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.

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.

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.

New

On May 23, 2004 I woke up with contractions. I made Wolfie pancakes and tried to ignore the pain. I was not ready for labor. It wasn’t supposed to happen for another week and I wasn’t ready yet. I had no bag packed and Eliot’s parents were out of town. I drove to my parents house with Wolfie and we hung out there for awhile. Eliot was finishing up some things around the house and going to pick up a dresser from a friend. My Mom took one look at me and told me I was in labor. I didn’t believe it. It hit me like a ton of bricks around 5:00 why I had been denying that labor was, in fact ,here. Wolfie was playing with blocks on the floor and I was struck by his beauty and how much he depended on me. This would be the last time we would be a family of three. He was going to have to share. We all were. This was a time for bravery and I wasn’t sure I was up for the challenge.

All of those thoughts went completely out the window as soon as I looked into Hamilton’s eyes. He was a beautiful and healthy baby and I was in love immediately. Of course I had enough love for both. Why was it ever a question? Looking back on that day prior to his birth I understand that I was afraid. I didn’t know how it would all work out and that was terrifying. It was hard at first, but we found our groove and never looked back.

While my children were little, people would ask me what I was going to do with myself when my kids were both in school. I would think about what it would be like to “get my life back”. What it would feel like to have hours during the day to focus on something just for me. I had no idea that time would come so fast. Or that it would knock me off my feet the way it did.

The first day of school I had a bad case of butterflies all day long. Pretty normal I thought. After all, I had just dropped both of my babies off for the day. I cleaned and organized closets and grocery shopped on my own, while obsessively checking my phone for any missed calls. The second day was pretty similar to the first. Lots of cleaning and organizing and checking of my phone. I avoided writing and now I know why.

Yesterday I was sick of cleaning. We didn’t have a good morning before school and I had an enormous lump in my throat. I took apart some toys that had been taking up space in the basement and I contemplated working in the garden. I settled on a shower and then sat down at the computer. I intended to write about the morning, which I did, but I also kept wanting to interject little tidbits about the kids that really had no bearing on the story. The floodgates opened and I felt the pain I had been stuffing down all day with full force. I missed my kids. My identity for the last almost 8 years has been wrapped around these little boys of mine and now that they were gone for the day I really had no idea what to do with myself.

I wasn’t expecting this. At all. When my kids were home all day I tried to stay in the moment and realize that the little phases that we went in and out of wouldn’t last. Good or bad, they were all temporary and just part of them growing up and the beginning of a long lesson in letting go for me. I am here to tell you that it all went by way too fast for my liking. And I wonder, could I have embraced those times more? The answer is absolutely yes. Yesterday I found myself longing for someone to hold or someone to ask me a series of questions over and over until I thought I would explode.

I have never understood why people choose to have another baby at the precise moment their other children are in school all day. It seemed like such poor planning to me. I get it now. I completely understand the desire. I was immersed in it yesterday with a force so strong I thought it would pull me under. I had no idea I would feel this way. 

I am not saying that I want another baby exactly. I am not at all ready to make that leap. I have heard it said that you should do what you are passionate about. And, it turns out that what I am most passionate about are my children. I am okay with my role as Mom, first and foremost. Being Mom to my boys is the best thing I have ever done and while I miss them as babies, I am looking forward to enjoying them at this phase of life.

I no longer have complete control over what they do with their time. I cannot shield them from pain they will feel from the outside world and I cannot control what phrases they hear and who they spend time with at school. I have to place trust in the people educating them while I am not there and I have to trust them to ask for help when they need it. These are the years that shape who they will be as adults and I don’t want to screw it up. I feel an enormous amount of weight going into the choices that we make now for our boys. Choices are fluid, I know, but they seem so much more impactful now.

It was easy when they were babies to just love them up all the time. Feed them when they were hungry, change them, sing them to sleep and watch them learn new and exciting things. All under my guidance and love. I am giving over some of the job of guidance to school and I’m not sure about that. I think it is good to not be sure. It will keep me from becoming lazy in my quest for quality education and social interaction for them. My role is different, but the important stuff remains the same. Love, trust and understanding. This is what being a mother is all about. This is what I will do. It’s what I am passionate about.

This is the beginning of a new phase of mothering. Time to put my brave face on.

Not Enough Of Me To Go Around

This is day three of school and it didn’t start well. Yesterday’s fire drill left an impression on Wolfie so strong that at 6:30 this morning he was still maintaining that he would not be going to school.

I tried all the tricks I know. I tried distracting him with other conversation. I offered to make him his all-time favorite breakfast. And we talked at length about the reason for drills and what would happen if we didn’t practice for fires and other disasters. This seemed to make it worse, but he wouldn’t stop talking about it. All of this happened before Hammy woke up at 7:15.

Hammy started kindergarten this year. He goes all day and it has been a HUGE transition for both of us. I’ve missed him terribly these last few days and am so excited for pick up time. For the first time in awhile, I just can’t wait to play. I’ve had all day to get stuff done and I am eager to put my arms around both my boys and pile on the attention. The trouble is, no one is interested. At least not yet anyway.

Hammy has not been himself before or after school. He isn’t eating much and he is crabby and more quiet than usual. I remember this adjustment period when Wolfie first started kindergarten, but it was different. Hammy needs some extra love right now and I don’t have the time to give it when he needs it. I am always so worried about Wolfie and dealing with his response to things. I remember all the preparation that we did for Wolfie to start kindergarten and I didn’t do any of it for Hammy. It totally snuck up on me. I really wasn’t prepared for school to start so soon. It sounds crazy, I know. Most Moms I have talked to have been waiting for school to start so they could have a break, but I was savoring this summer. I was savoring it because of these kinds of mornings.

So, I was absorbed with sending an e-mail to Wolfie’s teachers when Hammy woke up. I was trying to get information about the tornado drill that Wolfie was absolutely certain was happening today. Hammy laid on the floor next to me while I finished the e-mail and then we went to the kitchen to make breakfast. I sat with him while he ate and we talked a little about school. He says he doesn’t have enough time to eat and that is why his lunchbox is coming home basically untouched. He told me he wanted to try to buy lunch today because it was pizza day.

By 8:00 Hammy was dressed and ready to go. Wolfie was still maintaining his “I’m not going to school today” mantra and getting more and more animated by the second. I started to panic. I was worried that any minute Hammy would join in on the refusals to go to school and we’d really be up a creek. I got Hammy involved in a project in the kitchen and went upstairs to talk to Wolfie.

Wolfie couldn’t keep his body from moving around. His legs were fidgeting and he was rolling around all over the floor. He was desperate for some kind of stimulation, but he refused to allow me to help him. When he gets like this there is no going back. It’s like watching a train wreck that could have been avoided if only the driver would have seen what you can see from your vantage point.

We have been talking a lot about trust. I have told Wolfie that part of understanding the stuff that is hard is having trust in those trying to teach. We talk a lot about what it means to love someone and to trust someone. And I tell him that I love him so much that I feel compelled to not allow him to make choices that hurt me. And I tell him that I feel compelled to teach him the things that are difficult even though it sometimes causes emotional pain. And I ask him to trust me.

Trust is hard for him.

I called my Dad and asked him to come get Hammy to take him to school. And then I called Wolfie’s special ed coordinator. She is awesome. I felt better just hearing her voice, and was hoping she couldn’t hear Wolfie throwing toys down the steps. She got on the phone with him after we talked and that was all it took. She reminded him that there was an all school assembly scheduled for today and she reassured him that there would be no tornado drill. He agreed to get in the car almost immediately. He got his shoes on and we were out the door. But not before making a last minute lunch for Hammy who had changed his mind about the pizza and asking my Dad to back out of the driveway before Wolfie saw that he was there.  

It is hard to see when someone else is more effective at getting Wolfie out of his funk. I know it is because she isn’t his mother that he was so quick to change his tune and I am happy that it all worked out. It makes me sad though because I try so hard to help him, and sometimes it seems fruitless. I have to remember my own words about love and trust.

I walked Hammy down to his classroom and kissed him goodbye. He had tears in his eyes and we talked about the story The Kissing Hand. I gave him a kiss on his hand and he pressed it to his cheek and walked into class. I know that other parents know the pain of loving and letting your children go. It is so hard. As I walked out of school, I thought about how much of the morning was spent managing Wolfie and how that can’t be the way it is. Finding the balance that will work for this new phase is one that I didn’t think about until now. I am happy that the weekend is here so that we can relax and prepare for a fresh start next week.

The Grass Is Always Greener

Sometimes I feel like scooping up my family and going someplace remote where we can live without all the stimulus and social pressure that living in an American suburb or city provides. I truly believe that Wolfie belongs near the water. He loves the water and is drawn to it whenever he is near it. There are so many logistical and practical reasons for not relocating. Our families are here, our network, our support. Everything we have ever done is here.

I know that for most people the practical choice is the best one. I’m not so sure that is the case for my little family. We are a family filled with impracticality and unconvention. I feel like so much of my days are spent trying to make us all fit inside this shape that was predesigned and is unmoving. This is what I dislike about the puzzle piece symbol for Autism. Yeah, people on the spectrum have a difference about them that is hard to figure out and maybe that is all that is meant by the symbol. But, I can’t shake this feeling that most non-spectrum folks would like to see ASD cured and that there is a sadness associated with ASD. Or that people on the spectrum are sick. Or that they will never fit.

The sadness I feel mostly is from the rejection that my son feels on a regular basis from his peers and many adults. It also stems from my own pressure on him to conform. This feels like such a double standard. I want him to be who he is and for that to be comfortable for him. When I really examine it, I think he is comfortable with himself. He’s not comfortable with everyone else’s view of him and our ideas. And we aren’t comfortable with him.  As his parent, it is so hard to strike a balance with my own feelings and desires for him, his feelings and desires and those of the rest of society.

It is this banter that goes on in my head everyday that makes me realize that I need to create more space for him. My practicality will win on the not moving thing. But there has to be some compromise between what we expect from him and what he expects from us.  And his strengths need to be put to good use regularly. In my desperation to create tools to help him do what is expected, I sometimes neglect to nurture the parts of him that make him shine and show off the beautifully, unique person he is.

I am not beating myself up, but rather taking note that the balance is off. I remember when the summer first began I had these wonderful ideas of how we would spend our days. Some of those ideas we have made reality and some have gone by the way-side.

We found a way to bring the water to Wolfie. He and my Dad created a wonderful back yard pond and waterfall for him to play with and enjoy. He uses different objects to make the waterfall look different and then swings while he studies the pattern of the water falling. Watching him do this is very peaceful. I can see the happy-go-lucky little guy I know and love so much while he is tinkering with the water. 

Dreaming about life somewhere else helps me be creative with the life we have here and develop new ideas and strategies for whatever obstacles are present.  I know that uprooting our family would be more disruptive than anything else because we have relationships here that are irreplaceable. I must continue to remember that the challenges we face with Asperger’s will be with us no matter where we are and the best thing we can do for ourselves is to make happiness right here at home.

A New Game

“I think this is helping, Mama.” This is what Wolfie said to me 20 minutes into our morning after creating and beginning our new game for better behavior. I was thinking to myself very optimistically that this may actually work, but there was that voice in the back of my head saying “Just wait, it will get old like everything else.”

I really hate that voice. That cynical part of myself always shows itself when times have been tough and I am tempted to feel sorry for myself. This is why I am so glad that I stumbled upon this new idea.

Yesterday we had an awful day and after coming up empty handed from the many books on the shelf and the archives in my head, I decided to look for guidance on-line. This is sometimes overwhelming, but I found what I was looking for the first place I looked.

I am new to Twitter, but in just a short while I have connected with some like minded people who have great ideas about raising children on the spectrum. Many of these people also have blogs and some of them home school their children. I am awestruck by this. There is so much organization, thought, and patience that goes into planning a day at home with children on the spectrum and out of that some great ideas are born. One website that I keep going back to again and again is Spectrum Homeschool and the connecting blog, Spectrum Mother. Both of these sites are filled with great information and ideas that are valuable and specific.

The idea is simple. Create a ladder. We made ours out of 2 dowels and 12 popsicle sticks. We wrote on the popsicle sticks and then hot glued them to the dowels to form a ladder. When we were finished the ladder reads from top to bottom:

Everyone feels happy

Special time with Mom or Dad

Pick a treat

Special Activity

Great Job!

Start

Warning

Break 10 min.

Break 15 min.

Lose a Privilege

Everyone feels sad

The kids each drew a small picture that they use as their “guy”  to move up and down the ladder. We put the “guy” in place using Velcro circles at each rung of the ladder and began the day on the “start” in the middle of the ladder.

There are so many things to like about this approach. First of all the visual is great. You could do this on paper, but my kids really enjoyed making the ladders and they are very portable. Also, it is hands on for them and really feels like a game. It involves choices and rewards and it is so clear for them to see where they want to be on the ladder. I also like that it is ongoing. There is no end really because once you reach the top or the bottom, you go back to start and begin all over again. 

Wolfie and I put together the first ladder while Hammy watched a show on the television. When Wolfie started telling Hammy about the ladder and how he would “send him on a break if he made a bad choice”, it became clear that some ground rules were needed. But once we had those in place the morning went better than any morning we have had in awhile.

My husband and I have talked a lot about providing opportunities for the boys to save face when they have made a mistake or had a bout of bad or unexpected behavior. This approach naturally provides a visual for that. There is no reason to be stuck on one rung of the ladder, unless you choose to do so. We have been talking so much at our house about how behavior makes choices for us when we aren’t really paying attention. This illustrates that in such a simple way.

We had a great day today. I have no doubt that part of it, in addition to this new approach, was because I wasn’t feeling so on edge. I have been trying to look at my part in their behavior. It is always easy to see the good parts in my children and relate that back to myself. It is much harder with the difficult stuff. The not so pleasant stuff. No one wants to own that.

Novelty helps too. I know that I will have to change it up every now and then or maybe more often than that, but it is nice to know that this got us through one day without any meltdowns and very little difficulty. I am grateful for this beautiful summer day where we got along with one another. We laughed, we played and I even got five loads of laundry done!

Never in my life have I seen the value in connecting with others more than now. Sharing information is so important. It is the cure for the isolation and desperation that I know is so common when parenting a child on the spectrum. It is the reason for so many great days we have had and will contribute to many more great ones in our future.

It’s A Hard Knock Life

There is something so devilishly sweet about Hammy. He is a round-headed, brown eyed, toe walkin’ pixie. Sometimes I look at him and I am consumed with overwhelming love and adoration. He has me, and everyone who knows him, wrapped around his finger.

This is why I have had to get firm. A friend and I were laughing the other day about our two youngest boys who are in need of some heavy discipline and she dubbed this summer as “the summer of hard knocks.” I couldn’t have said it better myself.

As I mentioned Hammy is very sweet. He is also very naughty.  I worried when he was a baby that he would feel over shadowed by Wolfie in all his glory, but I don’t worry so much about that anymore. He holds his own just fine and then some.

Eliot was leaving for the hardware store to pick up some oil for the chainsaw because we have three enormous limbs that have fallen in the backyard that need cutting up. Of course, it is the hottest day ever and Father’s Day so he isn’t excited about doing this…at all. He’s being a good sport though and offered to take Hammy with him. Both the kids love going to Ace because they have a popcorn machine that you can get a bag of popcorn from to munch on while you shop. What kid wouldn’t love this.

So, Eliot told Hammy to get his shoes on so they could go. Hammy’s response was some sort of shriek followed by a slew of potty words, like poop and butt, directed at his brother who, right on cue began laughing wildly which only encouraged it more. Yeah, we are in that phase.

Eliot announced that he would be leaving without him if he didn’t get down to the business of putting his shoes on. “I want you to do it for me”, he said. “I don’t want to get my fingers all dirty.” This is so typical Hammy. His fingers were already filthy from gardening and playing catch outside. Eliot pointed this out and told him again to put his shoes on.

Hammy, in an effort to be cute and at the same time show his frustration began kicking at and hitting Eliot. I know that he wasn’t intending to be aggressive with his actions because he was smiling while he was doing this, but still. It has to stop. He has been doing this a lot and it isn’t just with us. It’s like he gets around adult men and he thinks that he has to hit and kick to get attention or maybe he feels that he is “play” wrestling. Who knows.

See, what’s strange is that he does this type of hitting and kicking and then he also does the “I am so mad at you, I’m not getting my way” kind too. Sometimes it is hard to decipher the two and often it starts out as silly, play hitting and morphs into the other kind. This happens a lot when he plays with Wolfie. I’ve decided to discipline for both kinds. Not that I haven’t been already, but I am getting serious about it. Even if it inconveniences our day. These are the hardest times to follow through and I had some gardening I really wanted to finish.

After the hitting and not putting shoes on incident he was told that he wasn’t going to Ace anymore and he needed to go to his room for being violent. This made him very angry. I carried him up to his room, kicking and screaming, and Eliot left. When he gets like this there is no talking to him. I put him down on the floor and walked out of the room, closing the door behind me. He hates when I close the door and I agreed to open it if he stayed put until I said it was time to come out.

Wolfie and I were chatting downstairs while Hammy was screaming at me from upstairs to come back. It is at these times I am most thankful for air conditioning and closed windows. What would the neighbors think to hear my little five year old yelling that he hates me and that I am the meanest Mommy ever at the top of his lungs?

He finally calmed down. He stopped screaming and was ready to melt into me and cry. He was so sad that he missed his chance to go to Ace and he wanted another chance to do the right thing. He said he needed to go to Ace. There was something there that he really needed. Of course, he couldn’t tell me what it was that he needed. He said he could see it in his mind, but he couldn’t describe it or draw it. I suggested that he just wanted to look around the store. “No, you don’t understand. There is something there that I need.”

He said this about his behavior. “My mind tells me to show my frustration and I just listen. I know I didn’t make the right choice, but my mind just tells me to do it. I don’t know how to not do what my mind tells me to do.” He says this to me with a flurry of hand gestures while circling around on his tip toes. He told me that he doesn’t like it when I yell and am mad at him. I told him I wasn’t mad, just disappointed. And that I was sad that he made the choice he made. He mentioned the yelling again. I wasn’t yelling, I was being very firm and I explained the difference.

“I don’t like the firm Mommy.” I told him that he gets the firm Mommy when he makes choices that hurt others.

I love how he articulates his thoughts and feelings. Sometimes his wisdom floors me. He does have trouble with his impulses, obviously. But for him to be able to say what is happening in his mind is pretty great. I have those internal battles with myself when I am angry. There are things that I want to say or do that I know are the wrong things and when that feeling is really profound I actually have to think to myself, don’t do that. I don’t remember being taught to listen to one voice or another, I just knew.

These social expectations are hard to teach. I am not convinced entirely that Hammy has trouble with the expectations so much as he has trouble reconciling what is expected of him and the behavior that he sees Wolfie engage in fairly regularly. This would explain why he doesn’t have these troubles at school. I am sure that it is hard to be the brother of a kid with Asperger’s. And I am sure it is especially hard to be the younger one.

For this, and many other reasons, I hate to be firm Mommy. It hurts. But I know it’s the right thing to do.