Lice, Disease and Nutrition

"Hey mom", #2, the aspy, says on the way home from school, "did you know that lice are little bugs that live in your hair and suck your blood?" I asked him where he learned that, hoping that there wasn't some lice epidemic in school. Lice like the clean hair, my kids aren't that clean, maybe they left him alone. Cause all I need is a freaking lice epidemic in my house. "I learned it in health class," he said. Whew, no lice. Awesome.

Over the next two hours, I learned everything that teacher taught him over the last two days. "Did you know that some diseases have no cure like diabetes?"  Why yes, I did. I learned all about that stuff in massage school. "And mom, did you know certain diseases are contagious like the flu and other diseases are not contagious." Yes, #2. I know. Please stop talking. When the other kids wanted attention, they had to yell over him. At one point #3 told him to "stop talking." But he just couldn't stop. The kid was just a puke-hound of information, spewing it where ever it would go and pouring it into anyone's head in his general proximity. And when he ran out of facts, he started making them up and just waited for someone to call him on it.

"Mom, you know lots of people have allergies like me(he is allergic to Eggs, wheat, dairy, grass, oak and maple trees) and they get rashes like I do. Ms. Carol's daughter is allergic to dogs."I took a peek at his computer and saw "Rashes" on Wikipedia. Great, now I'm really hungry.

"Hey mom, how do you spell diseases?", he asked. I looked at his screen and I saw this:

Later at dinner he shared his sudden expertise on nutrition. "Mom, make sure you don't eat too much. You need to have a balanced diet with lots of brain-food" Thanks #2, what are you saying? are you commenting on the quantity of food on the plate prior to your sisters poaching it or are you throwing up again? I asked him what brain-food is. "It is pretzels and bread and other carbs. They are good for you." He said this as he grabbed a hand-full of gluten free pretzels. I then told him that too many carbs will make you sleepy so he had to follow the portions sizes on the package. He also had to use a bowl. "I know that mom." Oh you did, did you?

If I can't shut him up, let's have some fun.. "Hey #2, if I had the chicken pox and sneezed on your brain-food, would you get the chicken pox." I asked. He smiled, disappeared for a minute and then came back to answer. "No mom. there is a vaccine for chicken pox and I have it. But chicken pox is an airborne disease. Does having the vaccine mean you can't get it?" I told him that vaccinations help the body resist disease but it wasn't a guarantee. "I knew that" he answered. Yea, right.  "Then I would open a new bag of pretzels." Good answer.

"Mom, I'm going to go look up Ebola virus," he said as he left the room. As much as I love seeing  his ultra-awesome brain working, at that moment, I was just glad for the quiet minute or two I would have until he threw-up again.

Happy New Year-新年快樂

In the past, we used to celebrate Chinese New year. In NJ there was a large Chinese community in the town I worked in and I had lots of Chinese friends.  In 1990, I was an exchange student in Beijing for a year. I continued studying Chinese after I returned home, and then returned to China to work on a Yangtze river cruise ship, as a cruise director. Yes, I was the Chinese Julie.

Since we moved to Baltimore, we haven't had many Chinese friends and our celebration of  Chinese New Year fell by the waste side. On Saturday, we made a Chinese meal and told the kids it was Chinese new year. My husband had a talk with #2, the Aspy, about Chinese astrology and told him it was the year of the Snake. It is an auspicious year for my husband since he is a snake.

In Chinese culture, astrology is huge. When I lived there, the first thing people would ask me is what year I was born in. I would tell them, and they would say, "ah, you're a cock." Excuse me?!?!  Now, where I'm from, usually the word, "Sucker" came after it. But, I took a minute and thought about what they were saying. "oh, you mean rooster." It was if that information held the key as to whether they should waste their time getting to know me.  According to Wikipedia,(the information source for any Aspy), "Different people born under each animal sign have different personalities. It is possible to check details and compatibilities to gain guidance in life, for love or for marriage."

I'm folding laundry upstairs and the husband comes in to tell me that #2 taught him all about Chinese astrology from researching it on Wikipedia. "He taught me who I am most compatible with in our family......Your mother." And we both cracked up. #2 researched all the members of our family. #2 is a wood monkey, #1 is a water horse, the girls are earth oxen, #1 is water horse, and #3 is a fire dog. When he told #3 he was a fire dog, he got angry and said,"I'm not a fire dog, I'm not Chinese. No buddy, you're not Chinese.

I looked up our family on Wikipedia to discover the compatibility of our family. I learned that although my mom is a snake like my husband, We cocks are the best match. I learned as a rooster, that I am pretty much compatible with everyone but rats and rabbits. I can live with that. I also learned that #3, the fire dog is incompatible with the earth oxen twins. My suspicions have been confirmed. At four and six years old, they are starting to drive each other nuts. I look forward to when it escalates. 

I am glad that we have #2 in the house. Regardless of his astrological sign, his Aspy quest for knowledge sometimes brings me back to a world I used to know. Happy New year.

 

Taking ASA meetings to the Ring

When we moved to Baltimore, I went to my first ASA(Autism Society of America) meeting. I met a group of people who lived the life I did. The people in this group were a very dedicated, strong, educated group, and for the first time, I met parents like myself. Every month at meetings, we would get to know the faces of our Autism community. We would talk about our "golden nuggets" which are happy moments or crowning achievements. It's a nice place to share, get information, cry and get sugared up with the sodas and cookies. However, you can tell some people wanted to vent all their anger and frustrations, but they couldn't; it is not what the meetings were for. If everyone threw up all their problems and issues at the meetings, we'd all leave more agitated than when we arrived.

My ideal ASA meeting would be at boxing gym. We could have time to talk about the good stuff but then we'd get gloves and beat the shit out of stuff. Let's face it, living this life with Autism is really draining and there are many reasons to be angry. I would love the opportunity to vent all my frustrations and hostilities with a pair of boxing gloves on. In fact, I think most of us need that.

We could all line up, two to a bag and take turns in one minute rounds. Just before the whistle blows, an issue of contention is announced and then everything you feel about it gets put on the bag. I have a few punch worthy topics:

 Schools. Every parent with Autistic children spends many hours stressing this one. We have all had our share of bad teachers, bad administrators, bad OT, bad speech and bad, bad school people. We have plenty of anger towards them because they suck. They make us question the integrity of schools and make us worry about the system failing our kids. When we lived in NJ, we fought with the schools more than we worked with them. We learned how frustrating it can be to have schools that don't understand and are unwilling to do what is required.  So, you send your child to school and you don't trust. You're not sure they are even following the IEP and if there is no one to hold them accountable they can have a "don't ask don't tell approach" to IEP violations. You spend your time hoping, sending emails and trying to find reasons and opportunities to be in the school.

When we moved to Baltimore, there was a system in place for children with Autism. Albeit flawed, they had a system in place within the county to keep the schools accountable. The parents often have to be the whistle blower and get the county Autism advocate involved, but she is there to keep the schools honest. When she shows up to a meeting, the administrators get nervous because it means there is a problem and they may have their asses handed to them.   I still have issues with the Office of Special Education (OSE) overcrowding classrooms without adding supports. I have watched my #1's ALS(Additional Learning Support)class double in size in six months. The teacher is getting burned out and no one cares until something bad happens. I CAN'T STAND PEOPLE WHO CHOOSE TO BE REACTIVE INSTEAD OF PROACTIVE. When the Assistant Principal, who is our IEP chair, tells me to contact the OSE instead of fighting the fight with us and for us, there is a problem. We wrote a letter to the OSE director and she sent someone to observe, but we haven't heard anything yet.  Our NJ history of fighting comes in handy here, because now I have to organize all the classroom parents to protest the OSE. (I think I need a few rounds on the bag for this alone.)

Other parents piss me off. The way they are quick to judge how you deal with your Autistic kids based on how they deal with their neuro-typical kids. News flash: your life is a freaking box of chocolates compared to the shit we deal with. Do some research, ask some questions, have some compassion and back off. Keep your judging eyes and comments to your self.

Clueless, idiotic, judgmental, critical, non-sympathizers. These people are the first ones to eyeball you when your kid throws them-self down in the doorway of a store because they have never been there before. The first ones to say cruel and stupid things to you because your kid is wearing his Autism. The same a-holes who believe that kids with disabilities should be put away. I would prefer to hit them directly, but you can raise kids from jail, so the bag will have to do.

People who brings their kids to an ASA meeting. These meeting are for adults seeking support. It means that every person in that room has found someone else to watch their kids to be there. When I leave my house, I don't want to be around my kids or anyone elses'. Period. If you can't find a sitter, don't come.  It is disrespectful to everyone in the room.

Bad dog owners. People who own dogs, let them poop wherever and don't pick it up. Nothing to do with Autism but pisses me off anyway. 

I can see boxing/ASA meetings as a wave of the future. Share the good, work through the bad, and get a workout. The only thing missing would be a box of wine, but that's a simple fix.

 Jail Break

The other night, my friend Adrienne got me out the house. She had tickets to a show called Stoop Stories and our friend Debbie was one of the guest speakers. Grateful for any chance to get out of the house, I jumped at it. Since we moved to Baltimore, I haven't worked, which meant I really didn't have any excuse or reason to leave home. I felt like it was some kind of jail break. Maybe that twitching wasn't from Tourette's after all.

My husband came home a little early. I gave him the summary: who did their homework, who hadn't done their reading, who vacuumed the cat, who stole and ate the entire bag of gummy bears, and ran to change. I had 15 minutes to get ready. What the hell do I wear? I have been living in sweat pants and fleece for months now. Do my clothes even fit? Ever since I decided that sweatpants could be stylish, I haven't felt guilty about not having those stretch jeans slide down to reveal my muffin top that I swear they created in the first place. No muffin-top in sweat pants. None. Why is that? Because sweat pants accept all of you and don't try to squeeze you out. It's just the nature of the sweat pants. I grabbed something purple to honor the Raven's Superbowl victory, prayed it fit, brushed my teeth and got my ass out of there. Adrienne pulled up in my chariot and we were off.

The subject of Stoop Stores that night was stories about parenthood. Great. I was leaving my family to go hear about someone else's. Why don't we just go watch a bunch of Brady bunch re-runs and do shots every time someone says 'Marsha'? Debbie had assured me it would be a great night, but even without  the show, it was destined to be good, because I wasn't home. I was out and breathing without anyone, anywhere, calling me mom. No one was climbing, pulling or whining at me. And then, Adrienne put a glass of wine in my hand. I love her. The drinkable wine. My wine of preference.

Stoop stories features eight different speakers talking about different personal stories. Some sad, some funny, some touching. At intermission, they encouraged those who wished to speak for three minutes to place their name in the bag and they would randomly pick three people. Adreienne and Debbie encouraged me to put my name in, so I did. Talking in front of peope is something I have been doing for 20 years. I have been telling my stories to my various fitness classes over the years. I've been asked countless times after I have taught an aerobic class or subbed someone's class if I wasn't a comedian posing as an aerbicocs instructor. Unafraid, I put my name in and left it to fate.

When they called my name,  we weren't suprised. Now I had to think of some material. What story could I talk about in 3 minutes? Who really keeps track at how long a story takes? I know that some stories lasted the entire squat series or some were good during the arms and chest exercises, but had no clue about time. I was the last of the three volunteers to go. When it was my turn, I did what anyone would do when they are in the spotlight with 500 people lookling at them, I had fun and enjoyed the moment.

"I'm out of my house", I said. And then talked about how great it was just to be out. You really wouldn't think it was a big deal, but for me, it was. It was nice to talk to people over 3 feet tall. It was nice to see adults other than the parents at your kid's school during pick-up. It was nice to talk to people and not tell them what to do. It was nice to ask people questions that don't involve inquires of personal hygiene maintenance. It was great to take a potty break without an audience or interruption. It was great to wear real clothes. It was great to be in a whine free environment for a while. It felt great to feel a wee bit like myself BC(before children). I had a pep in my step and a smile on my face.

I don't remember a lot of what I talked about, I had three minutes. But what I do remember, is hearing the laughter that I caused because of my story. From the time I started to the time they applauded, they laughed and that felt good.

When you have little kids or children on the spectrum, they require so much energy. As parents, we feel it's our job to give, provide, guide and help until it is no longer required. 18 or so, years later we may get a break, if then. I realized that I needed to take more breaks from my house, more often, because it's nice to drink with other people once in a while. The kids always finding me hiding in the closet anyway. So my new goal is to get out of the house and stop twitching because I think I  just saw my BC picture on a milk carton.

Transformer Soccer

In my town, the Recreation council has the fall soccer registration in June. (I have no idea why they have it so early,) So, I asked #3 if he wanted to play and he danced around the house excitedly and said "yes".

The year before, I had signed #1 & #2 up to play on the same team and arranged for a therapeutic aid to help them on the field. However, the coach was not an "Autism sympathizer" and sent the aide away. "We can handle it" he said. And then he didn't handle it. He ignored the kids and just "Dealt" with having them subtract from the team's capacity to win.  If he hadn't gone off to India right after making that decision, he would've received such a verbal scathing that he would've had to be scraped off the field, but he left for two weeks and left the assistant coaches in charge to follow through with his decision.  I then had to be on the field with the boys and spent the majority of the season restraining myself from taking down the coach after he returned.  I was grateful the two assistant coaches were willing to learn the strategies needed to help the boys; like making sure #1 stayed on the field.

I was determined not to repeat that experience, so I volunteered to coach. I played soccer as a kid, refereed in college and had lots of experience managing my own small team of five. Plus, back in the day, I used to run the kid's fitness parties at an aerobic studio, so I could handle large groups of kids. An added bonus: I got to order around a bunch of kids that weren't mine for a change.

As our first practice got closer, I started prepping him for the transition and that's when he informed me, "I hate soccer. I don't wanna play soccer." Great. Just freaking great. If I hadn't signed up to be coach, I would've pulled him from soccer. Now I had to figure out how to get this kid to play. Great. Just f-ing great.

#3 is the PDD/NOS kid who also has ODD (Oppositional Defiant Disorder). He is the most stubborn of the kids and when he chooses to rebel, he's not easy.  I  had to figure out a strategy for the soccer season. How was I going to get this kid, who swore he loved soccer two months ago, on the field now that he hates it?

I took a survey of motivators; things he liked that he'd work for. (In the autism world, we call these items motivators, incentives and rewards.) I really didn't want to sugar him up, I didn't want to go broke with toys and I didn't want to have a bunch of crap in my house. I took him to Target and asked him what he wanted to earn. He picked out mini-transformers, about $3.50 per robot.

Soccer was eight weeks. Practice and games were each once a week. I needed 16 Transformers. I'd rather buy beer. No chance you'd be happy with Bailey's in your milk? Once he agreed to the reward, then I put the demands in place."You have to play more than you sit, it must be no less than a 60/40 split. You need to be a good listener and do what your team-mates are doing.  If you want to sit, you have to sit with the moms. You can't wander around the field and if I have to chase you down, you lose the reward." He agreed and we shook hands.

With fingers crossed and chilled beer in the fridge, the day of our first practice arrived. I let him pick out the first robot and hold it while I put on his uniform and cleats. If he earned it, he could only open it after practice, but it would have to stay in the car until then.  He looked happy to hold the robot, but was anxious about meeting a bunch of kids he didn't know.

We had 10 kids on the team. I didn't have an official assistant coach, but I encouraged all the dads to be on the field and they were great. I let them be "in charge" of my kid. (Usually, kid's always do better listening to someone else.) The under six league had kids ages four to six and played six players on the field at one time without a goalie. I'm not a fan of a wild pack of kids running around the field, so I taught them zones. I utilized my informal ABA training and showed them a picture of the field and showed them their positions on the board. When they got on the field, it was much easier for them to function.

Over the course of the season, I taught them drills, zones, teamwork, ball control, our team-mate's names, team spirit, and that they had the capacity to be awesome.  Every practice and game each player was greeted with a hug, a spin and some encouraging words. They were my boys. My sweet boys; some who were sports inclined and some who were not.  I gave them all lots of positive feedback and laughed a lot. They were all so stinking cute. We had one kid who had just turned four.  I spent most of the season trying to get him to run the right way. I had one kid who melted every practice and game and chose to sit out all but the last two games. I had two brothers, who I swear will be the next Payton & Eli; they are that talented. I had a little boy, yet to be diagnosed on my team. I gave him some extra love and talked his mom through the process of getting an ASD diagnosis.  When my one anxiety ridden kid, who only played because I was coach, scored his very first goal during the last game of the season, I cried. My little guys went from a bunch of crazies to a team that only lost two games. They made coach proud. 

There were days he didn't earn his robots. I told him, "you didn't play more than you sat and you were not a good listener." He only lost robots twice and then one day he just got better. Once he started to like the kids on the team, he looked forward to seeing them. The bonus, was that four kids from his team were at his school and one was even in his class. He had the bond with his team and together we had a bond, because I was coach.  

When the season ended, #3 asked me, "Mom, can I play soccer again next year?"  I looked at him and said, "Yes.  But are you sure?" He nodded his head and said "yes, Coach." And that, was all I needed. Let's hope I can teach him the appeal of making sand art out of empty beer bottles by then. That would be a win-win.

The Truth Down Doggie style

"Live in your truth", the yoga instructor said as he told the class to hold the pose. Live in your truth? you don't think I'm living in my truth? I have five kids and three have autism. You don't think I'm living my truth every day? Hey Buddy, I'm living my truth so much every day, that I come here to escape it. I don't you need you to remind me what my truth is. This is my time and right now, I don't need to be reminded where I have to go when I'm done here-back to my truth. Must find my zen. Must plant a tree. Zen is so over-rated. Need to find some peace." I squelch the desire to punch yoga instructor in the face. 

The truth waits for me, as it does every morning. My daily truth involves a husband who has a great job, but is gone an average of 11 hours a day, three kids with transition issues and four year old twins who are quickly mastering the art of whine. I am overworked and under-medicated. 

Every day, I am a jungle gym, cleaning lady, laundry diva, homework helper, referee, landscaper and repairman. I am a speech therapist modeling language, an occupational therapist applying deep pressure and encouraging fine motor skills (which always causes #2 to melt). I am the entertainment coordinator, translator, cook, and am the fast food drive through person; "can I take your order?" I feel like a hyperactive ping-pong ball being hit by several paddles at the same time. 

The truth is, I am grateful for my ADHD. Because I am naturally wired to focus on many things at once, I think I would be very bored with just one or two kids. And if they were neuro-typical, well, just throw me some fire-balls to juggle to make it more challenging. I couldn't imagine what a day would be like if I wasn't trying to figure out the best ways to help the boys navigate through their days. 

Autism is a major time-suck. Managing the education of three special needs boys comes with it's own stresses, challenges and requirements. I have to be on top of the schools to make sure they are following their IEPs (Individual Education Plan). This document lists their condition and all the goals, objectives, and services that are in place for the each kid. It is my job to keep close tabs on their schooling because what I have learned from past experiences, is not everyone does their job well. There are some really awful administrators and teachers out there.

Another truth is that I spend so much time managing everyone and everything, that I get left in last place. I'm so overwhelmed, that if Hugh Jackman showed up at my house in a thong, I would hand him my vacuum cleaner and watch him use it.  I would get far more pleasure watching someone else clean my house than sparring with Wolverine.  In fact, I would welcome any happy helper, English not necessary. 

I tried to reclaim some time and energy for myself. That is the reason I went to yoga.  But then I was given an assignment. So what kind of truth was he telling me to live in? Who really cares. I paid for the class, and I'll live in it if I want to. In my time away from home, my truth can be whatever I wish it to be. In yoga, my truth is, that I'd rather be on some beach anywhere, letting my albino ass get some sun. (There are 700 shades of white and I am 40 of them). It would be quite a novelty to sit quietly, relax and maybe even read a book. I would love the shirtless, muscle bound dude on the mat to my left to be the one serving me drinks on that beach, bringing me snacks and rubbing some lotion all about. Now that, is some truth. I could bathe in that truth. Where's my towel?

The Worst In Us

A long time ago, even before I thought about having children, my friend Nancy had two young children. We were work out buddies and we would discuss and work through our lives problems on the treadmill.

One morning, she says, "When you have kids, you just assume that that they'll inherit all the good things from both of you, but the truth is, they inherit all the things you can't stand about yourself and your husband. They really get the worst of the worst".

Whoa, I thought, that is pretty deep. "Really? How could that be?", I thought. She went on to explain qualities that her two kids inherited, be it nature or nurture from her husband that drove her crazy long before they were displayed in triplicate. 

Years later, with five kids of my own, dealing with five unique personalities, it becomes clear what Nancy was saying. If we see a behavior in our kids that we don't like, maybe we need to think about where it came from. Maybe we subconsciously modeled that characteristic or behavior and we never had to acknowledge it until we had to face it mirroring back at us.

As parents, all of us are ready to step up and be proud when our children inherit abilities we are proud of. My #2, Aspy, is a science wiz like his dad; he has that natural math/science ability that I don't take credit for. #1 has perfect pitch  and can memorize any song. Last summer, the camp counselor told me a story about #1: she was teaching the kids a song, but she had to change the key because it was too high for most of the kids. He got mad and refused to sing it in the altered key.  He got both things: stubbornness and perfect pitch from me. I watch the way the twins talk with their hands, move around and modulate their voices to connect with their audience and I know that comes from me. (albeit, they are MUCH cuter). #3 is the gossip. He tells us all the things going on at school and with his classmates. "Mike's dad moved out and is looking for a new apartment." Oh, really?, but that is my grandmother channeling through him. And then there are things we both take credit for like bad dancing. At least they are Bar Mitzvah ready.

However, when they develop habits that aren't that praise-worthy, we spend more time trying to modify the behavior than figuring out the origin. One of requirements of ADHD is the need for organization. It is helpful when things are put in the same place, which makes it easier to find. As a family we try to have that organization in place, however, when the system fails and they cannot find their stuff, a meltdown is imminent. I know this better than anyone because I have ADHD. Before I learned that I functioned a lot better when everything had a place, I melted all the time. For a three year old, it can be cute, for a 20 year old, not so much. So when I see my kids melting because they can't find their stuff, I know my genetic influence is rearing it's ugly head. (We also know that ADHD often piggy-backs with Autism.)

Children model behavior. I have learned through years of modeling language for two of my children who were language delayed, that you have to be teach them language as building blocks. You have to give them the tools to use language because it does not come naturally to them.  When you are focused on communicating the message, there is no room for much of the judgement that is conveyed subtly through language. So, if you are saying "hurry up" but your tone sends the message, "hurry up you slow, fat sack of shit", that is how they will learn it and say it.  The words we choose to use responding to situations is how we teach our kids the way to react to things. If you are using those bad words in front of your kids, be prepared to hear it come back to you. We teach the foundations of human interaction every second we're in our child's presence. If we're in our car screaming at other drivers, they are listening to every word. If we are trash talking people on the phone, they are listening. If we hold doors for others, help those in need and offer kind words to people, they are watching and listening. We have to grab a hold of our subconscious reaction to situations and rethink our strategy if we do not want to see that behavior come back to us one day. To sum it up, we have to be the model of the person we want our kids to grow into. They don't become amazing adults without having amazing models. (And you didn't think parenting was hard enough already).

We all have heard the phrase, "Nature vs Nurture", but for many of us, we think the "Nature" part is tangible biology: eye color, skin, diseases, hair and height. But there are so many characteristics that fall into the grey area between the Nature & Nurture since scientists are still trying to figure out the genetic link to qualities such as personalities, predispositions,  intelligence, outlook on life,  approach to problem solving, interpersonal relationships, self-confidence, compassion and empathy. The nurture pat is everything that can be learned. Yes, there are so many ways to mess up our kids without even trying. The goal is to do more good than bad and try to tow the "good parent" line.  Most parents carry around a mental journal of all the things they endured, good and bad, from their own childhoods that they want to either teach their kids or end with them.  We all know that  we exemplify our parent's shortcomings in one way or another.  Our goal for our children is to do better than our parents did.

I know now, Nancy used a lot of our treadmill time as a pathway for introspection. She would talk about the discoveries she made about her kids behavior and then revealed how she and her husband consciously and subconsciously contributed to them. As my kids grow, I am glad I can take the lessons I learned from her and make my own journey into the land of introspection to learn how I can do better. How I can be a better model in not only my conscious behavior, but to be self aware enough to modify the other stuff, so maybe, just maybe, they can be the best of mediocre.  If that fails, I'll just blame my husband as I do for everything else.