Off and running…

In perfect Wolfie fashion to begin the school year, the first two days were awesome. Not much to say from him about those two except “Not very many people recognize me” which I took to be some kind of small wish on his part because of his new fascination with his height and weight that he’d grown so much over the short summer that no one knew who he was. I know better now. There are very few kids in his class this year that he has been in class with before and not one of the kids in his class this year is a person that I would say he’s made a connection with. This is what he was saying that first day.

Day three was not so good. He had managed to find the two boys in class who had the least amount of tolerance for him and offered one of them a friendly reminder to use an inside voice, to which the boy responded by calling Wolfie the teacher’s pet. Then in music class the other boy was going for the last big chair and Wolfie wanted to have it because as he says, “I’m much bigger than him and I wanted to trade him the big chair for one of the smaller ones.” Needless to say, the other kid wasn’t going for it and then when Wolfie became upset someone else jumped in and called Wolfie mean.

Out of a classroom of twenty and only being there for three hours, he has managed to find the most intolerant of the students. It’s as if he is a bully magnet. Now, of course I am not suggesting that Wolfie did nothing to contribute to the situation. I’m sure he absolutely did! He may have lost his temper, he may have given the “friendly reminder” a little too adult-like. One thing I know for sure, and that is he didn’t set out to hurt anyone or make anyone feel bad. He was enforcing the rules because rules are important. More on that subject another time.

There is a bright side. His teacher is awesome and she knew how to respond. Each year Wolfie and I have given a presentation about Asperger’s to his class. This year I was reluctant to ask him to do that because he is having so much trouble making some legitimate friends and he doesn’t need another thing helping him to stick out like a sore thumb. So, his teacher and I decided it would be best for her to have a conversation with the other students in the afternoon while Wolfie was at home for school. This worked out really well.

She used the analogy of having a broken leg and how the students might help another student if he or she were wearing a cast. She talked about how not everyone in the class would have a cast or receive help carrying their books or getting their lunch. Then she went on to point out that having a broken leg is something you can see and so it makes it easy to remember to help because of the visual cue of the cast. Asperger’s doesn’t look like anything. Wolfie looks like a regular boy, but he has needs that are much different from that of most of his peers.

She told me all this when I finally got him up to school at almost 10:00 after a major meltdown about the two incidents with the other boys on Friday, which he apparently stewed about over the weekend. I don’t know why, but every year these meltdowns happen and each year I expect them, but they don’t get any easier for me to handle. It is heartbreaking to see him in so much pain when he is having a meltdown and I am at a total loss for what to do. I want to hold him and hug him tight, but he won’t let me. At least not while he is angry. Eventually he calms down and we cuddle and hug and talk about his feelings. Those moments when he comes out of the anger and just cries without the kicking and flailing are something really, really special and it is in those moments that I get to do what comes naturally to me as a mother. I get to comfort and soothe and he is willing to let me.

After all that, he had a fine day at school. No trouble to report and we had a great afternoon. We cooked and listened to music. I taught him how to make a peach pie and we finished creating his blog which I will add to my blogroll. Cooking with him is a pretty amusing endeavor. He is very gregarious in all his movements and he has a need to come up with alternate ways of doing things. He definitely enjoys taking the long way. We got to the part in the pie making where it was time to dot the pie with butter. It was like a lightbulb went off in his head while I was explaining how to cut the butter. He snatched the stick of butter off of the cutting board and grabbed the cheese grater and began grating butter onto the pie. At first I was all uptight and trying to get him to stop. He just kept grating away and I saw that this really was a brilliant idea. He was ready to shred all the butter and put it in little ziplock bags for later use “just like cheese. Great invention, huh?” He was very proud of his idea and I was and am very proud of him.

Here we go…

I cannot belive that it is August, and only halfway through we are starting school. It just doesn’t seem like it is time yet. I am craving a routine and my children could benefit from that too, but it still feels like summer. Maybe I feel so relaxed because we aren’t really going back. At least not full-time anyway. We are jumping into the home school way of life, with the public school as our life jacket. It sounds strange, I know, but I think it just might work.

When we started talking to Wolfie about homeschooling, he was excited. After awhile he started asking questions like, “will I get to see my teachers?’ and “I’ll still get to visit, won’t I?” I took this as a sign that we needed to figure something out that got him in the doors of school regularly, but in a way that would be more successful for him. I, for one, am tired of him coming out of school angry, vowing never to go back. That is a terrible way to start an evening and no child should feel that out of sorts at the end of a school day.  These kind of explosive rants are what I was met with more than enough times last year to signal that something needed to change, like, in a big way.

I am hopeful that our new schedule will be just what is needed in order to strike a balance between the ease he feels with adults and the anxiety he feels in social situations with his peers. Right now, he is attending school in the mornings and I pick him up before lunch. Today it went well, although not without some minor bumps.

One of the hardest things about parenting is knowing what each child needs and not confusing one’s needs with the others. I want so badly to make things even between my boys and I am realizing that try as I might, it just isn’t possible and it also isn’t necessary. I find myself saying a lot lately that life isn’t fair. Not in a complaining kind of way, but in a matter of fact, them’s the brakes kind of way. Not everything has to appear fair and it all evens out in the end is what I keep telling myself. My obsession with this fairness has come from the decision not to home school Hammy. As much as it pains me to admit, homeschooling is not what he needs. Not right now anyway. He is angry about having a brother with Asperger’s because in many ways it means he doesn’t get as much attention and we expect things of him that his brother isn’t always capable of doing. To a 6-year-old that seems unbelievably unfair. I know that one day Wolfie and Hammy will enjoy a good relationship and if I play my cards right that day may be sooner rather than later.

My hope is that by giving each of them space and time and honoring their individual needs, we might have more peace in our house. This year after I dropped each of them off in their classrooms I walked down to the parent coffee in the gym without the lump in my through or the ache in my belly. The anxiety that I normally feel after dropping Wolfie off anywhere was gone because I know he can hold it together in school for three hours. Seven is another story, but three, he can do. Also, Hammy was very content to walk into his classroom with his Mystery Machine lunch box, find his seat, and begin coloring like he does this everyday. He gave me this “No big deal, Mom” sort of look and a quick kiss and that was it.

I am not so delusional that I believe that it will be this blissful everyday, but I’ll take it whenever I can get it!

Full Circle

I have been writing this post in my mind for months. I just haven’t felt inspired to sit at the computer and put it out there. Today, as I drink my morning coffee, I feel that I have to get this out of my head so I can think clearly.

Every year, around this time, this feeling of dread creeps its way into the pit of my stomach and a lump in my throat wells up without warning at the mere thought of the first day of school. I used to love the idea of the beginning of a new school year. Note that I said the idea. Shopping for new supplies, new shoes, new clothes, and the promise of fall and all its midwestern beauty and crispness. The smell of fresh paint and the shine of clean floors, with tanned, relaxed teachers quick feet moving about preparing and excited to engage their students.  That idea is really nice. The trouble is, that idea and all that excitement only lasts for about three days for Wolfie and then reality sets in.

School is hard. Being social is hard. The reality is, kids entering third grade are also embarking on a mean phase. They aren’t trying to be mean so much as they are trying to find their place in the social hierarchy and the trouble with that is lots of people get trampled on the way up. Here is a story from when I was in second grade. Granted, I am a girl and girls do things differently than boys, but both my boys gravitate toward girls so the anecdote seems appropriate.

I had just started a new school in second grade and had only a few acquaintances from Brownies. I was struggling also academically and had the sneaking suspicion that I was just dumb. I couldn’t seem to “get” anything the teachers were trying to teach me. Then there were the other girls. They were horrible. Not all of them, of course, but the ones that I had it in my mind were the ones to make friends with were not nice. They approached me after a while saying that I could be one of them if I were to pass a series of tests. I took the tests, which involved taking things that belonged to other students, attempting to balance standing on two legs of a chair, delivering notes to boys and other things like that. It was horrible and somewhere in my head I had decided that I couldn’t completely become one of them, but I needed to fit in to be safe. The line of social acceptance and being nice to others is a very thin one and one that I sometimes crossed, but I tried and was mostly successful at navigating the shark-y social waters.

If I were a boy with Asperger’s I would have fallen on my face. There is no question. I would have been so confused and unable to keep up with all the nuances of the social games. I was in pain a lot of the time and I understood pretty much of what was going on. As stupid as it all was, I got it. Wolfie doesn’t get it at all. He is hurt and confused most of the time when he is around kids his same age. As I said, he enjoys playing mostly with girls and they are all turning on him. He doesn’t understand why. He says they are mean, and I know that isn’t the case. They are acting mean, but they aren’t mean kids. They are competing socially and are desperate to find their place. Unfortunately for Wolfie, that place isn’t next to him.

This is a reality that I am okay with. I love my nerdy little guy. He is smart, funny, and full of brilliant ideas. He does everything with gusto and is built like an overgrown puppy, all floppy with big hands and feet. One look at him and my heart gushes with love and the desire to protect him and all that makes him who he is. I see though, how he is fraying at the edges. There is a rawness there that is exposed and becoming sensitive and if it doesn’t heal, it will fester and become angry.

These social games that kids play, I fear, is the thing that will rub him completely raw. People have said to me, “He’ll find his way,” and “He just needs to connect with someone else like him.” I agree, I just don’t think the public school is the place where he will number 1, find his way, or number 2, make a connection with someone else like him. There is no one else like him and the few kids that share his quirky nature, the school has done a brilliant job of separating them so that there is little interaction. This is done, of course, because it is easier for the teacher.

I am in school to become a teacher and it is through my studies and watching both Wolfie and Hammy in school that I have come to the realization that schools are too big, too crowded, too bureaucratic and too rules oriented to reach the potential of my children. I would venture to say these schools can’t help reach any childs potential, but that is a much bigger idea for this little post. I know my children, and this environment is not for them. There are many, many great things about the school they attend. The teachers are wonderful and have tried their best to know my kids and do right by them. But as I have experienced first hand and as I am learning now in school, the teachers hands are tied in many ways. They cannot control the size of their classrooms nor can they give full individual attention or instruction to each child as they might like. Also, teachers are beginning to have to teach the students just to pass the standardized tests, which in my mind couldn’t be more uninspired. Then on top of all the academic responsibilities, teachers have the job to help students become responsible social beings. Where is the time for that?

I have had more than enough time this summer to watch firsthand how Wolfie attempts to make friends and get involved with other kids. He is a very social person and seeks out people to play with and share things with. He is gregarious in his approach and is mostly very polite. The trouble is he is eight years old, he looks like he is 11  and he is very direct. He has no trouble walking up to a family, introducing himself which involves sharing his name and age and then asking the other child who, at that point has completely lost interest if they are his age, for his name. Most of the time, they don’t respond or if they do it is because they are forced to by their parents. Wolfie doesn’t see this quiet brush off for what it is and will continue to try new ways to engage the other child. Asking questions, acting silly, or just inserting himself into whatever activity the other child is doing until finally the other kid says something mean. This is when Wolfie goes into what I call adult mode. He will parrot those phrases that have been directed at him when he is not so nice by other adults. “You aren’t being very nice” or “That is unacceptable behavior” or “That was very unexpected, could you try that again.” It is funny after the fact, sort of. But in the moment, it is the saddest thing I have ever seen because these little outbursts seal Wolfie’s fate to never be friends with this child. He ends up confused and angry.

At some point, you reach a breaking point. There is a threshold we all have for rejection and for every person that threshold is different. One of the gifts of Asperger’s for Wolfie has been this sort of social aloofness that prevented him from realizing when people were rejecting him. There was a long period of time where he seemed insulated from the hurt of that rejection. That time has definitely ended. He is hurt, and he is raw.

So, we are considering homeschooling….again. The pieces are falling into place and it seems that this option is the one that has the greatest potential for Wolfie to thrive. I am not sure about Hammy. There are a lot of ideas rattling around my head. Maybe I finish my degree while homeschooling and we start a small school. Maybe we home school Wolfie this year and test a few things out and then bring Hammy into the mix when I have more confidence. Maybe we jump in feet first and see what we see. Maybe we explore some private school options again. I feel the weight of this decision, but at the same time I feel refreshed by the idea of choice. So often, the choices get stuffed out of sight by the expectation of the norm.

I remember when Wolfie was born and I had the hopefulness of a new mother, all excited and full of creative ideas about parenting. We talked about homeschooling then and how the idea of parents as teachers seemed like such a natural and viable approach. Somehow that idea was derailed. Hammy was born, I was overwhelmed by motherhood and  by the energy of my children. I don’t know now if homeschooling is the right choice, but I get the feeling there will be regrets if we stick to the path we are on now.  

I have always used the word cyclical when describing the behaviors, habits, and interests of my children. Their interests change as do their behaviors and habits, and then the cycle starts all over again. Here we are back at the beginning. I feel like a new mother, with new challenges and a fresh perspective. Even though it feels somewhat scary, it is exhilarating to be here again.

Welcome Back

I went through a funk at the beginning of this school year and finally,  the air is starting to clear. It’s just that with both kids in school all day I had no idea what I wanted to do with myself. Actually, looking back, I knew what I really wanted to do, I just didn’t know how to start or if I could and so that negated the dream for a while.

I want to be a teacher. I want to help foster creativity and growth in little people, the way that so many have done for my children. My children have been lucky enough to have such wonderful people teach them every day and when I volunteer in their classrooms, which I do weekly, I find myself watching the way that their teachers interact with the kids and it’s like a lightbulb for me every time. That is what I want to do when I grow up.

I had been quietly researching going back to school for quite a while and was coming up uninspired and, frankly, a little scared. There is so much going on in our lives, with Eliot’s business and work schedule and the kid’s school and after school activities. When would I have time to go back to school? How would I pay for school?

Online university. This is what Eliot said to me when I told him my dream of being a teacher, followed by all the reasons I couldn’t do it. I love this about him. He will always, always find a way for things to work out. I come up with all these glass half empty reasons why something won’t work and he counters with at least one way that it could work. I thought I was an optimist, and I really think that I am, but maybe too much of a realist to see the creative solution sometimes. I began researching online degrees and universities and was encouraged by what I found. This was not the boring,  correspondence course work I had thought it would be. So, last week, I found myself applying to the University of Phoenix.

Of course, the entire time I was going through the application process, I was preparing myself for something to go wrong. I wouldn’t allow myself to get excited about the possibility of going to school and having a career that I love, just in case. I completed the application process on Friday and was expecting  to hear from my admissions counselor on Tuesday. I spent the entire day cleaning and scouring the house, because that helps me when I am thinking.

Right about the time that my skin was about to fall off on my hands from being in water half the day, the phone rang. It was my counselor, calling to congratulate me on being accepted to the Universities Associates in the Arts/Elementary Education program. I was also approved for my loan. I couldn’t believe it. And I was doubly shocked when I started to cry. I hadn’t allowed myself  too much time to think about the what if scenario of it all working out. I was and am so excited!

When I picked the boys up from school and told them my good news, they bombarded me with congratulations. Wolfie was unbelievably excited and wanted to know all the details of what college was going to be like for me ,and Hammy wanted to share with me all his ideas about where I could teach and how we could see each other everyday at school when I am a teacher.

I love that this is something that everyone in my family is excited about and will benefit from. I have been at a crossroads since the beginning of the year about what to do with myself now that I don’t have little babies at home all day.  I have looked down each path and tried to see what was up ahead. This path is the one I was most afraid of, but also the most drawn to. I think that is a good thing. Wish me luck!

Hurdle

Here’s the deal. I am an optimist. I really do believe that everything works out somehow. I have my moments of negativity like anyone else, but I try not to live there. Lately, I’ve been living there. Today has to be the day it turns around. I have one big thing standing in my way.

My seven and three quarters year old son.

He is going through this “I am going to challenge and attempt to negotiate everything that my Mom says” thing. Sure, he has always been a negotiator and he has always challenged convention. He has Asperger’s. That’s par for the course. The difference lately is that he is doing it with a very nasty attitude, a mean look on his face, and with a will of iron. I am exhausted. I am tense. And I am finding myself being really inflexible and drill sergeant-like, not because I consciously want to behave that way, but because I am so worn out. I just want him to back off the attitude. Be nice. Agree sometimes.

I know what this is about. We started ABA therapy at the end of August and the honeymoon period is over. He loves Miss N, his therapist, but he doesn’t love when she leaves and I expect the same things that she does. He doesn’t love that I am using the same techniques and language that she does. He keeps saying that he doesn’t love me.

Now, I know better than to allow myself to sink into self pity and wallow in the idea that my son doesn’t love me anymore. Logically, I know that he is acting out, trying to gain some control. The thing is that he was controlling the house before Miss N. His meltdowns would sometimes last an hour and who was paying attention to Hammy while we were absorbed in Wolfie’s meltdown? No one. It had to change. We had to find some balance.

Life in our house is better in so many ways since we started ABA. Hammy is happier, he is getting more attention and he isn’t mimicking Wolfie’s challenging behavior in an attempt to get our attention. Eliot and I are parenting on the same page for the most part. We are leaving our own emotions out of it and helping Wolfie turn his behavior around on his own. Wolfie is accomplishing so many things that are positive. If it weren’t for that pesky negativity, life would be pretty great.

I signed up to volunteer in Wolfie’s classroom this year. He and I talked about how I would be coming to school and he said he was excited for me to come. When I got there, he was incredibly rude to me. He refused to cooperate with anything I was asking him to do, which by the way, was simply to come and sit down at the reading table with me and two other kids. Not a huge request. And not something that should be difficult for him. Once he did finally sit down he hit me on the arm and growled at me because I agreed to let another child begin the reading. I did this because I couldn’t reward his behavior thus far, and I explained that this little girl had been waiting patiently to start while Wolfie was refusing to join.

I tried so many times to change the negative to positive. At the end of the reading group, which he left early because he didn’t feel like sitting next to me, I went over to his desk and told him I loved him. I asked him why he was so angry. He didn’t like that I was bossing him around, he said. I asked him if he wanted to share anything with me in his desk before I left. I told him we could have a few minutes where he could decide what to share with me. He told me that everything in his desk was for school and it was P-R-I-V-A-T-E (he actually spelled it out) for him and not for Mom. That hurt.

I left. As I was walking out the kids had gone to lunch recess and his teacher was walking down the hall toward me. She clearly felt bad about how Wolfie was treating me. I am sure it was sad to watch. She told me that he never had acted like that in class before toward her. Ouch.

Don’t get me wrong, I am glad that he has never acted that way toward her. I am glad that he saves his best behavior for school. I am just sad that he isn’t happier when I am there. I know he wants me there, but he is confused when school and home cross paths. It makes him uncomfortable. Just like ABA makes him uncomfortable when Miss N isn’t around.

I know that all of this will work itself out. We have been through this before and it was hard, and then somehow it became easier. It will get better. We will find a way back to the positive. That is my mantra for today.

Spelling Bee

Spelling tests are on Tuesday and Wolfie loves this. He is an excellent speller. I think he must have a photographic memory because if he has seen the word, he can spell it. Practicing his spelling words is a lot of fun. They are words meant to challenge him as they have been picked to match his reading level. This weeks spelling words included adequate, occasionally, apparatus and rapport.

To practice for the test, we hold a home spelling bee. Eliot and I, and sometimes Hammy, will give Wolfie a word and watch as he closes his eyes, and twitches his arms as he spells out the word with a huge smile on his face. When he is finished, he opens his eyes and asks very excitedly, “Is that right?”

Each time was “Yes! High five, you got it right!” We went beyond the spelling words into words like philosophy and tyrannosaurus. He got them all right and he was so proud. So proud, in fact, that at one point he started to cry. He was just so happy! He was literally smiling, laughing and crying all at the same time. Which, of course, made me fall to pieces. I get so overwhelmed with emotion when I see either of my boys do things that make them feel proud. I remember how it felt as a child to be proud of myself. It was one of the best feelings ever. The build up of sharing the news that had me so proud or that brief moment between accomplishing something and turning my head to meet the gaze of one of my parents is a feeling that I will remember always. And it isn’t just about how I felt. It’s also that moment of sharing.  It wasn’t just my moment. It was our moment. I remember the pure pride and happiness on my parents’ faces and the obvious pleasure they got out of my success, and I understand what they were feeling now that I have my own children.

 Asperger’s can be isolating. It is difficult for Wolfie to connect with peers in a way that is meaningful to the other person. It has plenty of meaning for Wolfie, it’s just that for the other person the meaning is somewhat cloudy. It is interesting and sometimes painful to watch Wolfie with his classmates or his brother. He comes across steamroller-ish a lot of the time because he is excited. Maybe  he knows the answer or has something he feels is important to offer and it is hard for him to think before sharing.

Just last night we were hanging out together by the fire doing homework. Wolfie was working on new spelling words and Hammy wanted to join in the fun. We started taking turns giving the boys words to spell. Hammy was so patient as he waited for Wolfie to spell his word. This may have been because there was no way he could spell the words that Wolfie was given, but he was patient none-the-less. Wolfie, on the other hand, couldn’t wait to “help” Hammy spell his words. Hammy didn’t want his help. We didn’t want him to help. We kept giving him reminders that it was Hammy’s turn. It was so clear that he just couldn’t help himself. He knew the answer and it was demanding to come out! Eventually, he settled down and got the message to wait his turn, or at least, wait for someone to ask for his help.

It is hard sometimes in those moments not to steamroll right over him because he is being so over bearing. Recognizing that it is excitement that is motivating him is so important  in order to teach him a different approach. He is much more receptive to our suggestions when he doesn’t feel attacked, which is so interesting to me, since he is usually the verbally aggressive one first.

It’s strange, he doesn’t feel it when he is over bearing, but is very sensitive when he is on the receiving end. I guess the difference is where the motivations lie. He is excited, or has something to share, and because of his lack of filter for his emotions, he comes across aggressive or larger than the situation calls for. He knows he isn’t trying to be aggressive, but his peers don’t.  When I am impatient is when I come across as a steamroller to him. My  motivation is not excitement or anything positive in those moments. I’m just impatient in that moment, and he knows it.

Of course, there are those times when he is aggressive when he is angry or impatient, but that is for another story.

I think participating in a real spelling bee would be good for him someday. He would love it. And I love the pleasure that exudes from him when he is successfully spelling a word. The way that he spells them out has a definite rhythm. He breaks the word up into parts and spells each part pretty quick  and I get a kick out of that too. The whole time he is smiling his infectious smile and looking to us to share in his pride. It’s impossible not to enjoy.

Serendipity

It is good to be reminded about the good parts of Asperger’s. When dealing with school and other activities where there is so much expected that just doesn’t come naturally for someone with Asperger’s, it is easy to forget to celebrate the good stuff. The stuff you love, the stuff that reminds you just how special it is that you have this person in your life.

I am talking about Wolfie who will talk to anyone, anytime, anyplace. It doesn’t matter how old you are or how you might look, he will treat you like he treats everyone. With excitement. He has the ability to cut right to the good inside people. I see it happen all the time and it is something that I enjoy so much about him.

I hosted a jewelry party last night at our house for some friends and he really wanted to be part of the party. So, I told him that he could answer the door and show the ladies where the drinks, snacks and jewelry was. He called that being the butler and ran upstairs to shower and change. He emerged from upstairs about 30 minutes later dressed in what he calls his “khaki suit”. This consists of a pair of khaki pants, his striped button down shirt, a blue tie, and this old brown corduroy blazer that I got from a thrift store that I never got around to putting buttons on or ironing. He insists that it looks just fine and wears it whenever he can. One of these days I am going to surprise him with some buttons.

He greeted all the guests and was such a little gentleman about it. One of my friends thought he was telling her he was wearing his “tacky suit”, and we all had a good belly laugh about it, although the joke was sort of lost on him. Another friend was feeling down about somethings going on in her life and was uplifted by his good natured spirit and enthusiasm. She sent me a message saying how much she enjoyed him and how he really turned her day around.

This morning I was tired and he was being sort of floppy and uncooperative. He was frustrated by everything I was asking him to do, which is all basic stuff like brush your teeth and put on your shoes. I forgot in the moment to honor who he is and remember the good stuff. I yelled at him which made him frustrated so he cut the laces off his shoes because he needed help untie-ing them and I was too busy loading the car with backpacks and trying to keep Hammy from joining in on the frustration to help.

Looking back, if I would have just stopped and helped him, the morning would have gone much more smoothly. Coming home and seeing my friends’ note helped me to see all the things I was missing about my own child this morning. I am so thankful for these reminders. They present themselves in the most unique way and somehow, at just the right time.

Second Nature

“Is Miss. N coming tomorrow?” Wolfie asked me this last night as we were getting ready for bed. These kinds of questions always give me momentary anxiety because I am not sure on any given day what answer will provide a positive response from him. Last night especially was an anxious one because he had been so sad after school and I didn’t want him to go there again.

“Yes, she is!” I responded with enthusiasm. Again, not sure if this was the answer he was hoping for. I know he likes Miss. N. She is young and makes the ABA really fun, but she commands some authority with him too. Usually by now Wolfie would have seen through all the fun and games and focused on the work. What he does in ABA is hard work. Learning to be flexible and going with the flow, not being stuck on his ideas and being willing to try new things. It is fun, but it is also challenging.

“Oh, good! I just love it when she comes!” He had an enormous smile on his face when he said it. I asked him why he likes it when she comes. “Oh, she is just so fun and nice. And we play T ball together and that kind of thing.” It is curious that he would mention the T ball since he hates playing T ball. It is her approach that he likes. She doesn’t make him hold the bat any certain way, or hit the ball any number of times. They just take turns and play together like two friends. She takes a lot of the pressure off of him and praises him for being willing to try. I love this about her.

I am thinking a lot about her approach with him and trying to apply it to other areas of his life and you know what? It’s working. This morning he didn’t want to go to school, but he didn’t tell me this right away. He got dressed and ate breakfast, watched a little television and then when it was time to get shoes on and get in the car, he decided it would be a good time for a shower. We never shower in the morning. After asking him repeatedly to not take his clothes off (as he is taking his clothes off), I decided to let him shower. I told him that by making the choice to shower, he was making the choice to not watch television in the morning for a week.

He didn’t like that. I just kept repeating that it wasn’t what I wanted him to do, but that I wasn’t going to stop him. He would have consequences either way. He ultimately decided not to shower. We were late for school, but I was proud of him for making a good choice. Since beginning ABA, I have noticed in myself a heightened awareness of how vulnerable he really is. And how his choices to do things that are defiant really aren’t conscious. It is just a reaction. Sometimes it is so unclear what he is reacting to, but sooner or later it is revealed. Eventually the behavior makes sense.

I knew all this before, but it feels different now. It feels more solid, more for real. Like second nature.

Defeated

“I feel like such a failure,” Wolfie said to me this afternoon, crying giant tears following a meltdown after school. It is in these moments that I feel like I have failed him. What am I doing sending him to school each day when mostly, it makes him feel like this? Really, what am I doing?

This thought goes through my head more often than I’d like.  I want so badly to take him out of school and home school him, but would that be better? Could I provide the learning environment that he needs? Is it fair to have Hammy in a school and Wolfie at home? Could I handle having them both at home all the time? Would I be stunting their social growth?

The trouble with all these questions is that it depends on who you ask. There is no right answer. It isn’t black and white. There is so much grey. I am not comfortable in the grey. When I really examine how I feel I have this horrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that I will regret this public school decision. It comes to the fore front of my mind like someone punching me in the face when I hear my 7 year old son tell me he feels like a failure.

I want to celebrate the good things about my children. I want to praise them for and give them opportunities to utilize their strengths.  I am tired of hearing that everyone is special and that in order to be fair, blah, blah, blah. Our public schools are set up for the most common denominator. They aren’t set up for the uncommon. Individual strengths are traded in for collaborative group strength. What if your strength is one that doesn’t mesh well with the group? What if the group can use the strength, but you aren’t comfortable with the collaboration? Is it still valuable? The answer lies in the individual teacher and how he or she chooses to run the classroom.

This is precisely the problem with school. It is one transition after another and very little consistency. One teacher might offer many chances and another only gives one. One teacher may celebrate the children doing the right thing, and another places the focus on what you’ve done wrong. To a typical child this is confusing. To my aspie child it is maddening, more than frustrating.

He participates in the gifted program at his school and at the end of each day there is a sheet of paper to be sent home outlining the lesson and activity for that day. At the bottom of the page is an area for the children to rate how well they participated, listened, used their time, cooperated, and were committed to the task. The choices are 1, needs improvement, or 2, meets expectations. He gave himself 1 1/2 most of the time and a 1 3/4 for cooperation. The teacher gave him all 1’s. This is why he was so upset. He thought he had tried really hard, but saw from his scores for the day that it wasn’t enough. He said he felt like it was never enough. He said he felt like quitting.

Sharing Secrets

“Hey, Wolfie, I want to tell you a secret.” Hammy said this to Wolfie yesterday afternoon right after Miss. N arrived. Miss. N is our ABA therapist and it was her first day. Wolfie didn’t feel like hearing a secret so I asked Hammy to tell me.

“I don’t want to be violent or disrespectful while Miss. N is at our house,” he said in my ear. Little sweetie. He was remembering the time a few weeks ago that Miss. N came to have a get to know each other play date and things between him and Wolfie went sour. There was some kicking, hitting and a lot of back talk. He was embarrassed about that. I told him I thought that was something he could say out loud and I encouraged Wolfie to listen. Hammy said it and Wolfie agreed with him.

Miss. N said she appreciated that both of them were having such positive attitudes. I’m sure you can guess where the story is going.

Things were going fine until Wolfie earned 8 points and was given the opportunity to pick a choice out of the box. The box is full of special items that the kids will get to choose from when they earn 8 points. Once the playtime with the chosen item is over, it goes back into the box until points are earned again. The items in the box aren’t to be played with outside of when Miss. N is here.

This was explained to the boys several times prior to letting them see the box. Everyone said that they understood the rules.

I bought all the items in the box with both boys in mind. These are things that I knew they would be interested in, but that I didn’t want to give them access to all the time mainly because they are messy or have the potential to get messy or out of hand. In short, adult attention is pretty necessary.

Wolfie chose the fountain pen. He LOVES pens. He loves to make signs and he especially loves to make signs with cool pens. The pen is cool. Miss. N made signs with him and challenged him a little with how he makes the signs. He handled it well and earned a few more points. Then it came time to move on and so the pen had to go back into the box.

This is when things got ugly. I have seen things get ugly like this before, but there was a major difference this time. I had a professional there with me who was supportive and kind. She coached me in how to handle the meltdown and together we got him to calm down. It was hard. And it was heartbreaking. But at the same time, not. It’s weird, I think I have lived with for so long and become used to these meltdowns so much that the sadness has been squeezed out of me and in it’s place is resolve and determination.

I know that Wolfie can learn to control himself. I know he can do it without medicine. I know he can do it because we love him and are committed to helping him no matter what.

I almost think that the absence of my sadness is what makes things work when they do. He had to calm himself down. And after about 20 minutes he did.

I am a firm believer in at home therapy. There is so much good that comes of it. I am involved and learning, as is the rest of the family. This therapy isn’t just for Wolfie. Hammy, Eliot and I will all benefit individually and collectively. I believe that doing this as a family will strengthen us and solidify the relationship that Hammy and Wolfie have with one another.

“I think I have something that will help Wolfie!” Hammy was walking around on his toes with a piece of paper in his hand and a crayon. He looked excited and he was talking with urgency. He felt bad that his brother was having such a hard time and he wanted it to stop. He had written him a note and he wanted to slide it under the door to Wolfie. I told him I wanted to read it first. It said, “You are bad.” Miss. N looked at it and said, “Maybe there is something positive you could say to Wolfie instead.” They decided on something together and he wrote it down.

“I hope you get calm,” the note said. He slid it under the door. There was a brief silence followed by a a request for a pen. Wolfie sent the note back under the door. I turned it over and read his writing. “Thank you, Hammy,” was what it said.

It was one of the sweetest things I have ever witnessed.

It is no secret that life is challenging sometimes in our house. We have shared stories in hopes that it will help another family and we have sought help from our families and close friends who understand. But there is something about having someone who doesn’t know the back story witness what happened yesterday. It made me feel lighter. She has no emotional ties to Wolfie or to me, yet she was empathetic and offered no judgement. She had the ability to see what none of us on the inside can see because we are so attached and so in love with our little boy.

I am glad that the big meltdown happened on the first day of therapy. Maybe now, we can begin to make some headway. I know it isn’t the last big meltdown we’ll ever see, but it is a step in the right direction and that is how you start. Baby steps.