autism

6 September 2011

Okay, that’s not what I meant

When I said that things were going to change I didn’t mean the next day.  I have had countless humbling experiences in my life but breaking my foot is in the top, oh, 100 and moving up the charts fast.  A loose sandal strap, an overabundance of enthusiasm at seeing an old friend, and a menacing threshold, and in an instant I am imprisoned in my house full of stairs (how have I not noticed this?) and faced with the prospect of being burden to friends and family for untold weeks.  There’s nothing like going up and down stairs on your butt to give you a little perspective, unless it’s sitting on a plastic stool in the shower with your trash bad-clad leg sticking outside of the curtain and then realizing the soap is above and  behind you.  Naturally, the stereo is up too loud to hope that a call for assistance would be answered but I’m too proud to let anyone see me in such a ridiculous posture anyway.  Humbling, indeed.

But I am doggedly determined to see the silver lining (but let the record show there is no such thing as a silver lining of any kind at 6am if there are crutches involved) and thus far there are a few notable glimmers.  First, our autistic son is the most empathetic and least likely to engage in emotional blackmail while doing things for me – and every time he passes by, he solicitously taps my big toe and smiles at me.  The others, while helpful to a point, roll their eyes and and ask for take-out pizza at every opportunity.  I have already collapsed in tears once, declaring that I have raised a passel of self-centered prima donnas, but then again that is the definition of adolescence, pretty much.  And just when I think they are doomed to a life lived with the House of Pizza on speed dial, they ask me to guide them through the process of cooking eggs for an after school snack, after which the kitchen still looks clean.  So, even though I hate the sound of it, I have a feeling we are all in for a lot of teachable moments.

And, one more beam cuts through the fog – now I have no excuse for not writing.

23 August 2011

Cats vs. Dogs

A version of this post appeared in LettersHead in October 2010

Our boys play a game called cats versus dogs, and as you can see, one side of the room is mostly cats and the other is mostly dogs.  The game involves a fight modeled on the battle scene in The first Chronicle of Narnia movie, The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe.  Devised by my older son with ASD, it involves charging horses and airborne animals colliding all over the place, accompanied by epic music and battle cries.  If you look very closely, the animals and toys that are neither cats nor dogs are divided up (roughly) by good guys and bad guys – Captain Hook with the dogs, Peter Pan with the cats, etc.  After the battles, we notice that cats and their friends always win, and the ensuing conversation goes something like this:

“When you play cats versus dogs, who wins?”

“The cats.”

“Always?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“They’re the heroes; dogs are villains.”

“How come?”

“Because dogs chase cats.  Dogs are villains because they are too jumpy.”

“So the cats are good because they get chased by the dogs?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a good kid, you always root for the underdog.”

“No – the undercat.”

20 March 2011

And When the Moon is on the Rise…

Tonight is supposed to be the largest moonrise in twenty years.  I positioned my tripod outside in hoped of getting a truly spectacular photo, but, as usual, the cosmic event brought me something entirely different.  My boy followed me out onto the porch and said, “It’s time to call the owls.”  There he stood, hand on his heart, and called to them with perfect pitch, sounding every bit like the owls we heard last spring as the boys camped out in a tent in the front yard.  The photos did not come out the way that I had hoped but the evening could not have been better.

13 February 2011

Valentine

Our outsider artist is in the living room, making valentines for his teachers and classmates and singing along to Looney Tunes.  His drawings have the childlike quality that grown artists strive for; simple lines and vibrant colors that send a direct, uncomplicated message of genuine affection.  These are the moments we never want to lose, where the gifts so thoroughly eclipse the challenges that we are not even sure they were ever there at all.

2 February 2011

Fear of Music

There is this ache, this sense that there is a song inside but that the melody cannot reach the vocal chords or the fingers and that all that is allowed to emerge is a monotone or a scream.  Sometimes it’s the child, sometimes it’s the parent but the pain and the impotence are the same.

28 January 2011

Try Everything

 

As parents we are more likely to think we are doing everything wrong than anything right.  That goes double for a family facing autism.  For every one intervention you try can find a book by someone who is doing ten times as much with fabulous results (skip Jenny McCarthy’s book; read Karyn Seroussi’s).  Any success is a miracle; any failure is our fault.  The good days evaporate like rain in summer, the bad ones linger on like an endless, frozen winter.  There are a million metaphors and just as many therapies.

But really, the idea behind all parenting challenges is to look at the child in front of you and identify two or three things that make you both miserable and try to work on them, one at a time.  Only do what someone else does if it makes sense for your family.  If you are trying a diet, remove one food at a time, and consult a doctor before you start (and if they tell you not to try it, ask why).  If you don’t see results in 2-4 weeks, stop.

And have the courage of your convictions.  Kids can smell doubt a mile away, and if they think there is one smidgen of a chance that you will cave on anything, they will wait you out.  Next time I will tell you about one of my Tiger Mother moments.  It was totally worth it.