The value in clothes

When I was a kid, birthdays and holidays were the time you were supposed to get the cool stuff you saw on TV, that was destined to be awesome and fun. But alas, we always had that relative who insisted on giving us clothing. Not that clothing wasn't useful, but inevitably it would wind up being something that was beyond my taste, and not only would it sit in the draw unworn, but it would cast a spell of lameness on birthday presents. I could've had a real present.  They're not supposed to be useful.

Flash forward to my own kids. We have that relative who insists on giving clothes, and although I have told them we have enough clothes, it doesn't change the outcome. I get it, they have 12 nieces and nephews, pick a common theme and go with it. They are always very generous and the clothes are beautiful, but I feel bad that my kids aren't fans, and in their minds, that relative has become that relative.

#1 never cared about clothes at all. He wears clothes because we tell him to.  He opens new clothes and then throws them on the floor. If it doesn't beep, talk or have an entertaining function, it is lame. End of story.  Up until now, #2 and #3 didn't mind clothes, and sometimes they actually got excited. Nothing was more amusing than hearing #3 yell excitedly "oooh underwear", and #2 used to have equal enthusiasm for all presents, "I got sweatpants! Hooray!"

This year, the enthusiasm for apparel has declined.  #2, who always got excited about clothes, gave me the "more clothes really?" after he opened his second present of clothing. That is,  until he realized that the clothes were from his University of the future, Princeton, and then they were the best clothes ever. #3 has decided that "unless it's toys, it's lame" and there was no convincing him otherwise. His ODD has reared it's ugly head.

On #3's birthday, I watched him unwrap his presents and was taking video to show the family member the pure joy he had opening the presents.  I watched him discover his new gifts;  Legos, a remote controlled car, a Nerf gun and then, this:

How could I send that video?

I then sat down with #3, who now at seven, should be able to understand some bigger concepts: "we need to be grateful that we have people that love us so much that they take the time to shop and pick out presents and then mail them to us.  It takes a lot of time to do that and that means they really love us. It doesn't matter if it's not our favorite present, clothes are useful.  Now, we need to make a video to tell them how much you appreciate the clothes. It may not be your favorite thing, but it is useful. You need to thank them." That "Thank you" video needed to be convincing. I couldn't look like the parent of an ingrate.

It seemed that he got the pep-talk. He repeated my message back to me and I thought it worked. I was ready to pat myself on the back, but then I started shooting the video and put my hand down.


Attempt #1

"These are not the clothes I wanted, but it is very helpful. Thank you, but, I'd like to exchange the clothes for something. Thank you, but I don't know if they'll look good on me."

How could I send that video?

We tried five more times and each attempt was worse than the one before.  And then I just gave up. It was NEVER going to be a heartfelt thanks. It was always going to be "thanks for the sub-standard present" at best. There was no winning that battle.

Later on in the day the calls from friends and family members came. He asked one person, "are you the one that gave me the clothes?" Seriously. He has a vendetta. I told husband that he will never forget who gave him clothes. Ever.

Logically speaking I know he understands that clothes can be useful and that he should be grateful for a present. Does he like it? No. Will he survive? Yes. Will he remember it  as a shadow cast on his childhood as vividly as I do? Most definitely.

But, you try explaining why a sweatshirt is just as good or better than a Lego set.

Come on, I dare you.

Whine x 2=Wine x 2

My younger brother told me long ago when his daughter was three years old, that she was driving him nuts; "the whining, I just can't take the whining. I lose my mind". I heard him, but the severity of it really didn't register . By the time my niece was three, I had three boys under five. We had lived through having a non-verbal #1 who would stand in the kitchen and scream until we figured out what he wanted, but we didn't have a whiner. I asked him if it was that bad. It couldn't possible be as bad as the screaming a non-verbal kid does when frustrated. "It is horrible," he replied, "it's a girl thing. Something about them makes them so whiny."

Yea, ok. I thought. It's his first, he's a rookie. He'll get used to it. It can't be that bad.

A couple of years later, we added twin girls to the mix and when the twins hit three, my brother's words resonated loud and clear. He was right. The girls would whine. The type of sound that makes finger nails on a chalk board sound like muzak. They used whine as an accent for communication when it wasn't the dominant one. And when they didn't feel like using any of those girl words they had, the whine took center stage. They'd be whining about something, losing a toy, a sparkle had fallen off their shoe, they wanted attention, Mommy not sharing her beer, anything. But somehow, asking a kid who has no problem using their words any other time of the day becomes an issue when they NEED to.  "Use your words", I'd say, as I said a million times before, but the words had left them.  I then had to try to guess what the crisis was . After failing miserably, and frustrated, the countdown began, I had 10 seconds of patience left before I lost my mind and I told them exactly what I thought of Rainbow Dash. Someone was going to time out and I wanted it to be me. I'll put that time-out stool right next to the beer fridge.

The boys never did that. It is painful and can cut right to the core like no other sound. I think that the hospital should hand out noise-canceling-headphones to all new parents of baby girls. "Congratulations on your baby girl. Here are your headphones. Good luck."

I  also think that the US government should shift gears and view toddler whining as a weapon of mass-destruction. If we just flew big speakers over Afghanistan and let the whine of thousands of girl toddlers flow through the cities, they would surrender in 10 minutes. We could save thousands of lives by whining them into submission. Only the deaf would prevail as the immune ones, but somehow, I think the vibration of it would work on them too.

On second thought, I know it would. After we entered the whine-stage, my neighbors never looked at us the same. Through telepathy, I heard "please, make it stop." And I never looked at a bottle of wine the same either.  I would if I could, but the duct tape only muffles the sound. Wine anyone?

That Coach

I started coaching #3's, soccer team last year.  The decision was easy to make because two years ago, I signed #1 & #2 up for soccer and we were stuck with a coach who's eye was focused on winning and basically ignored my kids. I spent the entire season feeling like an annexed coach with my two players.   Because #3 has PDD/NOS/ODD, I decided that being coach was absolutely necessary. That was not going to happen again, so here I am, the only female coach in the boys soccer league. When I was kid, I played soccer all through high school, so I know the game and love it a little more than I remember.

When I coached the team last year, some of the players were barely four and they played right along with the five and six-year-olds. For most of them, it was their first time ever playing an organized sport. Most of our time was spent making sure the kids ran in the right direction and stayed on their feet.  We played six on six and no goalie. It was fun for them and funny for us. By the end of the season, everyone had improved dramatically, including #3.

When soccer season began again and #3 wanted to play, this time without the bribes, I continued to coach. We moved up to the next age group but I didn't anticipate the shift from teaching soccer to competition. I always treated games as a chance for both teams to learn and be coached by both sets of coaches. This year the kids are six and seven years old. Out of the ten kids I have on the team, maybe three have that athletic ability. The rest run around, not sure what to do, checking out the grass, dirt, bug, sky, cloud formations and each other. #3 is in that category. Most of my time coaching is spent trying to keep them on task and on their feet. And we're talking my kid plus nine neuro-typical kids.

The first three games, I talked to the opposing coach and we set up the parameters; sub at seven minutes, water break at 10. Two 15 minute halves, whatever. The teams were like mine, random good players thrown in  with a myriad of skill levels complete with a laid-back coach who laughed and didn't think twice about using any stop in play as an opportunity to teach the kids about field placement or strategy.

And then I met the green team and their aggressive coach. We all know the ones that bark out orders to the team, run it like a tight ship and push through the games until the job is done. First off, the coach approached one of the dads to discuss game matters and then he sent him my way. Yes, the chick is in charge. See my whistle? Now, I'm not a small person, I'm 5'8", but this coach towered over me. He was easily 6'3" and it was apparent his eye was on the prize. As soon as the whistle blew, their team came at us fast. Coach big green was pushing his team to take throw-ins as soon as they got the ball while my team was mulling around not noticing that the ball was back in play. I did ask him if we could blow the whistle at each throw-in so the teams would know that the ball was going back into play, but he didn't agree to it. I do realize that in real soccer, that is not done, but they are little and half of them were meandering around the field. Minute by minute, I found myself more wrapped up in game play to get my guys through the game, rather than using the plays to teach, and I didn't like it. What were they going to take away from that game experience?

I did manage to praise every goalie save, each rally and each missed goal, but the joy of the game, while I was in the game, was gone. I was so wrapped in keeping my team plugged-in and moving in the right direction that the game ended and I had missed the fun.

In the end, once we shifted a few players around, we dominated the second half and the game ended in a no-score tie.  Maybe, my coaching tactic was working better than his; lots of praise and no negativity, "this time you did this, next time let's try that. You did great today!" But, maybe I do need to push the boys a little harder and make the game a bit more efficient.  I believe that if you take the time to teach them teamwork and field position, the speed and cooperation will come. There are some situations that only come up during game play and the moment to teach them is after the play is done. When the kids are this small, and we're trying to teach them to like the game, play the game properly and prepare them for the more competitive age groups, we need to take the time to lay the foundation. This is not the age to rush, it is the time to teach.

I was complimented by a mom from the other team. She said, "I think it is really awesome that you are coach." Thanks!  My friend Becky told me that the league needed me and I just shrugged it off. But after that mom's comment, I thought about it, and I guess if I were on the sidelines watching me coach, I'd see a coach that treats all her players as her own and teaches her players to be the best players that they can be. Will that win games? Not so sure. Will it teach them to believe in themselves and love the game? Hopefully. But the Magic 8 Ball says, "it is decidedly so."

Note to Coach big green: You're going down.

A friend or not a friend, that is the question

This week, I wrote a very awkward email. It was one of those situations that I tried to explain my kids to someone who may not have been aware about the complexities of their Autism or even knew that they have Autism.

#2's birthday is this week. He is not the kind of kid that does well with big parties. He usually gets overstimulated and melts. He is the small intimate gathering kinda guy, but he does best one on one. He is happy if he has someone to talk to, about the things he wants to talk about.

So when I asked him the question, "do you want a big present or a party?" he replied, "I want a small party and a small present." Ok. We can handle that. I asked him to make a list of his friends that he wanted to invite. He came back to me with a list of five kids.  One was our good friend's kid, two were little Mexican kids who had limited English and one was a kid he used to be friendly with, but I remembered there was an altercation that #2 caused a couple years ago, and I don't remember how it resolved. The last kid, was the crazy one from his class party three years ago that tried to climb on our roof while his father ignored him. He was probably the oldest kid in the grade and all the kids looked up to him, including #2. The problem was, I wasn't sure if the last two kids even liked #2. I said to him, "I didn't know that you were friends with them" and he replied "oh sometimes we are. I did manage to get their attention on the playground a few times." Great. Just great. Suspicions confirmed.

We then had a conversation about what constitutes a friend and the differences between "getting someones attention" and being friends. I'm really not sure what sunk in, but of course he responded, "Of course I know that Momma." Yes, Mr. Aspy, of course! You know everything!

I sent a note into school for his aide and asked who his friends were. Later that day, I got an email from his teacher listing five kids that weren't even on his original list of five. Great. No cohesion what so ever.

I decided to find out about the two kids in question myself , so I got out the student directory and wrote awkward emails to the moms:

Hi,  I'm writing because #2's birthday is approaching and we are planning a little Birthday bus;  I take him a a few of his friends to see Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs 2 and then for ice cream. He told me he wanted your son to be a part of his 5 friends. As you may know, #2 has Asperger's and interpersonal relationships are hard for him. He has a difficult time understanding the foundations of friendship and often mistakes any type of attention, negative or positive as a gesture of friendship. This is a little awkward, but, I'm not even sure if your son likes #2 the way that he says he does and I'm afraid that he will get hurt if this isn't handled properly. We are planning to go on 9/27 for the afternoon showing, the time hasn't been announced yet. If your son does not want to go, I'd prefer that we tell him that you have a conflict because we don't want to trigger a meltdown that may last for days. I appreciate your honesty and understanding the delicacy of the situation, Shari

After writing that email, I had my moment. Parents of special needs kids know what that moment is; it's when we have to step back from our daily "getting through the day" routine and acknowledge some painful truths that exist about our children that we can't fix. The truth is, that unless I had asked him about who his friends were for the party, I wouldn't have realized there was a discrepancy between the friends he thinks he has, and the friends he really has. When he is home, he is a volcano spewing facts and plays with his siblings the antagonistic way that siblings do. His interpersonal  relations with his classmates isn't even on the radar. 

I did get an email back from one of the moms. She thanked me for the email and let me know that her son does indeed consider #2 one of his friends and he'd be delighted to join him for his party. And then she offered her help if it was needed. Whew.  Thanks you for giving me that piece of mind. My kid isn't entirely delusional.  Kudos to you mom of kid in question. Well played.

I haven't heard back yet from the mom of the crazy kid. I can only imagine her staring at the computer screen not knowing how to tell me her kid doesn't like mine without sounding like an insensitive a-hole.

I'd like to tell her, it's ok. It's perfectly fine if your kid and my kid aren't buddies. We don't usually like every person that we come in contact with in our lives. The lesson is, that we teach our kids to be cordial to people and treat every person as a potential friend. If we have common interests, then we can become friends and if we don't, that's ok too.  I also know that he is a hard one to be friends with. I get it.

I am just happy that he has some kids that he calls "friend" and they call him that too. That's a great start.

Party Hearty

 For as long as I can remember, when #1's birthday came around,  he didn't want a party. He didn't care about being with people, so he always chose some piece of electronics. We knew that he would benefit from the electronics instead of wasting the money on a party where inevitably he would wind up in the corner not engaging anyone.

Last year was a remarkable breakthrough for him. Two months before his birthday, we asked him the same question we did every year, "do you want a party or do you want electronics?" The answer was always some game, game system, or computer related item, so I waited for the expected answer.  And that is when he surprised me and said "a party." What? Did I hear that right?   Kids with Autism often answer with the last choice they are offered. So over the next few weeks, I asked him the same question phrased differently: "Do you want a party or an XBox?"  and then reversed the order. For four weeks straight, the answer was always "party", so he got a party. I attached a little note to the invitation explaining that he had autism and we invited the parents to come. 14 of his classmates showed up and some even chose his party over other commitments. It was an amazing party and he played with his friends and loved it. Watching him with his classmates, he blended. He didn't flap, he didn't stand out. He was just a kid having fun and it was awesome.

And this year, I asked him the  same question. "do you want a party or......." and before I could even finish the sentence, he answered, "party."Well, ok then. And then he asked, "Mom, can I have Just Dance 2014, too?" In my mind, I was saying, "YES, YOU CAN HAVE WHATEVER YOU WANT!! YOU USED YOUR WORDS!!!!" But I have been trying to get out of that mode, so I told him he could ask for gift cards and buy it with them. And with him, that is he ONLY present he wants. That is all that is required: a party and that game.

 What is great about #1, is that his disposition makes not caring about him impossible. His classmates are all tuned into him and on some level love that he is happy just being him. He sings and dances when he feels like it and is immune to others around him. He is happy in his head and it is contagious.

This year, we are returning to Ms. Becky's bounce house for another great party. It will be exciting and awesome, but knowing that this is his last year in elementary school makes me a little sad because this is the end of the class party era and he has only just started seeing the value in them. Once he hits middle school, it will be a different world.

But, I'm not going to worry about that now.
I have a party to plan and it is going to be awesome.

Sibling Smack-downs

The first time I saw the girls fight, it wasn't what I expected. I saw the conflict begin the same way it had since they were just months old; one would have a toy and the other would take it, and then the twin that was wronged would cry. And then I'd help resolve the situation modeling language, "she is sad because you took her toy. Let take turns." But on that day, before I could get to the language modeling stage, the wronged twin screamed a battle cry and then grabbed a fistful of golden locks belonging to the perpetrator. I suddenly found myself witnessing my very first two-year-old cat fight, torn between laughter and horror.

When sibling fight, it is hard not to be sucked up in the drama. After all, someone could get hurt, and as the kids get older, they will get hurt. And it is our job to teach them conflict management.  But to understand why people fight,  we have to understand the triggers. Usually it stems from a communication issue; they feel like they are not being heard, understood, or are so overwhelmed by their emotions that they feel like hitting is their only option. We all have seen adults fly off the handle from various communication failures. For a kid with intonation or expressive language issues paired with anxiety and attention seeking behaviors, the hitting seems like a reasonable "plan-B" because that is all they have. They are still learning to identify and express feelings which may take years to fully get a handle on.

 And then there is antagonistic sibling behavior.

Our siblings are the first peers we encounter.  Through the constant exposure, we subtly learn the intricacies of another person. We learn their likes and dislikes, we learn their moods and subconsciously we learn all their tender points and weaknesses. And then we learn what happens when we push their buttons and for many of us, it feels powerful to have that much impact on another person. It's like a mini soap opera unfolding in front of us and we are the Diva.

I have seen all of my kids try on their Diva hats. I have watched the twins smile triumphantly as they run off with a toy they just snatched from the other.  I have watched #3 make rules that the twins "have to follow" which usually turns into a screaming brawl.  I have watched #2 tell his siblings the things they can and can't do because, "I am the supreme ruler of this house and make all the rules. You must obey or be banished to Pluto which isn't even considered a planet anymore since it was declassified." That declaration is usually answered with screaming and a WWE take-down if #1 is involved. I've also seen #1 give the Diva a try. He is subtle, but when he sees that he has succeeded in agitating #2, he seems pleased with himself. 

I've also seen what happens when they don't have the words to express their frustrations. I've seen all types of objects go flying in rage. I've seen toddler versions of Jerry Springer in full motion with no body guards to help. And the only thing you can do is separate them, model the language they should have been using if their brains were able to act less impulsively: "I am angry. Give me back my toy. I  do no appreciate you taking my stuff. I feel like punching you in the face" And then go have some vodka.

Many times the Diva behavior triggers the Jerry Springer behavior.  If we see it brewing, we are able to tell the kids to "stop antagonizing each other", which does work if the punishment outweighs the feedback they're getting from the behavior.  Other times, we try redirection with a game, puzzle, YouTube video, and  anything that takes the attention away from each other. Sometimes it works and other times it doesn't.  For #2, he gets in such a rage that we have to let it play out while he is in a safe space far away from #1 who gets so agitated by the screaming that he tries to wrestle him to shut him up.

When I see the kids fight, my mind goes back to the fights I used to have with my younger brother when I was a kid.  I remember the fighting but not what they were about.  Not a one.  I do remember, there was no one around to model the words or to redirect us and somehow we manged to get through the phase unscathed; no scars, broken limbs or hard feeling.  So hopefully, the kids will learn the interpersonal communication skills they need to interact with each other and the general population. And with help from us, they'll learn how to identify their feelings and express themselves effectively. 

Or maybe, they'll be the next soap opera Diva.

Only time will tell.

When Traditions Change

For years, since #1 was a baby, we celebrated many holidays with our very close friends and god parents to four out of five children. We were very close, and to my kids, they were our family. Her dad was called Grandpa Mike and her mom was called Grandma Hilda. My kids called her and her husband "Aunt" and "Uncle" and all holidays included them. Birthdays,  Chanukah,  Passover and Rosh Hashanah  we went over to their house to celebrate. They were our family. My kids knew them better than most of our blood relations and they thought Auntie Norlyn and I were sisters with the same birthday, and somehow I had two moms.

And then we moved.

We moved to Baltimore in August 2010 and we were heartbroken about losing our local family. We decided that we didn't want the distance to take away from what we had established, so we made the effort the first year to keep our traditions in tact. 

That was a little harder than we thought. 

When I told the kids we were going back to NJ to visit, the kids seemed excited except for #1 who was distraught; "You mean we're moving back to New Jersey to live with the people in our old house?" He couldn't grasp the idea that we could go back and visit which didn't mean we were moving again. We decided that the only way we could help him transition to Maryland properly was to show him that our new house was our permanent home. We told him, "in the morning you'll wake up in your bed and in the night, you'll go to sleep in your bed. No matter where we go during the day, you'll always go to sleep in your bed."We hoped that was enough and prepared for the trip.

Three weeks after the move, we loaded everyone in the car and drove the three hours and forty minutes back to Auntie Norlyn's house for Rosh Hashanah. The drive was a little crazy, with two cases of car sickness and some crankiness, but we had a great time seeing our family.  When the meal was done, we piled back in the car for the ride home because they had school the next day. But when it got dark, #1 started  freaking out. "Am I going to sleep in my bed? We are lost forever. We will never go back to Maryland. Are we going to live at our old house with the new people?" We continued to reassure him as we drove home and when we got back, he still was upset.

Thanksgiving, we decided to go back again. We had celebrated every Thanksgiving of #2's life with them and wanted to continue that tradition. So we piled back in the car for the same day trip: three and half hours up, three and a half hours back. #1 was still upset, and when we visited our old neighbors who lived across the street from us in NJ, he stared out the window at our old house the entire time.

Chanukah, we didn't go. Passover, we went. 

And then the following year, we didn't go at all. #2 was having extreme anxiety issues and #1 was still freaking out about road trips; "are we leaving forever?"  And the twins did not travel well. They would scream within 15 minutes of being in the car. It was a sad decision but after listening to them scream for three hours in their car seats it was easier to make. Need to preserve sanity.

Slowly and awkwardly we had to do things on our own. We put together our Rosh Hashanah celebration and got the kids involved. We made the ceremony short and sweet and made it through. Hmm, not so bad. Thanksgiving was harder for us since Auntie Norlyn's house was always a hotbed of happiness and activity. It wasn't unusual for 20 people to be there. But, we did it and made up some new traditions. 

And, just when I thought we could try again, Grandpa Mike died. He was the Patriarch of the family. He was head of the table, leader of all religious gatherings. He held our baby boys at the Bris and he held the girls at their baby namings. He was our guy, the one #2 would want to be next to and talk with. He was gone, and #2 was really affected by his loss. "Mom, is Grandpa Mike going to come back with the dinosaurs after the next ice age?" How could you say "no" to that?

And just like that, a decade of tradition ended.

Since then, we've had to come up with our own list of traditions. We did continue a bunch of Auntie Norlyn's traditions like watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade, but we DVR it and watch it later in the day and speed through the commercials. During Chanukah, we dedicate one night just for her presents. Some times, we Skype while they open the presents and other times we take video or pictures and send them. We still keep them ingrained in our traditions. During Passover, we talk about how much we miss Grandpa Mike leading the ceremony,  Grandma's Hilda's home made noodles, Aunt Jill's Macaroons, Uncle Edo's big hugs and Auntie Norlyn's great smiles and the loads of Gluten free, dairy-free, egg free things she would find for #2. She always made him feel like royalty. Like it was super-awesome to have those allergies.

We're finding our way slowly but surely and we're grateful for the foundation we were given. And this week for Rosh Hashanah, we went to celebrate with 5000 other Baltimore Jews at Rosh Hashanah Under the Stars, which is a big picnic with a service in a park. And the second night, the kids wanted to eat outside, "just like we did at Auntie Norlyn's house when I was little", Julian added.

We may not be together, but they are still with us. Traditions are a reflection of love and spirit and we have plenty of that. Happy New year to all.

Norlyn & Me

#2 & Grandpa Mike