xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' Yeah. Good Times.

Monday, January 30, 2012

I win at drunk baking


Adventures in Estrogen


I love to cook. LOVE. IT. I particularly like to make elaborate and complicated things that require many steps. I also like to drink when I do these things. It's just more fun that way!

This weekend I got it into my head that I wanted to make Samoas; the Girl Scout cookie with coconut and chocolate. They're just cookies, right? How hard can that be? (Long time readers may now be remembering what has happened in the past when I have said "how hard can that be?" when baking was involved).

So, I went online and found a recipe. It turned out that there were many, many, MANY steps involved in this particular cookie process, but I like a challenge, so LET'S DO THIS!!!  I went off to the store to buy my ingredients, and while there I also picked up a bottle of $5 champagne, because... well... because it was $5. I have no standards, anyway. Plus it was only $5.

First I had to make the cookies. Then I had to make the caramel. Then I had to toast the coconut. Then I had to mix the coconut and the caramel. Then I had to melt the chocolate. Then I had to put the caramel coconut on the cookies. Then I had to put the chocolate on the cookies. The whole process took about 5 hours and an entire bottle of $5 champagne.

During the process, I posted a few pictures to Twitter, because I enjoy sharing my failures in picture form, and here are what some of my helpful twitter pals had to say about it:



Hubs also helped out with "So you decided to go with the poop theme, did you?"

When all was said and done, they may have looked weird, but they were fucking tasty. Who cares what something looks like, right?? It's what's inside that matters. Here's a picture I drew of Child 2's face after he had eaten one:


Seriously, how can you argue with results like that???????

Anyway here's what an actual Samoa cookie looks like:


.... And here's what MY cookies looked like:






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.



Saturday, January 28, 2012

The funniest thing I've seen all week


Oh? MY GOD. I cannot stop laughing at that cow. This is from the always awesome Kendall, at This is Not That Blog. Go there to see more, but really, the cow is the best part. LOOK AT THE COW!!!!!! IT'S SO FUNNY!!!!!

Also, if you're on Twitter and you like to laugh (I know, that's probably not very many of you) you need to start following @RideOrDiePudge. This chick is funnier than I am, I'm not kidding....




Friday, January 27, 2012

TGIF, bitches! Also, though? A story scaffold



Today you can find me over at Just Jennifer's place, talking about stuff that makes me happy. There are drawings. Of me...... messing with my kid. *giggle* Because messing with my kid's head makes me happy..... :)

Here's something else that makes me happy, though. This is a scan of some class work that Child 2 brought home yesterday. I've erased the names, but this was (soooo obviously) done by him and a girl, and it's just so goddamned adorable I can even stand it. I've transcribed it below, since 6 year old handwriting is hard to read for some reason (I corrected the grammar and punctuation because I'm anal like that, I'm anal like that, I'm anal like that, I'm anal like that.....)


Story Scaffold

Title of Story: Barbie and Yoshi

This story begins when Yoshi falls into Barbie's world

The problem is Yoshi can't get back

The next thing that happens is Barbies find Yoshi

Then Barbie says "what the heck?"

After that, Yoshi puts Barbie in his mouth

The problem is solved when Yoshi gets back to his own world.

There is just so much awesome there, I can't even describe it....

Happy Friday! YAY!!



Thursday, January 26, 2012

You'll get nothing and like it!



There is nothing to read here today. Keep moving.... nuthin to see here....

Instead, today you can find me guest posting over at It Builds Character. I wrote something called How To Feel Like an Asshole in Front of Your Child's Teacher.

Intrigued? You know you are.....



Wednesday, January 25, 2012

TEN

My baby boy (Child 1) turns 10 today.

10 years old.

He's 10. Years. Not months.... years.

Double digits. A 1 and a 0 put together.

I don't understand how this happened. How is my little baby 10 years old?

Here are the things I can quickly list that I've gone through in the last 10 years:

1. PCOS (but it worked out okay. Twice!)
2. Preeclampsia
3. Post-partum depression
4. Death of a loved one
5. Autism

I'm probably forgetting lots of stuff, but those seem the most relevant to this discussion.

I've never talked here about the post-partum depression, and I probably will one day, but not today. I'll just say that of the 5 things listed there, that one was definitely the worst. I know it seems odd, since my brother died and that should be worse, but in my opinion there is nothing in the world worse than post-partum depression. Then again, I've never been dying or in chronic pain.

This year I decided I'm not making him a cake, I'm just going to hand him a tub of frosting and a spoon. That's all he ever eats of it, anyway!

Anyway... in honor of this wonderful (?) day (sob) I am giving you guys a present. Some of you have been bugging (the shit out of) me to give you this gift for as long as I've known you, so here you are!!! Finally!!!! A picture of me....


This was taken in April 2002, so it's 10 years later but I pretty much still look like this. Maybe a little older and a little, um... wider.... but more or less the same. Oh, my hair is shorter now, but it's still a big jewfro, so don't worry about that part.

Happy Birthday Child 1 !!!!!



Monday, January 23, 2012

Autism and vaccinations: MY opinion

I thought I'd go and get all controversial on your asses, because why not, right? Actually... the only reason this blog exists in the first place is for me to get shit out of my head and into some other form, and this kind of post is just the thing!

The first thing I need to mention, and stress again and again, is something that never seems to get mentioned whenever this debate comes up. And that bothers me, which is why I'm writing this post. I've seen people screaming passionately at each other, that they know the answer about what autism "is," but I haven't seen anybody ever mention this: There are at least 2 different kinds of autism. There is Infantile Autism, where they are born different and there is Regressive Autism, where they develop normally until about 18 months and they suddenly lose all the progress they've made. The second kind is often combined with some kind of gastrointestinal issues, although they both can be. Why doesn't anybody ever mention this? Well, I don't really know, maybe a lot of people do and I've just never seen it; I don't read about this topic very often because of all the emotional strife it creates for all involved. I think we tend to assume that "our" autism is "the" autism, and anybody whose experience has been different surely isn't talking about anything we can relate to.

So! Having said that, here is some more:

Do I think Child 1's autism was caused by vaccines? No, I do not. Child 1 has infantile autism; he was born that way. He missed pretty much every single milestone there was to miss, except for sleeping through the night, which he did at 3 weeks, and he never had any adverse reactions to any of his shots. He also does not have any of the gastrointestinal issues that are so common with autistic children. And for the record, both of my kids are fully vaccinated and up to date on everything.

Do I think there's a connection between vaccines and autism? Yes I do, although it would be more clear for me to say I think there's a connection between one type of autism and vaccinations. Because even though my experience has not given me any personal evidence, I've heard way too many stories from parents that sound the same: "He was fine until the day he got his MMR, then he developed a fever that lasted for a week, he lost all of his language and he's never been the same since." There's a connection there. No, I don't know what it is; maybe it's some combination of a genetic pre-disposition and the stuff in the shot, I can't tell you more than that, I just very strongly believe that there is a connection.

I was talking about this post on Facebook and struck up a conversation with a mom who does believe that her child was harmed by vaccines. I asked her to write up her experience so that I could post it here:

From birth we had this beautiful alert child who was content to be cuddled and was very easy to live with daily. He was a engaged child that wanted to be cuddled and played with constantly and he preferred even when sleeping to be with us. We all thought it was funny that everyday he and his Daddy would nap together (son sleeping on Daddy's chest) on the couch. At an early age he started to talk and we would go down the road and he would point out and say " mmm, I cream or Izza Izza". He would get so excited by going to Kindergym and singing the songs with the other child and was easily the entertainer when we went to family parties.

Our journey into the solitary world of Autism began around 15 months. After our child had his vaccinations at 15 months of age he developed a high fever, malaise and cried a lot. The site where they gave the MMR and DTAP were swollen, red and hot. After a while he recovered but we started to have issues with him having repeated illnesses such as ear infections, yeast infections and upper respiratory infections. Overall he seemed less responsive and would sit for hour playing by himself and stopped making eye contact. At 18 months like a good mom I took him back for his check up and he got all in one visit Hepatitis B, DTaP, IPV and Varicella injections. Again, by the afternoon, he was cranky, cried inconsolably and ran high fevers with the same skin responses. It was at this point in his life that he started to lose speech ability, started becoming obsessed with playing with things that where not toys instead of his toys, such as the tubing on the vacuum, and he would put objects in and then let them roll out, over and over again. We took him to our local ENT and he recommended having his tonsils removed and did an emergent referral to our Early ON for his loss of language. I can still remember this 6 month time of his life as clear as it was yesterday because it is like we lost him to another world where we could see him but he was only really with us physically. I can say that 6 years later things are better but everyday still breaks our souls when we see how affected he is socially by his differences.
How many of you reading this, right now, can say your story is similar to what I've quoted above? Tell me in the comments, because I have a number in my mind and I'd like to see how accurate my guess is.

My autism story isn't nearly as dramatic: As a baby he hated being around too many people who were talking at once and would cry until I removed him from the situation. He made great eye contact, though, and liked to be held. He babbled on time but crawled and walked late, and when he wasn't actually talking by 18 months I started to worry (actually I started to worry from day 1, but you know what I mean....) The rest, as they say, is history.

Am I suggesting that parents not get their kids vaccinated? OH MY GOD NO. Absolutely not. Like everything in life, you have to play the numbers; weigh the consequences against the risks, and the odds of your unvaccinated child getting measles is higher than the odds of your child regressing because of a shot. And in the end? Measles can kill; autism cannot. I'd rather have an autistic child than a dead one; and so would you.

Then what's my point? My point is, as follows: In my opinion there is enough anecdotal evidence out there to make a hugely convincing case that more research is necessary. Nobody can ever make a truly rational argument that "not trying to learn more about something" is ever the best way to go, despite what you predict "might" happen as a result. Hell, maybe Regressive Autism isn't actually autism after all, it's another condition entirely that mimics the symptoms of Infantile Autism, in which case OKAY! That's what that is! So let's find out.

Say what you want about Andrew Wakefield, and we all know there's a lot you can say about him, but when he inspected the stomach cells of the children in his study, did he find the measles virus in there? Probably somebody is going to tell me that he didn't, but honestly I'm not interested in all the extenuating circumstances involved, or however else anybody wants to talk about how horrible a person he is. I'm not his biggest fan or anything, I just want to know if the measles virus was actually found in the stomach linings of those children: some have said yes, some have said no. Wakefield raised questions and in my opinion there have yet to be any conclusive answers. Frankly I'm tired of hearing about the studies that once again "prove" there is no connection between the shots and autism, because how do you explain that to the mom I talked to? How do you explain to her exactly what happened to her child, if it wasn't the shots? You can't. But you also can't just dismiss her personal experiences simply because yours were different. There is very little science knows about what causes a child to regress for seemingly no reason, and this mom (and many others) want answers.

And in the end, while our stories stories are different, what's most important is that regardless of "type," the end result is usually the same: people living with a complex developmental disorder significantly affecting verbal and nonverbal communication and social interaction, emotional regulation and sensory processing abilities. It is this similar "end result" that makes us fight about this so much, after all, if you didn't follow the same path that I did, how can you possibly be in the same place I am? (I don't really believe that, I'm just saying it as an example). But we are in the same place (more or less), and that's why this issue is so volatile. I'm not saying I have any answers, I'm saying there are too many questions that need explanations, and until we can all be satisfied with concrete scientific results, that can give people like my friend up there an answer to her questions, this debate will go on and on and on and on.

As autism parents and autistic people, we need to get past this divide. We need to move past the Wakefield debate and just accept that our experiences have been different. We need to stop fighting with each other and start working together, because despite everything, we have a common goal: the happiness and well being of every autistic person, regardless of the journey they've taken to get where they are.



Sunday, January 22, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 6: Appropriate Responses

Today's contributor is my straight haired twin, Dawn, who blogs at This Side of Typical. YAY Dawn!



"All kids do that": Appropriate Responses.

So my curly haired twin, Jillsmo, is hosting this series about how the things we go through as Autism parents is NOT just like what parents of “typie” kids go through. There was a trend on Twitter a while back-- #youmightbeanautismparentif where we shared the challenges and joys of raising a child with autism. It wasn’t really for anyone OTHER than autie parents, but as we have friends and followers with typical kids, there were a few “well, MY kid does that too” comments made. And it rubbed some of us the wrong way. Ok, a lot of us.

So I’m talkin to my Old Man about it, and he sees nothing wrong with the statement. That they are trying to comfort us and offer empathy—that they are trying to say—“hey, your kid is practically typical!” And you know what? That still bugs.

So then I get going on some intense navel gazing, which is my habit really. Either I am an optimist or I am tapping into my inner Puritan focusing on self–perfection, but I’m always thinking “what am *I* doing wrong?”

Example: there’s a section of Lankershim Blvd (for those of you who know LA) in which the cars around me CONSTANTLY pac-man (not staying in their lane, “eating” the hash marks, if you will). ALL THE TIME. And what do I think? “How am I driving wrong that people do this around me? I don’t hear anyone else bitch about this part of the road…” You see, I spend a lot of time trying to find fault with what I’m doing rather than place blame.

Until it becomes so obvious that thinking like that would lead to an ulcer. Then I will place blame wholeheartedly.

So I’ve been trying to figure out how to work my brain around this concept. Am I just being defensive? Is there a humongous chip on my shoulder when it comes to Autism? Why can’t I just see the empathy and camaraderie that some folks are trying to convey?

Ok. First problem: the phrase “some” folks. We know that within the people who are just trying to be comforting are the folks that are internally saying:

  • quit bitchin about your kid—we don’t care about autism
  • life is no harder than yours, so you don’t get the right to bitch
  • ok, this is when we stop talking about you and start talking about me

So, as well meaning as “some” people are—we don’t necessarily hear it amongst all the others. Because once you’ve heard any of those other tones, it’s hard to hear the good stuff.

Second problem: that trend wasn’t to say “oh, look at how hard my life is,” but rather a “hey, we’re not alone in this, are we?” Because that’s what our internet relationships are like in the Autie world. 99% of my friends with kids with Autism are internet relationships. And without them I would be a fucking mess (as compared to the chaste mess I am currently?) We reach out to these other parents for a sense of community we may not have around us due to lack of connection or *ahem* a hermit-like misanthropic view on life. *ahem*

And as I’m diving deeper into my bellybutton (wow, that’s a lot of lint) I realize that as much as it is annoying because our lives are very different from the lives of typical parents, it’s boiling down to more of a courtesy thing that’s buggin me.

To help clarify this, I will step AWAY from Autism.

[Let it be noted that I am NOT comparing Autism to cancer in any way. This is hyperbole. Thank you—the management.]

Let’s say you have Cancer. Like ovarian or something that has made you infertile. And you’ve never had a kid even though you always wanted one. And you are going through a round of chemo. So you are physically sick and emotionally sick and you feel like you’re dying, BECAUSE YOU ARE, and while you are normally a stoic survivor, you feel like ass, so you take a moment to have a pity party and complain about the nausea and lack of energy that chemo does to you. And your fertile friend Sally with her eight kids in tow and a big belly looks at you and says “yeah, all my pregnancies make me feel like that too.”

You wanna smack her, right? Like hard. With a chair.

Because in ANY situation in which a person is sharing a hardship (I’m not talking complaining here—that’s an entirely different topic) there are only a few respectful responses:

  • That must be tough
  • That sounds entirely frustrating
  • What can I do to help?
  • Do you like your margaritas blended or on the rocks?

Because when someone is sharing—I mean really sharing, there is no place for a story about you, unless you are asked something like “what would you do,” in which case you can totally tell them how you had to hide the body that one time, and boy, blood just will NOT come out of shag carpeting.

And don’t get me wrong, I struggle with this as well. Sometimes I catch myself doing it, and then I feel like an eejit and then offer baked goods in exchange for my callousness. And when someone really breaks down and shares all sorts of tragic, touchy feely shit, I am often mute when people share with me because I feel like ANYTHING I say will sound stupid—and that’s tagged me as a good listener. Which is odd, considering my hatred for anything remotely involved in human emotion.

So, maybe what I’m trying to say is that it might be a good idea to THINK before you SPEAK. Revolutionary, I know.

We aren’t complaining. We are sharing. Our lives, while seemingly the same, are DIFFERENT. Period. A completely different paradigm. (wow, I haven’t used this much vocabulary since college!) We are not saying it is worse, or better, or the same. We are just SAYING. And all we are really looking for is a nod an a refill.

Maybe that’s our problem. We need more bartenders in our life. Yes. That’s it! When you don’t know what to say, bring out your internal bartender! I don’t know about you, but for me, he ALWAYS has the right response.



Saturday, January 21, 2012

Never make assumptions

... because it makes an ass out of you and umption. AmIRight???

Yesterday I was at the grocery store with Children 1 and 2. Child 1 really likes to walk/run down the aisles and watch the food go by out of the corner of his eye, so I'm used to having to tell him to watch where he's going and such. He was walking down an aisle, and there was a woman crouched down, inspecting a can of something. He stood right in front of her, too close, and waited for her to move away. From the other end of the aisle, where I was stuck behind Child 2 and a bunch of other people, I started yelling to him "Child 1. Go around her, please!" But he didn't, he just stood there. She eventually got up, with a really annoyed expression on her face, so that he could pass.

She was quite obviously not pleased.

As I walked by her, I expected her to say something to me about my rude children, but she didn't. I said "excuse me; sorry" and kept going and she didn't say anything.

I was kind of pissed, and as I walked through the rest of the store, I played a potential argument over and over in my head. She would say "your child is so rude!" and I would say "he's autistic. And you're a bitch!" or something... I hoped that we would see her again so that I could actually teach her a lesson.

In the checkout line, I noticed she was a few people behind us. Child 1, as usual, was not waiting in the line next to me, but was, instead, pacing back and forth and stimming in the space behind her. Being unaware of social boundaries, as he is, he was constantly getting too close to her and quite obviously invading her space. "Good," I thought. "Let's see what she does now."

But it was then that I noticed the way she was holding herself as he went by her. Her arms were in tight to her sides, and she was hugging her basket as if she was clinging onto it for dear life. And the look on her face wasn't that of annoyance, it was pure discomfort. She wasn't annoyed by him invading her space, she was very very uncomfortable with it.

And THEN I noticed that she was wearing headphones. Not headphones that were attached to an mp3 player, either: noise canceling headphones.

This woman was possibly autistic, herself.

And there I was, making assumptions about her, and figuring that she was judging me and my child, when in fact that's what I was doing about her.

I called Child 1 over so that he would leave her alone and we finished up our business and went on our way, but I definitely learned a lesson there: never assume you know anything about a person just by looking at them.

I won't make that mistake again.



Friday, January 20, 2012

The Dive Bar Welcomes: Your Bitch's Bitch

Today's contributor wishes to remain anonymous, for rather obvious reasons. I don't know about you guys, but I like a woman who says "fuck you so hard."


Dear Boss Guy.

You employ my boyfriend. He is the father of my three children. You pay him a shitty rate and treat him like dirt. He takes it from you because we both want me to stay home with our kids, so he has to support us. I would like to take this opportunity to say FUCK YOU. Fuck you so hard. And not in the good way. Because of your shitty planning, he leaves for work before dawn every morning and comes home close to midnight. By the time he gets home, he's worn out and exhausted, and can't/won't help me with the kids. I'm so fucking frazzled from basically being a single mom these past few months that I've become an even bigger bitch than nature and my shitty childhood would have me be.

Because of your lack of home training and people skills, you treat him like shit. He has to take it and so comes home and takes it out on us. See above about my bitchiness, and you can guess how that turns out. So thanks for ruining my relationship, too. Thanks, too, for physically wearing him out so much that I haven't gotten laid in weeks. That's just icing on the fucking cake.

Your employee has a family. A family that you're fucking with by being a terrible boss and an all-around horrible person. So please, from me to you, go jump off a fucking bridge.

Sincerely,
Your bitch's bitch.



Thursday, January 19, 2012

Conversations with Child 2





Wednesday, January 18, 2012

#SOPASTRIKE



This site is going dark today in order to protest SOPA and PIPA.

EDIT: And we're back!!! I made it 17 hours!!! Impressed???



Tuesday, January 17, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 5: Explaining what it's like

See the tab above for more information about this series.

I didn't really know what to call this one because it doesn't address a specific topic, but it does do a great job in explaining the purpose of what we're doing here with this series. (Just in case you don't know, "NT" is short for Neurotypical.)

I've been running these on Wednesdays and Sundays but I'm doing this one out of order today because tomorrow I'll be dark to protest SOPA.

So! Today's post is from Carrie who blogs at Pooping Red Guy & Friends


For me, a lot of this comes down to what's developmentally and age appropriate. Sure, my kid may throw horrific tantrums like NT kids, but the truths those NT kids who are throwing horrific tantrums are toddlers, NOT ten year olds. That's just one example...

Autism is NT behavior with a thousand times the intensity. NT parents may joke that losing a favorite toy is the end of the world, but it's not really. A thirty minute crying jag might even be considered excessive for NT kid. You console the NT kid, give hugs, reframe the loss, no one gets hurt. For a kid with autism a thirty minute crying jag is minimal and often a victory in using coping skills if its just tears. Yet, it's rarely just crying. It's life-will-never-be-the-same, soul crushing agony mixed with bouts of rage because the kid feels unheard and unable to express the loss to anyone. When an autism parent says its the end of the world, it's literal. It is the end of the world for their child. Life cannot move on and you cannot console your child into happiness again. Life stops and that issue becomes your whole day.

NT parents see our hashtag and think we are making light of parenting tribulations with hyperbole. We aren't using hyperbole. We are talking about our reality without exaggeration. Without embellishment to make it funny or humorous. We are telling true stories about our lives as parents. When reading the tag, many NT parents don't realize that posts are about kids from all age groups, even young adults. They don't understand we are stating our reality and the reality of our children. They think we are doing the NT dramatization that occurs with NT parents when talking about their children to make light of common parenting problems.

When NT parents say "that's all kids" they might as well say "autism isn't real". Instead of listening to learn something about autism, they close their minds and open their mouths. They don't want to believe or can't believe that what we are saying is no exaggeration. It's not hyperbole. It's honest to goodness truth about our daily lives. It doesn't match what they learned on television, either. It sounds hard and terrible. People get squeamish. Perhaps they recognize there own struggles in our words then maybe there kids are 'different'... maybe their kids are autistic. That's a scary thought for any parent. If it's our kids who truly aren't different, but merely badly behaved, then they can cross that worry off their list. There's no chance of the having a kid with autism. Perhaps they think special needs parents are just looking for attention. I don't know the reasoning for sure.

Whatever it is, there is a hang up of some kind out there about autism that makes NT parents say "it's not autism, it's all kids". We know in our core of as parents of kids with autism that hearing "that's all kids" hurts our kids. We may not be able to articulate it, but our internal warning sirens sound the alarm so that the statement doesn't sit well at all. It devalues the tag, for whatever reason, and we all know it. Maybe because we parents and our kids have to work a thousand times harder than our respective NT counterparts. Saying "it's all kids" throws the validation of our plight, fears, concerns and victories out the window.



Monday, January 16, 2012

How to suck at blogging: LIKE A BOSS.

Here's a pro blogging tip I just learned and/or made up. When you have absolutely nothing to write about, but still would like to post something, follow these simple steps:

1. Take a picture of something adorable that one of your children produced with their own hands



2. Add some music




3.  ?????

4. Profit!!

Disclaimer: Joke not even original



Sunday, January 15, 2012

"All Kids Do That" Part 4: Sleeping

See the tab above for more information about this series.

Today's contribution was written by Amanda, who blogs at Confessions from Household Six. zzzzzzzzzzzz............


Sleep Is For The Weak

We all know to expect to be sleep deprived when we have a newborn. It just comes with the territory. That's why we were pleasantly surprised when our first child slept through the night almost from the very beginning. We'd find out later, this was Mother Nature's cruel, evil plot to get us to procreate again. Really as many problems as we had with our oldest, it wasn't bad. So we decided to try again for a second child, who we affectionately dubbed "Plan B," until we had a proper name chosen.

"Plan B," turned out to be a sleeping nightmare. If I had my second child the first time, he would be an only child. He was born what the medical professionals call a late term preemie at 35 weeks, 1 day. He didn't have to stay in the NICU because of that one day (any baby under 35 weeks where we were was an automatic NICU stay). He got to go home with us. We thought this was a good thing. I wanted to take him back after three nights.

This child would only sleep 20 minutes at a time. On MY chest. Or with ME holding him. No one else. ME. The rest of my time was spent wiping his butt, feeding him, burping him, changing his clothes from the formula he puked all over, and holding him. I could not put the child down. He screamed. I couldn't hand him to anyone else. He screamed. Day and night, I got to sleep about 20 minutes of every hour.

Understandably, my memory of this time is a little fuzzy. I was severely sleep deprived. After a few weeks, he settled into a routine where he would sleep for 30 minutes, sometimes even an hour. Sometimes 15 minutes in his bassinet. I was starting to brush my teeth again on a regular basis at least. During this phase this child also started this really fun thing where he would wake up at about 1am for anywhere from 1-3 hours. We spent the next 5 months with him sleeping in the travel bassinet, and me on the couch so my husband could at least function for work. All through this I was SO thankful my older child was in school so I could nap when the baby slept. Otherwise I would've been totally screwed.

Fast forward to age 4 since that's where I next really remember anything significant. We haven't really slept for the duration of this child's life. After the night where he woke us up every 22 minutes, I was ready to rent him out to the CIA. We finally by this point had an autism diagnosis for both boys. We were a year into the older child's diagnosis, and only a few months into the younger child's. We now had an idea of why this child didn't sleep. We were referred to a neurologist. The neurologist it turned out was only comfortable prescribing one med. We had to find a psych- ologist, -chiatrist, someone to get this child meds. No one the neurologist recommended was approved by our insurance. The insurance office tried to refer us to the ABA therapist. I then had to research a list of no less than 17 behavioral health providers to find one qualified and accepting patients to treat a 4 year old. I came up empty. Then the insurance office gave me the name of a CNRP.

The CNRP we see is fantastic. She understood about the sensory needs right away. She understood that even though a couple of behaviors may be atypical, this child IS on the autism spectrum. Most importantly, she found us a medication that allows us to sleep through the night - provided he also has his blankies, toy, fan for noise, and bed tent. We still wake up early in the morning, but it's not every 20 minutes. It's not 20 minutes of every hour. It's not 5am. It's been 6:30am. I never thought 6:30am would be such a glorious time, but it is. Compared to the sleep we've had over the last 5 years, it's sleeping in late.

Now if I could just get my doctor to understand why my sleeping patterns are off. I'm sure his would be too if he hadn't really slept since 2004.