Ok, sorry - my blog has temporarily been taken over by the topic of autism, because my LIFE has temporarily been taken over by autism.
Spirituality is a huge issue in the lives of families dealing with autism, yet I find very little (on the internet and otherwise) addressing it. For the purposes of discussion I'm including anyone of any faith because I think it's very pertinent to our lives. There are 3 specific issues which keep coming up in my life, and I would assume in the lives of parents in a similar situation.
1. How does my faith in the Divine (in whatever form you believe) help me in my day-to-day life coping with autism and all its various aspects?
2. How do I help my autistic child cultivate a relationship or understanding of the Divine and how will I know when he/she "gets" it?
3. How does my spiritual community support me/my child in dealing with autism and educating others about it?
Upon leaving our last church, I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into a "dark night of the soul." Part of it was admittedly other factors in my life, but no small part of it was due to the utter frustration I was experiencing trying to keep my family involved in church, my own faith alive, and not losing my mind to the crazy schedule the whole thing created.
It was like being on a seesaw where I was constantly juggling my need for involvement with my family's need for down time together, along with the need of a church/sunday school program suitable for *all* the children. The "perfect church" at the time was 20-something miles away. Well...perfect on paper. Doesn't matter how good a church is on paper - if you have an autistic child *no* church that far away will work.
After a 6 month or so mental health break (breakdown?) from church we began the process of finding a new church. It was quite the hit-or-miss experience. After a while we gave up trying to get *all five* of us to every new setting - I became the Scout, who did an exploratory foray to each church, seeking suitability, both practical and spiritual. Would the service logistics fit our family? Did they have people familiar with autistic kids? Could they be flexible regarding Chris' needs and behavior? Were the people gentle and compassionate? Was the setting itself somewhat calm and the process of check in easy?
If it seems like those questions are selfish and picky, you have never tried raising a family with an autistic child in it. I realized that I *had* to be picky in order for us to have a chance at making a good fit in a church. One church was close, family oriented, a denomination we loved, had a great music program, and very active both within and in the community. And.....all children over the age of 5 were expected to sit through service. It worked for all of 6 weeks, I think.
A friend's church was very close, had a great children's program, lots of activities, familiar denomination, and....the check-in process took half an hour both in and out for our 3 children and was overwhelming for *us* let alone *them*.
And so it went -like Goldilocks - this one too big, that one too small, too many activities, not enough activities, no program for older kids, etc. After maybe a year and a half of fruitless searching - we've at least found one to attend, when, in fact, we can manage to get there.(See previous post about when you have a child with autism).
It started me wondering about how other cultures and faiths support (or don't support) families of kids with autism, and how they help those parents address the above questions. More on that in a bit...
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Thursday, April 14, 2011
When you have a child with autism....
So this is a continuation of yesterday's thoughts, mostly because it was *not* a happy homework night in our house last night. It got me thinking about how our lives (I assume) are so different from parents of only "normal" kids. And this applies to parents of girls on the spectrum too.
When you have a child with autism....
1. You live your life as though walking on eggshells, waiting for the phone call or the email that informs you of your child's newest strange behavior at school.
2. You get to play the "homework lottery" every night - the question of whether he brought it all home, whether he will actually work on it, and how miserable will it make the whole household that night before you have to give up and send him to bed.
3. You come to accept the fact that any meeting, church service, family event, or shopping trip may have to be cut short, postponed, or arrived at late while you pull the strings on the family dynamics just to get everyone out the door in a (relatively) calm mood.
4. You find yourself constantly having to explain/apologize/smooth over your child's unpredictable behavior.
5. You notice that in an effort to expose your autistic child to beneficial social activities (requiring extra time management) that yours have dwindled down to nearly nothing.
6. You cheer for every social victory, at the same time wondering what ravages puberty and teenager-hood are going to wreak on your sensitive-but-socially-clueless child.
7. You inwardly cringe whenever he brings up driving/college/marriage/family/career hoping and praying to God that those things will *be* in his future given his propensity for trying to argue his way out of doing anything and his almost complete lack of self-motivating behavior.
8. You constantly wonder if you'll ever know what is actually going on in that brain of his.
9. You wonder, as you watch him get bigger and stronger and deal with his unpredictable temper, whether at some point you will have to give in and take him to the doctor for medication - which you really don't ever want to do given all the horrible side effects.
10. You fear that the next "incident" he has at school will be the last and they'll suspend him and you'll have to home-school him (which is not the ideal situation for anyone).
11. You are constantly apologizing/trying to make it up to his normal sibling(s) wondering all the while what damage the situation is doing to them.
12. You live in constant fear that God forbid something happens to you, who in the family would be willing to raise your children and deal with all their issues?
13. You hope and pray that you can somehow teach your autistic child(ren) to be independent enough that their normal sibling(s) don't have to give up their own dreams to care for them when you're gone.
14. You find yourself alternating between complete fascination and utter disgust when you hear about new research/advances in the causes or treatment of autism, wondering if a useful and affordable one will appear in your child's lifetime.
15. You get frustrated with the fact that if autism was a condition that was actually killing 1 out of every 100 of our nation's children that people would be storming the gates of government demanding a cure.
16. You sometimes think about parents of children with other debilitating illness/conditions and wonder what it would be like to have hope for a cure, or at least the comfort of understanding the cause.
17. You laugh at all the "relationship advice" you hear on TV, etc. telling you to make sure you have "date night" and "self care" and hobbies, all the while praying your autistic child(ren) will sleep long enough for you to actually get a decent night's sleep before you have to get up and do it all again.
18. You wonder if the world-at-large will ever see the brilliance hiding underneath your child's autism.
19. You have some really great days where everything on this list is null and void because your autistic child just made the honor roll (or other achievement).
20. You have some really bad days because everything you tried in order to manage your autistic child's behavior blew up in your face.
Autism certainly gives new meaning to the old Chinese blessing/curse of "May you live in interesting times."
When you have a child with autism....
1. You live your life as though walking on eggshells, waiting for the phone call or the email that informs you of your child's newest strange behavior at school.
2. You get to play the "homework lottery" every night - the question of whether he brought it all home, whether he will actually work on it, and how miserable will it make the whole household that night before you have to give up and send him to bed.
3. You come to accept the fact that any meeting, church service, family event, or shopping trip may have to be cut short, postponed, or arrived at late while you pull the strings on the family dynamics just to get everyone out the door in a (relatively) calm mood.
4. You find yourself constantly having to explain/apologize/smooth over your child's unpredictable behavior.
5. You notice that in an effort to expose your autistic child to beneficial social activities (requiring extra time management) that yours have dwindled down to nearly nothing.
6. You cheer for every social victory, at the same time wondering what ravages puberty and teenager-hood are going to wreak on your sensitive-but-socially-clueless child.
7. You inwardly cringe whenever he brings up driving/college/marriage/family/career hoping and praying to God that those things will *be* in his future given his propensity for trying to argue his way out of doing anything and his almost complete lack of self-motivating behavior.
8. You constantly wonder if you'll ever know what is actually going on in that brain of his.
9. You wonder, as you watch him get bigger and stronger and deal with his unpredictable temper, whether at some point you will have to give in and take him to the doctor for medication - which you really don't ever want to do given all the horrible side effects.
10. You fear that the next "incident" he has at school will be the last and they'll suspend him and you'll have to home-school him (which is not the ideal situation for anyone).
11. You are constantly apologizing/trying to make it up to his normal sibling(s) wondering all the while what damage the situation is doing to them.
12. You live in constant fear that God forbid something happens to you, who in the family would be willing to raise your children and deal with all their issues?
13. You hope and pray that you can somehow teach your autistic child(ren) to be independent enough that their normal sibling(s) don't have to give up their own dreams to care for them when you're gone.
14. You find yourself alternating between complete fascination and utter disgust when you hear about new research/advances in the causes or treatment of autism, wondering if a useful and affordable one will appear in your child's lifetime.
15. You get frustrated with the fact that if autism was a condition that was actually killing 1 out of every 100 of our nation's children that people would be storming the gates of government demanding a cure.
16. You sometimes think about parents of children with other debilitating illness/conditions and wonder what it would be like to have hope for a cure, or at least the comfort of understanding the cause.
17. You laugh at all the "relationship advice" you hear on TV, etc. telling you to make sure you have "date night" and "self care" and hobbies, all the while praying your autistic child(ren) will sleep long enough for you to actually get a decent night's sleep before you have to get up and do it all again.
18. You wonder if the world-at-large will ever see the brilliance hiding underneath your child's autism.
19. You have some really great days where everything on this list is null and void because your autistic child just made the honor roll (or other achievement).
20. You have some really bad days because everything you tried in order to manage your autistic child's behavior blew up in your face.
Autism certainly gives new meaning to the old Chinese blessing/curse of "May you live in interesting times."
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
If You Don't Have One, You Don't Get It
A child with autism, that is. Which would be the main reason (in case anyone in blog-world was wondering) I've seemingly fallen off the map.
Now, I have all the sympathy and empathy in the world for parents who struggle with other special needs kids (Down's, physical handicaps, etc.) But there is something unique in the challenge of trying to raise a child who looks (and 90% of the time ACTS) completely normal. Except that 10% of the time his differently wired brain jumps its tracks in weird tangents, leaving his parents (usually me) to deal with a situation no parenting book has ever addressed.
And now I have two. Well, maybe. Connor (my littlest one) has been in the same special preschool program his big brother was in to address a speech delay. We thought he only had a speech delay. Now the battery of (not exactly illuminating) tests the school has administered indicate "problems" we were not anticipating. Really, the main Problem is that Connor doesn't respond to verbal questions verbally. And he is very, VERY stubborn. So again (like it was with Chris) is the issue CAN'T or WON'T.
At home, my little one chatters like a magpie all day long. Does he "tell stories" like his sister did? No - picture him more like an author "narrating" his day. He's a very logical kid, like his big brother. And really, is a child who is capable of going to the kitchen utility drawer, finding a screwdriver, and then opening up his toy to replace the batteries (if I allowed him to) really mentally challenged? Really? The one who, when Mommy couldn't find all the letters to the alphabet puzzle instead MADE HIS OWN LETTERS OUT OF PLAY-DOH in the puzzle's spaces. Mentally challenged, eh? How about - bored? How about - has his own very strong personal agenda? He is a Leo, after all (NOT, that I believe that stuff, but sometimes you have to wonder....).
Evidently, he speaks so seldom at school that one of the testers hadn't ever heard his voice, until she brought out a puzzle with a helicopter (his favorite thing besides letters). And he said to her, "It's a helicopter!" Do I have any idea why he won't talk at school? No, I do not. Do I have any idea why he brings all his learning home so that he communicates with US much better now but still won't talk at school? No, I do not.
Trying to explain to someone what it's like trying to run a household consisting of one autistic child, one "normal" child, and one "unidentified-special-needs" child, topped off with two egghead absentminded-professor type parents defies description. I call the kids my "three ring circus" because that's what it's like most of the time in our house.
I'm sure lots of teachers, administrators, doctors, dentists, pastors, family, etc. wonder why it seems we're always just-on-time or a little bit late to everything. What they fail to understand is how often we're lucky to have managed to BE there at all. How often some crisis or other threatens to derail our efforts entirely. How attending a "family function" like a family church service or kid's concert involves more juggling than a clown and more skill than trying to herd cats. And afterward more exhaustion than having run a marathon.
So I have gone into hiding, of a sort. I've stepped waaaay back from all other obligations except family. Even church. At this point in my life, NOTHING takes priority over my family. (And my sanity.) I really think God will understand, even if the folks at church wonder why we keep disappearing. Right now, these kids of mine ARE my God-given mission.
I can no longer attempt to be Super-Mom or Super-Christian. I can only be me. Still figuring out who she is...
Now, I have all the sympathy and empathy in the world for parents who struggle with other special needs kids (Down's, physical handicaps, etc.) But there is something unique in the challenge of trying to raise a child who looks (and 90% of the time ACTS) completely normal. Except that 10% of the time his differently wired brain jumps its tracks in weird tangents, leaving his parents (usually me) to deal with a situation no parenting book has ever addressed.
And now I have two. Well, maybe. Connor (my littlest one) has been in the same special preschool program his big brother was in to address a speech delay. We thought he only had a speech delay. Now the battery of (not exactly illuminating) tests the school has administered indicate "problems" we were not anticipating. Really, the main Problem is that Connor doesn't respond to verbal questions verbally. And he is very, VERY stubborn. So again (like it was with Chris) is the issue CAN'T or WON'T.
At home, my little one chatters like a magpie all day long. Does he "tell stories" like his sister did? No - picture him more like an author "narrating" his day. He's a very logical kid, like his big brother. And really, is a child who is capable of going to the kitchen utility drawer, finding a screwdriver, and then opening up his toy to replace the batteries (if I allowed him to) really mentally challenged? Really? The one who, when Mommy couldn't find all the letters to the alphabet puzzle instead MADE HIS OWN LETTERS OUT OF PLAY-DOH in the puzzle's spaces. Mentally challenged, eh? How about - bored? How about - has his own very strong personal agenda? He is a Leo, after all (NOT, that I believe that stuff, but sometimes you have to wonder....).
Evidently, he speaks so seldom at school that one of the testers hadn't ever heard his voice, until she brought out a puzzle with a helicopter (his favorite thing besides letters). And he said to her, "It's a helicopter!" Do I have any idea why he won't talk at school? No, I do not. Do I have any idea why he brings all his learning home so that he communicates with US much better now but still won't talk at school? No, I do not.
Trying to explain to someone what it's like trying to run a household consisting of one autistic child, one "normal" child, and one "unidentified-special-needs" child, topped off with two egghead absentminded-professor type parents defies description. I call the kids my "three ring circus" because that's what it's like most of the time in our house.
I'm sure lots of teachers, administrators, doctors, dentists, pastors, family, etc. wonder why it seems we're always just-on-time or a little bit late to everything. What they fail to understand is how often we're lucky to have managed to BE there at all. How often some crisis or other threatens to derail our efforts entirely. How attending a "family function" like a family church service or kid's concert involves more juggling than a clown and more skill than trying to herd cats. And afterward more exhaustion than having run a marathon.
So I have gone into hiding, of a sort. I've stepped waaaay back from all other obligations except family. Even church. At this point in my life, NOTHING takes priority over my family. (And my sanity.) I really think God will understand, even if the folks at church wonder why we keep disappearing. Right now, these kids of mine ARE my God-given mission.
I can no longer attempt to be Super-Mom or Super-Christian. I can only be me. Still figuring out who she is...
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
The restless end of summer
Technically, it's still summer vacation for me and the kids - my husband (who teaches in the county north of us) went back yesterday. This leaves the kids and me in a weird sort of summer-yet-not limbo. For although they have no school, we have a very busy week. A last minute IEP meeting for Chris to hammer out the details of his new middle school schedule, the band instrument presentation tomorrow night, open house for Charlotte to drop off her school supplies, and then all of Friday morning waiting while Chris has his orientation. Oh - did I mention that we're driving *back* up to PA for a special "Big O" birthday party Labor Day weekend for Brian's dad, brothers, and aunt? So add laundry and packing to the to-do list.
All of which makes for a bizarre week of "vacation." All of the warm-blooded life forms in the house are restless, including the cat - who is tired of being chased off his favorite napping chairs by careening kids. Trying to still give the kids some summer, I've attempted to squeeze in a last few visits on our waterpark season pass. Only I seem to have forgotten just how much *work* it is to go have fun. We went on Sunday as a family - a last hurrah to summer. Then I took them Monday - oh...my...goodness.... I now have muscles I forgot I had. One is tempted to think that walking through 1 foot deep water for a few hours following a preschooler is not Real Exercise. One would find out the next morning that that is a Wrong Assumption.
Ouch.
Mommy, at least, is *more* than ready for school to start.
All of which makes for a bizarre week of "vacation." All of the warm-blooded life forms in the house are restless, including the cat - who is tired of being chased off his favorite napping chairs by careening kids. Trying to still give the kids some summer, I've attempted to squeeze in a last few visits on our waterpark season pass. Only I seem to have forgotten just how much *work* it is to go have fun. We went on Sunday as a family - a last hurrah to summer. Then I took them Monday - oh...my...goodness.... I now have muscles I forgot I had. One is tempted to think that walking through 1 foot deep water for a few hours following a preschooler is not Real Exercise. One would find out the next morning that that is a Wrong Assumption.
Ouch.
Mommy, at least, is *more* than ready for school to start.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
The daily-ness of autism
When you are raising a child with special needs, you encounter many family dynamics and situations that are not covered by the standard parenting practices. It's hard to even define a "normal" day in a house with a special-needs child. The minute they receive their diagnosis, life ceases to be "normal." The best you can do is to create your own "new normal."
The special need we deal with in our household is autism. Despite what you read and hear from a few famous folks - autism has no specific known cause, no known cure, and no standard method of treatment. Many therapies have been proven to help, and many are just so much snake oil. Every autistic child is different. Not even a doctor can say which child will respond favorably to which treatment.
We are some of the "lucky" ones. Our son was diagnosed PDD-NOS when he was 31/2. After a year in a special preschool (offered gratis by our public school, otherwise he couldn't have gone) the doctor said he could now be considered merely Aspberger's (the mildest form). On a good day Chris seems just a little eccentric. On a bad day (or bad week, or month), like recently - well - let's just say postage to Timbuktu or Saskatchewan starts looking pretty good. For me.
People try to be helpful. "Well, I saw on Supernanny..." Um, no. Unless you have an autistic child or are trained to work them, you DON'T understand. No matter how much you think you do. If you have an autistic child you can safely throw all your regular parenting books out the window. What works with them changes yearly, monthly, daily, sometimes hourly. Schedules help. But as any mom knows - life happens to schedules.
I have within the past few years become blessed by friendship with the moms of some of my son's classmates/Scout mates. When we have a chance to talk - wow, the relief! Yes - here is somebody who understands what my life is like. For me, the hardest part of the day is from 4PM to 8PM - the time when my kids are all home but my husband isn't yet, and I have to somehow make dinner, referee homework, and sort out the various autism drama that each new day brings. With a constant eye on making sure Chris doesn't get red food coloring or MSG (autistic kids are notoriously sensitive to food additives) and an eye on his nutrition and vitamins (autistic kids are notoriously rigid eaters), keeping track of what this week's "currency" is to use for discipline, and hovering over him like a hawk to make sure he hasn't found yet another new thing to stim off of - those few hours can be the most exhausting of my whole day.
Oh, and let's not forget about the family dynamics between the autistic child and his "normal" siblings (though really, who knows how normal or not they are - since all the traits cluster together even without a formal diagnosis). Toss in one probably-should-have-been-diagnosed-ADD mom frantically trying to hold the whole schedule together - and you get what I lovingly refer to as My Three Ring Circus.
You know, people got on my case for years about why I wasn't Using My College Degree. Ha! If only they'd known. I tell you what - that degree in Psychobiology may not have led to a career, but it has become one of my most useful weapons in the war against autism. Funny isn't it, how things work out?
For now, it's back to my regularly scheduled chaos.
The special need we deal with in our household is autism. Despite what you read and hear from a few famous folks - autism has no specific known cause, no known cure, and no standard method of treatment. Many therapies have been proven to help, and many are just so much snake oil. Every autistic child is different. Not even a doctor can say which child will respond favorably to which treatment.
We are some of the "lucky" ones. Our son was diagnosed PDD-NOS when he was 31/2. After a year in a special preschool (offered gratis by our public school, otherwise he couldn't have gone) the doctor said he could now be considered merely Aspberger's (the mildest form). On a good day Chris seems just a little eccentric. On a bad day (or bad week, or month), like recently - well - let's just say postage to Timbuktu or Saskatchewan starts looking pretty good. For me.
People try to be helpful. "Well, I saw on Supernanny..." Um, no. Unless you have an autistic child or are trained to work them, you DON'T understand. No matter how much you think you do. If you have an autistic child you can safely throw all your regular parenting books out the window. What works with them changes yearly, monthly, daily, sometimes hourly. Schedules help. But as any mom knows - life happens to schedules.
I have within the past few years become blessed by friendship with the moms of some of my son's classmates/Scout mates. When we have a chance to talk - wow, the relief! Yes - here is somebody who understands what my life is like. For me, the hardest part of the day is from 4PM to 8PM - the time when my kids are all home but my husband isn't yet, and I have to somehow make dinner, referee homework, and sort out the various autism drama that each new day brings. With a constant eye on making sure Chris doesn't get red food coloring or MSG (autistic kids are notoriously sensitive to food additives) and an eye on his nutrition and vitamins (autistic kids are notoriously rigid eaters), keeping track of what this week's "currency" is to use for discipline, and hovering over him like a hawk to make sure he hasn't found yet another new thing to stim off of - those few hours can be the most exhausting of my whole day.
Oh, and let's not forget about the family dynamics between the autistic child and his "normal" siblings (though really, who knows how normal or not they are - since all the traits cluster together even without a formal diagnosis). Toss in one probably-should-have-been-diagnosed-ADD mom frantically trying to hold the whole schedule together - and you get what I lovingly refer to as My Three Ring Circus.
You know, people got on my case for years about why I wasn't Using My College Degree. Ha! If only they'd known. I tell you what - that degree in Psychobiology may not have led to a career, but it has become one of my most useful weapons in the war against autism. Funny isn't it, how things work out?
For now, it's back to my regularly scheduled chaos.
Friday, January 9, 2009
Running out of "up"
I'm running out of "up"
That sounds like Dr. Seuss
But really the whole problem
is my baby's on the loose.
My Junior Houdini is at it again. And now he's incorporated stealth into his antics. It used to be that I could tell what he was getting into by the noises he was making. Now, he's sneaky, he's fast, and he's QUIET. The only things truly safe from his clutches are those things that are actually locked up. Everything else he can reach, eventually.
Yesterday, he was playing upstairs - I could hear him I checked on him every few minutes, everything was fine, I thought. A few minutes later he comes toddling down the steps with his sister's antique night light in tow (it had been mine), looking for a place to plug it in. Utterly perplexed as to how he managed this feat, I went upstairs. He had taken the small chair we keep in the hall, had somehow lugged, tugged, and pushed it into his sister's room, and climbed up on it to reach the back of her dresser!
Every time he's gotten into something my first thought it to put it somewhere up high, out of his reach. Only, some things don't lend themselves to doing this (like lamps). And now, after over a year of doing this, I am running out of up. The top of every tall thing in the house is covered with objects put up to keep out of Connor's reach.
Maybe I can convince my very handy husband that storage units hanging from ceiling are the latest in high tech home fashion.... ya think?
That sounds like Dr. Seuss
But really the whole problem
is my baby's on the loose.
My Junior Houdini is at it again. And now he's incorporated stealth into his antics. It used to be that I could tell what he was getting into by the noises he was making. Now, he's sneaky, he's fast, and he's QUIET. The only things truly safe from his clutches are those things that are actually locked up. Everything else he can reach, eventually.
Yesterday, he was playing upstairs - I could hear him I checked on him every few minutes, everything was fine, I thought. A few minutes later he comes toddling down the steps with his sister's antique night light in tow (it had been mine), looking for a place to plug it in. Utterly perplexed as to how he managed this feat, I went upstairs. He had taken the small chair we keep in the hall, had somehow lugged, tugged, and pushed it into his sister's room, and climbed up on it to reach the back of her dresser!
Every time he's gotten into something my first thought it to put it somewhere up high, out of his reach. Only, some things don't lend themselves to doing this (like lamps). And now, after over a year of doing this, I am running out of up. The top of every tall thing in the house is covered with objects put up to keep out of Connor's reach.
Maybe I can convince my very handy husband that storage units hanging from ceiling are the latest in high tech home fashion.... ya think?
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
Rain, rain go away...
come again perhaps in May. You know, when it's warm again.
So while the northern part of our country is shoveling out from under snowstorm after snowstorm, northern VA has gotten 3....straight.....days....of.....cold.....rain. Brrrr. Cold rain just chills me to the bone. And makes the kids all grexy (oops, my PA Dutch is showing). And for some bizarre reason magnifies No. #1 son's autistic tendencies. No one seems to know why this is. But every time we have several days of rainy weather in a row, it happens. Is it the low barometric pressure? Lack of sunlight? Lethargy masquerading as aggression? I have no idea.
Nothing in any parenting manual or autism help site can help me navigate these murky child rearing waters. Believe me, I've looked.
Days like this I wish I could buy one of those giant moonbounce things and stick the grumpy child in it until they've jumped out all their grumpiness.
Either that or, sun lamp, anyone?
So while the northern part of our country is shoveling out from under snowstorm after snowstorm, northern VA has gotten 3....straight.....days....of.....cold.....rain. Brrrr. Cold rain just chills me to the bone. And makes the kids all grexy (oops, my PA Dutch is showing). And for some bizarre reason magnifies No. #1 son's autistic tendencies. No one seems to know why this is. But every time we have several days of rainy weather in a row, it happens. Is it the low barometric pressure? Lack of sunlight? Lethargy masquerading as aggression? I have no idea.
Nothing in any parenting manual or autism help site can help me navigate these murky child rearing waters. Believe me, I've looked.
Days like this I wish I could buy one of those giant moonbounce things and stick the grumpy child in it until they've jumped out all their grumpiness.
Either that or, sun lamp, anyone?
Thursday, December 18, 2008
Oh where, oh where did my Lego go...
I think toy manufacturers should be required to provide a suitable container with child-proof lock on every toy they make that has more than 3 pieces. I don't know how it is in the houses of other people who have children, but in our house we have bins and tubs and crates full of miscellaneous mismatched pieces from every toy the children have ever owned. This keeps the pieces off the floor, but is not very helpful when you have a bored 2 year old who is busy undecorating the Christmas tree because he can't find anything to play with.
For some strange reason, my children have a habit of not wanting to play with a certain toy until all of its pieces have been scattered to the four winds. Yesterday Connor found one of the half dozen wooden puzzle boards we have sitting around the house.....and one puzzle piece. (Note: it's one of the sort where you have individual pieces with a little knob, not the sort with actual fit-it-together pieces). So this morning, when I realized he was going to stand there and pull all the decorations off the tree if I didn't find him a diversion, I went on a puzzle piece finding mission. It took me about 45min. but I managed to scrape together 3 puzzle boards with at least 1/2 their pieces and presented them to him with a flourish. He was ecstatic.
Now, I've been trying to teach the children to put their toys away. Unfortunately, many of their toys-with-small-parts didn't have containers. I think I need to go find some sturdy reusable bags or some such so that they (and I) can toss everything that goes together in one bag, close it up and THEN put it in the bin and everything will stay together.
Am I the only mom who gets frustrated with this?
I mean, really. We own 2 complete sets of wooden blocks. My little guy loves blocks right now. He played with some at his grandparent's house. So where are ours? Well, here a block, there a block, everywhere a block block....
Christmas is coming. I think that this year I will find some seal-up-able containers for any toys-with-pieces so that at least the NEW toys get to stay a set for a while. I know, I know, I'm a little OCD. But guess what? When I present the children with a long lost finally reunited toy set......they PLAY with it and don't get bored and start fighting with each other. Charlotte always reacts like it's Christmas all over again when I find one of her long lost toys. She does that cute little giddy girl gasp and her eyes light up.
So, yeah, that's worth a little (or a lot) of sorting. My first New Year's resolution....
For some strange reason, my children have a habit of not wanting to play with a certain toy until all of its pieces have been scattered to the four winds. Yesterday Connor found one of the half dozen wooden puzzle boards we have sitting around the house.....and one puzzle piece. (Note: it's one of the sort where you have individual pieces with a little knob, not the sort with actual fit-it-together pieces). So this morning, when I realized he was going to stand there and pull all the decorations off the tree if I didn't find him a diversion, I went on a puzzle piece finding mission. It took me about 45min. but I managed to scrape together 3 puzzle boards with at least 1/2 their pieces and presented them to him with a flourish. He was ecstatic.
Now, I've been trying to teach the children to put their toys away. Unfortunately, many of their toys-with-small-parts didn't have containers. I think I need to go find some sturdy reusable bags or some such so that they (and I) can toss everything that goes together in one bag, close it up and THEN put it in the bin and everything will stay together.
Am I the only mom who gets frustrated with this?
I mean, really. We own 2 complete sets of wooden blocks. My little guy loves blocks right now. He played with some at his grandparent's house. So where are ours? Well, here a block, there a block, everywhere a block block....
Christmas is coming. I think that this year I will find some seal-up-able containers for any toys-with-pieces so that at least the NEW toys get to stay a set for a while. I know, I know, I'm a little OCD. But guess what? When I present the children with a long lost finally reunited toy set......they PLAY with it and don't get bored and start fighting with each other. Charlotte always reacts like it's Christmas all over again when I find one of her long lost toys. She does that cute little giddy girl gasp and her eyes light up.
So, yeah, that's worth a little (or a lot) of sorting. My first New Year's resolution....
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Things I never thought I'd hear myself say to my children
My baby son is 2. I just caught myself saying,
"Connor Morgan Smith, you put that heating register back on right now!!"
Sheesh....
(Whose crazy idea was it to just shove the silly thing into the hole in the floor without bolting it down, anyway?)
"Connor Morgan Smith, you put that heating register back on right now!!"
Sheesh....
(Whose crazy idea was it to just shove the silly thing into the hole in the floor without bolting it down, anyway?)
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Ponderings and busywork
What an odd day it's been. First, I got up really early (like 5:30 am early) in the hope that maybe if I got ME up early I could manage to get the KIDS up early. It sort of worked , but not quite how I'd planned. Charlotte woke up with me (because she has this habit of sneaking into our bed after we're asleep, and no I suppose we shouldn't let her do it, but we're ASLEEP when it happens). Anyway, so I had to be in "mom mode" immediately, which I hadn't quite planned on. but we got her dressed, I fixed her a nice oatmeal breakfast, and she played happily till it was time to go out the door. Chris still had to be hoisted out of bed. This is the kid who's up at 7am on a Saturday, go figure. He gets ready with slightly less angst than usual and STILL manages to dawdle over breakfast even though he's got 30 minutes more time than he normally does. So all is looking pretty good, we all get in the car (yes, we take the car to the bus stop in winter because it at least keeps the baby out of the wind or rain - also corrals the older two). and Chris pitches a fit because today HIS bus arrives first instead of his sister's. Like I have control over the bus schedule - sheesh.
Had a normal morning once I got home - fed the cat, fed the boy, got caffeine fix, checked email and blogs, fed self. About 10:30am I realize that if I'm going to do the dreaded Walmart run I need to get ready so I toss myself through the shower (since I've decided it makes more sense to wait these days). It's nice to not have to rush, and the hot water helps soothe the muscles that work harder everyday to tote a growing toddler in, out, up, and down everything. So I get out, expecting to dash off and do my thing, but my body has other ideas. It says to me "Hey! We got up at 5:30 this morning and you only got 6 hours of sleep - we need a break!" Which normally I would ignore, toss more coffee down my gullet, and soldier on. But after the past two days of struggle with cranky kids and a winter concert and a Girl Scout investiture and extra errands I decided my body had the right of it today. Since the little boy was safely tucked up in his room with his toys, I snuggled back down into my flannel sheets and dozed.
While I was lying there, I thought about how everyone talks about "resting in God". And not for the first time wondered if maybe that could sometimes be taken literally. Maybe it's kind of like what they tell you in the emergency airline instructions - you know, putting your own oxygen mask on before helping someone else? Maybe resting in God isn't only about the spiritual. Maybe it's okay if we rest our tired bodies and souls too. Maybe I don't have to operate at the breakneck pace some other moms I know do - I learned a while ago that I am not Supermom - nor do I want to be. Maybe it glorifies God more to be a happier healthier mommy who doesn't feel like she's on her last nerve, rather than a mommy who Gets It All Done.
Maybe it's okay to listen to the natural rhythms of my body - even when they don't make sense to anyone else. And really, if the Word became flesh to dwell among us - doesn't Jesus already know how tired and sore these frail bodies can get, since He spent so much time going around healing them?
Well, anyway - 20 minutes later I felt MUCH more ready to tackle Walmart during the Christmas season. And that's worth it right there.
Had a normal morning once I got home - fed the cat, fed the boy, got caffeine fix, checked email and blogs, fed self. About 10:30am I realize that if I'm going to do the dreaded Walmart run I need to get ready so I toss myself through the shower (since I've decided it makes more sense to wait these days). It's nice to not have to rush, and the hot water helps soothe the muscles that work harder everyday to tote a growing toddler in, out, up, and down everything. So I get out, expecting to dash off and do my thing, but my body has other ideas. It says to me "Hey! We got up at 5:30 this morning and you only got 6 hours of sleep - we need a break!" Which normally I would ignore, toss more coffee down my gullet, and soldier on. But after the past two days of struggle with cranky kids and a winter concert and a Girl Scout investiture and extra errands I decided my body had the right of it today. Since the little boy was safely tucked up in his room with his toys, I snuggled back down into my flannel sheets and dozed.
While I was lying there, I thought about how everyone talks about "resting in God". And not for the first time wondered if maybe that could sometimes be taken literally. Maybe it's kind of like what they tell you in the emergency airline instructions - you know, putting your own oxygen mask on before helping someone else? Maybe resting in God isn't only about the spiritual. Maybe it's okay if we rest our tired bodies and souls too. Maybe I don't have to operate at the breakneck pace some other moms I know do - I learned a while ago that I am not Supermom - nor do I want to be. Maybe it glorifies God more to be a happier healthier mommy who doesn't feel like she's on her last nerve, rather than a mommy who Gets It All Done.
Maybe it's okay to listen to the natural rhythms of my body - even when they don't make sense to anyone else. And really, if the Word became flesh to dwell among us - doesn't Jesus already know how tired and sore these frail bodies can get, since He spent so much time going around healing them?
Well, anyway - 20 minutes later I felt MUCH more ready to tackle Walmart during the Christmas season. And that's worth it right there.
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
This wasn't covered in my Mom Manual....
There is a lot in the average day of the average mom that borders on the absurd. Those things and events which are completely out of our control which either make you want to laugh or cry (sometimes both).
No matter how a mom tries to plan her day, these absurd things insist on happening. While I was sitting at my keyboard typing up that last post and preparing to go run a few errands, I noticed it had suddenly become very quiet upstairs. Not quite daring to believe my little guy had actually given up and fallen asleep, I opened the door to check on him. Opening the door gently so as not to wake him, a couple inches across the floor the door goes "bonk" on something in its path. Hmm, Connor must have pushed the stool in front of the door again. I look down. And just around the corner of the door I see a tuft of blond hair. Oh.....dear. Connor didn't push an object in front of the door. He plunked HIMSELF in front of the door - and then fell asleep. This is not covered in any of the parenting books. I can't reach far enough around the door the roll him out of the way, and I hate to wake him up if he's that tired. Guess I'm not supposed to run errands today.
No matter how a mom tries to plan her day, these absurd things insist on happening. While I was sitting at my keyboard typing up that last post and preparing to go run a few errands, I noticed it had suddenly become very quiet upstairs. Not quite daring to believe my little guy had actually given up and fallen asleep, I opened the door to check on him. Opening the door gently so as not to wake him, a couple inches across the floor the door goes "bonk" on something in its path. Hmm, Connor must have pushed the stool in front of the door again. I look down. And just around the corner of the door I see a tuft of blond hair. Oh.....dear. Connor didn't push an object in front of the door. He plunked HIMSELF in front of the door - and then fell asleep. This is not covered in any of the parenting books. I can't reach far enough around the door the roll him out of the way, and I hate to wake him up if he's that tired. Guess I'm not supposed to run errands today.
Friday, October 3, 2008
Did Houdini's mother feel like this?
I'm so tired.
I could fall asleep right now with my head down on the keyboard.
Every mother of young children gets tired like this sometimes. But not every mother of young children has a 2 year old son who could be the reincarnation of Houdini. Or maybe he's a monkey in the disguise of a boy. I don't know.
I've been trying to figure out why no matter when I go to bed, by suppertime I'm ready to sleep for 10 hours. I've been trying to figure out why even though I'm no longer nursing, I've been craving, buying, and consuming every carb I can get my hands on.
A few minutes ago, I finally figured it out. Little monkey boy had gone upstairs, and was suddenly Too Quiet. So I did the 3 second dash up our 2 flights of stairs to see what he was up to. He was up to the top of his brother's nightstand, holding a toy alarm clock and jumping with glee!
It was at this point I realized I've been doing the 3 second dash up our 2 flights of stairs probably up to 50 times a day. That doesn't include all the various reaching, grabbing, carrying, and rescuing from various precarious situations that take place without dashing up the stairs. You know, the garbage can rescue, the fragile item rescue, the what's in your mouth rescue, the precarious climb rescue, etc., etc.
And now, possibly as of today, I can no longer contain him..... anywhere. He can, if he chooses, climb out of his crib. That makes his arsenal complete. He was already able to climb out of his high chair, wiggle out of his stroller (yes, with the seatbelt on), climb over the baby gate (lest you think I hadn't tried that), and escape his playpen. He can (and will) climb anything he can can a toe hold on - all the chairs, all the beds, the back of the couch, the hutch, the bookshelf, the toilet, the sink, the windowsill. He hasn't tried to climb the entertainment center yet, but it's only a matter of time.
And he can take apart most anything he sets his mind to. I found him sucking on a battery once, not because we leave them lying around, but because we recently had several power outages and he managed to figure out how to take the flashlight *apart* to get to them. He has figured out how to take a socket protector out of the wall, how to open a closed door, how to unlatch the window. Fortunately he has not figured out how to open the childproof locks on the dangerous things - at least, not yet.
This child is the very epitome of don't leave your child unattended for even a second. While I've been in the very same room with him I've had to remove an amazing array of things from his mouth. In addition to the battery, I've removed play doh, assorted old food, coins, beads, stickers, small lincoln logs, game pieces, marbles, rocks! (we were camping), dirt, sand, soap, old coffee grounds he scrounged from the garbage, and innumerable bits and pieces of various things he's bitten off with his sharp little teeth. Once he nearly gave me a heart attack when he managed to put an old PUSH PIN that some ding-a-ling left lying around by our bus stop in his mouth! Lest you think I'm careless, to the best of my knowledge the only thing he actually *swallowed* was a few bits from a red fringed mylar balloon that fringed off all over the house. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry over the red glittery poop!
Sooooo.....needless to say, I'm using a lot of extra energy on all that sprinting around the house to keep him out of harm's way. Maybe he'll grow up to be an engineer, or a physicist, or a stunt man.
In the meantime, I've been wondering if I could invent and patent a human sized hamster ball. I think it would go over great for other parents of little Houdini's, don't you?
I could fall asleep right now with my head down on the keyboard.
Every mother of young children gets tired like this sometimes. But not every mother of young children has a 2 year old son who could be the reincarnation of Houdini. Or maybe he's a monkey in the disguise of a boy. I don't know.
I've been trying to figure out why no matter when I go to bed, by suppertime I'm ready to sleep for 10 hours. I've been trying to figure out why even though I'm no longer nursing, I've been craving, buying, and consuming every carb I can get my hands on.
A few minutes ago, I finally figured it out. Little monkey boy had gone upstairs, and was suddenly Too Quiet. So I did the 3 second dash up our 2 flights of stairs to see what he was up to. He was up to the top of his brother's nightstand, holding a toy alarm clock and jumping with glee!
It was at this point I realized I've been doing the 3 second dash up our 2 flights of stairs probably up to 50 times a day. That doesn't include all the various reaching, grabbing, carrying, and rescuing from various precarious situations that take place without dashing up the stairs. You know, the garbage can rescue, the fragile item rescue, the what's in your mouth rescue, the precarious climb rescue, etc., etc.
And now, possibly as of today, I can no longer contain him..... anywhere. He can, if he chooses, climb out of his crib. That makes his arsenal complete. He was already able to climb out of his high chair, wiggle out of his stroller (yes, with the seatbelt on), climb over the baby gate (lest you think I hadn't tried that), and escape his playpen. He can (and will) climb anything he can can a toe hold on - all the chairs, all the beds, the back of the couch, the hutch, the bookshelf, the toilet, the sink, the windowsill. He hasn't tried to climb the entertainment center yet, but it's only a matter of time.
And he can take apart most anything he sets his mind to. I found him sucking on a battery once, not because we leave them lying around, but because we recently had several power outages and he managed to figure out how to take the flashlight *apart* to get to them. He has figured out how to take a socket protector out of the wall, how to open a closed door, how to unlatch the window. Fortunately he has not figured out how to open the childproof locks on the dangerous things - at least, not yet.
This child is the very epitome of don't leave your child unattended for even a second. While I've been in the very same room with him I've had to remove an amazing array of things from his mouth. In addition to the battery, I've removed play doh, assorted old food, coins, beads, stickers, small lincoln logs, game pieces, marbles, rocks! (we were camping), dirt, sand, soap, old coffee grounds he scrounged from the garbage, and innumerable bits and pieces of various things he's bitten off with his sharp little teeth. Once he nearly gave me a heart attack when he managed to put an old PUSH PIN that some ding-a-ling left lying around by our bus stop in his mouth! Lest you think I'm careless, to the best of my knowledge the only thing he actually *swallowed* was a few bits from a red fringed mylar balloon that fringed off all over the house. I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry over the red glittery poop!
Sooooo.....needless to say, I'm using a lot of extra energy on all that sprinting around the house to keep him out of harm's way. Maybe he'll grow up to be an engineer, or a physicist, or a stunt man.
In the meantime, I've been wondering if I could invent and patent a human sized hamster ball. I think it would go over great for other parents of little Houdini's, don't you?
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