Anarchy on the Horizon

When Memorial Day weekend comes, it is a reality check. It is a friendly reminder that there are only three more weeks of school. Count 'em, three. Oh, fuck. And that is when you realize that maybe you should have had a plan about camps, activities or something. Anything.  Maybe there is still time to order duct tape, Benadryl, sun-screen, anti-depressants and bug spray in bulk. Maybe even a liquor store that delivers.

Suddenly the kids you sent to school every day, that still have perfect attendance, will be home. All day, every day, until summer school or Extended school year(ESY) starts. In my house, the day after school ends is the definition of anarchy. Now, I'm sure every parent with a kid on the spectrum says, "I'm gonna have a schedule and we are going to plan trips and outings." Yea, good luck with that one.  After trying to get five kids to do anything and failing miserably, our schedule falls to ruins even before one of the kids rips it off the wall.

Let me tell you what our schedule becomes: wake up, play video games, eat breakfast, change out of PJ's after mom threatens to take away video games, jump on trampoline, eat snacks, play video games, fight with each other over something,(to be determined), eat pre-lunch, play video games, conspire with a sibling to pick on another sibling(s), make sibling(s)cry, sit in time-out, run through house with other siblings like a pack of screaming banshees, act out self-scripted fight scene between Star Wars figures and My Little Ponies on the trampoline, and that is all before 10am. Sometime after that, at least one kid will run through the house with crackers falling from their mouths, someone will spill something liquid, someone will dump toys that were organized prior to dumping, someone will make someone else cry, and my beer fridge inventory will be greatly reduced. I will be begging Calgon to take me away.  One way.

Our home becomes an unstructured mecca of chaos. Home to the swarm of locusts that will eat everything in it's path all day long and will even eat ketchup from the bottle if you let them, that is, after they try to replicate a Jackson Pollack painting on the wall with it.

"The pool! I can take them to the pool", you think, but, I absolutely hate pools. I used to manage a pool as part of my job, and I know that no public pool ever has great balance for very long. They are nasty pools of ick.  And then you have to deal with all the gossipy moms and all their bratty kids. I'd rather be dissecting my own eyeballs. But, for the sake of the kids, you go anyway.  And then you have to get five kids suited up, sun-screened and out the door.  But don't forget, you have to first pack up the other half of the kitchen that they didn't eat, because inevitably, as soon as you get to the pool, five minutes later, you'll hear, "mom, I'm so very hungry." I swear my kids are missing some type of enzyme. Then, when you get to the pool,  you have to keep track of them all. I am usually the one mom standing at attention counting to five continually as I monitor each of their moves. It is absolutely exhausting to be that responsible. The kids might like the pool, but the pool sucks.

The thought of the summer to come, makes me wish that Publisher's Clearing house offered a sweepstakes that gave you a nanny and a cleaning lady instead of the big ole check and balloons. As soon as you opened the door, they just took over. "ok, lucky mom, go take a nap." Now that would be the ultimate prize. 

Now I have three weeks to figure out a plan. First on the list is to stock up on vodka and find a liquor store that delivers. Second, stay away from the pool. Third, buy food. The rest I'll figure out as it goes. May the force be with me.

 Who's got Game?

Last month we took the kids to the National Zoo in Washington DC. All through the zoo, #2 the aspy, would rattle off facts and observations about the animals he saw. Though sometimes he has a rough time distinguishing between pure fact and his facts. What we saw over and over again was that the males in any species were prettier than the female counterparts. In my one class in Genetics, I learned that the males are prettier because they are trying to attract the females and spread their DNA to attain the goal of Mendelian Fitness.   "Hey mom, the male peacock wants romance", said #2 as the peacock opened his feathers to full display.  Peacock's got game.

So what the hell happened with people? How come with humans, the females are the pretty ones and the pretty men are men's men? It makes it harder to find suitable seed when the playing-field is laden with so many undesirable variations. If the males primal need is to spread his seed, and he doesn't play for the NBA, then he has to get game somehow. Living with your parents and mastering video games isn't the way. Nor is eating like a 15 year old. If there is one thing we've learned from Jerry Springer, it's that if the first guy that comes your way doesn't have teeth, there might be a winner in the next trailer. I just don't get it that women fight over men. Really?  Looking at half those guys that are the middle of a cat fight, do you really want to perpetuate their genes? Eeeww. Well, someone has to live in the trailers.

Some guys hit the gym and work on the moves to actually find a female to reproduce with. Many move to suburbia and have kids and that is when they start to go downhill fast.

We moved to Baltimore three years ago and joined the pool each summer. The majority of pool patrons are families from a pretty homogeneous neighborhood with a few tokens thrown into the mix for good measure. My observations are as followed: The women tried to look good, at least some of them worked out and owned that swim suit. The guys however, all looked like the centerfold of Dump magazine. Really, put that shirt on. Your boobs are bigger than most of the ladies. It seemed that once they had kids and "spread the seed" they let themselves fall into a state of decay, much like a flower after it has been pollinated. If you looked hard at them and at their kids, you could find traces of the attractiveness that used to be, but it is hidden under at least one layer of Krispy Kreme.

Those type of guys are usually the same ones you see trying to pick up the "barely legals", that you and your friends laugh at during Girl's night out. I remember those guys that used to hit on me in my early days. They'd moan and complain that they weren't getting laid or serviced and how their wives shut down. Well, if you looked like a doughnut covered, shadow of a man, you used to be, I wouldn't be knocking on your door either. Stop whining and get your fat ass to a gym and go buy your wife some fucking flowers, asshole. It's not her, it's you.

This weekend when the pool opens, I will get to see all the puffy men and pretty women and for some, I'll look at their youngest child and mentally do the math as to how long it has been since they had sex. And for others, I'll see the cumulative effort of all their gym days. Nonetheless, it should be fun to see all our neighbors half naked. Well, at least they all have their teeth.

Underwear Infidel

What we thought was an occasional revolt against underwear has become more of a regular event. After #3's bath last night, he put on his pajamas without underwear. I decided not to pick that battle with him, but told him that he needed to put on underwear in the morning for school.

However, when he got dressed in the morning, underwear was not among his selected items. I asked him to put the underwear on, and then the revolution began. His face scrunched up, his flag went up, and he screamed something that sounded like the way hawks say "f-u" to each other.

Ok, ok. I need to redirect him. If I approach this with humor, I may be able to pull him out of the crazy zone. So I grabbed the Spiderman and Batman  underwear out of his drawer,  I held them both up and offered him a choice. He screamed as if someone threw acid on him. I put a pair on my head and asked him if he liked the hat, he half-smiled then quickly resumed scrunchy face. I may have a shot here, but then he screamed, "I don't like underwear. I HATE underwear. I want to destroy all the underwear in the universe" Ok, at least you have strong convictions.

Now, any parent who is at similar crossroads would consider backing down and letting them go commando to school to avoid any more drama. But the thing with behavior modification is that you can't. Once you decide that something is unacceptable, you're stuck on the highway. Otherwise, they will challenge you at every level. If you cave once, they know they may have a chance if they fight you. If you fight them unwavering and they always lose, then eventually they won't fight. We're at the stage that if he tell us "no" to things that he has to do, then we put him in "time-out" immediately. This strategy is what the behaviorists call "behavior extinction." You give them the same, consistent consequence for a behavior you wish to extinguish from their arsenal.   It takes a lot of self-control, patience and vodka to get there, but it will happen eventually.  Now to only to get there before I run out of vodka.

Then, I had to figure out the triggers for this altercation. The question was, "WHY, was he fighting the underwear so much?" Did the seams bother him? Did the tag rub his back, just a little, when he leaned to the left?  Did he prefer jockeys to boxer briefs? There were so many possibilities, but when he is screaming and being uncooperative, there are no answers to be found.

And if you think that was my only problem that morning, think again. #1 is very sensitive to other kids crying. When he saw #3 protesting and mom and dad ganging up on him, he jumped in to support his brother. "He doesn't want to wear it," he cried in #3's defense.  We then had to explain that all people wear underwear to school. It sounded reasonable to him, so he suggested to #3, that he  wear underwear. But, once #3 started screaming, #1 short-circuited and tried to tackle #2 who was sitting calmly reading an atlas. To avoid absolute mayhem, I grabbed #1 to remove him from the room, which is harder now since he is 4'10 and 86 pounds.  Husband was getting #3 under-panted and while all that was going on, we were both praising #2 for not feeding into the craziness that surrounded him.

The problem with #1 is that once he is sucked into the vortex, it is very hard to get him out. He is usually agitated long after the altercation is over. And, like a bug to a light, he keeps coming back to the drama. No matter how you try to remove him from a situation, he will find his way back, just because he can't transition when he is on the crazy train.

So, Husband got #3 under-panted, and I was helping #1 brush his teeth and then #2 came in to inform me that #3 had removed his underwear again and was trying to be commando incognito . Time out again. Logic was failing, time out was not altering his state of mind, so then I had to pull out the big guns, "if I hear you have taken off your underwear at school, I will take your Star Wars game and put it in the attic. Do you understand?" He stopped screaming, he nodded and I held him and squeezed him to help him decompress.

I had used his currency. I figured out what it took to get the behavior I needed from him and we got there. We turned our focus to the bird who had build a nest and laid her eggs in our hanging basket on our porch, and then they all went off to school.

Now I know why Vodka is often paired with Orange Juice. 

Field trip to McDonald's

#1 goes to a different public school than his siblings. The school has an ALS(adult learning support) program which allows him to be mainstreamed in certain subjects and gives him extra support in the areas he struggles with. When I got a permission slip for a field trip to McDonald's, I had squelch my WTF reaction and understand why.

The field trip was planned by his special education teacher to give the kids a life lesson. They were going to McDonald's for facilitated interaction and pragmatic language practice. They each were going to learn how to wait in line, ask for what they wanted, pay for it, count the change and then check their order before sitting down to talk with their friends. It made sense, I just didn't like the food choice.

McDonald's and I don't have a relationship. I broke up with fast food in 1991 and haven't had it since. At my heaviest, I weighed around 225lbs and made a lifestyle choice. I lost 70 pounds by committing to a lifestyle of healthy eating and exercise. I decided that I would not introduce fast food to the kids as a food choice, just because fast food is evil. Who needs health issues on top of Autism? Not me. 

Years ago, before our family was complete, I was asked by friends, "What are you going to do when all his friends are eating McDonald's?" I replied, "I will give money and let him try it." I have let him buy ice cream when we were returning DVDs to Red Box, but the line was drawn there. I would give him the dollar and change to buy the ice cream and watch him interact with the employee. It wasn't smooth, and I needed to step in and guide him through the process. And, I realized he needed more practice interacting with people in the community who didn't know him.  And then, his fourth grade class went to the Air and Space Museum in Washington DC, and the cost covered lunch at McDonald's. The day had arrived that he was actually going to eat "food" at McDonald's. I had to prep him about what to buy, since he is very picky. After the trip, he told me he ate fries, apple slices and a milk shake. Not sure if that is true, but I'll go with it. 

I signed the permission slip and sent in the money for the McDonald's field trip. The more exposure he gets interacting with the community, the better, even if it means he is eating at McDonald's.  Gotta pick your battles. I'm putting pro-biotics in his yogurt.

Vodka-infused Mother's day

The Rolling Stone's song, "You can't always get what you want", always to come to mind when I am asked what I'd like for Mother's day. "What do you want for Mother's day, mommy?" and immediately my mind goes to the impossible, a pool boy, a beach vacation alone, a villa in Tuscany, a years subscription to the Chippendale's cleaning company. I'm sure they make housecleaning a snap. Well maybe not, I'd be dropping stuff all over the house so they could pick it up while wearing that thong. Thank you. Thank you, come again.

Many of us with small kids have on our lists:  Bathroom time without an audience, not having to answer "why" questions for an afternoon, not having to change diapers, and a nap. It also would feel good to have a moment to think and remember why you walked into a room in the first place. oh yea, I did have to go potty. 

Moms of school age children would be happy with: no homework, kids that listened and put their crap away and not ask where it went after they refused to put it away. Added bonuses, would be if they kept their pants pulled up, and not having to schlep them all over town for all activities.  

As moms, we know that we unless we put subliminal messages into netflix shows and held the remote controls hostage, the messages will not be received. You really want to know what I want for Mother's Day? Here you go; The top ten things Moms really want:

1) Surprise us with niceness. It would be nice if we weren't 100%  responsible for arranging any couple time we have together outside the house. Sometimes, for me to get a sitter, I have to jump through fire and it goes unnoticed. It's like you got a free pass. It would be nice to go out without having to do all the work. 

2) A spa anything, even if it was a pass to sit in the lobby and read trashy magazines.

3) Let us leave the house, ALONE. Alone time should not equal the time it takes to get the mail.

4) I want to unplug. I don't want to find that f-ing toy that our kid has lost for the millionth time which is most likely in the same f-ing place they last put it. No aliens, no acts of war, it is still wherever the fuck they left it. I want nothing to do with it. Plain and simple.

5) I want some of my TV shows on the DVR to have a higher rating than some of the kid's shows. Can't I just have one f-ing show? Screw the bloody Bubble Guppies. Mama needs some distracting Bravo shows to remember the importance of an education. 

6) I want someone else to vacuum the van. 

7) To get in writing that all the burden associated with presents for all  school personnel, will not be my problem.  "Next year, ______(place name here,) will be fully responsible for all holiday and teacher appreciation week gifts". It is incredibly difficult to take care of all the people; the Special Education teacher, mainstream teacher, OT, Speech, aides and other professional staff that helps my kids. Especially when it is when I'm dealing with two different schools. It makes my mind explode.

8) Vodka. Cause frankly, looking at our kids, we're fucked. 

9) A clean house house I had nothing to do with and a meal that just magically appeared. I had to buy nothing, prepared nothing, and poof, it was there.

10) To have an adult conversation uninterrupted by kids, not about kids.

Although many of us will look back with nostalgia on the things our kids did that drove us nuts, at certain times, I imagine what my Mother's day will be like in 14 years after all the kids have left. I imagine myself at my future beach house, because my old self won't be able to handle the cold weather any more, and of course there will be a pool boy. You missed a spot.

Happy Mother's day to all. Vodka all around!

No matter how you twist it, it ain't funny

As parents, we are confronted with many things, be it the gross and nasty; finding assorted body fluids in places we're not used to finding them, semantically challenging; "just because I say bad words, ...", and the many crazy things that kids do;"Why is my ipod in the toaster?" They could have been upsetting at the time, but eventually we learned the lesson, drank the beer, and then found humor in it. 

However, when the principal calls and tells you that your kid has thrown chairs, pencils and hit a teacher, there is nothing funny about that, ever. In the world of Autism, bad, violent behavior is not part of the diagnosis. The behaviors most often stems from frustration. Many of us have felt this way  when we've asked a kid to complete a task they have chosen to ignore; "pick up your coat." And after several requests, the kid still hasn't done it, which causes you start screaming, "PICK UP THE COAT. I TOLD YOU A MILLION TIMES TO PICK UP THE COAT." And that is when we have to walk away and take a breath before we list our kids on Ebay. We all know what frustration feels like, but for many people with Autism who cannot voice their frustrations, and are not being understood, aggression is usually the next step.

#3 was guilty as charged for throwing a chair and hitting a teacher. But, with Autism, you just can't take actions at face value, there is usually a whole journey that they take to arrive at their actions.  As parents of children with Autism, we have to look for the triggers that caused the aggression in the first place. The scope of possible triggers is large. For some kids, it can be a humming light, for some, the pitch of someone's voice, for others, the smell of soap. On that day, I am sure #3 was overstimulated by the transition to library and then pushed over the top by a classmate. When he was disciplined for running around the library and instructed to sit in a chair, that was his breaking point. So instead of sitting and decompressing, he launched into his own version of Twisted Sister, "we're not going to take it anymore." He wasn't really capable of saying "excuse me, I need to be redirected with a little more pizazz and some sensory input."

When he was transitioning from pre-k to Kindergarten, we asked for an aide to accompany him throughout his school day. The team did an assessment on him and determined that he was too high functioning. He started Kindergarten independently and his teacher, who has an Aspy-son herself, was very in tune with him and kept data on his behavior. Throughout the year, he had bad days, good days and many great days. When his IEP meeting came up again, we voiced our concern about his attention seeking behavior and requested an aide for first grade. Once again, the team determined that there wasn't enough data to warrant it. As educators, the IEP team knew that he would benefit from having one, however,  there were many hoops to jump through to get one.  I wondered what needed to happen to make him qualify for an aide. And it made me angry to realize that he needed to fail before he would qualify to get the help he needed.

My friend Becky, a social worker and Autism sympathizer, managed to shift my paradigm on the situation. "Yes, he threw a chair, and yes, he physically abused the librarian. And if he had an aide with him, he would have been redirected long before the behavior could have manifested. You now have the data he needs to get the aid. It couldn't have happened at a better time." She was right. It's an awful feeling when you know your kid was set up for failure, and it's awful to hear that your kid did something to hurt another person. But because of that, the paperwork has been filed to provide him with an aide next year. 

As a mom dealing with so many temperamental personalities, I choose to be proactive instead of reactive. I prefer to make the necessary changes to avoid problems rather than deal with the problems after they have come. I remember a conversation I had with an assistant principal at #1's school when I was really angry about her lack of support for the special education teacher and aides, and I asked her, "This class is over-capacity. When you have too many special needs kids in a room, that is when things happen, kids escape and bad behaviors accelerate. What are you going to do here? Are you going to be proactive or are you going to be reactive? You better be prepared to take the blame for your choices." She chose to be reactive. But I guess that may be the policy in Baltimore county; "Don't fix it until I am forced to."

For many parents who have to fight this battle, it saddens us when our children are put into situations where they fail. We have adopted the ideology of not setting them up for failure, and try to encourage lessons in a positive controlled environment. But when we send them to school, we don't have a complete say. Their educational experience is a cooperative effort and sometimes they don't see the need for things we request just because they don't know our kids like we do. In many cases, over time, the team sees the validity in your comments and other times, that is when you have to go to mediation. 

Becky was right. He was allowed to fail in a controlled environment and the need for an aide was noted.  I just wish there was a better way. Vodka anyone?

Express Yourself

When you have non-verbal or verbally limited kids, any sound they make that sounds remotely like a word or an attempt of a word is celebrated. "You said "ca" and are staring at the candy. Yes, you can have some". Have the whole bowl, I am freaking elated. You get used to giving positive reinforcement when they try to use language. And have a parade when they put their first two word combination together, "bite me." Love it! Say it to Daddy! Just when I had a system down, enter into the picture, two sweet, little, crack butterfly, chatter boxes. Not only do they have a running dialogue with each other all day, they engage everyone around them. They are Verbally and socially amazing. Did I hit the jackpot or is this just the beginning of the curse that my mother put on me 20 years ago?  "I hope you have a daughter just like you." At 16, I thought that idea would be just peachy, but I'm starting to imagine little double sassy pants three feet taller in their training bras and I'm anticipating the need for Xanax. And, on top of it,  I got double. Someone is going to be telling me about the power of karma very soon, indeed.

With my boys, I am used to engaging them to extract the information I need from them. If I were to ask each boy the same question, "How was school?" #1, would try to get past me, avoid eye contact, not answer the question, drop his backpack and make a bee-line to the trampoline. It is only when I grab his face or say "hello??" that he says "great" just so he can continue with whatever his mind was intent on doing before I interrupted him.  #2 the Aspy will volunteer all types of statistics and facts and talk for hours, but if I try to ask him how his day went and he knows it wasn't perfect, he disappears faster than Flash, leaving a trail of "AHHHHHHHHHH" behind him.  He only wants to talk at you because he has so much in his brain that needs to be let out. Don't ask me questions, this isn't Oprah. #3, the PDD/NOS/ODD will look me in the eye and reply "I'm not telling you." Little shit. If he did have a perfect or almost perfect day, he will give me the chart and ask for the sticker he earned. So, I am able to get the information I'm after by assessing their reactions to my question. I guess I was used to working that hard for output.

The girls are completely opposite. They express all observations, "Mommy, why are you so cranky?" or "Our room is a mess, you need to clean it mommy. "  They tell me things I know, but really don't want to hear, "Mommy, your butt is MUCH bigger than mine." Love hearing that on a Monday morning. Just wait, cherub. You won' be tiny forever. They fight authority, "Mommy, I'm not doing that. It's unfair."Excuse me? Are you talking to me? I'll show you what unfair is when I introduce Barbie to the recyclable bin. And, they would run the place if given the chance, "Mommy you want another beer? You can't have one. Get in time-out. NOW." Yes! I get 43 minutes. Score! 

 Not only will they volunteer information like #2, they will engage more than I thought was humanly possible. And, they eat more than a pissed off, starving pack of locusts. Most of their requests are "mom, I'm so hungry, give me food." You need to envision the whining and dancing. Need to put Zoo-Keeper on my resume.

The girls introduced something that wasn't in our house before they learned to talk, girl drama. The whining, hand-waving emotional expressions have me hiding laughter many times a day. When Twin R, who is usually the lead crack butterfly joined me in the garden wailing, I had to stop weeding and ask her what was wrong. She replied, "This is the worst day ever. I didn't get to go to the gym, I didn't' get to play in the garden. I don't get to do anything." And then she started to sob. Wow. She is four and none of my kids, ages six, eight and 10 were ever able to express their emotions so easily and clearly. On one hand, I felt like jumping up for joy, because she was expressing herself and using her words appropriately, but on the other hand, it was a lesson she needed to learn. I stifled the laughter and picked her up to comfort her. I explained that she had made the choice not to listen and she missed doing things she wanted to do. Next time she had the power to make better choices.

When you don't have clear lines of communication it is harder to understand the message which can cause frustration on all fronts. With the girls, the behavior disappeared once they were able to express their issues. With the boys, it is more of a slippery slope. It is sometimes hard to distinguish the behaviors that come from communication frustrations and plain ole misbehaving.  #1 gets so upset he screams and throws himself on the floor. If the trigger for his outburst was a brother, then he will try to wrestle or push him which gets him into trouble.  #2 gets so upset that he works himself into such an angry, anxiety ridden fury, that sometimes he put his hands on people and says some very nasty things. That lands him in  time-out or bed to give him the best chance of recovering. #3, has different cries for different stressors. He has three distinctive cries: fighting with a sibling, frustration with a toy, and anger against the establishment. I am not brushing my teeth, loser.  And, sometimes he cries and we're not able to figure out the cause or how to make it better. We then have to play the guessing game or leave him alone until he is able to use his words, and that depends on him.

There are times when the girls help #1 practice spontaneous language and because of them, he is more aware and willing to engage others.  #2 and #3 are fine expressing their language in a controlled setting, such as, while they are playing video games. It is when they have to identify their feelings and cope with a situation is when they have problems.

I guess I can say that we're lucky to have such a large family that offers many different opportunities for interaction. There is always someone to engage albeit good or bad. I just hope that eventually we find some plan or method that is consistently successful for all of them.

 Yes, it is a glamorous life. Thanks Sheila E.