right behind us and he and our four year old come in grinning from ear to ear.  They were both donned in Mardi Gras beads and my husband was holding a bag of cotton candy and he began telling me all about how much fun they had...blah...blah...blah.  I told my husband how much fun I had and that we had might as well all gone to the parade together.  It has become apparent that it doesn't matter what we do...Autism is in control.  I told my husband I needed a break.  More like begged for one, in all honesty.  I pleaded that I needed to run to the grocery store and that I needed to go alone to clear my head.  He knows I can't grocery shop with Logan because he screams in the store from the time I walk in until the time I walk out, so he agreed to watch all the kids so I could get out for a while and get what I had justified was a much deserved break. 

Relieved to have some me time, I headed out.  I tried to stretch out this shopping trip as long as I could to give myself much needed relaxation and retail meditation.  I only get to go grocery shopping about twice a month so of course we needed tons of stuff.  I grabbed a cart and got on my way.  Of course...halfway through the store the wheel on the front of my cart became lodged in a east/west fashion and wouldn't roll.  I had way to many things to transfer so I "rolled on".  By the time I was done shopping the cart was weighted down with tons of frozen foods, snacks, milk, bread, and meats.  I could hardly see over the top and the cart was so heavy I could barely push it and the front right wheel had taken the day off completely at this point.  I couldn't push it.  I stopped and wiped the sweat off my forehead.  People were walking by staring at my cart because it was overflowing.  I began to push the cart with one arm on the bar and the other hanging onto a carton of eggs on top.  It wouldn't move so I had to start shoving the cart with my right hip.  I did this all the way to the register...pushing it with my hip.  I tried to avoid the stares, pointing, and whispers from everyone as I did the electric slide all the way to aisle three.  I got behind two other ladies and found it annoying that I was being stared at and whispered over and Logan wasn't even with me.  This completely defeated the purpose of getting away alone.   I tried to not let it bother me while I held onto all the items that were a hair away from falling out of the cart, especially the eggs.

After loading all the groceries onto the belt, I held onto the eggs because I was scared they would break underneath all the other groceries.  The cashier was nearing the end of the line and asked if I wanted to hand her the eggs.  I told her I wanted her to ring them up last because I was afraid they would break and I had a special place in the seat of the cart I wanted to put them.  She finished up and I handed her the eggs and then placed them in the one spot in the cart that wasn't covered in bags of groceries.  I did the hip boogie all the way to the front of the store and out the door to my car and walked right into the beginnings of the severe weather that was forcasted to hit our community.  The wind had picked up and my hair was blowing all over my face and I couldn't see a thing.  I just continued to hip-shove the cart all the way to my car.  I got most of the groceries in the back while the wind blew stronger and stronger.  Finally I grabbed the carton of eggs that I had held onto with such determination and as I was about to put them in the front seat with me a huge gust of wind came and blew against me so hard that I lost my footing and let go of the eggs.  I heard them hit the ground with multiple cracks.  As soon as I detangled the hair from my face and wiped the sand from my eyes, I looked down and saw the precious eggs lying on the ground in a yolky mess.  I just stood there...wind whipping...hair blowing...eggs running...and laughed.  I laughed so hard my sides hurt.  I leaned up against my car and laughed so hard that I could hardly stand myself.  It really hit me...I can't blame everything on autism.  This is life.  No matter how crazy or challenging autism might make things...life is challenging and crazy anyway.   I can't constantly try to predict and manage every little aspect of life.  I can't be the event coordinator 24/7 for our family, because life is unpredictable. 

I came home from my trip refreshed and with a new attitude, but not because I had this really relaxing and rewarding experience, but because I had an egg-salad style epiphany that I can't control autism and autism isn't always controlling me.  I am learning you are going to crack a few eggs every now and again with or without autism.