Forced to Take a Closer Look

When you have a child on the spectrum and that child is not very verbal, you spend more time worrying about what is going on at school than most people, just because they don't tell you anything. During the first couple years of school, you talk to the teachers and have conferences and the worrying subsides a bit. But then, they hit third and fourth grade and the curriculum changes. They become more accountable and the work gets harder. Having a verbally limited kid at this stage is difficult and you come to the conclusion that unless you very active and invested in your child's success, that it's not going to come so easily. I thought I had a good system down and then I got the wake up call that I needed to take a closer look.

In fourth grade science, they do unit packets. Over the course of a month, they work through the booklet and then they have a test that usually involves vocabulary and other key points from the unit. I got into the habit of making copies of the vocabulary when the booklet first appeared in the folder and hoped we could get the terms into his brain before the test, which would come eventually.

#1 is an auditory learner. He can memorize things if you sing them, say them in a funny voice or tell him over and over again. He also memorizes for rewards. Does it mean he fully understands all the things he memorizes? I don't think so, but we know that the majority of education is digest, regurgitate, understand later if necessary.

When we got the study guide for the test, we had a week to get the required material into his head. At random times during the day, I would ask him questions that were going to be on the test like: "What are the four phases of the moon?" "Why does earth have seasons?", "How long does it take for the earth to revolve around the sun?" He got many of them right the first time I asked him.  When he got some wrong, I told him the right answer and then asked him the question again immediately, just to make sure it went in. When asked the questions Verbally, he got all the answers right. So, I sent him off to school confident he wouldn't fail the test. However, when his test came home, it told me a different story.

According to the test, he only got five out of 11 questions correct.  He takes a modified exam, which means less questions and less choices. I read through the exam and was beside myself with the mistakes he made. I wondered how it was possible to be able to recite the correct answer but when confronted with having to sit, channel his energy to focus, read the answers and choose the correct one, it all went to hell.

So I did what every confused parent does; try to figure out what went wrong. I sat him down and asked him the questions from the test. I realized that the wording of the question is everything. When you're doing something verbally, you have the ability to rephrase if they don't understand. However with a written test, it is presented one way, and if they don't understand the phrasing, it's over. For example, I prepped #1 to answer the question, "how long does it take for the earth to revolve around the sun?" by answering , "one year." This was the question on the exam:

He got the question wrong. I asked him "how many days are in a year?" and he didn't know. So based on his knowledge, he didn't see the answer we practiced, so he guessed. Oops. I guess he didn't learn that, so I got out the calaculator and the calendar and we added up all the days to equal 365. Sometimes "common knowledge" is not as common as we assume it to be.

I also prepped him to name the four inner and four outer plants, which he could do. But the question on the test was worded as this:

Which is nothing like what we reviewed. They all add up to eight, who cares?


We all know that exams should not be the fundamental measurement of knowledge and skill acquisition, but it is.  I now have to go back and review his IEP, sit down with his teachers and figure out a fair and accurate way to measure what he is learning so he is not penalized for having autism. If we could just have a more structured attorney way of "asked and answered" verbally,  we may have more success. Now I have to sell it to the team. Wish me luck.

 Can you put any more words on this question? What? I read so many words, I am confused. What are you asking me? Is this a Foreigner song?

 Homework Happy Hour

I used to catch snippets of "Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader" when my mom used to visit. She was addicted to GSN, the game show network. I used to think, "I have a MA in Asian Studies and have quite the extensive education, I'd kick ass on that show." But then, #1 became a fourth grader and between him and my aspy third grader, I wondered how I got through elementary school at all. Did they even teach the same crap they are teaching now, way back then? I don't think so. I remember my desk at school chock full of worksheets I never completed and somehow I managed to get away with it and graduate elementary school. I wondered, if I were going through school now, would I make it through?  I am grateful that I don't have to  answer that question. Though based on my inability to help with homework some days, I tend to think that I wouldn't.

Trying to navigate three children through homework makes you question who really invented happy hour. The witching hour is between four and six in the afternoon.  Grab the vodka and red bull and press "go".  It is the time you are trying to get dinner ready and the homework done because when the kids get out of school, the clock starts ticking down to bedtime. (Bedtime=when mommy finally gets a freaking break.) Of course, after a full day at school, they are fried and no matter how you try to package it, homework sucks no matter when you try to get it done. "Oh mommy, I love homework!", said no one ever.

 The minute you open your kid's homework folder, the general reaction is "fuck?!? Really. That will take all of my energy and time plus, I may have to Wikipedia it because I have no fucking clue what it is, what I'm supposed to do with it, or how to do it.

So between managing the meltdowns that come with making kids do homework and getting #3 to read,  (#3 is in Kindergarten and he just has to read 15 minutes a night. Sounds easy? Wrong. Some days I could promise that kid a Maserati, and the way he screams I swear he is saying "F-U" in some martian sound, that challenges the sound barrier. But last night, Hershey hugs and some left over holiday candy did the trick. Yes, I sugared up my kid to get production. It's called incentives. Got a problem with that?) I also have to deal with the twins, whose specialty at this point, is input and output. They eat all day long, and then they call me with the utmost urgency because they have to hold court on the potty. MOMMY, I HAVE TO GO PEE-PEES." And in toddler language it means, "drop everything and be my potty pal, RIGHT NOW" And the second I get up from the homework table to help the girls, the boys bolt to the far corners of the house or yard. They don't know what "independent work" is.

The challenge most days is after I have put the other four to bed and I finally get back to the table to finish the homework with #1 , I am 98% fried and twitching. Unfortunately, it is usually the time that he is most engaging. Talk about bad timing. He was reading a chapter about the first moon walk and he went into a quasi-scripted scene from Wall-E and then asked if the axiom greeted the astronauts when they landed on the moon. But the thing was, his was joking with me. His face was poised in amusement and he was just waiting for me to respond and when I tried to bring him back to task, he tried to push further and talk about Eve and if she greeted the astronauts. He was engaging in quasi-typical behavior, but I was so fried, that I laughed and begged him to get back to task before I lost my mind completely. 

 The best day of the week for me is Friday. Not because it is the end of the work week, my work week continues regardless of the day, it is because there is no homework. They come home from school and it is free time. I don't have to get three kids through homework or meltdowns. I just have to make sure the beer is cold, the Wii controllers are charged and the pizza is ordered. Now that, sound like a happy hour I could deal with every day.

 Sugaring Up The Help

Today was volunteer appreciation day at #1's school. When I originally got the email from his homeroom teacher, I thought, "I was only there a couple times, I didn't help that much. This doesn't apply to me" and thought that if I went, I might get tackled at the door for being an impostor.  But then I got the invite from his special education teacher who teaches him language arts and manages all aspects of his mainstreaming. I figured if she sent it to me, then I should go.

My friend Katie watched the girls and I went. When I walked in the door, I saw the few people I knew and greeted his teacher.  (#1's school is not our home school. It is about 15 minutes away and we don't get there as often as we are at our home school where #2 & #3 go.) I saw the food table and my head started to spin. I think I was in sensory overload.

The food table was covered with an abundance of home-made and store bought sweets that looked so good,  that my ass was begging for me to just spread them all over it. I looked at the cakes and had visions of me laying in the icing doing snow angels. Two weeks ago, I gave up processed sugar, bread and dairy. I was sick the first week, so it wasn't a big deal, I didn't want to eat anyway. But now that I was sick-free and staring at the drool table, I had to dig deep and remind myself of my goals; to dump the 18 pounds I had gained steadily since moving to MD, two and half years ago. I had stopped teaching fitness classes and became a full-time, stay at home domestic slave. After I unpacked the house, painted all the rooms, ripped up the garden with my trusty pick axe, and settled the house down, the weight slowly crept on. 

But when the smell of sugar gets into your nose, your body starts reacting to it. The evil twin starts talking about the benefits of eating the peanut butter chocolate cake and your pants are screaming "No, no more pressure here.  We can't take it, you barely got back into these. Don't stress the zipper. Just don't. You will not like yourself in 10 minutes, let alone the morning." Say my name chocolate babka, you know you want me, even though my pants don't. What, there's fruit on this table? You KNOW it just doesn't have the same appeal as coffee cake. The pants were telling "step away from the cake." So I listened.

I had already lost five pounds though I am not sure if it was from my new exercise routine or being sick. I do think it was from being sick, but I want to believe the exercise has achieved something. So, I watched everyone else eat the goodies and remained focused on the prize: fitting into all my clothes.

I then had to redirect myself and focus on talking to one of the moms that I don't see very often. It is amazing that the more tactics I learn so I can deal with my kid's issues, the more I realize they work equally well for me.  It did work and no bad food went in. Although, I still think it would be fun to lay on a huge cake and make snow angels in the chocolate icing. That will go on my bucket list. 

Golden Nuggets

With Autism, there are so many challenges; confrontations with school, administrators, family, friends and strangers, that if you measured the stress that autism causes alone, we'd all be on some cortisol suppressing medication. In our Autism Society of America chapter (ASA), we take the time to let the members talk about something positive that happened with their kids, we call them our "golden nuggets". When our chapter began to diversify and host speakers and panels, several of us were missing the golden nuggets from the meetings. For many of us, this was the only time we could be around  fellow comrades in Autism; People who had similar paths on the same highway and it was nice for that short period of time to have empathy given and received from others.  To fill the void, my friend Connie started a Facebook page so we could talk about our Golden Nuggets and not have to wait  to share them at the meetings.

Last weekend, I posted on Connie's Golden Nugget page, that for the first time in several years, my 10 year old, #1 wore a short sleeved shirt. Now, that may not seem like a big deal to most people, but to us, it was  a huge moment. He chose to wear his new t-shirt from the hockey team's skate-a-thon. For years, even on the hottest days, he would wear long sleeve shirts. At some point when he was six, he decided that short sleeve shirts were no longer wearable. His sensory issues had surfaced and if he was happy wearing long sleeved shirts in the middle of summer, than that was fine with me. After all, I like to wear long sleeve shirts during spin or hot yoga classes just because I don't like the feeling of sweat dripping down my arms, so I could empathize on some level.

After this huge breakthrough, I began to think of how far he has come in the last year, and all the golden nugget moments we have had.

His BFF: His most social break-though was his new BFF, Will. The kids in his mainstreamed homeroom are very kind and accepting of him, and Will, is especially awesome with him. He has taken #1 under his wing and tries to engage him even though there is no eye contact. He is concerned and mindful of him and I couldn't have asked for a better situation. If you ask #1 who his best friend is, he says "Will". I called his mom and scheduled his first play-date ever,  to take them to play laser tag and they had the best time. Just seeing the two of them interact brought tears to my eyes.


His birthday party: Every year I ask #1 if he would like a birthday party or an electronic device, since the cost is comparable. Since this was the big 10, I asked him if he'd prefer a birthday party or an XBox. When he answered, "Party", I had to shake my head. Did I hear that right? You want a party? Not really believing what I heard, I asked him at random times over the following weeks, the same question and in different order, since he has a history of repeating the last choice as his answer, "Do you want an Xbox or a party?" "Party". "Do you want a party or an XBox?" Once again, "Party". Wow, I think he really does want a party.

Our close friends recently purchased "The Ultimate Play Zone" in Cockeysville, MD, so we booked the party there. We took the invitations that they gave us and attached a note. Telling them, about #1 and that it was his first real birthday party and we credited their kids for giving him such a  positive social experience at school that he wanted to have a birthday party. We invited all 24 kids from his class and  14 classmates joined him to celebrate. Every parents RSVP'd  and some kids even chose to go to his party over sports events because we let them know how awesome and unique that was. It was nice to see so many kids and parents come to support his big day. And every kid there kept the secret that the Red Power Ranger was coming to visit. The video alone will make you smile.





He got his first 100 on a test. Once, again, not a biggie to #2, the Aspy, or to most people, but a huge accomplishment for him on two planes: 1) he proved he was able to absorb and demonstrate skills, and 2) all the extra time I spent with him trying to get the information into his head, was working. He aced most of his geography tests of the United States and is doing better than "barely passing", so when he comes home with great grades, the parade comes to town. Yes Houston, I'm here.

He protests with appropriate language. This is a huge jump from "I will scream, flap and run through the house and maybe cry a bit, to "come on mom. Are we finished yet?" and "why do I have to learn this?" When I offer him a snack he doesn't prefer, he responds with, "You want to give me cookies."as if he is trying to hypnotize me into complying.

He is more aware of other people's emotions.  He has asked me, "Mom, why are you angry? If his sissies are crying he comes to me and asks me what their problem is or he asks them what he can do to help them. Long ago, we linked his lack of eye contact with unawareness of a situation, but we know now that eye contact has nothing to do with awareness. His ears work fine. If he hears someone's voice change, he is on it and wants to know why. We can use this skill to teach him some of the subtleties of human interaction, even if he has to rely on his sense of hearing over his sense of vision to read people.

It is our job to teach, direct and prepare him for life as an adult, which is only eight years away, and it is accomplishments like these that shine hope on the years to come. I'm looking forward to the next batch of golden nuggets regardless of how small they are because each one is a treasure.

The Great Clothes Change-Over

Gone are the days of Spring. I remember them as part of my childhood, the not quite cold, not quite warm days that had a little bit of wind and required a light jacket. On some days, you could go outside and try to fly a kite or do some other spring activity. The whole point was to enjoy the weather until it got to hot to move about.

Now, Spring is like a blip on the radar. When the daffodils pop up, it is still considered winter weather and then all of a sudden, it gets hot. When the temperature goes from 30 to 80 in four days, (-2 to 28c) the foliage reacts, like "oh crap, I must catch up"  and before you know it, your car, and everything else is covered in a light green haze. It's like zero to 60 in 5.6 seconds. 

And when the weather gets hot, the clothes that were in your kids' drawers are now too warm for the season. Each season I empty and restock their dressers and leave only the clothes that are weather appropriate, because fighting with a child because they want to wear shorts in February is one fight I choose not to have. I call this process "The Great Clothes Change-Over", because packing, sorting and purging clothes for five kids is an immense task. So, the weather abruptly changes, I have to go into the basement and get the bins containing the appropriate clothes. 

The boys are easier, because they are easy; Shorts? Shirts? Check, check.  I have a system for giving away what is  too small and move on with the day. Although #1 will has severe sensory issues and refuses to wear short sleeve shirts even on the hottest days. He will wear shorts if I take out every pair of pants out of the drawer.

With the girls, sentimentality comes into play for two reasons: they are the babies, my last ones, my girls, and they are girls. We all know that when we go shopping for children's clothes, the girl's section is three times the size of the boys. Girls have all the cutesy dresses, matching leggings, coordinating head bands and socks. Dressing a girl can be a big to-do. Many of these designers keep in mind that mommies are the big buyers who now can live their childhood fantasies of dressing their own children. Don't let your five-year-old self down by throwing sweats on your girls.

Girls clothes are also more ambiguous. The sizes run differently from each manufacturer, which in boys clothes, isn't that big of a deal, but with girls clothes it matters. My girls are a bit girthy, which means that they aren't jeans, snap, button or zipper material. I'm not willing to send them to the treadmill yet, they're just built like their mom; brick-house style. (I just had an image of a hearty Korean dancing) The clothing is more flexible in some ways. You can get several seasons out of knit dresses if you buy them a size bigger than they are now. As they grow the dresses get shorter and eventually can be worn as a shirt.  Leggings can be still worn as capri leggings as they grow. So, in some ways, you are getting a bit more for your money because they get more wear out of them.

When sorting through the girls clothes, instead of being able to read a label and make a decision, "keep or toss" you have to view it differently which slows down the entire process. Not many kids are willing to stand there while you try clothing on them without bribery or a mutiny. Though, with two, I could make it into a runway show and call it "Baltimore's Top Toddler". Work that hallway, baby. On second thought, just imagining changing two children countless times is enough to make the vodka bottle vibrate, so, no. 

I guess now, I have to get into my meditative stance and imagine myself completing the process so I can get the bins ready and get to work. I may have to call a friend to help me through the process. 

 Well, at least the one piece of clothing I don't have to worry about during the hot weather is socks. Just knowing I don't have to wash and sort socks for the next three or four months makes the rest of it bearable. Wait, do you hear the Bailey's vibrating? Must go check it out. 

Poopies, Pukies and Sick, Oh My

The Eskimos have almost a hundred words to describe "snow."  I have almost as many to define body fluids. Over the last two weeks, I have been immersed in the world of boogers, sick poopies and pukies and learned to appreciate the value of paper towels.  I feel like my super hero utility belt should have a roll attached to it, ready to clean messes on the fly. And boy have they been flying.


The week before spring break, I started to put plans into place of how I would keep five kids active enough to prevent them from reenacting scenes from the fighting video games. And then, our house became the Casa de Sick and everything that was planned was no longer an option. 

First we all got hit with the fever thing and just when we were beginning to get better, we got hit with the stomach virus. The fever thing managed to leave #1 and my husband alone, but the stomach virus took no prisoners and worked it's awful way through our family like a slow moving wave.  On Easter, my ear clogged up and my hearing was greatly reduced in one ear. This could be seen as an advantage with all the kids home for eight more days. Built in ear plugs. Each day passed by managing fevers, puking positions, cleaning up misc body fluids and doing more laundry than ever thought possible.

We were in poop and puke paradise and the sick wouldn't leave.  Talk about a Bounty challenge.

Try teaching a four year old the protocols of puking while they're in mid flow. "ok girls, we puke in the bathroom, a garbage can, and if you can't make it, anywhere but the carpet." Carpet is so over-rated. Just thinking about the abuse it has gotten from five kids puking all over it, makes me never want to go without slippers again. Give the kids apple juice, not grape juice. Grape juice stains.

I also had to negotiate a proper puking place for #1. He deemed the potty as an inappropriate puking receptacle. He wanted to stay in his bed, but after I explained to him that we'd have to change his bed every time he puked in it, we both agreed that for this type of puke, puke #34, the sink was a viable option. 

When sping break ended, I was hoping that the sick would leave too, but to no avail. #1 missed his first day of school this year. With three puking children at home I went through more rolls of paper towels than I can remember. At one point, I was running between two puking and one potty bound kid. Twin S looked scared when she felt a different type of poopies than she was used to. "Mommy, what are these poopies?", poop #21. "Those are sick poopies", I replied. she took a minute to process the new information and then she said in her hand waving chatter, "mama, the sick poopies are flowing like water from my butt. They don't feel so good. They splash in the water. Are you gonna wipe me?" Good observation. The best four year poet I have heard to date.

I had to Google "drinking alcohol while on anti-biotics", this is what I found: "Although alcohol doesn't reduce the effectiveness of most antibiotics, it can reduce your energy and delay how quickly you recover from illness. So, it's a good idea to avoid alcohol until you finish your antibiotics and are feeling better." 

Only one more day to twitch through and hopefully, fingers crossed, everyone is ok by then. Note to self: buy more paper towels.

 Magical Snow

Some people just love snow. They were born in it, would make a house of it, bathe in it. They bring their offspring in the snow to frolic; not me. I went to college in snow country, Oswego, NY. Aside from walking to class in it, and making drunken snow bunnies,  the recreational value was lost on me. Being cold, is just not my thing. I mean, I went to school in ski country, and I never tried it, ever.

Now fast forward, five kids later. You'd think that my paradigm of snow had shifted. After all, kids love snow. The magic of childhood is seen in a child's eyes while they are discovering the joy of snow. Yea, it is also there when they are sleeping. I like that better.  I've seen many of my neighbors with their one or two kids outside playing in the yard and they have it easy. You feel like you have to take your kids outside too, to keep up with those neighbors. Otherwise, the neighbors will point to your house while talking about you and say, "She never lets those kids out of the house. I never see them outside." Well, lady, we play in our backyard for a reason, YOU.

Try dressing five kids for snow. Just the thought of it makes the vodka bottle sing my name a million times louder. Because, to get that amazing task done, it will suck the energy out of you for the rest of the day. You have to find their snow stuff,(in MD, it snows so infrequently, that the snow suits and gear are among the holiday stuff that is used once a year, along with the vase some relative gave you that you have to keep and display if and when they ever come to visit.) So you find their snow stuff and then you have to dress them or facilitate dressing. 

#1 can dress himself, but somehow, he still thinks that we are more related to dolphins than we really are. Baby, your butt does not require the same exposure to air that a dolphin's blow hole does. Keep it covered. I promise you, you will not be oxygen deficient. Yes, pants are supposed to cover your heiney. So, I have to help #1 pull up his pants to a suitable height. #2 dresses as if he is a messy version of superman changing in a phone box. Think Chris Farley emerging from the box dressed as an Eskimo and you have a great visual. #3 can mange mostly autonomously, but we have the same "butt needs air" problem. Lastly, the twins need help every step of the way. But now, they like to run laps around the house in between items.

The time comes when they are all suited up and resemble variations of the Michelin tire people and then it is time for the item I despise the most: the gloves or mittens. Why is it, that trying to get your kid's thumb in it's allocated section in the mitten, harder than understanding the theory of relativity? When you're holding the mitten and guiding their hand into the mitten, somehow the thumb goes awry and no matter how you try to manipulated the mitten, that freaking thumb will head off in some juxtaposed position making you go through the process of putting on and taking off the mitten enough times that you either let the thumb remain rogue or you send them outside, sans mittens before you lose your shit and wind up saying those bad words, as you chuck the mitten across the house. And that is when #1 walks in, puts his face in my face and asks, "What's wrong mom? Why you so mad?" Gotta love him. 

Gloves are worse, they mock me with with all 10 fingers. They look so innocent and pretty until your children try to put them on, and then it become Houdini's magical evasive gloves. It may be easier to catch salmon with your bare hands than to put gloves on a kid. Even watching them try to put the gloves on is painful. You try to let the kid be autonomous and you have to slap yourself several times to prevent yourself from grabbing the glove and helping them. After taking a Xanax to get through the last five minutes of watching your child struggle, you take the glove thinking you can get it on, 1,2,3, but you can't. For some reason, it won't go on. All of a sudden your child has twisted their fingers to resemble 94 years old rheumatoid arthritis hands. And you have to stifle the desire to chuck the glove across the room so #1 doesn't come in to ask what the problem is.

When you finally get out in the snow, you wonder how long it will be until someone has to go potty, want something to eat, throw snow at a sibling or want to come in.  You have to grab all five sleds because no one wants to share and remember to grab their helmets. You know the other mothers on the hill will be ready to hit the child services number on their phone if you don't have your children properly protected.  If you're lucky, you'll get a couple minutes and then you have to make the decision to stay with the kids outside or go with the one who wants to go back in. 

 Maybe if it snowed more often, I would have a snow routine in place that would make the transition easier. Is it great to watch the kids enjoy the snow? You bet. And it even makes all the effort to get there worth it. Well, at least some of the time. But, a coffee with Bailey's always makes a good reward for the effort.