One Sick Mother

New Adventures in Food

Grace announced a few weeks ago that has been having stomach cramps and gas shortly after meals. She thinks she might be lactose intolerant. Himself's first question was "are any of your friends lactose intolerant?" The answer to this was yes. Of course, yes! This is America in the 21st century. So Himself chalked it down to an attention thing. Or a 'fitting in' thing. But not a digestive thing.

I wasn't so sure. Grace has known this other girl for years and her lactose intolerance had been a source of pity rather than awe.  After all, what kid is envious of a girl who can't eat icecream? 

 So we cut out dairy and made a doctor's appointment. Cutting out dairy helped ...somewhat, but not as much as I'd hoped. I figured maybe there was hidden dairy in some of the foods to which she reacted. 

Then -after weeks (hoilday season)- the doctor finally called back with the results of her celiac panel. "All clear except one test. I'd like you to try her without gluten for awhile and see how she does"

Like it's that easy.

I broke the news to Grace. She was OK with no bread. She could live with no pasta. However the prosptct of losing cookies, banana bread and brownies made her face fall. We concentrated on stuff she can have (remember we are still holding off on dairy for now): rice, corn, beans, meat, fish eggs, chicken, salads; all fruits and vegetables. "Oh!" she said. "Thats' a very healthy diet."

Indeed it is.

I would have liked more time to plan. I am a decent cook, but a lot of my fearlessness in the kitchen comes from always having a plan B. If my latest experiment is inedible to one or both kids, I can throw together a noodle bowl or defrost one of my more edible creations in just a few minutes. Or if all else fails, we can run to Wendys. 

So I would have liked time to build up  a few solid dishes that I can make with my eyes closed; to find a few alternative culinary safety nets  and to explore some of the substitutions/sites. I had found that an oil-based roux worked almost as happily as a butter based one, but now I have to cook without a roux to bail me out. Little things like that.

On Monday, Grace came home complaining that her stomach has hurt after both breakfast and lunch. I know what she had for breakfast. I had cooked it. There had been no dairy, but she had eaten bread. And her lunch was the same: dairy-free but on a hamburger bun. 

So I decided right then to just go gluten free and wing it. Pulled a stew out of the freezer for dinner and changed plans for the rest of the week. We've been eating a lot of rice.  Paella and risotto were on the menu so far this week. I already found a refrigerator standby for Grace: an Italian white-bean salad.  So if she doesn't like my dinner, she won't starve. I found soem gluten-free bread to keep in the freezer too, but I plan to make my own.

I choose to look at this as an opportunity to explore new food horizons, rather than whine about stuff we can't eat. There will be plenty of Indian food in our future, too. And tasty Thai rice noodles. Lots of people live just fine without eating lasagna. Not Garfield, of course.

...but he's a cartoon.

I'l try adding dairy back into Grace's diet soon. If she doesn't react that will be a great thing. Ice cream  and yogurt will be back on the menu for her.  

The baking thing, though: I'll have to figure that one out. But it's an adventure, not a challenge, Right?

RIGHT?

The Best Parenting Advice I Ever Received

When Joe was first identified as having special needs, we did the typical kneejerk reaction of doing All The Research and implementing All The Services. We placed him in a special preschool and we dutifully attended all of the meetings, seminars, support groups, playgroups and other activities as much as we possibly could.

Joe made zero progress at that place and we removed him after a year.

However, Himself and meself learned a lot about parenting a special needs child. Or any child, actually, as the same stuff -a lot of which is plain common sense-  works for typical kids, too. So we don't consider that year wasted at all. Joe made no progress, but we made HUGE progress, which of course, benefitted both kids over the long term. 

The particular advice referenced in the title was learned in a seminar on special needs parenting. I can't remember the woman's name, which is unfortunate as I think I owe her my sanity. I would like to have credited her with that.  

The advice went like this:

"Think very carefully before you say "No"".

She then expanded: ""No" can turn into a battle very easily and come down to a battle of wills; a quest for control. If there is any way that you might be browbeaten and harrangued into changing your mind, just say "yes" upfront. That way you retain control of the situation and are still the boss."

The other part of this -an essential part- is the conditional yes.

"Mom? Can I have a cookie?"

"Sure! Right after  you finish your dinner"

So not saying no, but placing a condition and onus on the kid.

That seminar was probably 12 years ago and I have lived this advice for all that time. It has worked well for me. There have definitely been times when "no" has been n the tip of my tongue, but I asked myself  do I really want to do this now? Do I really want to have a Big Battle over this insignificant-in-the-greater-scheme-of-things ...thing NOW? And the answer was usually "No". No I didn't want that battle. So I said "yes". And the world didn't end because I caved. Mainly because the kid didn't know that I'd caved. He (or she) just heard "yes" and went off happy.  

People might think this approach turns you into a complete pushover. It doesn't. The kids learn when they can ask for stuff and they learn that there are usually responsibilities to fulfill before they get stuff.  It also makes for a lot less fights and power struggles. And of course, I will still say "no" to the big stuff and stand my ground quite happily on those issues. It's mainly the small stuff that's a default "yes". I pick my battles.

And because the default word in our house is "yes" rather than "no"; this makes for an overall more positive environment. These things are pervasive.

Finally,  -at least once- this parenting trick provided a stranger in the supermarket with a good laugh. Grace was then around three:

"Mom can I have a puppy?"

"Sure! When you're 35."

"OK!" (happy).

 

Things I Thought I Knew. Part 1

Years and years ago, I remember watching a documentary about pets. I think it was about pets. The only part I remember was footage of this big, middle-aged man chasing a tiny white poodle around a nice apartment. He finally snared her and placed her, dejected, onto the counter while the voiceover said something like "John goes through this routine with Fifi every day. Fifi is diabetic. John must inject her with insulin twice a day or she will DIE! Fifi hates it.

And I said to my nineteen-year-old self: "That's ridiculous. Why doesn't he just have Fifi put down out of both of their miseries and get himself a healthy dog?"  And then I justified this further to myself by thinking of all the healthy dogs out there who needed homes and all the sick children who probably needed insulin. Insulin which poor Fifi was trying not to take from them by bolting at the sight of a syringe. But Bad John was selfish and cruel. Bad, bad John.

Sometimes, I think documentaries were just put on our tellys so that the Universe can come back and laugh at us 20-odd years later.

George, my cat is diabetic. His condition was managed well on special food for awhile, but he began to show some worrying signs. I took him to the vet last week, and sure enough, the special food isn't cutting it anymore. George needs insulin.

(Yes. He used to let Grace wheel him around the house in a doll's stroller. Then he got too big for it.)

John has been chasing Fifi rather constantly in my mind's eye since last week.  I have been hearing my nineteen-year-old self in my brain too. And I don't completely disagree with her. But she wasn't in my position then. Back then, it was all simple and theoretical. Now it... Well, now it ...isn't.

First off, I mispoke when I said George is my cat. Cats aren't really owned by anyone, except for purposes of fiscal responsibility.  Cats are more like little boats who can sail where they will, but they generally choose a certain person and moor themselves to them.

George moored himself to my son Joe. Joe, who -on a molecular level- does not subscribe to bonds of affection, went and moored himself right back. They are bonded. George waits for Joe to come home from school and hangs with him while he does his homework. George keeps Joe company playing videogames.  If I allowed it, George would sleep in Joe's room. Joe seeks George out when he is happy. Joe seeks George out when he is sad. However, Joe kicks George out of the room when he is angry, because he doesn't want George to accidently get hurt in the rampage.

So I thought I knew what I would do if presented with a diabetic pet. And maybe if circumstances were a bit different, I woudl do it. However, at nineteen; I had not factored an Aspie child into the equation (who does?). And so I came home the other day with a bottle of insulin, a box of syringes and an unhappy cat, who had been practiced on with saline. 

And now I inject George with insulin twice per day. Sorry, George (although he doesn't seem to mind). Sorry, poor children who need insulin. You can't have this one. Sorry, healthy cat in the shelter. We won't be needing you now.

And sorry to John and Fifi. I thought I knew what I would do in your position, but I thought it in a judgy way, hadn't thought it through and hadn't factored in ...many things.  

I know better now.

 

Another Cure for Picky Eaters

A conversation I had recently:

Joe: "om nyom yom yom"

Me: "So how was swim practice?"

Joe: "nom ...sGood! munch ...learned to jump off the chomp blue thing".

Me: (dodging bits of food that are flying, Cookie Monster Style, across the table) "So do you like that dinner? it's new?"

Joe: "chom... What?  (Looks at dinner for first time) ..um... I don't know...  munch"

Joe: "nom nom nom. s'OK.  Is there more?"

 

Swim team: Curing picky eaters since... I dunno when.

 

 

10 Myths Regarding Autistic Spectrum Kids

 Recently. I was clearing out my inbox, which has stuff in there going back to 2002 (if I haven't responded by now, well, I guess I am never going to!) and I found some hilarious e-mails and exchanges I had in relation to a little fun exercise I ran years ago across some special needs message boards, which were entitled "The Golden Crock Awards" . We accepted nominations from parents of the biggest "crock" they were handed by a professional regarding the evaluation or diagnosis of their special needs child. There were a few doozies in there. Some I found/remembered:

• "He can't have Sensory Integration Dysfunction because he eats potato chips"
   
• "He can't have Autism because he makes eye contact"
   
  
• "She can't be autistic because she smiled at me"
    
• "He can't be autistic because he is affectionate towards you"

Now, all of these comments were made by professionals: psychologists, teachers, therapists and the like. I got to thinking if the professionals are still saying (untrue) stuff like that, there still must be a lot of myths floating out in the general population. So this is my little attempt to bust a few of them. There are a few  "submyths" in there that I thought merited special mention, too.

I know there are a lot of blogs and articles out there about the "myths of Autism" and I read a few of them. I don't want to duplicate anyone's work. The problem I have with most of these other articles is that they talk about this entity "Autism" almost as if it were some kind of entity in its own right.

It isn't. 

When I use the term "ASD Kid" herein, I am referring to children with an Autistic Spectrum Disorder. This could include kids with the diagnosis of Autism, Autistic Spectrum Disorder, Autistic Disorder,  PDD-NOS (AKA Atypical Autism), Asperger's Syndrome and High-functioning Autism. I am not sure if this list also applies to Rhetts Syndrome or CDD because I don't have enough direct experience of those disorders, even though they are also Autistic Spectrum Disorders.

Myth 1: ASD kids are Loners

Submyths:

ASD Kids Don't Make Friends

ASD Kids Can't Make Friends

ASD Kids Don't WANT Friends

These myths seem all to be predicated on a single incorrect assumption: That an Autistic spectrum disorder only impacts introverts (and is then compounded by another assumption that introverts don't want or need friends). Extroverts seemingly get off scot free in this myth. You know, if that were true, we could shortcut a lot of the research and just concentrate on the differences between the introvert and extrovert personality. That way, we would probably have Autism solved in about three years.

But Autism does not discriminate based on personality. Extroverts are just as likely to be impacted. The difference between introverted and extroverted ASD kids is that the extroverted kids will attempt way more social interaction. They just usually go about it all wrong!  Joe's preferred method of initiating play when he was a non-verbal little tyke was to charge up to an unsuspecting kid and bodyslam him/her.  Needless to say, this method -while an excellent way of gaining someone's attention (and their Moms!),  was a poor way to initiate positive interaction. Joe needed to be taught how to approach kids and talk to them. It was not something he inherently understood, as most regular kids do.

The very sad thing about this series of myths is that they can become self-fulfilling. ASD kids can become frustrated after repeatedly failing to connect or bond with other kids. Or they can become sensitive to other kids' remarks about them being "weird" (etc. etc. ad nauseum). Because let's face it: All kids can say mean things, whether intended or inadvertent, and eventually the ASD kid just won't be able to take the rejection and pain, and will opt to stay indoors and play videogames.

Another thing that can happen -especially to the introverted ASD kids, is that they realize a little later in their childhood that they actually DO want friends, but starting late, they have difficulty breaking into the interactions, social circles and cliques that have developed amongst their peers while they were off in AutismLand.

Despite all this, many kids with an ASD can and do make friends.  They often tend to have one or two close friends rather than a large circle of friends, and they generally tend to prefer one-on-one or small group activities as opposed to large group activities.  I am generalizing here (which I hate); there may well be the social butterfly Autie out there who has lots of friends and thrives in large groups!

 

Myth 2. ASD kids have no sense of humor

Submyth: ASD Kids Don't Smile or Don't Really Laugh.

Yeah, right! The kid on the right,who is trying to "sneakily" smoosh the icecream into his sister's face, is autistic.

Many ASDs kid do have a good sense of humor and often respond very well to humor from others. Many of these kids will have quite a dry sense of humor, and while they may not get certain jokes, they can floor you with some other forms of wit: including sarcasm! (I know! Free mythbuster! Some ASD kids understand and use sarcasm!)

ASD kids do laugh and smile. They just may not laugh or smile at you.

Get over it.

Myth 3. ASD Kids Can't/Don't do Sports

While many kids with ASD can have problem with muscle tone and hand/eye coordination, some can be quite sporty and coordinated. Remember Jason McElwain, that kid who scored all those points in basketball?

Of course, a lot depends on the sport and the support of the team and coaches, but having Autism does not mean one is automatically excluded from all sports, ever.

 

Myth 4. All ASD kids Have Special or Amazing Talents (like Rainman)

Submyth: Aspie Kids are "Little Professors"

Wrong on both counts. It is perfectly normal and acceptable to have Autism and NOT have any super savant skills. Yes, some ASD kids have great memories and splinter skills at directions or math. However the estimated number of true Autistic Savants is very small indeed. it is thought that there are approximately TEN (10) individuals in the entire world who are are true savants.

Some ASD kids are very smart, and some will appear very smart when talking about their special interest, but in truth, many ASD kids simply have a regular IQ with a hearty side of Autism.

And some are mentally retarded.

And while many Aspies do use language a little differently than the general population and many will talk your ear off about all sorts of things from lightbulbs to the Milky Way, Aspie kids are kids first and Aspies second. It is a mistake to forget this.

Myth 5. ASD kids Have No Empathy

This myth is bullshit, pure and simple. ASD kids can and do have empathy. A lot of the time their problem lies in determining when empathy is appropriate, because they have such a hard time reading facial expressions and body language. So while an Autie may understand a very clear signal, like crying, he may misunderstand a more subtle (to him) signal, such as a grimace of pain. Once they gain some skills with regard to reading people (or have a situation explained to them), some ASD kids can become remarkably empathetic. I talk a little bit more about this here.

Myth 6. ASD Kids are a Result of Bad Parenting

More bullshit. Many parents of ASD kids also have neurotypical children. So how can that be explained?  Both parents just spontanously decided to use a completely different parenting style on the other kid(s) Think about it. That theory just makes no sense.

Myth 7. ASD kids are Not Affectionate.

Not true, although how they show affection can vary hugely:  Contrary to the sterotypes, some ASD kids can be huggy and kissy.

 

However, most will relate to people differently and will show their affection in ways that are not easily understandable to a neurotypical... anyone.

For example, many ASD kids may relate to people through objects. An ASD child may show you huge favor or affection by giving you something special (to him) or by allowing you to hold or stroke their favorite thing. You just may not appreciate the gesture (which in turn might insult the child, and we are back to the self-fulfilling thing again).

Myth 8. All ASD Kids are Touch Adverse

It is true that some (many) Auties are touch adverse, because of tactile defensiveness.

Yet even the touch adverse kids may like certain kinds of touch. Grace used to jump out of her skin if you gently touched her or even if you brushed against her, but she loved to be held tightly or massaged. As Temple Grandin said "light touch is alerting, deep touch is soothing".

 

Myth 9. ASD kids Don't (Can't) Tell Lies

Most can and will. However, they usually stink at it.

 

Myth 10: ASD Kids Don't (Can't) Make Eye Contact

That whole "no eye contact=autism" equation is a TOTAL myth. For starters, bad eye contact is not exclusive to Autism and is not a hallmark of the condition. I don't have Autism and I had a problem with eye contact as a kid. Heck, I didn't learn eye contact until a Dublin street musician taught me the value of it one summer afternoon when I was 19 (...and yes (Rob) That was all he taught me). I never saw him again. I don't even know his name -but I am forever grateful to him.

And while it is true that many ASD kids can have problems with eye contact, many can develop the skill (or learn to fake it) with training or with people they trust.

And there are some ASD kids who can and do make great eye contact with almost anyone. So don't let me hear anyone say "He can't be autistic because he makes eye contact". It is not a hard and fast rule.

oh and ...Hello?

 

I remind you again: If you've met one kid with Autism, you've met one kid with Autism.

 

Bonus myth: You Can Tell if a Kid Has Autism (or Not) Just by Looking

If you go back at the photographs in this post, -just the pictures, not the text (because the text will tell you). Can you tell just by looking, which kid or kids have Autism and which don't?

Be honest: You can't.That's why it is called a hidden disability.

So the next time you see a "spoiled" and screaming child while out-and-about, please remember -before you judge- that the child could have a hidden disability such as Autism.

Please Note: All text and images in this post are copyright (c) One Sick Mother, 2001-2010 and may not be distributed or re-used without express written permission from the author.

"Our Race"

It's a long complicated story, but Joe has been having an ongoing misunderstanding with two typical girls at school. These girls were assigned to 'buddy" one of Joe's friends, we'll call him Danny, a special needs kid who is lower-functioning than Joe. The problem is simple: Joe always took it upon himself to look after Danny, who he has known since the first grade. Now here they are in middle school and the status quo has changed. So it's a little bit of a turf war, a little bit of hurt confusion ("why didn't  Mrs P ask me to look out for Danny? I've been doing it for years) and a lot of pre-teen bickering.

Joe was talking about this to me recently and he came out with the statement "I think I'll just stick with people from my race from now on".  OK, that raised a huge red flag with me: Race? HELLO?   So I asked Joe 

"what do you mean, 'my race'?   

"Oh sorry Mom, I mean 'OUR race'"  (Nope.  The red flag didn't go anywhere with that!  In fact it climbed a little higher.) I tied again:

"You mean Irish people?"

No. I mean people like us. People who are different.

"Ooooohhhh" (phew)

...And we started to talk about differences and acceptance.  It's funny how Joe is almost a reverse snob. He will merrily accept kids with all sorts of difference and special needs, but he has -on more than one occasion- made some exclusionary comments about "normies" -which makes me laugh a little because the word I use too, and I'm pretty sure I never used it around him (maybe he is a reader?).

I am working on this with him, and I expect it will take some time for Mr Black and White to start to see any glimmer of grey.  But he will.

I hope he does.  After all, not ALL normies are awful!

De-Cluttering by Numbers

You know how sometimes, I think to add two elements of my life together in an unexpected way and I realize that maybe that was a good idea (and why didn't I do it years ago?) Well, recently I added my accountant and the show Hoarders together in my head, and it returned a result which pleased me.

Not that my accountant is a hoarder, you understand. He is a very nice man.

I'm not sure why I like "Hoarders" so much. Maybe it is because I am a terrible housekeeper and I feel better looking at the state of the hoarder's houses. (I can tell myself "at least I'm not that bad!"). Or maybe I view the show as a kind of warning to myself (and Himself) that there are definitely hoardy tendencies at work in this household, and if it isn't nipped in the bud, we may end up on that show ourselves in 20 years' time.

Or maybe I'm a sucker for a good makeover.

The other part of the equation came from the accountant. Himself often works from home, so the accountant was calculating what percentage of our house was taken up by this and what value that percentage has.

...and that got me thinking a rather obvious thought.

How much does it cost me to keep all the junk I keep?

Of course it's not all junk, but having been raised by parents who were born during the Depression and grew up in Europe during wartime rationing, I do have a tendency to hang on to more Stuff  than I should for three primary reasons 

1. In case I might need it someday. How may times have I gotten rid of something, only to find myself needing it three days later?
2. It's too good to just throw out/ It might be worth something.
3. It has sentimental value.

...which may be all well and good, but the accountant planted the seed that I am paying ...something for every square inch of my house. I wondered if I calculated the actual value of that space against some of the objects that occupy it, would this inspire me to throw more stuff out?

So I set me up a wee spreadsheet with some rough-but well-in-the-ballpark figures.  I factored mortgage, property taxes, utilities (except phone cable and Internet, because the Stuff doesn't use it, but it goes get heated, cooled and maybe watered) and maintenance. I calculated the square footage of the house.  Then I tweaked the square footage a bit.  I decided closets, dressers and other such areas were to be reckoned at half value, because they are there expressly for storage and we don't live in them.  I had originally decided they were free, but they are not. Junk kept in a closet will prevent non-junk from being stored there and tops of dressers are major clutter magnets for me. So half-price seemed a fair compromise.

When I had tweaked and jiggled, I came up with a number: $1.12 per square foot, $0.09 per square inch. Per month. So that bottle of expired eyedrops in the medicine cabinet is costing me roughly 4.5¢ per month to house, heat and cool; with absolutely no return value. Because it is EXPIRED.  And my taxes pay for some big burly men to come and haul shit away a few times per week. I really ought to be using that service more and I might have more house to actually live in.

Those eye drops opened my eyes in a way the manufacturer never anticipated.

Unfortunately, this revelation coincided with a bit of a symptom escalation, so I haven't been able to do much about it. Yet. I have set a bunch of books and videos aside for donation. however, I have been looking at objects in the house in a whole new light; eyeing them more suspiciously, wondering if they are worth the cost of their keep and the tiny percentage of my living space they occupy?

I figured the Elmo videos have definitely outlasted their value.  But my yarn: well, that's going nowhere.

Responsibility

I always thought that taking responsibility was a learned skill. I didn't think it was something people did automatically and without life lessons. Or at least not without a lot of nagging.  Mostly from their mom. I have had to remind my kids many many times that X, Y or Z didn't "make them do it" that "doing it" was their action alone and  that is why they were the one being punished.

However, sometimes Joe surprises me. Sometimes he will come right our and accept responsibility for something he has done. He 'confesses'. I sometimes wonder if he is being super-smart and he knows the best way to defuse the mom-bomb is to disarm her first by admitting to the mayhem before she discovers it for herself. But although I would love to think that, I honestly don't reckon his social skills are up to that level.

I think he just can't help himself.  That he just blurts it out. Maybe the guilt of keeping a secret is too much for him?  Or maybe he can't stand the suspense involved in waiting for his "crime" to be discovered?  I don't fully understand the mechanics of this process with Joe, but I do know that he often takes responsibility for stuff; and way more than he should. He has apologized when I slept in and made him late for school.  "I'm sorry Mom. I should have woken up."

"But I'm the one with the alarm clock!"

My notion of reresponsibility and what it entails has been challenged to the extreme in the past few weeks by a small electronic device:

Joe's cellphone.

It became apparent after a few weeks of middle school that if we wanted to prolong my life, we would need to get Joe a cellphone. The point was that he could contact me if he got lost (which had happened several times). I decided to go with a pay-as-you go unit, so he had minute counts and other stuff to monitor, to remind him to be responsible and not go nuts texting everyone in the directory. This is quite an affluent town, and a lot of kids have fancy hardware and unlimited plans. However, I wanted to teach him the value of a minute, if not a dollar.  You know, to be responsible.  And we are not affluent, anyway.

Joe liked the phone, but not the responsibility of owning it.  (I didn't realize just how much responsibility owning a cellphone entails.)  Although I had assured him that the phone is insured, and no real harm will be done if anything happens to it, he is ridiculously protective of it. He keeps it switched off to preserve minutes and battery life, despite my telling him several times that this defeats a lot of the purpose of having it, as I cannot call him if I am running late, because then we have conversations like this:

Joe: "Mom, where are you? I've been waiting..."

Me: "You only just turned your phone on now so you could call me, right?

Joe: "yes"

Me: "Well, I have been trying to call you for the past 10 minutes to tell you I am stuck in traffic and to catch a ride with Mrs S."

Joe: "But Mrs S. left already..."

Me: ...(who knows that Mrs S only just left and am therefore too busy biting the inside of my cheek to utter anything intelligible, much less printable)

Me: (takes a deep breath)

Me: "I'm on my way. DON'T turn your phone off after you hang up." (because if I forget to tell him that, he will turn it off)

Suffice to say, we have had a few Issues around the damn phone. It is about the responsibility of owning a phone. He hates having to remember to take it places, not lose it, turn it on, keep it charged, track his minutes, not get it lost/broken and generally take care of it.  It is a lot of stress for him.

This leads to me trying to pro-actively anticipate everything that might go wrong the the fecking thing and try to prepare him for it.

On the night we had the biggest 'phone' Issue (to date), it occurred to me that I had forgotten to show Joe how to put the battery back in. We have all dropped our phones and had the battery go flying across the room/ restaurant/ airport/ train station, right?  I figured (rightly) that if this happened to Joe he would freak out.

So I started to take out the battery.

Joe: "what are you doing, mom?"

Me: "I need to show you something"

Joe: "It looks like you are taking my phone apart"

Me: "well actually, I'm trying to"

Joe got very upset and walked into the adjoining room, out of my field of vision. I continued to remove the battery, struggling a little with bad fingers and a tight casing. When I finally got it open, I looked over my shoulder for Joe,  only to see him standing right behind me with a heavy musical toy held aloft in two hands, about to smash it down hard.

On my head.

It is really hard to explain the emotions you feel when you realize your beloved firstborn child was about to smash your head in over a mobile phone.  I was absolutely crushed.  I wanted to scream my head off and smash the fuckin phone against the wall.  But I didn't.  I got cold and stern and told him to Put. That. Down. Right. Now.  And he was in deep trouble.  Then I told him to finish his homework while I went into another room to cry and try and figure out what I had done that was so wrong.

I'm still not 100% sure. I know that in Joe's mind, the phone was considered the most important thing at that time. There were Rules about the phone, first of which was don't lose or destroy it. I had put the fear of God into him about keeping it safe. When he saw me taking it apart, he didn't know what else to do, but attack me to "save" it. (no it didn't occur to him to ASK me why I was doing what I was doing. He is after all, autistic).

You can fool most of the people most of the time.

You can even fool your mother part of the time

But underneath it all you are still Autistic.

I'm so lucky he hesitated. I was home alone with the kids at the time. He probably would have knocked me out (at least) if he had followed through with his plan.

Later, after we had both calmed down, and I had demonstrated how to replace the battery ("Ohhhh!"), I spoke with Joe about the incident, starting with the question that was foremost in my mind:

"Were you really going to smash that thing down on my head, or was it just a threat?"

"No. I was really going to smash in down"

(oh.)

(sometimes Aspie honesty isn't all it's cracked up to be)

I then tried to explain to him that mobile phones are ten a penny, but his mother only has one head, which is unique and irreplaceable, but he didn't get it. He kept saying stuff like "But you told me to protect the phone. I didn't know what else to do!"  Then I gently explained that he could have ASKED me what I was doing, instead of jumping to conclusions which could have led to pretty serious consequences.

"Oh." 

(my thoughts exactly)

We talked some more, but the upshot is this: Joe still doesn't fully get where he was wrong. He is hyper-responsible in some areas, but oblivious in others. He doesn't have the ability (yet) to prioritize life over possessions, or that it is sometimes appropriate to break Rules.  

I am hoping he will gain these skills in time, and without anyone getting seriously hurt.

ahhhh... Parenting is such fun!

Power

A few months ago, a transformer blew on our street, setting fire to a tree right outside our house.  Since then, our street has lost power four times. Just our street.  As we are the first house on the street, we can clearly see that the houses behind us and on the cross-street right next to us are all merrily lit.  This is frustrating.

The first two times the power failed wasn't a problem at all. It happened late at night, and power was restored by morning. The kids didn't even know it had happened. Himself and myself, having been raised in Western Europe in the 70s, and having experienced the great Northeastern Blackout of 2003, are reasonably well prepared for short duration power cuts and weren't phased at all. 

Then a couple of weeks ago, the family arrived home after an evening at the movies to discover the power had failed again. The adults immediately went to the locations where flashlights and candles are kept, but the kids were completely freaked out.  Particularly Joe. Aspies don't like change, and an unexpected change to his safe place definitely unnerved him.

Luckily there was a charged laptop available, as so we all sat down with a movie to approximate normality for awhile.  I didn't realize how upset Joe was by the whole deal until he asked to sleep in our bed. He NEVER asks to do that. Joe loves his bed and his personal space.  So the kids and I slept in the big bed that night, while poor Himself, dispossessed,  slept in Joe's room.  The power was restored a few hours later, and nothing more was said, although each kids quietly received an extra flashlight to keep by their beds.

On Friday evening after dark, the kids and I were alone in the house and the power went out again. I called out to them to stay put, got the flashlight and enlisted their help in lighting the candles.  Himself came home shortly thereafter and wisely suggested a trip to the movies. After the movies, Himself, who was having good ideas that day, suggested we drop into Target and pick up some camping lanterns.  We got a few small lanterns and one big one. We also got a couple of glowstick/flashlights thingys for the kids. 

The lanterns were an inspired idea. Turns out Joe was freaked out as much by the naked flames of the candles as he was about the dark house, causing a lot of conflict (you blow out the candle to neutralize the threat of fire, it gets darker).  So he relaxed after we got the lanterns on and the candles off. He even announced that he wanted to sleep in his own bed.

I realized when I saw him wandering around on his tippytoes (he is a toe walker) with a lantern in one hand, a flashlight in the other and a glowstick around his neck, that his staying alone was probably a bad idea, but I said nothing.  As Grace and I were getting ready for bed he changed his mind:  "I think I am too scared to sleep in my own bed. Does it make me a chicken if I want to sleep in here after all?"  I said it didn't make him a chicken. It made him normal. And honest. So we all snuggled into the big bed, where I told them stories from my childhood and confessed that I liked power outages because I never got an opportunity like this otherwise.

Later, as I heard Grace's breathing become slow and peaceful in one ear, and Joe's slow and serious in the other, I thought back to his change of heart about sleeping in his own bed: I think he thought he had somehow failed by admitting he was scared, whereas I know it had been a kind-of breakthrough for him.

How can I explain to an eleven-year-old that knowing your needs and limitations is not weakness, but is a different kind of power?

Smell

Grace has been having trouble falling asleep recently.  She becomes scared of monsters and unnamed threats when left alone in her room. No amount of reassurances will allay her fears. She needs a different comfort. I have been lying with her to help her fall asleep, but this means either I fall asleep too, and wake up cold with a sore neck/back, or I lie there bored out of my mind, thinking of all the other stuff I could be doing. 

Even though I spend most of my weekdays alone, I like my time after the kids go to bed. I use it to watch some shows I have recorded, to knit, and to view any "Not Suitable for Work" (NSFW) material that might have been sent to my inbox. I have learned the hard way that NSFW means "Not suitable for Children".  I get twitchy when I miss my evening time.

The other option is to put Grace in the big bed, where I can at least spread out and/or read while I am staying with her. But Himself and I never sleep as well when Little Miss Pointy Elbows is in the bed.  

So last night, Grace -who always used to snuggle down happily in her own bed, was crying and apologizing that she was scared. I reassured her and told her there was no need to be sorry. Her fear -no matter how irrational- is real, and I although I do ask her to make an honest effort to self-comfort, if she can't do it the first time, I will stay with her.  But last night I had a TON of stuff to do and Grace was in my bed, not wanting to be left alone. "Can't you bring your work up here?" she asked. "I can't wash the dishes up here".  She laughed at that thought.

Then I had an idea. I took off the shirt I had been wearing, turned it inside-out and handed it to Grace.

"What does this smell like?"

She gave it a cautious sniff, then inhaled deeply.  "It smells like you!"  She cottoned on immediately and snuggled down with the shirt.

"I feel like you are holding me"  (I was sitting on the edge of the bed, not touching her.)

"Do you want to try staying alone for five minutes, and I will come and check on you?"

She was already visibly relaxing into the bed. She nodded.

I checked on her five minutes later. She was fast asleep.

WIN!

When I went to bed a couple of hours later, she was still cuddling the shirt.

They say that the sense of smell has the most connections to the emotions and to past associations. I guess that is true.

Tomorrow night, I am going to try her with the the shirt in her bed.