xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' Yeah. Good Times.: Autism Education
Showing posts with label Autism Education. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Autism Education. Show all posts

Saturday, January 19, 2013

"All Kids Do That" Part 20: Finding a School

See the tab above for more information about this series.

I know it's been a while, and I'm not actually taking new submissions for this series, but I was at 19... 19!! Not only not an even number but it's a PRIME number. I can't have that I needed another one. You understand.

Anyway, today we have J-Nut who has asked that I do not link back to her, but I'm pretty sure most of you know who she is already. And if not, well.... you should.



My son, Moe, is five years old. At the beginning of this year, many of his peers started kindergarten. In my corner of California, parents have several choices for their children, so I watched with envy and interest as I heard about kindergarten tours, listened as friends debated educational philosophies, and discussed the benefits of public and private schools. They waited nervously as children were placed on waiting lists for intra-district transfers, applied to charter schools or private schools, and ultimately made decisions about where their kids would attend. These aren't easy choices. But they are choices, and they are, for parents of typical kids, usually their choices to make.

And even though some didn't get their first choice school, by September, all of the kids were in school.

But not my son. This year, we pulled Moe from school.

Some background: Moe was diagnosed with autism when he was two. When he turned three, while other kids were still going to playdates and attending part time nursery schools, Moe started in an full time autism special day class in our public school district. He spent two years there, happily going to school every day but not learning or making much progress. His aggressive behaviors increased in frequency and his teachers didn't know how to teach him or keep him safe. We wanted a new placement.

I'm sure many of you reading this know the drill. For those who don't, a quick primer:

The Individuals with Disabilities in Education Act (IDEA) guarantees every child in the United States a free, appropriate public education (FAPE) in the least restrictive environment (LRE). Words like "appropriate" are of course left to interpretation. For most kids, this means being in a public school, with varying degrees of mainstreaming (time in a general education classroom) from fully included to, for kids like Moe, who is non-verbal and on the "moderate to severe" end of the spectrum, full time special education. Each child has goals that are part of a legally binding Individual Education Plan (IEP), and data is taken to demonstrate progress toward those goals. My son also had a Behavioral Support Plan (BSP) in place.

Had enough acronyms yet?

After two years in the program with very few goals met, and a very expensive Independent Educational Evaluation (IEE - oops, one more!) done by a child psychologist that we paid for privately, we determined that our school district's program was not appropriate for Moe. If the school agreed, they would then have to find him an appropriate placement, either in another district, through the county, or at a non-public school (NPS). They are legally required to pay for that. In our case, however, the school disagreed. We hired an advocate and a lawyer, and after four IEP meetings (for a total of over 9 hours), we unilaterally pulled him from the program, writing what is called a "ten day notice." This required the lawyer and allows us to pay for a private program and retain the right to sue the district for reimbursement.

The full day non-public programs cost $75,000 or more per year, and that is for the schools that will accept private payment. Most of them will only take school district referrals. We opted to put Moe in a private, half day language intensive program at a cost of over $40,000 a year. We pulled him from that program after a month for several reasons. Essentially, they were not set up to work with a kid like Moe.

So Moe isn't in school. We decided to continue the in-home ABA (behavior therapy) program that was working well over the summer. This is covered, thank goodness, by insurance, at least for now.

I am in the process of trying to find an appropriate program for him. There are several in our area, within about a 60 mile radius. Moe needs a highly structured environment that many programs cannot accommodate. Even so, I have visited seven schools that seem nominally appropriate on paper, but not one seems quite right. Some are too focused on life-skills (laundry, counting money, community outings) with no attempt at teaching academics. Moe is five and I'm not quite ready to give up on his learning to read and write. Other programs are more ABA-based, but are too focused on one on one learning, with very little opportunity for peer interaction. Others focus on communication skills but are not as skilled with behavioral issues. They all have trade-offs, and these are important trade-offs, that could fundamentally alter his ability to learn. We are not talking about who has the best drama or football program.

Furthermore, most of these schools, although certified to take kids as young as five, don't usually have students that young. Kids have to fail so badly or have to grow so big that the schools can no longer handle their behaviors - behaviors that were probably only made worse by the school - before the district will agree to a non-public placement.

Let's say, however, that I decide that one of these programs will work for Moe. We then have to go back to the school district, submit Moe for a battery of assessments (which he'll have to do anyway because he's been in the system for three years), and then negotiate. In all likelihood, we will have to sue the district to get Moe in school. They will pay a lawyer and we will pay a lawyer and our best bet is to end up with a mediated agreement. The school district could disagree on the NPS we chose, offering another instead. They agreement might allow Moe to go to the school we pick but waive other services, like speech therapy or transportation. Or it might be something like "we'll place your kid at this school but then you agree to move out of our district." Because then it becomes somebody else's problem and a new district can't change the placement until a new IEP is agreed upon. Sound ugly? It is. Most parents, by the way, don't win in front of a judge. The bar that schools have to meet to show "appropriate" education is astoundingly low.

And let's say, all of this did get worked out, and Moe got a placement, and then for some reason, the placement didn't work for him. The whole thing starts over.

In another year, I will be researching kindergartens for my typical three year old. I will go to open houses and talk to friends and do my best to find a school that will fit her needs. But it is our choice. And if it isn't exactly right, even if I just send her to the public school at the end of our street that isn't the best but is perfectly adequate, she will be fine. She will learn. And if we don't like the school, we will change. I can't say it will be easy. But I'm pretty sure it won't bankrupt me either.



Saturday, December 22, 2012

Autism Shines



A new Facebook page, called Autism Shines, has been created where people can upload photos of themselves or of the people they know who are autistic. It was created to combat the disturbing trend of autism blaming that has jumped into the spotlight since last Friday's horrible events.

This is the real truth of autism: caring, kind, loving children and adults. Come and see their pictures and read their descriptions; even upload some of your own.

Let's make sure the world knows that this is what autism really is.




Thursday, December 20, 2012

Guest Post: A Letter to Elisabeth from an autistic adult

This post was written by my friend Rachel Cohen-Rottenberg, who blogs at Disability and Representation. Rachel is a writer and photographer, a disabled woman, and an activist passionate about disability rights. The piece is addressed to Elisabeth, the same person to whom I directed my last post. Please feel free to share it widely.


I saw your post making the rounds of Facebook today. I’m sure you know the one I mean. It’s the one in which you refer to autistic people as “monsters” who “need to be locked up… ALL OF THEM.”


I realize that you’re scared. I realize that we live in a country in which 20 little children were just murdered while sitting in their classrooms. I realize that you want to somehow solve it, that you want to somehow feel safe, that you want to somehow cast this evil out of our midst.

I understand how you feel. I feel scared, too. I want to solve it, and I want to feel safe, and I want to cast this evil out of our midst so that no one ever has to bury a loved one again after such a horror.

But calling for all to be punished for the evil done by one person — that is its own violence.

It is prejudice. To decide that, because one member of a group did a despicable thing, all members of that group are suspect is the very definition of prejudice.

It is scapegoating. The person who did that despicable act didn’t do it because he was autistic. I don’t know why he did it, but autism wasn’t the cause.

It is verbal violence. It engenders hatred. It has the potential to put innocent people at risk. I have friends who are fearful for their safety right now. I know parents who are afraid for the safety of their children right now. Innocent people. Good people.

People like me.

I am on the autism spectrum. Let me show you who I am.


This is a picture of me with my husband Bob. It was taken at my kid’s high school graduation in 2011. I look distinctly like a full-fledged human being, don’t I?

That’s because I am. I’m a human being with a husband and a kid who love me, and who rely on me, and who can’t imagine their lives without me.

I’m a human being with friends both near and far.

I’m a human being who loves to write and to think and to create things of beauty.

I’m a human being who becomes upset at injustice, and who sometimes can’t sleep at night because she feels the suffering of other human beings so deeply.

I’m a human being who walks into any situation just wanting to help and to extend a kindness.

I’m a human being whom other human beings implicitly trust, because they know that I would never use anything they tell me against them, and that I would never break a confidence, and that I would never willingly hurt a living soul.

That is who I am.

Autism doesn’t make monsters. The monster is the fear that evil creates.

Don’t let the evil win. Don’t let it make you see monsters in the place that human beings are standing. Because if you do, evil wins. And after the events of last Friday, none of us wants to see that happen.



Wednesday, December 19, 2012

A letter to Elisabeth J.A.

This screenshot has been making the Facebook rounds; I don't know where it originated from and I've done my best to remove the identifying information. Seeing this makes me want to start sobbing and run and hide from the world, but instead of lying on the floor in the fetal position, I thought I would try to calmly respond to this, in the hopes that Elisabeth might see it.


Elisabeth, my son is autistic; I call him Child 1. He's 10 years old, will be 11 in January. His autism affects him in a way that causes him to spend a good deal of time "lost" in his own thoughts. When you talk to him, he is very likely to respond to you in a way that involves whatever he is thinking about (elevators, subway trains, etc.) and oftentimes it doesn't make a lot of sense. He also flaps his hands and runs back and forth a lot. He doesn't like it when other people try to engage with him, particularly people his own age. He likes to be alone. If you were to meet him, it would be obvious to you almost immediately that there was something "different" about him. You wouldn't necessarily know what was going on, but you would know that there was something happening.

Sometimes he gets angry with me, usually because he doesn't get his way, much like any other kid, and when he does he will hit me. He doesn't hit hard, he doesn't cause injury, and he does it only to express his frustration. He feels frustrated because he's not getting what he wants but also because he has a very difficult time explaining to me how he is feeling. Have you ever been having a conversation and suddenly you can't find the word to describe what you want to say but you don't know why? You might say it's "on the tip of my tongue," or something similar. Imagine if all of your words were always "on the tip of your tongue." That's how my son feels almost all of the time, and as you hopefully are able to understand, that can be a very frustrating feeling. If you felt like that all the time, you might want to hit me, too: in the moment.

But then the moment is over, and my son's frustration will subside, and he will go about his business just as happily as before. This is typical autistic behavior, and it comes with differing levels of severity depending on the individual person. What is not typical autistic behavior is somebody who will irrationally direct violent rage onto a person who is not immediately connected to their situation. They will not spend any time plotting revenge, or planning what they will do next; they will not drive to a different location and shoot people they don't even know. When the frustration is gone, it is gone.

My son is who you're talking about when you refer to "these monsters," and I'm writing this now because it's so important to me that you know about him, and others likes him. Autistic people are not "sick fucks." My son is not a "sick fuck." He is a sweet, beautiful, smart child, who is funny and warm and caring, just like most autistic people are, regardless of their ability to communicate. Elisabeth, what happened in Connecticut didn't happen because the shooter was autistic.

Here's another point of information for you to know: 46% of autistic children have reported being bullied in middle school and high school. This happens for a number of reasons, most notably because 1. They are noticeably "different," as I mentioned about my son earlier, and 2. There is a good deal of misinformation out there about autism, a lot of which is being spread by an irresponsible media at the moment, and your words here cause harm. You are helping to spread incorrect information about my son and you are causing him harm. 

You need to know that my child has a much greater chance of being a victim of violent crime than of being a perpetrator. You need to know this, Elisabeth; you need to be aware of how your words cause harm. I understand your anger at the situation, I'm angry, too; and I understand your need to try to find meaning in why 20 babies and 6 adults had to die, but I promise you, Elisabeth, I promise: autism is not the reason for this. 

I'm happy to talk with you more about this privately if you'd like to contact me. jillsmo at gmail.com; I promise I'm a nice person and my goal here is to educate, not to cause a fight.



Sunday, December 16, 2012

The Connecticut tragedy and autism

I sent this letter to every single person I could think of at our district, including the Superintendant and the School Board.  Feel free to grab it and use it as your own, although I did borrow some of the language from the Autism Discussion Page on Facebook.



Dear (school) community:

There has been much discussion online and in the news about the connection between the Connecticut school shooting and the fact that the shooter may have been diagnosed with autism. As our families and our community discusses this issue and tries to find a reason for this heartbreaking tragedy, I feel that it is very important to remember the following: There is no connection between planned, violent behavior and an autism spectrum diagnosis of any kind.

Autism is not a mental illness; it is a developmental disability. Many autistic people may have emotional regulation problems, which are impulsive expressions of frustration and anger, that are immediate and disorganized. They may lash out with threatening statements or behaviors, but these behaviors are impulsive reactions, they are not deliberate or organized plans. Once the situation has been diffused, the behaviors will stop. What happened in Connecticut required methodical planning of a deliberate and tremendously violent act; this is not typical behavior of an autistic person.

Right now we are all struggling to find a reason why this kind of atrocity would happen, and we can speculate about the mental state of the shooter; about gun control laws; about the current state of our country’s mental health system, or about whatever else that might help us make some sense out of this. Please know, and please tell your children, that even if the shooter was autistic, autism is not the explanation for this tragedy.

If anybody has any questions about autism, please do not hesitate to contact me.

Thank you very much for your time,

Jill
Mom to (Child 1) in 5th grade, with autism



Monday, August 27, 2012

Getting your GenEd teachers ready for your autistic kid

School is starting! School is starting! SCHOOL IS STARTING!!!! For us, it starts on Wednesday, I think it's probably already started for a bunch of you. LUCKY.

First, I guess, some background: Child 1 is what they call "fully included," which means he is in a General Education (GenEd) classroom with supports that are specified in his IEP ("supports" include a 1:1 aide, being pulled out for individual instruction, as well as various therapies, etc.). And school districts being what they are (read: tight asses), General Education teachers are rarely given appropriate training on how to have a Special Education kid in their class. Unless they have personal experience or have had a kid in their class before, oftentimes your IEP kid will be the first IEP kid they've ever taught. This has been the case for 3 of the last 5 teachers we've had, and I actually don't know if our teacher this year has any experience. As Child 1 gets older, it's becoming less and less important. Then again we haven't hit middle school yet. *gulp*

I heard from the school last week about who Child 1's teacher is going to be (we got the good one! Then again, we get the teacher I ask for every year, because... do you really want to mess with me if you don't give my kid the best possible option? No, you do not want me to be upset with you about the choices you have made for my child, if they are different from what I have requested. I know, I sound like an obnoxious bitch, but I promise you I only do this for my autistic kid; with the other one we just roll the dice like everybody else). Anyway, as part of my preparation for having a new teacher, I asked around on Facebook if anybody had any suggestions for some articles I could send him. In asking around, I found some great resources (links below) but also the advice (thank you Rhonda) that no one article is going to encompass all the information about my child that his teacher will need to know, and if I really want to help my teacher understand how to work with my child, what I send should be written by me.

This is really good advice, and I completely agree, but the crux of my advice to you, my reader who has a child with autism or an IEP or a 504, is that you are the one in charge here. You can't ever assume that anybody who is employed by your school district will 1. know your child well enough to know what is in their best interest, 2. have the necessary skills and training to carry that out and 3. have the motivation to even make it happen. You have to be on top of the IEP team, making sure it is being carried out correctly, and if there's something wrong, it is you who are responsible for finding that out and starting the process to fix it. I know... that kind of sucks. I mean, I don't know about you guys, but I'm no teacher; I've got no fucking clue how to teach anybody, much less a class full of kids, but I do know my kid; I know how to speak up and I know my rights. I also know that if I don't keep on top of things, my kid could very very easily slip through the cracks and it is my responsibility, as my child's best advocate, to make sure that doesn't happen.

So, if the issue is how to prepare your GenEd teacher for your SPED kid, you need to take that on, yourself. Like I said, never assume that they will know anything; in fact, to be on the safe side, you should assume that they know nothing. I've had teachers stop me in the hallway to ask advice on how to handle their autistic student; it's not their fault, they just don't get the needed training, and they likely never will. But it's not because they don't want to know, so it's your job to provide them with the information they need. Again. That kind of sucks that you have to do it; but that's the reality.

Before school starts every year I like to meet with our new teacher in person to discuss the details of my child, but some people like to write something up and give to them. My friend Michelle, who blogs at She's Always Write, and can be found on Twitter here, sent me the "resume" that she uses for her son, and I thought it was so awesome and well written that I asked her if I could share it here (I've removed the personal information about her son). This was written for her son, who is 3, and I decided not to modify it (even after I told her I would. Sorry Michelle! I got lazy) but it should be pretty easy to make this work for a kid any age, I think.


ALL ABOUT ME

Hi! My name is XX and I’m 3. I love to play cars and trains and to ride my bike and run and jump and climb.

I’m excited about school, but my mommy is worried that some things will be hard for me. I can do everything the same as other kids; there are just times when I might need you to teach me a little differently than you’re used to.

WHY I’M A LITTLE BIT DIFFERENT

My doctors told my Mommy that I’m really smart and can figure things out like a bigger kid. But, my brain works a little different so sometimes it might look like I don’t understand something. But if you take a second to help me see it my way, you’ll be surprised how fast I learn!

My Mommy and my doctors use these big words when they talk about me.
  • High Functioning Autism
  • Sensory Processing Disorder
  • Speech & Language Processing Disorder
  • Auditory Processing Disorder
AUTISM
  • My brain gets stuck on things and I can’t help it. I do best with verbal reminders a few minutes before the class moves onto the next activity, it helps me get unstuck and transition smoothly.
  • It is really hard for me to understand what other people are thinking and feeling based on their face or tone of voice. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s that part of my brain doesn’t work the same as yours. I really like making you happy. If you are happy or frustrated with something I did, I won’t know unless you use words to tell me.
  • I really like to play with other kids, but it is hard for me to know if they like how I am playing. It helps me a lot if you tell me gently how to play nice and be a good friend.
  • I do best with routines. I can handle changes to what I expect (like fire drills) if you talk about it in advance.
  • I take your words literally – sarcasm, jokes that are plays on words and metaphors are very confusing.
SENSORY PROCESSING
  • My eight senses (did you know there are eight?!) don’t work the same as yours. Some days I am more sensitive to everything, and some days I feel like I can’t get enough of everything.
  • Noises that sound normal to you (like a toilet flushing) may be painful for me. If you know there will be a loud noise, it helps if you remind me to cover my ears.
  • Being touched (especially on the head) can really overload my senses and make it hard for me to stay calm. Sometimes it’s hard for me to sit close to other people.
  • A face can give more sensory information than I can process all at once – I can’t always look at you AND understand what you are saying. Sometimes I need to look down so I can hear you.
  • Did you know learning to write is related to your senses? I have to work extra hard to hold a crayon and make it do what I need it to. Sometimes I press too hard, and sometimes I can’t press it hard enough.
LANGUAGE PROCESSING
  • It can be hard for me to say something even when I know all the words – sometimes I need you to be a little bit patient while I work on getting my brain to make the muscles in my mouth work right.
  • It is very hard for me to answer open-ended questions. I do much better when I can make a choice.
  • I often say things backwards (I ate the ice cream because I am cold).
AUDITORY PROCESSING
  • My ears work fine, but sometimes the connection between my ears and brain can be slow (like waiting for a web page to load) or kind of staticky (like a radio station that won’t come in right).
  • There can be a delay between when my ear hears you talk and my brain understands the words that can make it look like I’m not listening. If you touch me on the arm, I will know you need my attention.
  • Sometimes my brain hears a different word than you say. Not very often, but if you notice please tell my Mommy.
  • It can be hard for me to understand when you talk fast and give lots of instructions. I do really well if you show me how to do something after you tell me. My eyes understand faster than my ears.


Some good links (thanks for my FB friends for sending me to these places; I didn't find them on my own!):

Ten Things Your Student With Autism Wishes You Knew by Ellen Nothbohm

Back to School, a post by Diary of a Mom that has links at the bottom.

Tip Sheets for Teaching Children with Autism Spectrum Disorder by Sue Larkey


Questions? I'm happy to tell you more about what I know. jillsmo at gmail.com



Thursday, August 2, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 19: Lining Things Up

See the tab above for more information about this series.

Apparently I was not finished with this series, although now I have 19 posts, and 19 is not only not an even number, it's a prime number, and I simply cannot have that. So, there will be one more after this, but I think I might write it.

Today we have Mama Meerkat, who blogs at Mindful Meerkats. Go Mama!


Mini Meerkat was my first and only child, so I was a bit perplexed but not unduly alarmed that she didn't play with her toys as an infant. She didn't babble or gurgle or coo either, so I thought maybe she just had better things to do. These things mainly included sleeping, nursing, screaming, puking, and pooping. That was about it, and it continued far past the stage that babies are supposed to start doing more with their lives.

I bought her countless toys, hoping each time that this new toy would The Toy. I tried to engage her, to get her to play, but she just wasn’t interested. When she was evaluated by Early Intervention, I got fed excuses. “Oh well, she’s still so young, just give her time. She’s an only child.” As if that had anything to do with playing with toys? Once she started to interact with objects around her, a pattern appeared. She didn’t quite play, but she spent her time carefully arranging and lining up her toys. Or my shoes. Or sticks. Or leaves. Or anything really. If it could be moved, it could be lined up.

I mentioned it to our Early Intervention developmentalist, and she said,” oh, all kids do that. It’s a phase.”

A year later I mentioned it to her doctor, insisting that she still spent a stunning amount of time lining things up and got very upset if you messed with her lines. She said, “all kids do that, she’s still little.”

Once I even took pictures of all the lines she made. I filled two whole pages with a collage. Neatly arranged Little People animals stretching across my living room floor, sorted by species, and all facing the same direction and little Care Bears parading across the edge of a side table featured heavily. Some days she preferred arcs, but the patterns were always very precise. I took the pages with us to see her neuropsychologist who told us once again that all kids like to line things up at this age. I don’t think she saw the whole picture.

My pictures captured the results, but they failed to capture the process, the deliberation, and the ultimate meltdown if her lines were disturbed.

During her OT evaluation for preschool, the OT took out small wooden blocks and those little plastic bears that OTs always seem to have. Mini Meerkat very carefully and deliberately lined up the blocks while ignoring the OT. Once she had all the blocks in a neat row, she slowly positioned the bears. Each block got one bear, and they all were facing the same direction. Once she was done, she hummed to herself. The OT asked if she could make the bears jump over the blocks. Finally acknowledging the OT, Mini Meerkat scowled and said, “no!” The OT was quiet.

It was the first time that we hadn’t been met with “all kids do that!” in response to Mini Meerkat’s passion for lining up her toys or whatever she could find. Later at a speech evaluation, the speech therapist noted that it wasn’t normal for Mini Meerkat to need to take all the toys out of the bucket, sort, and arrange them before she even considered playing with them.

Now, even at 3.5 years old she loves to arrange and line up her toys. Nobody is saying much now. Some behaviors are age appropriate, but when they continue it can be concerning. Despite getting brushed off, I knew that something wasn’t quite right with the tenacity of her lining. Trust your gut, mamas. Not all kids do that.



Thursday, April 19, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 18: Obsessions

See the tab above for more information about this series.

Today's contribution is from the mysterious, nameless blogger from My Whac-A-Mole Life. Who is she? What is her name?? NOBODY KNOWS!


“I must confess I don’t know why my brother is obsessed by trucks,” harmonically laments Justin Roberts in his popular, cutesy kid’s song of the same name.

True, most parents with young kids will at some point roll their eyes and complain that little Johnny is “obsessed” with (CIRCLE ONE):  trucks; trains; superheroes; princesses; Dora; a particular blankie. Or maybe it’s a bedraggled stuffed animal, like the one featured in that adorable, mainstream picture book series – “Knuffle Bunny.” Aw, kids are so cute.

Unfortunately, these obsessions, as depicted by Justin Roberts and Mo Willems, respectively, are merely child’s play!

Both of my children have been professionally labeled with, among many other diagnoses, OCD.  Autism - which is prominent on my daughter’s CV - is known to include perseverative behaviors. And she, like many others on the spectrum, cleverly applies this perseveration to her passion du jour.

Oh that it would be something as cute and relatable as princesses! Instead, here’s a sampling of my 7-year-old’s die-hard obsessions over the past couple of years:
  • Red shirts
  • Hotels – logos, furniture, lobbies
  • Doctor’s offices (particularly shots)
  • Beds. Sometimes chairs. Rugs too.
  • Hamburgers
  • Pumpkins
  • Bags – first Ziplocs and then paper bags, particularly the one pictured here:
  • Bathrooms
  • Cake mixes

So yeah, for starters, the actual objects of desire are weird. Now let’s look at how this plays out, using her current obsession (four months and going strong): Expo dry erase markers. She doesn’t necessarily like to draw with them, mind you. She prefers hoarding, admiring and “talking” about them.

  • Every store we go into that could possibly sell markers, she’s off and running to the office supply section. Full tantrum ensues unless we buy her dry erase markers. And no, the cheap, generic brands will not do. Must. Be. Expo.
  • Given some freedom on her iPad (she uses it as a speaking device and I’m thrilled that her spelling, reading and typing skills are developing), she is on YouTube or Safari seeking a dry erase marker fix. Sampling of search terms she has employed: Expo, markers, dry erase, purple (yes, just purple), and so on. We have watched boring, corporate whiteboard presentations; we have visited every online office supply store in existence; and we have endured countless Expo ads. Too bad she can’t be a spokesperson.
  • Our home copy machine has run out of toner because she likes to make copies of Expo logos, boxes and markers. Unfortunately, she must have the markers arranged just so on the machine. Since they are cylindrical and they roll, she has yet to achieve the perfection she seeks. (See picture). Thus, we run out of paper or patience first and then the machine must “go to sleep.” This basically ruins her day.
  • Speaking of sleep, a particular picture (it varies per day) and perhaps even a marker go to bed with her.  How do we know which one she wants? We don’t; only she does. Lord help us all if she can’t find it!
  • When we pick her brother up from school, she repeats over and over that she has to go to the bathroom. When I am stupid enough to give in, I realize it’s her sneaky way of gaining access to the secretary’s office and pilfering the jar of Expo markers on her desk. Cue full meltdown when I do not let her take them. How do I explain?
  • Anywhere we go…any house we visit…she is on the hunt for Expo markers. It’s uncanny and kind of impressive that she has the ability to locate them everywhere. Her sixth sense leads her right to them. “Oh, does she want to color? Is she looking for a toy?” someone might ask. Um, no, I must reply, she just wants your Expo marker.

I could go on, but you get the picture. In a way, I’m grateful for the marker obsession. Previously, you might have witnessed me in the middle of Target screaming at my beautiful, tear-stricken, bawling daughter:  “No, I am not taking you to the doctor! You may not get a shot today!” Emotionally numb after repeating this statement so frequently, I had little awareness as to how disturbing it sounded to anyone else.

I can only speculate that these passions fulfill some sort of sensory need for her.  I imagine that they provide some semblance of comfort, or a feeling of control over her environment. Since she is largely nonverbal, I cannot know for sure. However, I do know this: All kids DO NOT do that.



Thursday, April 5, 2012

All Kids Do That: Part 17, Sensory Issues again

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This is my last part of this series, I'm pretty sure I've covered all the bases. So, I'm not taking any new submissions, unless I've already asked you and you've promised me something and I've been waiting and waiting and waiting for it. So... unless you've done that.... *cough*

Today we have Grace, who blogs at That'sRightISaidIt.Dot.Mom. Hi Grace!!


We're two years post diagnosis, and I still don't understand sensory processing disorder well enough to explain it to you in any scientifically insightful way.  Basically, my son's brain processes sensory information differently than that of a typical child.  Information taken in through the senses of taste, touch, sight, hearing, and smell feels, sounds, and looks different to him.  He sometimes has difficulty understanding sensations in his body (hunger, thirst, the need to use the bathroom, etc.).  Some kids with SPD also have difficulty with spatial issues and understanding where their body is in relation to other objects in the environment.

I do, however, understand how sensory processing disorder causes challenges for my son.  So, let's talk about sensory challenges, shall we??

I fully acknowledge that many non-spectrum kids have sensory issues.  Lots of people – children and adults – have sensory sensitivities.  For example, my eyes are extremely sensitive to sunlight.  Consequently I wear my sunglasses even when it's kind of cloudy because it's better than spending the rest of the day feeling like my brains are trying to gouge their way out of my skull.  And if your car alarm blares for more than three minutes, it's all I can do not to impale myself (or you) on a letter opener.  So if your otherwise neurotypical child displays some difficulty with certain sensory stimuli, I get it.  But if your child is not disabled by said difficulty, then please do not belittle me or my son by saying "all kids do that" when I tell you about his sensory processing disorder.

Oh, forgive me for being so defensive.  I didn't realize your daughter doesn't like fire drills at school.  She covers her ears, and even cried one time in Kindergarten?  Yeah, well, let me tell you about my son.  He's terrified of ANY type of high pitched noise – to the point where he develops physical symptoms and cannot function.

Like this one time, I was sitting in traffic trying to get home after a concert when I got a very distressed phone call from my mother, who was at my place watching my son.  The battery was dying in one of my smoke detectors and making that annoying, incessant *beep*.  My mom couldn't figure out where it was coming from or how to make it stop, and my son was hysterical and begging to go to her house.  By the time I made it home, my son and my mother were sitting outside in her car.  His entire body was shaking so hard his teeth were literally chattering.  It was July, people.  I had to rip the battery out of the damn smoke detector and hold my son on my lap for 45 minutes before he stopped shaking.

Not long after that, I had to replace my carbon monoxide detector.  I went to the hardware store by myself, on my lunch break, because my son would have completely lost his shit in the middle of the store if he were with me and saw what I was buying.  As it was, he freaked out that evening when he saw it sitting, still securely wrapped in the package, on the kitchen counter.  He cried and shook and begged me to throw it in a dumpster.  He didn't calm down until I took it outside and put it in my car.

My son has also been known to run screaming – again, literally – from the kitchen because I put bread in the toaster.  I might accidentally burn the toast and set off the smoke alarm.

Let's be clear here.  My son is not terrified because of some perceived danger.  Honestly, the house could completely burn down, and as long as it happened quietly, he wouldn't be half as upset.  My son is terrified of THE NOISE.  He is so terrified of it, he is crippled with anxiety over the mere POSSIBILITY that it might happen.  A brand new CO detector in its package sends him into a complete panic.  He screams when I make toast.  Sorry, but NOT all kids do that.

Oh, what's that??  You have to remind your child to brush his teeth??  Ok, how many times, may I ask??  Because I have to remind my son about 97 times every night.  Then, when all that reminding fails, I have to cajole, threaten, and bribe.  Then, if I haven't completely thrown in the towel (which happens sometimes. . .give me a break, I’m only human), he will brush his teeth, with a barely visible, miniscule amount of toothpaste, for about 20 seconds.

He tolerates the bristles rubbing against his teeth ok, and after a few trials and failures I found a kids toothpaste that he claims to like, yet he still doesn't cooperate.  It took dumbass me far too long to figure out that he hates the sensation of the toothpaste foaming up in his mouth.  If too much toothpaste foams up in his mouth, he will actually choke and gag and accuse me of trying to kill him.  There is no way you will ever convince me that all kids do that.

Oh, you have to remind your Little Suzy Neurotypical to wash her hands after she uses the bathroom, too?  Really.  Does Little Suzy require occupational therapy to learn to tolerate the squishy feeling of the soap bubbling up between her fingers?  Because my son does.  Does Little Suzy also despise the sensations associated with finger painting, Play-Doh, and making mud pies??  Because, wow, my son can't tolerate any of that stuff.  So while your kid may simply forget to wash her hands, MY kid avoids it like Blue Ivy avoids the paparazzi because it is actually uncomfortable and unnerving for him, to the point that he requires therapy.

I tried to compromise with my son on this handwashing issue by Purell-ing the hell out of him instead, with less than stellar results.  I would squirt the Purell in one hand, he would barely dab it with three fingers from the other hand, then wipe BOTH hands on his jeans.  Hygiene FAIL.

My son also accuses me of trying to kill him by making him wash his hands.  I'm guessing not all kids do that, either.

All kids put things in their mouths, though, right??  Ummm, maybe when they're babies, but not when they're 8.  In this way, my son seeks constant sensory input.  He. Must. Chew.  It's not an annoying little habit, it's a need, which I don't claim to understand.  I have gum written into his IEP at school because chewing helps him to stay calm and focus on his work.  If he doesn't have gum, he will put whatever he can get his hands on in his mouth.  Paper clips, rubber bands, thumb tacks, it doesn't matter.  I don't own a single pencil that still has its eraser on the end.  He has, on at least one occasion, swallowed a plastic button.  If he doesn't have anything to put in his mouth, he will chew his fingernails, which are nothing more than gnawed-off stumps, or his shirt.  I can't tell you how many shirts he's ruined.  But all kids come home from school with their collars and sleeves in chewed-up tatters at least once in a while, right?

Believe me, I could go on and on, but I think I’ve made my point.

Let me be clear about something else.  This is not about some kind of crazy competition over whose kid has it worse.  I don't play that game.  I have never actually said any of the above things to another living person.  If I share personal stuff like this with you and you dismiss me with "all kids do that," I will simply stop talking, because you clearly don't get it, and if that's how you really feel, one conversation with me probably isn't going to change anything.  But maybe if you would just listen, and simply acknowledge the things I'm telling you, I would feel like less of a misfit in the Mom World.  And if I feel like a misfit, imagine how my son feels.

One last thing.  Before you attempt to reassure another mother with "all kids do that," consider this: When my son was younger, I was so inexperienced and lacking in confidence that I actually listened to those people.  As a result, my son got diagnosed much, much later than most kids.  So, your offhand effort at being helpful to a concerned first-time mother may, in fact, be anything but.  Just something to think about.



Sunday, March 25, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 16: Sensory Issues

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Today we have Sherilin who blogs at Laughing My Abs Off. Her daughter also has a blog, and she wrote about this, too, calling it The Year of Stupid Pants, complete with illustrations!



All kids do that.... right? all kids hate certain clothes. i've had so many parents tell me how opinionated their kids were about their clothes, but i think they're not on the same page as my family is. for us, it's not about an opinion, it's about survival.

brooke can't stand to be rubbed or scratched by her clothes. squeezing is fine, but all tags must be cut out. there can be no decals or stitching that can be felt on the insides of shirts. because stitching equals death to her nerve endings.

if she has underwear on her body that rides up her butt cheek even the tiniest bit, she insists that it's a wedgie and she will jam her hand straight into her butt while squirming and shrieking and making the most hideous faces. it doesn't matter where we are or who's looking. i have to buy panties for her that cost $6 per pair and i consider it money well spent because finally she has something covering her butt that doesn't drive her insane and continually embarrass us.

we had two years where she couldn't wear jeans because they all touched her wrong. she could not bear the feeling of the thick, stiffness of jeans. she liked how they looked and wanted to wear them, but we went to store after store after store and tried on about a hundred pairs of jeans, each session ending in hysterical tears because they all felt wrong or gave her wedgies. i even tried altering some myself in hopes of something being satisfactory, but it didn't work. we did finally find a hand-me-down pair that she could wear and i was very, very sad when she outgrew them.

i tried to force her to wear certain things because i thought maybe it was just a matter of her trying to control her wardrobe. but the end result was a girl who was writhing and moaning and couldn't even walk properly because of the pain that her clothing was causing her.

i've given up. she's nine and i let her wear anything she wants to, even if it doesn't match or looks odd. she's not trying to make a fashion statement (usually) she's just trying to get through her days without being tortured by her clothes.

not all kids are like that.... right?



Friday, March 23, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 15: No They Don't

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Today I'm happy to welcome Bobbi Sheahan. She wrote a book. She's a published author. And she's writing for ME. Sweeeet.


Things That Take Years Off the End of Mom’s Life

You know that getting-to-know-you chat when moms meet each other and begin to exchange basic information about our kids? It’s a little different when your child has autism.

There's always a How-Much-To-Say dilemma: usually I am content to come off as Crazy Helicopter Mom until my child does something that frightens Our New Friends. Fortunately or unfortunately, that never takes long, and then there’s A Situation. If the word "autism" hasn't come up yet, it does at that point. I'll acknowledge that my child doesn’t have the caution that other kids have, or that she’s done some objectively zany things, or that she's a risk-taker, to a greater degree than the norm, and that's when the fun starts. The responses seem to fall into one of two categories: either our New Friend will run screaming into the night and I'll never see her again, or – surprisingly frequently – she’ll dismiss it with some version of All Kids Do That.

Example: My kid puts things in her mouth that aren’t food.
Response: All Kids Do That.
Light bulbs? Really? All kids eat light bulbs? How about thumbtacks? Sticks? Mulch? How about mulch? And mulch consumption before age 3 doesn’t count.

Or: My kid used to like to run away.
Response: Yeah, All Kids Do That.
For six and a half years? Without stopping?

Or: My kid took a while to potty train.
Forget the Q&A; just hold me while I weep. Maybe someday Jill will have me back to write an article called Potty Train Your Child in Ten Years or Less. Wait, we’re in danger of getting off topic. Let's get move on to dangers with electricity.

Or: My child doesn’t exercise caution around electrical appliances.
Response: Yeah, All Kids Do That.
No, really. She’s not a toddler anymore, and she has conquered a half-dozen floor lamps, tried innumerable times to toast her hands (yes, Toast. Her. Hands.), and once she grabbed a hot light bulb and burned the skin off her hand. Not the same light bulb that she bit into – this was a different light bulb, on a different day. But thanks for asking. Would you like some toast?

You get the picture. Our kids’ senses are often calibrated completely differently than the rest of the world’s senses. That can be maddening to your child – say, if he has very acute hearing or smell – but it can also be dangerous. Sensory issues can mess with your perception of pain, for example. My Sweet Baboo used to stand on anthills and watch the fire ants march up and down her legs, biting as they went.

Now, let’s be honest; before I had a kid with autism, I would have seen those welts on the child's legs and thought, “Dear God, what is wrong with that mother? How could she let that happen?” Well, I'll tell you. I successfully dragged her off of about 386 anthills that spring, and I missed a couple.

Then again, the next kid with autism might have just the opposite reaction, and might be tearing at his skin after it’s been brushed against a leaf; I’ve heard mothers tell me about how their kids basically scratched their skin off, too, for no apparent reason. My child has attempted to take the skin off of her arms with a potato peeler, but I have managed to stop her. About eighty times.

So, please, please don’t tell me All Kids Do That. Or stand back if you do. I might just have to come after you with a potato peeler and some fire ants.

Bobbi Sheahan is a big fan of this series, and she still can’t believe that Jillsmo asked her to contribute to it; she requests that one of you please pinch her. Bobbi and Kathy DeOrnellas, Ph.D. are the authors of What I Wish I’d Known About Raising a Child With Autism; A Mom and a Therapist Offer Heartfelt Guidance for the First Five Years (Future Horizons, 2011). Bobbi’s website is www.bobbisheahan.com. You can also connect with her on Twitter at @BobbiSheahan or on Facebook.



Monday, March 19, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 14: Potty Training

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Okay, I got a little backed up/confused/befuddled about this series and my schedule and all that, but I'm pretty sure I've got things under control right now. If you have not received an email from me today, and you have sent me something for this, please contact me and let me know. After this post, I only have one more waiting in the wings, and all I have after that are promises of posts but no actual posts. I would really like somebody to write about sensory issues, stimming and obsessions, so somebody get me something please! (Also, if your name is Emily, and you are not related to me, just a reminder that you have made promises of a Guest Posting nature..... And if your name is Rachel, I can't remember if you've made promises or not, but I'm choosing to remember that you have. :) I'm calling you girls out!!!)

Today I am happy to welcome Lisa, who blogs at Autism Wonderland. Hi Lisa!!!


All Kids Do That: Potty Training
Lisa Quinones-Fontanez

I don’t know why they say it; things like, “oh that’s all kids…” with a wave of their hand, whenever I say something, almost anything about my six year old son, Norrin. When Norrin had trouble those first few days weeks months of kindergarten – oh, that’s all kids. When Norrin doesn’t want to sit down to eat a meal – oh, that’s all kids. When Norrin doesn’t sleep at night – oh, that’s all kids. And every year when I explain that Norrin doesn’t really understand the concept of Christmas – oh, that’s all kids.

Whenever anyone tells a special needs parent “all kids do that” – those four small words completely dismiss the diagnosis, the struggles of our day to day lives.

At least, that’s how I feel when I hear those words. Maybe they say it to make me feel normal. Maybe clumping our kids together makes understanding autism a little easier for them. Whatever the reason is, I know it’s not all kids. And when it comes to potty training – it certainly isn’t like all kids.

I started potty training when Norrin was two and half years old; the usual boy age to start. Whenever I talked about our potty training challenges with “typical” moms, they were all quick to tell me “all boys take a long time.” Then proceeded to tell me how it took them three weeks with their boy as opposed to the one week it took for their girl (or something crazy like that). And these moms offered suggestions, reward methods, books to read…but I knew none of these things would work for Norrin.

Well, it didn’t take three weeks to potty training Norrin. We’ve been training for the last three years.

Because what Norrin needed was time. He needed to understand the concept. He needed the motor planning to be able to pull down his pants (and/or to wipe backside). Norrin needed to strengthen his core so he could stand still and straight. Norrin needed to learn how to stop an activity and go to the bathroom – first with prompting and eventually without. Norrin needed the words to say “I have to go potty” or “I need help.” And he still needs help with fine motor skills like unbuttoning jeans and manipulating a zipper.

In order to get Norrin potty trained, we needed the assistance of an ABA therapist, several special education teachers and aides, speech and occupational therapists. We needed to use timers, visual aids, social stories and prompts. (Let’s not forget the wonders of Miralax!)

And along our potty training journey there were plenty of discarded underpants, stained carpets and wet floors. We went through bottles of detergent, tubs of disinfectant wipes and rolls of paper towels. And needless to say, the boxes and boxes of pull ups that we are still using. Yes – Norrin is potty trained during the day. Night time potty is a whole different story…

So instead of suggestions on what we should be doing, instead of dismissing the diagnosis by saying “that’s all kids,” take the time to listen and understand that in some ways our kids are different. Understand that because our kids are different, that our parenting needs to be different. And when it comes to stuff like potty training – what worked for your kid, may not necessarily work for a kid on the spectrum. Unless of course you used a book called “How to Potty Train in 10 Years or Less.” Because if you find that book, please be sure to pass that bad boy along.



Saturday, March 10, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 13: Spitting

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Today I'm happy to be hosting Jim, who you can find on Twitter here and who blogs at Just a Lil Blog.

My computer downage has caused confusion in my head ... moreso.  Have you sent me something to post? Have I asked you to write for me? Have you offered to write for me? Please email me at jillsmo at gmail.com and tell me the deal, because I can't keep track of anything at this point, and I know there's lots more to come!


"The Spittin' Image"

The day the note came home with my three year-old daughter advising us that she had spit on a fellow classmate I was shocked. My wife told me about it when our daughter was out of earshot.

“She. . . she spit on a kid?” I asked.

“Yeah.”

“Like. . . pitooey? Or she blew a raspberry and some kid got a fleck of spit on her cheek and started crying?”

“I don’t know, Jim, it just says she spit on someone.”

We approached it very seriously, but I was pretty upset, and sort of let my temper get the better of me. “If you do it again, you’re going to get a spankin’.” She’d never been spanked before. She’d already been in tears discussing the situation with us, and this new threat sent her over the edge.

I glanced up at my wife’s raised eyebrows and thought, “Shit, this is one of those things we talk about before deciding on,” but it was too late.

We made peace with her that night. She understood the enormity of the offense but she was calm enough to snuggle and listen to her bedtime story before drifting off to sleep. We had handled the situation.

The following day a note came home with my three year-old daughter advising us that she had spit on a fellow classmate. What. The. Hell. After soul searching, discussing, googling and in all other ways researching the subject of spankings. . . I caved. We gave her a talking-to. . . we took away privileges, we promised additional repercussions for additional offenses, we expressed extreme disappointment, and. . . she never spit on anyone again.

Kids spit on kids. It’s a phase. All. . . or almost all kids do it at some point or another. And parents have to make their peace with the process just like they make their peace with the biting phase or the swearing phase or lying phase.

We handled it. We disciplined her. We triumphed.

We had five years to pat ourselves on the back for the job we did with our oldest daughter, Emma, before her autistic little sister Lily came along and started her spitting “phase”.

Before we knew what autism meant (if anyone truly knows what autism means who is not himself autistic) we noticed that what passed for kickass parenting for Emma meant little and less to Lily.

A raised voice, a stern expression, and a rigidly pointed finger were enough to reduce Emma to tears, induce heartfelt apologies, and assure practically flawless adherence to recently broken rules moving forward, but often just made Lily giggle mischievously before repeating the exact same behavior again. And again. And again.

We started spelling the word “spit” or “spitting” very early on with Lily, because even saying the word was enough to generate a face-full. When she learned that “s-p-i-t” spelled spit, we stopped referring to it at all.

Behavior is communication, and with nonverbal kids, sometimes it’s their only means of communication. And while Lily can talk, much of her speech is echolalia and spitting can serve many functions.

Spitting can satisfy a sensory need. She likes the feeling her lips make when she purses them and blows raspberries. She’s a child who is hyposensitive or sensory-seeking. She needs strong stimulation in order to really feel what’s going on in the world around her and place herself in it comfortably.

Spitting can satisfy a need for attention. Nothing whips our heads around faster than the sound of Lily spitting angrily. Blowing raspberries gets her immediate results, and “Hey daddy” has lost some of its effectiveness since she will often repeat it twenty times in a row to twenty, “What is it, Lily” responses.

Spitting can serve as an expression of anger or desire to escape. When she’s being led to the potty, she will sometimes resist. When she is being asked to try on the potty or sit still, she will often spit. “I’m mad at you,” it says.

Separating the behavior from the function is important. I don’t want to punish my daughter for satisfying a need for comfort that she’s feeling. I don’t want to stifle her ability to make herself more comfortable or more calm.

I don’t want to punish her for needing attention either, but at the same time I can’t pay attention when she uses spitting to get it, because that reinforces her understanding that spitting gets results.

I can’t allow her to escape from activities that are non-preferred due to spitting or it once more reinforces her view that she gets her way if she spits.

So what does that leave us? It leaves us with ignoring spitting when it’s used to stim, ignoring it when it’s used to gain attention, then redirecting and supplying her with alternate suggestions about more appropriate ways to seek our attention, and it leaves us with ignoring the spitting while she’s doing something she doesn’t want to do, because addressing the spitting gets her out of some other non-preferred task. It leaves us reading social stories to her daily about the appropriate uses for your “mouth” (if you’re curious: eating, breathing, talking, singing, NOT spitting), wiping our faces, and keeping our expressions blank. I don’t even blink when she spits in my face now.

She doesn’t differentiate between sick or healthy either. You’ll get the same face wash when she’s got a cold that you get when she’s healthy. She does it more when she’s tired to calm herself down, so at night, when I’m putting her to bed and our faces are six inches apart, she’ll look up at me past long lashes with her big dark eyes and spit right in my face. . . tiredly.

We advise our care givers to ignore it; to turn her so she’s facing away from them when they change her wet clothes so she’s not constantly spitting in their faces. We warn friends and family so they’re prepared.

And two years later she’s still doing it. There have been temper tantrums (mine) and embarrassing screams of rage (mine) and nose to nose confrontations, swatted bottoms, timeouts, and every other disciplinary tactic tried. And two years later she’s still doing it.

Ignoring it has given me more peace than anything else we’ve tried.And maybe (I think the data actually shows this) it’s gotten better.I think you could honestly say she spits less today than she did a year ago. And I’m convinced that it has nothing to do with any “intervention”, “strategy”, or “discipline” we’ve implemented.

All kids have phases. All kids spit. But this spitting phase isn’t one that can be disciplined away (nor in the case where she’s stimming SHOULD it be), or stern-faced out of existence the way we stern-facedly exterminated our neurotypical daughter, Emma’s spitting problem all those years ago.

It’s just not the same.



Saturday, March 3, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 12: The Worry

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Holy hell I could have written this one. Have I said that before? Probably, but worrying is something I really feel like I'm good at. I'm an expert. I could teach classes. and so on.

Today we have Patty, who blogs at Pancakes Gone Awry (AWESOME name for a blog).


Recent conversation with friend:

Me: I've been really worried about Danny making friends.

Friend: I know what you mean. I worry about my kids and their friends, too.

Me: But here's the thing: Danny doesn't actually have any friends.

Friend: Sure he does! What about the kids at church?

Me: Uh, no, they're not really his friends. He never talks about them and they aren't especially nice to him. I worry that the kids are making fun of him. I heard one kid say.....

Friend: (interrupting) Yeah. All moms worry about that, right? I mean, just the other day, someone teased my daughter about a boy who likes her.

Me: Hmmmm... yeah, but that's not really the same as being called a "retard" by classmates, is it?

Friend: Well, I know what you mean. No one likes to hear their kid being teased.

Me: (hitting head against wall) Yeah, well, I have to run. Thanks for talking (sarcastically).


All mothers worry about their children's futures. We worry about drugs and school and bullying. We worry about their health and self-esteem, their future careers and romantic lives.

When you have a kid with autism or any other special need, however, the worrying takes on epic proportions, mostly because these fears are so much more likely to come true than with NT kids. I don't care what a mom of neurotypical kids says; it is NOT the same thing.

My son has high functioning autism, and I worry about his future to the point of obsession. Now, of course I worry about my younger daughter and son. I want them to be happy and successful adults, too, but with Danny, I'm really scared. Scared that he might turn to drugs to deal with his social struggles or in order to fit in. Scared he may someday battle depression because he is so different and -everything--everything!-- seems to be a bigger struggle for him.

I'm terrified of the day when he realizes people look at him strangely. I worry he won't be able to hold a job or have a romantic relationship (if he wants one). Hell, I'm scared he won't ever have a truly good friend.

I worry that someday all his struggles with sensory stimuli, learning and just daily living will prove to be too much for him, that he'll just want to give up on it all, because life is just so damn hard for him.

And I worry that someday my daughter will realize that her brother is different and she won't want him around. That she'll be embarrassed of him and his differences.

This worry I have for my son who has autism is fundamentally different than the worry I harbor for my younger kids. OF COURSE, I don't want any of them to be bullied, but in Danny's case, it's much more likely to happen. In fact, I've already witnessed episodes. Kids are cruel. We all know that, and many kids are the victims of bullying and teasing. I know I was. But, the thing about kids (and really, many adults) is that they are uncomfortable with people who are different. Kids who are different are very likely to get made fun of; it's the law of the playground.

I want my other kids to go to college and get jobs, and sure, I know they could end up on welfare as easily as the next kid. But Danny? Danny who struggles with processing directions, who gets stressed so easily, who offends people sometimes by his bluntness? Yeah, SO much more likely to have problems in the workforce or even in interviews. And he is such a homebody, it isn't such a stretch to imagine him living in my basement, playing video games into his 40s.

As parents we will always worry about our kids, but to say that the "normal" worry is the same as this is so insulting. It's like me telling a friend whose kid has some disease that we all worry about our kids' health, it's no big deal.

I know I have to get a grip on these worries, and mostly I have. I work really hard to get Danny the help he needs to learn social skills, to succeed in school, to manage his stress. And I try not to think about the future too much, because when I do, it all seems so incredibly overwhelming and scary.

And the last thing I need--any of us needs--is someone invalidating or minimizing those fears. Because as much as you try to gloss over them or make them seem less significant, they are still there. And they always will be.



Sunday, February 26, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 11: Driving

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Oh, god.... driving. *GASP*

Today I am happy to welcome my awesome friend Jessica, who blogs at Four Plus An Angel, and is also co-owner of Pin Savvy Social (Oh, yeah. Shameless plus. That totally just happened)



When my daughter was well beyond the age most kids learned, I decided it was time for her to ride a bike. A single mom in those days, I enlisted the help of my brother and dad. They removed the training wheels from the bike she had barely ever used and got on either side. As they pushed her down the street she turned her head and talked, about dinner and lunch and breakfast the next day and what time we would be finished because Rachael Ray was on at 1pm on weekdays. If they had let go of her she would have fallen over faster than you can say Food Network.

And it was then that I declared us done. We were finished trying to do "normal".

The only ones who wanted her to learn to ride a bike were myself and those people who write the books on child development that I may have burned with the candles on her second birthday cake.

My daughter is 16 now, 16 and six months. Six months past the age when she "should" have received her driver's license. Six months into questions about when we are starting driver's training and stories from well-meaning parents about their child who didn't feel like driving until he was 18 or their daughter who they thought would never get her license until one day (thank goodness!) she finally parallel parked.

It is a good thing I perfected the closed mouth, plastered on smile response years ago.

My daughter will not drive, not because she doesn't feel like it or because the only thing holding her back is fitting our mini van between a truck and a sedan, but because she is wired differently. She could direct you to any location in our city with her eyes closed and regularly comes to the rescue of a lost substitue bus driver, but if you put her behind the wheel you better be prepared to hit the brake while she is steering or steer while she pushes her foot all the way down on the gas. Don't worry, none of this would be dangerous because that important first step of taking the car out of park was forgotten long ago.

Not being able to drive has many implications on her future and I am okay with that, I made peace with it long ago. What I have not made peace with is others trying to wrap our autism up with a pretty bow. My normal is not their normal.

Lacking the desire to drive or putting it off for a few years is not the same as not having the developmental skills to brake and steer while looking straight ahead. I'm sure there is some special education/occupational therapist/miracle worker who could spend the next five years helping my daughter learn to drive but frankly, we are therapy-ed out and so is she. There will be no more attempts at trying to fit her into someone else's "normal". Accepting her as she is is a much greater gift than a set of car keys.

She is perfectly happy with her life, just don't tell her she missed a Food Network marathon eight years ago when her mom thought she should learn to ride a bike.



Sunday, February 19, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 10: Time Off

See the tab above for more information about this series.

If you're interested in contributing to this, I still have some topics that need to be written about so let me know! jillsmo at gmail.com

Today's contributor is my sister friend Jennie, who blogs at Anybody Want a Peanut? She was one of the first people I met when I started blogging. Love her <3


Toward the middle of December, parents everywhere begin gearing up for winter break. This break, and other times off from school, can be challenging for all families. Routines are disrupted, working parents need to take time off of work or figure out alternative childcare, and the stress of family and the holidays sets in. But for families with kids on the autism spectrum, these times can feel more like going in to battle than time off, and the recovery can be just as difficult.

I realize that all kids do well with routine. My (typical) two year old would never go to bed without one. But for many kids on the spectrum, structure is vital for getting through the day. My four year old son, Moe, can handle small changes, but these big changes in routine cause what I call the sleep death spiral. We are in one now, and it affects the whole family.

It goes something like this: Moe is not as engaged during the day when he’s not at school, so he isn’t as tired, and has a harder time falling asleep. He then wants to sleep late in the morning, which we can either allow, throwing his schedule off even more, or wake him up and endure the piranha-like wrath that endures when he’s tired and grumpy. In other words, when Moe is tired, he starts biting (and hitting and grabbing). I spent much of the last winter break dodging Moe’s sharp nails, and keeping him from hurting the dog.

It is easy to think that we should just keep Moe busier during these times. After all, isn’t that what all parents have to do when their kids are home from school? Am I just whining about having to work a little harder?

I wish.

With my daughter, for example, I can bring out any number of activities to keep her busy. Where she will color with crayons or play with play-doh for long stretches, Moe eats said art supplies. He doesn’t read, doesn’t play with legos or blocks. He won’t even sit and watch TV for more than a few minutes at a time.

“Get out!” you might say. “Go to a park! Use that zoo membership you have!” While I am fortunate enough to live in a warm climate that would allow such activities, it is impossible for me to take my two children anywhere without stroller containment, since Moe will bolt at any opportunity, and I can’t chase him and leave my two year old unattended.

For working parents, camp may be an option for their children. Many local community centers, for example, offer winter and spring break camps, as does the YMCA. Some even can accommodate children with special needs. I have not, however, found any camps for children like mine: preschool age, with little to no language and requiring constant one on one attention.

Other families may choose to use time off to travel and see family. For us, this is also prohibitive. No house is Moe-proof, so he, again, requires constant attention. My family is supportive and would love to help us in any way they can. But it’s too much to ask. Fortunately, they are just as understanding when I say we can’t visit.

At home, Moe sleeps in a twin sized bed with a special tent designed to keep him from escaping in the middle of the night. The tent is collapsible and portable but wherever we went would have to have a twin sized bed. And again, Moe has difficulty sleeping and is often awake for hours in the middle of the night. A screaming four year old does not a welcome house guest make.

The transition back home and back to school is almost as challenging as the transition away, except this time the behaviors are seen at school. And a tired, dis-regulated child is not one who is able to learn. So a two week break from school could result in three or four weeks spent on behavior management, and not teaching.

Like others have said before, I am not asking for pity. This post is also not about solutions, and I won’t get into the challenge many parents take on when they try to get their insurance companies/regional centers/school districts to try to cover time off. Suffice it to say that while I should be enjoying my break now that Moe is back in school, I am already starting to panic about – and plan for - the summer.



Sunday, February 12, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 9: Puberty

See the tab above for more information about this series.

If you're interested in contributing to this, I still have some topics that need to be written about so let me know! jillsmo at gmail.com

Today's contributor is my buddy Rhonda, who blogs at Going Insane, Wanna Come?



There's so many different things you can write about when it comes to puberty. I've come to a dead end I think. My daughter (NT, 14) and I talked a lot about this over the past week. Tommy loves to play on the PS3. He likes to mimic his dad (though Dad plays xbox 360) He likes to use the headset and yell and interact with people online while playing. He had been using a blue-tooth device similar to the one his dad uses on the xbox, but I would only allow 5 minutes of headset time because, you can HEAR that Tommy is special needs and I didn't want him to hear people making fun of him. While he was on the headset, I couldn't hear anything but I did figure out, with the help of my daughter, that he WAS being made fun of. We suspect people were calling him Timmy (from South Park.. Tommy would say "no!! I Tommy!! from OHIO!")

At Christmas time he wanted these Sony ps3 wireles headset. $100 bucks. Fuck that. Little did I know, these would be the greatest thing i've ever purchased in a long time.





This is where his Autism comes into play.

He doesn't know how to hold conversations. If you're having a one on one conversation with him, he'll answer any of your questions, and ask if he has any. But it's never back and forth with any sort of inside information. So add to this that, while he's on this headset, lots of other people are talking and he doesn't know how to insert himself so he'll do a lot of LAUGHING while irritating people online (shooting THEM instead of the target, or crashing his cars into theirs when they're supposed to be racing) Or, he'll do this mumble jumble talking. Tonight it was "yabbada gabbada magabaga hahahaha" with tons of laughing.

So why is this headset so wonderful?! I can mute the mic and he has no idea. Here you can see that all he likes to do is play for the social component. This is Mod Nation Racers. You play it like Mario Kart. But there is this lobby. ALL he wants to do is stay on the center of the spinning circle of course. It people crash into him or try to share the top with him, he gets all worked up and pushes them off. Thankfully they can't hear him screaming and yelling (mostly of excitement because he thinks its funny to crash).

But, he's SEEKING this social component. WE HAVE ALL tried to work with him on guiding him through convo's online. First you have to have a willing participant. We set that up and he just lacks the interest. He lacks the cognitive ability to go back and forth. He just wants to laugh and have fun crashing with people.

We've thought about having the Autism talk with him. To, try and help him understand that people get upset with him online, or will make fun of him online, if he doesn't behave appropriately. But, he's really not behaving INAPPROPRIATELY.. he's not causing harm per-say to anyone's vehicles.. he just bangs into them lol The point is. Do I want to break that naivety in him? Do I want to MAKE him aware that he's different and the world sucks? I don't really think he'll be able to UNDERSTAND the concept of that even.

My daughter and I had a talk over the weekend while he was playing his game. "i wonder if he knows HE'S different, or does he think WE'RE all different?" "Or, does he think we're just all the same.. he's who he is, and we're who we are??"

I'm not really sure what to do about this. He's 17. I try to "socialize him" (in terms of different types of social groups we've attended) as a typical 17 year old. But, he's unable to do so.

This is the hardest part of this stage of OUR puberty. He's approaching being 18. He's expected to act as an adult. He plays adult video games (per the rating system which he follows to a T!- that's another story) But the one part he really wants to do... he lacks the ability completely.

Part of me wishes he was still into the cartoons and characters and such. That's where all of the NICE fun naive kids are that just want to be happy.

We're stuck with the asshole teens and adults that think its funny to make fun of people online.

For now.. we'll just mute the mic. Until he figures out that nobody can hear him. Then, I'm screwed.



Sunday, February 5, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 8: Behaviors

See the tab above for more information about this series.

Today's contributor is Linda, who blogs at Outrunning the Storm.

I lost a close friendship after my four year old son, Charlie, was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome. Our children had been in the same preschool class together until mine was asked to leave due to growing behavioral problems.

When after nearly a year of struggle we finally received his diagnosis, I shared it with my friend.

Asperger's, I said. At the time, this new word was still bitter in my mouth and every time I heard myself say it out loud, it felt like a punch to my chest, it took my air for a second or two.

But why, she responded, I don't see it.

I wasn't ready yet. I had no words. I stumbled through a string of reasons I did not yet fully understand myself. He has trouble transitioning, he doesn't get social cues, he can't see other people's perspectives.....

That sounds like every four year old I know, she responded, maybe my daughter has Asperger's too.

Yeah, they are all like that, but, it's just that he's ...well....more....

It sounded weak because that's how I felt. Weak and alone and afraid and I needed so much from her in that moment. I just didn't know what yet. So I let our friendship drift apart.

She was right though, the hitting, shoving, and biting other kids, that my three year old was doing at preschool, was in many ways typical behavior for that age. Though he did it much more often than any of the other kids, that was not the entire story of why it is not the same.

Here is the difference. All children will act out in some way as they learn about the world. But, a typically developing child will see the reactions that other kids, teachers, or parents have to these behaviors and learn connections of cause and effect. This doesn't mean they will never do them again, but they are learning to trust their instincts about people and how they can be expected to behave. But, autism, for my son, means he does not see these reactions so he does not learn from this relationship of social cause and effect. To him people's angry reactions and subsequent punishments come completely out of the blue and end up giving him all the more reason to think he needs to fight to defend himself from a confusing and unpredictable world.

There are several reasons why he doesn't see these reactions. He does not recognize facial expressions. So the parental 'look' we are all so used to doing, means nothing to him, he simply doesn't see it. He can not hear the emotional tone in voices, so while a sweet, gentle voice is a preferable sound to him, it implies no different meaning than does an angry, stern tone. Finally, he does not understand that the way he views the world in any given moment is not the same as the way everyone around him sees it. So, if he thinks throwing a toy at someone is funny, then he has no reason to believe that child would see it any differently. By the way, this is called theory of mind, this understanding that everyone has their own unique thoughts and feeling, and some will say it means people with autism lack empathy. Please, please know this has nothing to do with empathy, that is a misconception that is so very hurtful to people on the spectrum and those of us who love them.

At one point, after I had read all the books and thought I understood, at least intellectually what everything I just explained meant, there was a moment with my son that finally brought me true clarity. I think it may have been the first time, in fact, I really saw him and understood what a struggle life must be for him.

We were at a park with his twin brother Tommy and Tommy's wild, raucous friend Kyle. Tommy and Kyle were running around, screaming, chasing each other, and laughing when Tommy began, through fits of giggles screaming, no. no, Kyle stop! He then happily continued to invite Kyle to try and catch him. At this moment, Charlie got up and grabbed Kyle by the shoulders, shoved him to the ground, and sat on his chest. I jumped up and quickly grabbed him off the boy.

What are you doing! I screamed.

Tommy told him to stop and he wouldn't.

I fell to my knees, I got it. That is all he saw. Not the laughter, not the obvious enjoyment in Tommy's voice. Just the words, that's all he had to go on. He was blind to the rest. Just imagine trying to navigate the social world on people's actual words alone.

I have since gotten back in touch with my lost friend. On our neighborhood walks, while the kids are in school, we once again talk about our mutual love of books and food and all the things that make me feel like a whole human being and not just a special needs mom.

But, then I make sure the topic turns to autism and all it means for our family. Because I know, my son will spend his life having to conform to fit in this world but, I have to believe that if I keep sharing his experiences with anyone who will listen then the world may learn to conform a little bit to fit him too.



Sunday, January 29, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 7: Having surgery

See the tab above for more information about this series.

Today's contributor is the awesome Mom blogger from The Aspie Side of Life. She doesn't have a name, though... I'm to just call her "AspieSide," which I do, but when I do it, I do it in kind of a whisper and with jazz hands. Now you try....

AspieSide.....



This past summer my 14 year old son had to have a tonsillectomy. I had lots of friends and co-workers tell me that it is rough for a teenager but he would be fine. Rough for a teenager? Great, what about an aspie teen with anxiety and ADHD?

I tried my best to tell him everything that would happen at the hospital. He did pretty good overall but apparently forgot to tell him that he would need to change into hospital clothes. Clothing is a big deal to him because of his sensory issues so this caused quite a bit of anxiety. He kept repeating “I don’t care if they get blood on my clothes, I want to wear my clothes.” Once I finally got him to change his clothes he repeatedly asked if my co-worker Jane could draw his blood. This only went on for about an hour.

He was very cooperative with staff and was very polite when he asked the nurse to take the blood pressure machine out of the room because it was too loud. It was off, I didn’t hear anything, but apparently it was making an awful noise. Then the nurse anesthetist made the mistake of asking if he wanted orange bubblegum scented mask for his anesthesia. That brought on a very loud “are you crazy” kind of response from him. I told her to just go unscented. She said oh, that smells like a beach ball and kind of crinkled her nose. Relief on my child’s face, “yeah beach ball”. Yeah beach ball!

When they take him back he says he is okay to go by himself. I looked at the nurse and she nodded her head and said he would be fine. I figured he would be cooperative but again requested they get me immediately when waking up because I wasn’t sure how he would be when he woke up.

They did not come get me. I am sure they thought they knew what they were doing. When they finally take me back the nurse that has him is clearly visibly shaken. My son is grumbling how he wants water and she gives him a little water while trying to explain she doesn’t want his stomach to get upset. “I don’t fucking care, give me water.” She looks a little frightened and of course quickly gives him water.

She explains that he is doing fine but was disoriented when he woke up. I immediately apologize because I am surprised anything in the room is still in one piece. Her eyes get big and she takes a deep breath. “He was fine, he is a really big guy though”. I don’t ever ask what he did. He is angry and aggressive and demanding water. I ask him if his throat hurts. “No, I just want some fucking water.” I have to give him credit for not saying “fucking” too loud. He must have remembered he was in the children’s hospital and he isn’t allowed to swear around children.

He is visibly getting more upset and I am starting to get anxious. I pulled the nurse aside and tell her to try pain medication. I explained that he may be in pain and not able to express it appropriately. My husband starts babbling about how he said he didn’t have pain. SHUT UP, honey! Thankfully the nurse listens to me and he takes the pain medicine. In a few minutes he is calm and quiet and eventually falls asleep.

My husband had to leave for work and I didn’t dare leave his bed side. They finally let us go home at 1PM. Around 5 PM he is starving and only allowed to eat broth, jello, or popcicles and then we can slowly increase his died to soft foods. No tomato, milk, or citrus for a while. Crap the only soup he eats is tomato. Can he live on popsicles?

Finally I remember he does eat the soup broth at his favorite restaurant. They say they do not have containers for soup take out and we would need to bring in containers. Whatever I will bring in whatever you want. I am not sure how that is legal but dear lord no one tell on them because to this day he wants only their soup when he is sick.

After all of that he threw it up. Not because he ate too much but because the noises on his video game were too loud and it made him dizzy. Yeah, of course, why didn’t I think of that. So he is miserable, on bed rest, and can’t play video games. Awesome.

The following week was very stressful for both of us. He did not like his pain medication or his antibiotics. He would refuse to take it and then scream in pain which made his throat hurt worse. I told him to flip me off instead of screaming at me to protect his throat.

We tried different flavors of medication, mixing it with other fluids, using popsicles or other food as chasers, nothing worked. He would be starving but couldn’t eat because of his throat or tired of the few food he could eat. He wouldn’t let anyone else near him, only me and only sometimes, and it was never pleasant. His sleep schedule was all off and he would wake up in intense pain but refuse anything until he woke up completely. It was really quite heart breaking because I couldn’t do anything. I thought about taking him back and telling him to put an IV in him but I figured that would be too traumatic.

Yeah sure, he will be fine. In the end he was fine but it was the worst week of our lives.