What a Difference a Day Makes
August 25, 2004 was my 34th birthday. We didn't really celebrate; the birthdays since 2000 had been really stinky (between brain surgery for SuperHubby every year, and a big blow up with a family member the previous year). Our family was relatively normal (other than that brain surgery thing for SH, and the "minor" medical stuff Spanky and I had...
August 26, 2004, we suddenly had a child with autism. Life would never be quite the same.
We'd known for some time that FrogBoy was "quirky." We knew he had meltdowns that we couldn't explain, that he was a slow speaker and had a hard time communicating (hence he'd been in speech therapy since he was 18 months old). We knew he preferred to let Spanky speak for him rather than tell us what he really wanted and/or needed. We knew he could sit and stare at the TV for hours but couldn't stand to look at us when he DID choose to talk with us. And we knew he preferred to play alone rather than with other kids. Big deal.
We started doing research. We quickly realized that it appeared FrogBoy might have Asperger's Syndrome. We were pretty pleased with ourselves for finding this out before anyone in the medical profession did, because it was something neither of us had ever heard of before. Asperger's is on the autism spectrum, so we were a little upset, but hey, at least our little man didn't have autism. God forbid.
We decided that if FrogBoy was going to have Asperger's, at least we could use it to our benefit. Maybe he could get some extra help at school. After digging around and talking to some people, we found out that the public school system isn't required to offer assistance unless a child is diagnosed with certain problems. And Asperger's wasn't on the list. That was okay; we were pretty sure we could find SOMEONE who we could manipulate into giving us a diagnosis of autism.
On August 26, 2004, we went to the CARE Center in Charleston. This is a fantastic organization that does testing to see if kids are autistic and where they might land on the spectrum. Our appointment was for August 26. THE WHOLE DAY. It was very intense. We were allowed a lunch break, but other than that, they tested our 6-year-old from 8 a.m. to 4 p.m. And these were some serious tests.
When we arrived at the CARE Center after a long day of testing, we were prepared to hear the word "Asperger's." We were shocked when they sat us down and delicately said "Autism." Not "possibly autism," not "Asperger's but we're going to call it autism so you can get extra help at school." Just AUTISM.
We were rock solid all the way home. I immediately called work and said we weren't coming in the next day. We needed time to process it all. A week later, SH asked for prayer. I totally lost it and ran crying from the room. This couldn't be happening.
It was. It did. It is.
So our journey began on August 26, 2004, and we learn more and more each day. Things I never thought I'd have to think about. Will he ever be able to live on his own? If something happens to both of us, who will take care of him and make sure he gets his bills paid and buys groceries? Will he go to college? Will he get married? Have kids? Things that seemed obvious on June 5, 1998, were suddenly all a big question mark.
There's a whole new language to learn, a whole new list of to-do's to do, a whole new bunch of worries to worry. And yet, through it all, I have to remember what my mother-in-law said to me right after Froggie was diagnosed: God chose me to be his mom. What an awesome privilege that is.
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
Tuesday, April 29, 2008
The Secret Language of Frogs
I know all kids have cute little words and phrases that are all their own, and mispronunciations in early childhood can make an entire family start saying things a whole new way. Who hasn't asked their kid "Do you want basketti for dinner?"
Of course, we have a plethora of entries in the FrogBoy dictionary. Here then for your enjoyment:
* Spectacles. These are glasses. He just likes calling them "spectacles."
* For example. This obviously means "for example." He just likes to say it before virtually every sentence. He has a dandy little things he does with his hands at the same time that seriously will make you laugh out loud.
* The white house. No, this is not where the president lives. This is where my aunt and uncle live. We have no idea why.
* Coastal Therapy Services Incorporated. This is where he goes for speech once a week. Every time he says the name of the place, we get the whole thing.
* Short pants. Not high-waters, shorts.
* Long pants. Jeans. All other pants are not encumbered with a name.
* My new class. The Won-by-One class at church. He's been going since 1st grade, but it is still his NEW class.
* Food stander. This is a TV tray. It holds food, and it's a stand, so I can only assume that's how he came up with that one.
* Princess Mommy. No explanation necessary. Except that I only get this one when he's trying to get his way about something.
Those are some of the cutest things that come out of his mouth. Of course, he also cusses occasionally (although not intentionally), so things even out pretty well.
I know all kids have cute little words and phrases that are all their own, and mispronunciations in early childhood can make an entire family start saying things a whole new way. Who hasn't asked their kid "Do you want basketti for dinner?"
Of course, we have a plethora of entries in the FrogBoy dictionary. Here then for your enjoyment:
* Spectacles. These are glasses. He just likes calling them "spectacles."
* For example. This obviously means "for example." He just likes to say it before virtually every sentence. He has a dandy little things he does with his hands at the same time that seriously will make you laugh out loud.
* The white house. No, this is not where the president lives. This is where my aunt and uncle live. We have no idea why.
* Coastal Therapy Services Incorporated. This is where he goes for speech once a week. Every time he says the name of the place, we get the whole thing.
* Short pants. Not high-waters, shorts.
* Long pants. Jeans. All other pants are not encumbered with a name.
* My new class. The Won-by-One class at church. He's been going since 1st grade, but it is still his NEW class.
* Food stander. This is a TV tray. It holds food, and it's a stand, so I can only assume that's how he came up with that one.
* Princess Mommy. No explanation necessary. Except that I only get this one when he's trying to get his way about something.
Those are some of the cutest things that come out of his mouth. Of course, he also cusses occasionally (although not intentionally), so things even out pretty well.
Monday, April 28, 2008
Eye Contact is Overrated
One of the "small" issues we have with FrogBoy is that he has a hard time making eye contact. By "hard time," I mean he doesn't do it. At least not willingly. It is a battle to get him to look you when the eye when you're talking to him, and even more of a challenge to get him to look at you when he's talking to you. Like everything else, it's an autism thing.
We spend a lot of time reinforcing the "look at me" rule in our house, mainly because SuperHubby can't "hear" people if they aren't making a conscious effort to look at him while they talk. Our difficulty lies within SH's absolute need for eye contact, and FrogBoy's absolute aversion to it. He makes baby steps daily.
Another issue he has is with his speech. Obviously, he's been in speech therapy since he was 18 months old, and he has a good bit of a lisp to deal with. He also has trouble with positional words (over, under, behind, between...doesn't matter, he has no clue what any of them mean...you can say "Look under the chair" and he'll look all around the room and still not find what you're pointing out).
On top of the lisp and the positional words, speech helps him with how to respond to certain situations verbally, and how to initiate conversation. Those are all good things. The one thing it can't help him with is his jaw problem.
Froggie has a very small jaw, the tiniest teeth you've ever seen, and a pretty severe underbite. His dentist has been watching him for a couple of years now, and we know we've got two choices:
1. Braces.
2. Break his jaw and wire it shut in the right position.
Can you guess which one we're praying for?
Actually, if you guessed braces, you'd be wrong. Originally I was thinking braces would be best, because I just couldn't imagine having to explain to him that his jaw was going to be broken and wired shut; then I couldn't imagine having to go through that with him. However, my aunt pointed out that braces might actually be worse for him, considering all his sensory issues (they would drive him crazy) and his lack of good brushing skills (because of his sensory issues). I'm starting to wonder if breaking his jaw wouldn't be easier for HIM.
Of course, I'm trusting God to work it out. We are, however, getting close to when they're going to need to do something. Some kind of age thing. No matter what happens with his jaw, it won't affect his lack of eye contact or his visits to the speech therapist - but I'm realizing that it might make his face look different.
And that makes me very sad.
One of the "small" issues we have with FrogBoy is that he has a hard time making eye contact. By "hard time," I mean he doesn't do it. At least not willingly. It is a battle to get him to look you when the eye when you're talking to him, and even more of a challenge to get him to look at you when he's talking to you. Like everything else, it's an autism thing.
We spend a lot of time reinforcing the "look at me" rule in our house, mainly because SuperHubby can't "hear" people if they aren't making a conscious effort to look at him while they talk. Our difficulty lies within SH's absolute need for eye contact, and FrogBoy's absolute aversion to it. He makes baby steps daily.
Another issue he has is with his speech. Obviously, he's been in speech therapy since he was 18 months old, and he has a good bit of a lisp to deal with. He also has trouble with positional words (over, under, behind, between...doesn't matter, he has no clue what any of them mean...you can say "Look under the chair" and he'll look all around the room and still not find what you're pointing out).
On top of the lisp and the positional words, speech helps him with how to respond to certain situations verbally, and how to initiate conversation. Those are all good things. The one thing it can't help him with is his jaw problem.
Froggie has a very small jaw, the tiniest teeth you've ever seen, and a pretty severe underbite. His dentist has been watching him for a couple of years now, and we know we've got two choices:
1. Braces.
2. Break his jaw and wire it shut in the right position.
Can you guess which one we're praying for?
Actually, if you guessed braces, you'd be wrong. Originally I was thinking braces would be best, because I just couldn't imagine having to explain to him that his jaw was going to be broken and wired shut; then I couldn't imagine having to go through that with him. However, my aunt pointed out that braces might actually be worse for him, considering all his sensory issues (they would drive him crazy) and his lack of good brushing skills (because of his sensory issues). I'm starting to wonder if breaking his jaw wouldn't be easier for HIM.
Of course, I'm trusting God to work it out. We are, however, getting close to when they're going to need to do something. Some kind of age thing. No matter what happens with his jaw, it won't affect his lack of eye contact or his visits to the speech therapist - but I'm realizing that it might make his face look different.
And that makes me very sad.
Sunday, April 27, 2008
Be Prepared
In our house, it's a good idea to anticipate how things are going to turn out with FrogBoy and have a reaction prepared in advance. It cuts down on a lot of parental stress.
We don't give FrogBoy a lot of notice when something new is going to happen. That sounds contradictory, but if we tell him he's going to the dentist on Friday, and it happens to be Monday, then every day, many, many times a day, we'll hear, "Am I going to the dentist today? Is it Friday yet?? I love the dentist." So we just don't tell him. It saves the constant questions, and then if something changes and the appointment gets moved, he's not upset.
Another thing we have to prepare for at all times is ways to alleviate boredom. This is fun, because Froggie can get bored during the 3-minute drive from our house to school. That would be why my van is full of books to read, puzzle books to puzzle in, and even a handheld game or two. It's why I carry colored pencils in my purse. We need to keep the kid occupied.
We also try, like most parents, to anticipate arguments between him and Spanky and put the kibosh on those before they start. That can be difficult, considering FrogBoy will say things like, "You're in love with Daddy's car." How do you respond to that?
However, I know that every week we must stop for apples or carrots for the horse at therapy (because we did it once), and every week when we do he's going to ask me if he can get a treat too (which he does). Once you realize what direction things are going, it's much easier to go with the flow.
In our house, it's a good idea to anticipate how things are going to turn out with FrogBoy and have a reaction prepared in advance. It cuts down on a lot of parental stress.
We don't give FrogBoy a lot of notice when something new is going to happen. That sounds contradictory, but if we tell him he's going to the dentist on Friday, and it happens to be Monday, then every day, many, many times a day, we'll hear, "Am I going to the dentist today? Is it Friday yet?? I love the dentist." So we just don't tell him. It saves the constant questions, and then if something changes and the appointment gets moved, he's not upset.
Another thing we have to prepare for at all times is ways to alleviate boredom. This is fun, because Froggie can get bored during the 3-minute drive from our house to school. That would be why my van is full of books to read, puzzle books to puzzle in, and even a handheld game or two. It's why I carry colored pencils in my purse. We need to keep the kid occupied.
We also try, like most parents, to anticipate arguments between him and Spanky and put the kibosh on those before they start. That can be difficult, considering FrogBoy will say things like, "You're in love with Daddy's car." How do you respond to that?
However, I know that every week we must stop for apples or carrots for the horse at therapy (because we did it once), and every week when we do he's going to ask me if he can get a treat too (which he does). Once you realize what direction things are going, it's much easier to go with the flow.
Saturday, April 26, 2008
That's Puzzling
FrogBoy doesn't have a lot of toys that he enjoys playing with, but he really loves building things and playing with puzzles. When he creates something with his Legos, he is "Legoing." When he puts together a puzzle, he's "puzzling." If you think about it for a few minutes, the lingo actually works.
Right before Froggie was diagnosed with autism, we noticed that he was really good at putting together puzzles. I mean REALLY good. He was 5 years old at the time, and he would sit, in true Frog fashion, in the hallway of our house, with a 500 (or more) piece puzzle, and put it together. UPSIDE DOWN. That's right, with the blank side facing up. And he'd get it right.
Most people start by putting the border together and then filling it in. Not the case with my Frog Man. He would just take the first piece he picked up, and that's where he started. And he would rarely make a mistake. He would dump all the pieces in a pile; he would study and study and when he was sure he knew which piece was next, he would carefully choose it and attach it to the existing part of the puzzle. It was fascinating. And a little scary.
I tried to stump him. I bought a round puzzle, with over 750 pieces that weren't "normal" jigsaw puzzle piece shapes, and the entire puzzle was a tye-die motif. He knocked it out of the park in one afternoon.
He also loves word puzzles. It doesn't matter what kind of word puzzle you give him, unless it's a crossword, he can kick fanny. And he's amazing with those annoying mazes. He looks at the maze, puts his pen (he does them in pen!) down on the "start" area, and makes one line straight to the end - without doubling back!
Ask him to clean his room - he looks at you like you have 2 heads. Give him a puzzle - he's golden.
FrogBoy doesn't have a lot of toys that he enjoys playing with, but he really loves building things and playing with puzzles. When he creates something with his Legos, he is "Legoing." When he puts together a puzzle, he's "puzzling." If you think about it for a few minutes, the lingo actually works.
Right before Froggie was diagnosed with autism, we noticed that he was really good at putting together puzzles. I mean REALLY good. He was 5 years old at the time, and he would sit, in true Frog fashion, in the hallway of our house, with a 500 (or more) piece puzzle, and put it together. UPSIDE DOWN. That's right, with the blank side facing up. And he'd get it right.
Most people start by putting the border together and then filling it in. Not the case with my Frog Man. He would just take the first piece he picked up, and that's where he started. And he would rarely make a mistake. He would dump all the pieces in a pile; he would study and study and when he was sure he knew which piece was next, he would carefully choose it and attach it to the existing part of the puzzle. It was fascinating. And a little scary.
I tried to stump him. I bought a round puzzle, with over 750 pieces that weren't "normal" jigsaw puzzle piece shapes, and the entire puzzle was a tye-die motif. He knocked it out of the park in one afternoon.
He also loves word puzzles. It doesn't matter what kind of word puzzle you give him, unless it's a crossword, he can kick fanny. And he's amazing with those annoying mazes. He looks at the maze, puts his pen (he does them in pen!) down on the "start" area, and makes one line straight to the end - without doubling back!
Ask him to clean his room - he looks at you like you have 2 heads. Give him a puzzle - he's golden.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
School - Worse the Second Time Around
Ask anyone in my family and they'll tell you - I never enjoyed school. As I got older, my dislike for school and all it encompassed grew with each passing year. I have discovered since having children of my own that I still hate school, just for different reasons now.
FrogBoy is in a fully-included classroom. This means that while the school recognizes that he has "special needs," they also agree with us that he doesn't need to be singled out from his "normally" developing peers and put in a classroom with a bunch of kids that can't speak. While a typical classroom environment is harder for him on many levels, he's up to the challenge, and frankly, does quite well.
However...
FrogBoy has what is called an IEP by those in the know. That stands for Individualized Education Plan. It's really a nifty little thing; it is a written plan that outlines special accommodations to be made in the classroom to help him achieve what might (or might not, if you were me) come more naturally to other kids. For example, one thing listed in his IEP is that he can have a copy of either the teacher's notes or another student's notes, because he is a VERY slow note-taker, and he stresses over getting every little word PERFECT. This can be distracting for the whole class, so he has the option of getting copies of the notes. Of course, once he found this out, he started asking for copies all the time; we had to squelch that because he became lazy. (Again, he's a typical kid in most ways)
The school has a countdown clock that was purchased for him in first grade. It has moved up with him to each new teacher. When an assignment is given, the amount of time allowed for the assignment can be entered into the clock, and he can gauge where he's at without asking the teacher every 3 minutes (which would drive her crazy), and without hearing the ticking of a timer (which would drive him crazy). We've been told by the teachers that this clock actually benefits all the kids in his class because it helps to keep them all on task.
The IEP meeting is a fun meeting. NOT. It consists of me, SuperHubby, the school principal, Froggie's teachers (however many he has that year), his speech therapist, his occupational therapist, his school case worker, the autistic itinerant, the school psychologist, and our parent advocate. In a small room. For at least an hour. One by one they tell us how he's doing, what he should be doing, and how we can help him achieve his goals for the year. Our advocate is great - he knows all the laws and has a son who is autistic, so he has fantastic ideas on how to combat some of the school issues we might come up against. I will say this meeting gets my panties in the proverbial wad every year. Maybe after I get a few more under my belt they won't, but considering we've done it 5 years running and I still stress about it, I kind of doubt that. I want to make sure I don't leave anything out. You can call an emergency IEP update meeting during the year, but that takes an act of Congress. Otherwise, you get one shot a year. You need to make it count.
Another great (ha!) thing about school this year is that the autistic itinerant has decided we need to track Froggie's behavior. Unfortunately, it's really hard to motivate him. He really only wants Legos. (Seriously, one day I picked him up and he had banged his elbow at recess...and he greeted me at the door with "Mommy, the ONLY thing that will make it better is if you get me a Lego.")
So the itinerant decided to come up with a system for tracking FrogBoy's behavior that was more complex than learning to speak Latin. There was a points system involved, and he got different points based on his behavior (3 for great, 2 for so-so and 1 for not-so-great). And this was in each class (he has 7). Then we would average the day and see what his "score" was. Then, depending on his score, he either had a good day or a bad day. THEN we knew how to reward/reprimand him.
WHAT?!?!?!
I called the itinerant and told him no way. I couldn't figure out his stupid system, so I was pretty such it would be hard for me to explain it to FrogBoy. Plus, I really felt like "good" was a subjective term, and if he didn't know what consisted of "good" behavior, what did it matter? The itinerant told me I was being difficult (nicer terms, but that's what he meant. And I was.)
We finally agreed on a system where Froggie gets a smiley face, a straight face or a sad face. He gets that - if you get a smiley, your behavior was good. If you get a frowney, your behavior was bad. Pretty simple. (That was my idea) Then the faces are averaged and he gets one face for the day. If he has a happy day, he gets to watch 30 minutes of TV that night. And it works.
Sometimes I feel like the teachers are learning on my child. Maybe that's how it has to be. Maybe there just aren't that many spectacular kids like mine. And maybe there just aren't that many autistic kids that are able to be mainstreamed...which would mean most teachers don't get to run across the opportunity to teach them very often. I will say that the teachers at Froggie's school have all been great to him. And even the ones who haven't taught him know him by name and know ABOUT him.
And that's comforting.
But I still hate school.
Ask anyone in my family and they'll tell you - I never enjoyed school. As I got older, my dislike for school and all it encompassed grew with each passing year. I have discovered since having children of my own that I still hate school, just for different reasons now.
FrogBoy is in a fully-included classroom. This means that while the school recognizes that he has "special needs," they also agree with us that he doesn't need to be singled out from his "normally" developing peers and put in a classroom with a bunch of kids that can't speak. While a typical classroom environment is harder for him on many levels, he's up to the challenge, and frankly, does quite well.
However...
FrogBoy has what is called an IEP by those in the know. That stands for Individualized Education Plan. It's really a nifty little thing; it is a written plan that outlines special accommodations to be made in the classroom to help him achieve what might (or might not, if you were me) come more naturally to other kids. For example, one thing listed in his IEP is that he can have a copy of either the teacher's notes or another student's notes, because he is a VERY slow note-taker, and he stresses over getting every little word PERFECT. This can be distracting for the whole class, so he has the option of getting copies of the notes. Of course, once he found this out, he started asking for copies all the time; we had to squelch that because he became lazy. (Again, he's a typical kid in most ways)
The school has a countdown clock that was purchased for him in first grade. It has moved up with him to each new teacher. When an assignment is given, the amount of time allowed for the assignment can be entered into the clock, and he can gauge where he's at without asking the teacher every 3 minutes (which would drive her crazy), and without hearing the ticking of a timer (which would drive him crazy). We've been told by the teachers that this clock actually benefits all the kids in his class because it helps to keep them all on task.
The IEP meeting is a fun meeting. NOT. It consists of me, SuperHubby, the school principal, Froggie's teachers (however many he has that year), his speech therapist, his occupational therapist, his school case worker, the autistic itinerant, the school psychologist, and our parent advocate. In a small room. For at least an hour. One by one they tell us how he's doing, what he should be doing, and how we can help him achieve his goals for the year. Our advocate is great - he knows all the laws and has a son who is autistic, so he has fantastic ideas on how to combat some of the school issues we might come up against. I will say this meeting gets my panties in the proverbial wad every year. Maybe after I get a few more under my belt they won't, but considering we've done it 5 years running and I still stress about it, I kind of doubt that. I want to make sure I don't leave anything out. You can call an emergency IEP update meeting during the year, but that takes an act of Congress. Otherwise, you get one shot a year. You need to make it count.
Another great (ha!) thing about school this year is that the autistic itinerant has decided we need to track Froggie's behavior. Unfortunately, it's really hard to motivate him. He really only wants Legos. (Seriously, one day I picked him up and he had banged his elbow at recess...and he greeted me at the door with "Mommy, the ONLY thing that will make it better is if you get me a Lego.")
So the itinerant decided to come up with a system for tracking FrogBoy's behavior that was more complex than learning to speak Latin. There was a points system involved, and he got different points based on his behavior (3 for great, 2 for so-so and 1 for not-so-great). And this was in each class (he has 7). Then we would average the day and see what his "score" was. Then, depending on his score, he either had a good day or a bad day. THEN we knew how to reward/reprimand him.
WHAT?!?!?!
I called the itinerant and told him no way. I couldn't figure out his stupid system, so I was pretty such it would be hard for me to explain it to FrogBoy. Plus, I really felt like "good" was a subjective term, and if he didn't know what consisted of "good" behavior, what did it matter? The itinerant told me I was being difficult (nicer terms, but that's what he meant. And I was.)
We finally agreed on a system where Froggie gets a smiley face, a straight face or a sad face. He gets that - if you get a smiley, your behavior was good. If you get a frowney, your behavior was bad. Pretty simple. (That was my idea) Then the faces are averaged and he gets one face for the day. If he has a happy day, he gets to watch 30 minutes of TV that night. And it works.
Sometimes I feel like the teachers are learning on my child. Maybe that's how it has to be. Maybe there just aren't that many spectacular kids like mine. And maybe there just aren't that many autistic kids that are able to be mainstreamed...which would mean most teachers don't get to run across the opportunity to teach them very often. I will say that the teachers at Froggie's school have all been great to him. And even the ones who haven't taught him know him by name and know ABOUT him.
And that's comforting.
But I still hate school.
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Friends, Romans, Countrymen...Cover Your Ears
If you've read more than 3 of my posts this month, you know FrogBoy has sensory issues. He can't stand loud noises, crazy flashing lights, extremely cold temperatures (translation: anything below 70), and he doesn't like crowds. In some circles this is known as being "difficult."
Whenever FrogBoy has a problem with his sensory issues, like most autistic kids, he has no way to verablize it. He's getting better at trying, but he's still well below the 50/50 mark on that one. Oftentimes we have to quiz him to find out exactly what's wrong (if we don't guess right off, we're in for a long night). Luckily, we've had a lot of practices, and even though it may seem totally out of the ordinary to guess that he's spinning in circles because he can't stand the sight of corn, it's just something we all know and love about Mikey.
Anyway, one of the more endearing ways FrogBoy demonstrates his sensory issues is to cover his ears. This would be normal if he only did it when he is experiecing a loud noise that is bothering him. Ah, friends, but that is not the case. He covers his ears when it's raining (because he'll get wet). He covered his ears this weekend when the waitress dropped his plate on his head (because he was surprised - and it was unpleasant). He covers his ears when he's getting in trouble (not because we're yelling, because yelling really isn't appropriate with autistic kids - they don't really "hear" the different sound in your voice; no, he covers his ears because he's getting in trouble...and he knows that's not good). He covers his ears when his hands get dirty, when we wash his hair, and when the mosquitoes are bad at horse therapy. He covers his ears when he's nervous. That's his thing.
We're pretty used to it. In the beginning, we automatically would try to make him put his hands down from his ears, because frankly, it looks a little strange. Now, the minute we see his hands shooting up into The Position, we gently try to talk him down from whatever's bothering him. Sometimes we succeed. Most of the time we don't.
In the grand scheme of things, it's another thing I've learned just doesn't matter.
If you've read more than 3 of my posts this month, you know FrogBoy has sensory issues. He can't stand loud noises, crazy flashing lights, extremely cold temperatures (translation: anything below 70), and he doesn't like crowds. In some circles this is known as being "difficult."
Whenever FrogBoy has a problem with his sensory issues, like most autistic kids, he has no way to verablize it. He's getting better at trying, but he's still well below the 50/50 mark on that one. Oftentimes we have to quiz him to find out exactly what's wrong (if we don't guess right off, we're in for a long night). Luckily, we've had a lot of practices, and even though it may seem totally out of the ordinary to guess that he's spinning in circles because he can't stand the sight of corn, it's just something we all know and love about Mikey.
Anyway, one of the more endearing ways FrogBoy demonstrates his sensory issues is to cover his ears. This would be normal if he only did it when he is experiecing a loud noise that is bothering him. Ah, friends, but that is not the case. He covers his ears when it's raining (because he'll get wet). He covered his ears this weekend when the waitress dropped his plate on his head (because he was surprised - and it was unpleasant). He covers his ears when he's getting in trouble (not because we're yelling, because yelling really isn't appropriate with autistic kids - they don't really "hear" the different sound in your voice; no, he covers his ears because he's getting in trouble...and he knows that's not good). He covers his ears when his hands get dirty, when we wash his hair, and when the mosquitoes are bad at horse therapy. He covers his ears when he's nervous. That's his thing.
We're pretty used to it. In the beginning, we automatically would try to make him put his hands down from his ears, because frankly, it looks a little strange. Now, the minute we see his hands shooting up into The Position, we gently try to talk him down from whatever's bothering him. Sometimes we succeed. Most of the time we don't.
In the grand scheme of things, it's another thing I've learned just doesn't matter.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Autism Stats
I have a terrible headache today and am not feeling very creative. However, I want to share some info about autism, so I just won't be very "Lori" about it while I do.
According to the Autism Society of America:
-- Autism will be diagnosed in more than 25,000 children in the U.S. this year.
-- The prevalence of autism is 1 in every 150 births, and 1 in every 94 boys.
-- 1 to 1.5 million Americans have autism spectrum disorder.
-- Autism is the fastest-growing developmental disability, increasing by 10 percent to 17 percent annually.
-- The lifetime cost of caring for a child with autism is $3.5 million to $5 million.
-- Treating autism costs Americans $90 billion a year.
-- In 10 years, the annual cost will be $200 billion to $400 billion. Ninety percent of the costs are in adult services.
-- The cost of lifelong care can be reduced by two-thirds with early diagnosis and intervention.
There is no known single cause of autism, and it is treatable. The ASA, which offers an online Autism 101 course, lists these signs to look for in your children or children you know:
-- Lack of or delay in spoken language.
-- Repetitive use of language and/or motor mannerisms (e.g., hand-flapping, twirling objects).
-- Lack of interest in peer relationships.
-- Lack of spontaneous or make-believe play.
-- Persistent fixation on parts of objects.
-- Sensitive to sound/ordinary daily noises.
-- May exhibit aggressive/self- injurious behavior. (we don't have this one)
-- Resists changes in environment/daily routines.
-- Uses gestures or pointing instead of words. ( we don't have this one anymore)
-- Prefers to be/play alone.
-- Tantrums.
-- Enjoys spinning objects.
-- May be overly sensitive or undersensitive to pain or touch.
-- Poor motor skills.
-- Does not respond to verbal clues, although hearing tests in normal range.
Unfortunately, when people hear "autism," they usually think Rain Man. A lot of kids are like that; but a lot aren't. I personally believe we all fall somewhere on the spectrum. It IS a spectrum, after all, which means symptoms can range from very mild to very severe. I am very resistant to change (which is why God gave me a job at Seacoast), and most of the time I'd rather be alone or with people I know very well (I choose my friendships carefully and don't feel a need to have a lot of people close to me). Does that make me autistic? No. Does it put me on the spectrum? Probably. It's a SPECTRUM.
Lump all the quirks together and you get a diagnosis. Or FrogBoy. I choose to celebrate who FrogBoy is, rather than what he "has."
And I am thankful God chose to allow me the privilege of being his mom.
I have a terrible headache today and am not feeling very creative. However, I want to share some info about autism, so I just won't be very "Lori" about it while I do.
According to the Autism Society of America:
-- Autism will be diagnosed in more than 25,000 children in the U.S. this year.
-- The prevalence of autism is 1 in every 150 births, and 1 in every 94 boys.
-- 1 to 1.5 million Americans have autism spectrum disorder.
-- Autism is the fastest-growing developmental disability, increasing by 10 percent to 17 percent annually.
-- The lifetime cost of caring for a child with autism is $3.5 million to $5 million.
-- Treating autism costs Americans $90 billion a year.
-- In 10 years, the annual cost will be $200 billion to $400 billion. Ninety percent of the costs are in adult services.
-- The cost of lifelong care can be reduced by two-thirds with early diagnosis and intervention.
There is no known single cause of autism, and it is treatable. The ASA, which offers an online Autism 101 course, lists these signs to look for in your children or children you know:
-- Lack of or delay in spoken language.
-- Repetitive use of language and/or motor mannerisms (e.g., hand-flapping, twirling objects).
-- Lack of interest in peer relationships.
-- Lack of spontaneous or make-believe play.
-- Persistent fixation on parts of objects.
-- Sensitive to sound/ordinary daily noises.
-- May exhibit aggressive/self- injurious behavior. (we don't have this one)
-- Resists changes in environment/daily routines.
-- Uses gestures or pointing instead of words. ( we don't have this one anymore)
-- Prefers to be/play alone.
-- Tantrums.
-- Enjoys spinning objects.
-- May be overly sensitive or undersensitive to pain or touch.
-- Poor motor skills.
-- Does not respond to verbal clues, although hearing tests in normal range.
Unfortunately, when people hear "autism," they usually think Rain Man. A lot of kids are like that; but a lot aren't. I personally believe we all fall somewhere on the spectrum. It IS a spectrum, after all, which means symptoms can range from very mild to very severe. I am very resistant to change (which is why God gave me a job at Seacoast), and most of the time I'd rather be alone or with people I know very well (I choose my friendships carefully and don't feel a need to have a lot of people close to me). Does that make me autistic? No. Does it put me on the spectrum? Probably. It's a SPECTRUM.
Lump all the quirks together and you get a diagnosis. Or FrogBoy. I choose to celebrate who FrogBoy is, rather than what he "has."
And I am thankful God chose to allow me the privilege of being his mom.
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Walk for Autism
Yesterday we did something that was really cool - something we've never done before (I don't know why), but something we'll probably do every year now that we've done it once. We went to the 5th Annual Charleston Walk for Autism.
Our church is one of the sponsors of the walk. This year, the reins of the walk were handed over to a new director, and she realized they never had the walk opened in prayer. She wondered why, thought it would be a great idea to have someone pray beforehand, and contacted the church. Because of FrogBoy, it was passed to SuperHubby. And I must say, he did quite a fine job.
We prepped the boys the night before. We had no idea what the crowd would be like, and that's always a potential deal-breaker, so we figured we'd explain what Froggie could expect. What I didn't expect was the "Why are we going THERE?" When Spanky informed him it was because HE had autism, FrogBoy responded with "No I don't." It was an interesting evening explaining to him that yes, indeed, he does have autism. Now, he may think that's like having a fish, since he never asked any questions about autism specifically, but that's another story.
We had to get up super-early for a weekend, but the boys were excited. Froggie was a little nervous, but he handled it like a pro. Luckily, there weren't any bugs, so we were golden. His speech therapist was there - the clinic had a whole booth and a jump castle - plus we saw a bunch of friends from speech. Autism really is a small community, so you tend to see a lot of the same people over and over. I learned that this weekend.
Anyway, the boys spent a great deal of time in jump castles, getting free stuff from anyone they could, and just having a great time. We are definitely going back.
Then we went to brunch, where the waitress promptly dropped 2 dishes on Froggie's head.
Yesterday we did something that was really cool - something we've never done before (I don't know why), but something we'll probably do every year now that we've done it once. We went to the 5th Annual Charleston Walk for Autism.
Our church is one of the sponsors of the walk. This year, the reins of the walk were handed over to a new director, and she realized they never had the walk opened in prayer. She wondered why, thought it would be a great idea to have someone pray beforehand, and contacted the church. Because of FrogBoy, it was passed to SuperHubby. And I must say, he did quite a fine job.
We prepped the boys the night before. We had no idea what the crowd would be like, and that's always a potential deal-breaker, so we figured we'd explain what Froggie could expect. What I didn't expect was the "Why are we going THERE?" When Spanky informed him it was because HE had autism, FrogBoy responded with "No I don't." It was an interesting evening explaining to him that yes, indeed, he does have autism. Now, he may think that's like having a fish, since he never asked any questions about autism specifically, but that's another story.
We had to get up super-early for a weekend, but the boys were excited. Froggie was a little nervous, but he handled it like a pro. Luckily, there weren't any bugs, so we were golden. His speech therapist was there - the clinic had a whole booth and a jump castle - plus we saw a bunch of friends from speech. Autism really is a small community, so you tend to see a lot of the same people over and over. I learned that this weekend.
Anyway, the boys spent a great deal of time in jump castles, getting free stuff from anyone they could, and just having a great time. We are definitely going back.
Then we went to brunch, where the waitress promptly dropped 2 dishes on Froggie's head.
Friday, April 18, 2008
Where's Waldo?
FrogBoy wasn't diagnosed with autism until the first week of first grade; before that, we just considered him "quirky" with a capital Q. And that was fine. Frankly, everyone in our house is quirky in some way or another, so we just figured he was your average Fitzgerald. Technically, nothing's changed there.
Anyway, as I mentioned in my previous post, when FrogBoy started school, I decided I was going to be dropping the boys off at school AND picking them up. (In years past, when it was just Spanky, he rode the daycare bus from school to afterschool care.) All that said, the first day of school was probably more exciting for me than it was for the boys.
I made big plans. I sat them down the night before and explained that they were CAR RIDERS. That meant that I would be picking them up from school. Having gone to this school for 3 years already with Spanky, I knew that was one of the first questions they would be asked. "Hi, welcome to first grade. What's your name? Are you a car rider or a bus rider? Do you bring lunch or buy lunch?" So I was prepared. And so were the boys.
We went through the drills. DON'T leave before I get there. I WILL PICK YOU UP. Seriously, all bases were covered.
Now remember this is the first day of school. I don't know about other schools, but at our school, this spells mayhem. Apparently every single parent feels the need to pick their child up on the first day of school...whether or not they are a car rider. Having never done this before, I didn't factor in enough time to sit in traffic for 6 hours before I could see the school building. No biggie though. Finally, I was able to park my car and mosey up to the school. My kids were car riders, so they would be waiting.
There in the 3rd grade line stood Spanky, looking proud and clinging to his oversized backpack. I glanced around. No FrogBoy. I asked his teacher. No, she hadn't seen him. (Frankly, she didn't seem overly concerned, but that's another story.) They figured we couldn't find him because it was so crowded; maybe we should wait until some of the traffic cleared out.
Thirty minutes later, there was no one left but me, the principal and the entire school staff. Teachers were searching everywhere. Spanky was a wreck. I was actually pretty calm (my breakdown came later). The principal told me he thought I might possibly be the calmest mother he'd ever met. (Stop laughing; he really said that.) After about 10 minutes of searching, we realized he wasn't there. My biggest fear was that he'd gotten in a car with someone he didn't know, had been kidnapped, and was halfway to Mexico and I'd never see him again. All this, and SuperHubby just so happened to be at MUSC that day, awaiting tests to find out if he needed brain surgery (he did).
At this point, the school decided to call the police. I had to get on the phone and explain what he looked like and what he was wearing. I did pretty good...but realized that day that the Child ID's they provide at daycares and schools are worthless. It never crossed my mind to show anyone that stupid little ID card.
We kept searching the school. A few minutes later, we got a call from the police. They had FrogBoy in custody. He had somehow managed to hop a school bus (we think he drifted from the car rider line to the bus rider line) and then got off on the very first stop. Fortunately, the bus he chose delivered kids right around the corner from the school, at an apartment complex. He got off when the other kids did, but realized he had no idea where he was, so he went into the office and stood there and stared at them. They realized he wasn't one of theirs and called the police.
Being the first day of school, I had my camera in my purse, so I got pictures to document the whole thing. FrogBoy was never scared for a second (I was glad at the time, but then wished he wasn't quite so unaware.) SH ended up needing brain surgery, so I was really glad I didn't have to tell him I'd lost our child on the same day. And the school ended up changing all of its dismissal policies based on our boy.
I went home that night and cried my eyes out. And that, my friends, is why I keep both eyes on the kid at all times.
FrogBoy wasn't diagnosed with autism until the first week of first grade; before that, we just considered him "quirky" with a capital Q. And that was fine. Frankly, everyone in our house is quirky in some way or another, so we just figured he was your average Fitzgerald. Technically, nothing's changed there.
Anyway, as I mentioned in my previous post, when FrogBoy started school, I decided I was going to be dropping the boys off at school AND picking them up. (In years past, when it was just Spanky, he rode the daycare bus from school to afterschool care.) All that said, the first day of school was probably more exciting for me than it was for the boys.
I made big plans. I sat them down the night before and explained that they were CAR RIDERS. That meant that I would be picking them up from school. Having gone to this school for 3 years already with Spanky, I knew that was one of the first questions they would be asked. "Hi, welcome to first grade. What's your name? Are you a car rider or a bus rider? Do you bring lunch or buy lunch?" So I was prepared. And so were the boys.
We went through the drills. DON'T leave before I get there. I WILL PICK YOU UP. Seriously, all bases were covered.
Now remember this is the first day of school. I don't know about other schools, but at our school, this spells mayhem. Apparently every single parent feels the need to pick their child up on the first day of school...whether or not they are a car rider. Having never done this before, I didn't factor in enough time to sit in traffic for 6 hours before I could see the school building. No biggie though. Finally, I was able to park my car and mosey up to the school. My kids were car riders, so they would be waiting.
There in the 3rd grade line stood Spanky, looking proud and clinging to his oversized backpack. I glanced around. No FrogBoy. I asked his teacher. No, she hadn't seen him. (Frankly, she didn't seem overly concerned, but that's another story.) They figured we couldn't find him because it was so crowded; maybe we should wait until some of the traffic cleared out.
Thirty minutes later, there was no one left but me, the principal and the entire school staff. Teachers were searching everywhere. Spanky was a wreck. I was actually pretty calm (my breakdown came later). The principal told me he thought I might possibly be the calmest mother he'd ever met. (Stop laughing; he really said that.) After about 10 minutes of searching, we realized he wasn't there. My biggest fear was that he'd gotten in a car with someone he didn't know, had been kidnapped, and was halfway to Mexico and I'd never see him again. All this, and SuperHubby just so happened to be at MUSC that day, awaiting tests to find out if he needed brain surgery (he did).
At this point, the school decided to call the police. I had to get on the phone and explain what he looked like and what he was wearing. I did pretty good...but realized that day that the Child ID's they provide at daycares and schools are worthless. It never crossed my mind to show anyone that stupid little ID card.
We kept searching the school. A few minutes later, we got a call from the police. They had FrogBoy in custody. He had somehow managed to hop a school bus (we think he drifted from the car rider line to the bus rider line) and then got off on the very first stop. Fortunately, the bus he chose delivered kids right around the corner from the school, at an apartment complex. He got off when the other kids did, but realized he had no idea where he was, so he went into the office and stood there and stared at them. They realized he wasn't one of theirs and called the police.
Being the first day of school, I had my camera in my purse, so I got pictures to document the whole thing. FrogBoy was never scared for a second (I was glad at the time, but then wished he wasn't quite so unaware.) SH ended up needing brain surgery, so I was really glad I didn't have to tell him I'd lost our child on the same day. And the school ended up changing all of its dismissal policies based on our boy.
I went home that night and cried my eyes out. And that, my friends, is why I keep both eyes on the kid at all times.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
The Cost of Autism
I read in the paper this week that the family of an autistic child makes $6200 less per year than the average family with a normally functioning child. I'm not sure how exactly they figured this out, but the basic finding was that between taking off early from work for therapy and doctors appointments, and IEP meetings and such at school, or simply not working (depending on the severity of the autism in the child), families with kids are the spectrum are poorer on average each year than other families.
Whatever.
I have been very fortunate in my work situation. When FrogBoy was about to start kindergarten, a full year before he was ever diagnosed, I started crunching numbers. It quickly became apparent to me that it would cost "X" amount of money to send the boys to daycare for 2 hours each afternoon. It would take me 2 hours to earn "X" amount of money. Being the mathematical genuis that I am, I realized that I would be working to send them to daycare...and that didn't seem like God's plan for our family.
After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I approached Geoff about my plan. I wanted to work 7:30-2:30, the hours the boys were in school. There was nothing in it for the church. Our family would get all the benefits.
I really expected a solid "NO" before I was sent packing. What I was greeted with, however, was a resounding "That sounds like a GREAT idea!" (He may not remember it, but that's exactly what he said.) Geoff was kind enough to then make my argument for me, telling me how great it would be to be home with the boys in the afternoon to help with homework, etc. At this point Spanky was in 3rd grade, so we'd done life the other way - with him going to afterschool care and then rushing to do homework when we all got home at 5:00. And we were miserable.
So the day FrogBoy started kindergarten, I started a new chapter in my life. I became the mom taxi, in charge of ferrying the boys to and from school, to appointments, and simply running errands or taking them for ice cream after school. What a glorious day that was!
We've been doing this for 5 years now. I am able to walk FrogBoy to his class each morning, and pick him up in his class each afternoon. With his extreme sensitivity to crowds and noises, and his tendency to wander, both of which make the carpool line a no-go, this has been HUGE. I'm so thankful God KNEW, and handled all the details when I thought it was just MY good idea.
We may make $6200 a year less than other families with "normal" kids, but we are RICH indeed.
I read in the paper this week that the family of an autistic child makes $6200 less per year than the average family with a normally functioning child. I'm not sure how exactly they figured this out, but the basic finding was that between taking off early from work for therapy and doctors appointments, and IEP meetings and such at school, or simply not working (depending on the severity of the autism in the child), families with kids are the spectrum are poorer on average each year than other families.
Whatever.
I have been very fortunate in my work situation. When FrogBoy was about to start kindergarten, a full year before he was ever diagnosed, I started crunching numbers. It quickly became apparent to me that it would cost "X" amount of money to send the boys to daycare for 2 hours each afternoon. It would take me 2 hours to earn "X" amount of money. Being the mathematical genuis that I am, I realized that I would be working to send them to daycare...and that didn't seem like God's plan for our family.
After much wailing and gnashing of teeth, I approached Geoff about my plan. I wanted to work 7:30-2:30, the hours the boys were in school. There was nothing in it for the church. Our family would get all the benefits.
I really expected a solid "NO" before I was sent packing. What I was greeted with, however, was a resounding "That sounds like a GREAT idea!" (He may not remember it, but that's exactly what he said.) Geoff was kind enough to then make my argument for me, telling me how great it would be to be home with the boys in the afternoon to help with homework, etc. At this point Spanky was in 3rd grade, so we'd done life the other way - with him going to afterschool care and then rushing to do homework when we all got home at 5:00. And we were miserable.
So the day FrogBoy started kindergarten, I started a new chapter in my life. I became the mom taxi, in charge of ferrying the boys to and from school, to appointments, and simply running errands or taking them for ice cream after school. What a glorious day that was!
We've been doing this for 5 years now. I am able to walk FrogBoy to his class each morning, and pick him up in his class each afternoon. With his extreme sensitivity to crowds and noises, and his tendency to wander, both of which make the carpool line a no-go, this has been HUGE. I'm so thankful God KNEW, and handled all the details when I thought it was just MY good idea.
We may make $6200 a year less than other families with "normal" kids, but we are RICH indeed.
Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Homework Hassles
Today was one of those days for FrogBoy. He had a great day at school, but something went terribly wrong when he started his homework. He had what I like to call Meltdown Madness.
It started innocently enough. Every week, he has to write a letter to someone in his class (whoever happens to be the "star of the week" that week). If there is no "star," he has to write a letter to the teacher. No big deal. He's been doing this since September, and he's got the hang of it...Or so you would think.
I'm not allowed to oversee his homework very closely. He doesn't like people all up in his business when he's working. (I wonder where he gets that?!) Anyway, I glanced over at his work and noticed that he was skipping lines. I asked if he was working on a rough draft or a final copy, since he's not allowed to skip lines in the final copy, and he usually doesn't do a rough draft, and he informed me that it was his final copy. Houston, we have a problem.
I told him he was going to have to rewrite it. Luckily, he'd only written 2 sentences. I tried to play it down. He wasn't buying it. He asked if he could just draw arrows (smart kid). I told him no, he was going to have to rewrite it. That's when it happened.
Tears. Big fat ones. And then...he balled up his letter and threw it on the floor and told me "I'm NEVER writing a letter again!" Hello, meltdown!!
I finally managed to calm him down and get him started with a nice, new, clean piece of paper. UNTIL...
FrogBoy: "I can't use THIS!"
Me: "Why not?"
FrogBoy: "Because of THIS!!!" (said with an unspoken "STUPID WOMAN!" at the end)
Me: "I don't see anything."
FrogBoy: "THIS, right here!!!"
I looked. I squinted. I put my glasses on. And then I saw it. A speck no bigger than a pin prick. Right there in the margin of his paper. God forbid.
Fortuntely, I had to leave. I left things in the trustworthy hands of SuperHubby. Sometimes all it takes is a different perspective. I'm not sure what happened, but when I got back an hour later, the letter was written, the tears were gone, and Legos were being built.
Thank you Lord.
Today was one of those days for FrogBoy. He had a great day at school, but something went terribly wrong when he started his homework. He had what I like to call Meltdown Madness.
It started innocently enough. Every week, he has to write a letter to someone in his class (whoever happens to be the "star of the week" that week). If there is no "star," he has to write a letter to the teacher. No big deal. He's been doing this since September, and he's got the hang of it...Or so you would think.
I'm not allowed to oversee his homework very closely. He doesn't like people all up in his business when he's working. (I wonder where he gets that?!) Anyway, I glanced over at his work and noticed that he was skipping lines. I asked if he was working on a rough draft or a final copy, since he's not allowed to skip lines in the final copy, and he usually doesn't do a rough draft, and he informed me that it was his final copy. Houston, we have a problem.
I told him he was going to have to rewrite it. Luckily, he'd only written 2 sentences. I tried to play it down. He wasn't buying it. He asked if he could just draw arrows (smart kid). I told him no, he was going to have to rewrite it. That's when it happened.
Tears. Big fat ones. And then...he balled up his letter and threw it on the floor and told me "I'm NEVER writing a letter again!" Hello, meltdown!!
I finally managed to calm him down and get him started with a nice, new, clean piece of paper. UNTIL...
FrogBoy: "I can't use THIS!"
Me: "Why not?"
FrogBoy: "Because of THIS!!!" (said with an unspoken "STUPID WOMAN!" at the end)
Me: "I don't see anything."
FrogBoy: "THIS, right here!!!"
I looked. I squinted. I put my glasses on. And then I saw it. A speck no bigger than a pin prick. Right there in the margin of his paper. God forbid.
Fortuntely, I had to leave. I left things in the trustworthy hands of SuperHubby. Sometimes all it takes is a different perspective. I'm not sure what happened, but when I got back an hour later, the letter was written, the tears were gone, and Legos were being built.
Thank you Lord.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
10 Things I Learned in First Grade
I originally posted this list in 2006. I totally stole it from the SC Center for Disabilities newsletter. I don't care. I like it, and I'm going to share it (steal it) again. Since we found out FrogBoy had autism when he was in the first grade, my contribution to the post is the clever title.
1. Autism or not, they are still a blessing. (I would like to add the caveat "Most of the time.")
2. There is no such thing as normal.
3. No two are alike. (You ain't just whistling Dixie there!!)
4. How autistic I really am. (Indeed)
5. If I stay calm, it will have a domino effect. (I really wish I could remember this one more...in the moment...)
6. Don't stay in denial; no one gets better there.
7. Major the majors and minor the minors (or...don't sweat the small stuff.)
8. A sense of humor is EVERYTHING.
9. A simple smile can tell me more than one word. (Thank God we have lots of smiles from our Frog Man).
10. Miracles happen every day if you know where to look.
I'd like to close with some profound comment. Unfortunately, I've got nothing. I will say this...even though it's hard, even though I wouldn't have chosen this path, I'm thankful God chose me to be FrogBoy's mom.
I originally posted this list in 2006. I totally stole it from the SC Center for Disabilities newsletter. I don't care. I like it, and I'm going to share it (steal it) again. Since we found out FrogBoy had autism when he was in the first grade, my contribution to the post is the clever title.
1. Autism or not, they are still a blessing. (I would like to add the caveat "Most of the time.")
2. There is no such thing as normal.
3. No two are alike. (You ain't just whistling Dixie there!!)
4. How autistic I really am. (Indeed)
5. If I stay calm, it will have a domino effect. (I really wish I could remember this one more...in the moment...)
6. Don't stay in denial; no one gets better there.
7. Major the majors and minor the minors (or...don't sweat the small stuff.)
8. A sense of humor is EVERYTHING.
9. A simple smile can tell me more than one word. (Thank God we have lots of smiles from our Frog Man).
10. Miracles happen every day if you know where to look.
I'd like to close with some profound comment. Unfortunately, I've got nothing. I will say this...even though it's hard, even though I wouldn't have chosen this path, I'm thankful God chose me to be FrogBoy's mom.
Monday, April 14, 2008
Family Ties
My brother has 3 kids: David, 14, Jacob, 11, and Mary-Elizabeth, almost 9. My boys are 13 and 10. As you can see, we had a little friendly competition going for about six years.
The kids love spending time together. But what's really great about it is that, while they all know Michael has autism, it doesn't stop them from treating him any differently than anyone else. For the most part.
The kids all know that my senses are a little heightened when it comes to keeping an eye on Michael. (More on that in another post.) And they are great about watching out for him, making sure he's not getting into anything he's not supposed to (like the lake behind my aunt's house). They also have no hesitation in tattling when he's doing something wrong or just plain annoying them.
On Easter, SuperHubby and I were at work...so the boys spent the night at my aunt's. Before they left, I knew it was going to turn into a weekend-long visit; my brother's kids were going to show up on Easter, and they were going to suck up until my aunt and uncle had at the minimum 5 kids spending the night. Sure enough, they had all 4 boys that night.
Here's the great thing: When they got home, I heard that David (remember, he's 14) had spent quite a bit of time outside with Michael playing basketball with him. David's great about doing things with Michael, and he really has a gentle spirit and is very patient.
Then he tied him to the goalpost.
Michael loved it. He was treated just like all the other kids. That's something he doesn't get everywhere else...but you can always count on family. Family will always put you in your place. And then tie you down so you'll stay there.
My brother has 3 kids: David, 14, Jacob, 11, and Mary-Elizabeth, almost 9. My boys are 13 and 10. As you can see, we had a little friendly competition going for about six years.
The kids love spending time together. But what's really great about it is that, while they all know Michael has autism, it doesn't stop them from treating him any differently than anyone else. For the most part.
The kids all know that my senses are a little heightened when it comes to keeping an eye on Michael. (More on that in another post.) And they are great about watching out for him, making sure he's not getting into anything he's not supposed to (like the lake behind my aunt's house). They also have no hesitation in tattling when he's doing something wrong or just plain annoying them.
On Easter, SuperHubby and I were at work...so the boys spent the night at my aunt's. Before they left, I knew it was going to turn into a weekend-long visit; my brother's kids were going to show up on Easter, and they were going to suck up until my aunt and uncle had at the minimum 5 kids spending the night. Sure enough, they had all 4 boys that night.
Here's the great thing: When they got home, I heard that David (remember, he's 14) had spent quite a bit of time outside with Michael playing basketball with him. David's great about doing things with Michael, and he really has a gentle spirit and is very patient.
Then he tied him to the goalpost.
Michael loved it. He was treated just like all the other kids. That's something he doesn't get everywhere else...but you can always count on family. Family will always put you in your place. And then tie you down so you'll stay there.
Sunday, April 13, 2008
Lego Creations
One of FrogBoy's favorite activities is Legoing. For those not in the know, that is the act of playing with Legos. For FrogBoy, it is an art form. He does it constantly. It is really the only thing that holds his attention and brings him joy. And the things he makes are called Lego Creations.
Every Lego Creation produced by FrogBoy is totally symmetrical. Regardless of how intricate and detailed it is, it is going to be Rain Man symmetrical when he's done. Sometimes they are hollow - and have little surprised buried inside - and sometimes they are solid and could shatter glass if tossed in the general direction of a window. They all have one serious thing in common though: They all have very strange, very unique names.
Often it is the "Michaeltron 2000" or the "Dinosaur Eater 6000." We've actually noticed that "2000" is in the name of a lot of the Lego Creations. He always starts with "I call it.." It's really quite entertaining.
This afternoon, he made a new Lego Creation for the Smurf. This was a great conversation:
FrogBoy: "I made it for Meema. I call it the Lego Fountain of Youth 2000. You put tea, chocolate milk or water in here, and FOOSH! Some assembly required. Results may vary."
Awesome.
One of FrogBoy's favorite activities is Legoing. For those not in the know, that is the act of playing with Legos. For FrogBoy, it is an art form. He does it constantly. It is really the only thing that holds his attention and brings him joy. And the things he makes are called Lego Creations.
Every Lego Creation produced by FrogBoy is totally symmetrical. Regardless of how intricate and detailed it is, it is going to be Rain Man symmetrical when he's done. Sometimes they are hollow - and have little surprised buried inside - and sometimes they are solid and could shatter glass if tossed in the general direction of a window. They all have one serious thing in common though: They all have very strange, very unique names.
Often it is the "Michaeltron 2000" or the "Dinosaur Eater 6000." We've actually noticed that "2000" is in the name of a lot of the Lego Creations. He always starts with "I call it.." It's really quite entertaining.
This afternoon, he made a new Lego Creation for the Smurf. This was a great conversation:
FrogBoy: "I made it for Meema. I call it the Lego Fountain of Youth 2000. You put tea, chocolate milk or water in here, and FOOSH! Some assembly required. Results may vary."
Awesome.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Honesty
Does anyone remember the awesome song by Billy Joel about honesty...and how it's so hard to find...and yet so needed by people? Well, let me tell you, you don't have to worry about that in our house.
One of the great selling points of autism is that autistic kids aren't mean, they don't generally manipulate people or situations, and they don't lie. They are so black and white that there's just no room for anything but the truth in their lives.
And so it is with FrogBoy.
Since he was a baby (well, after he outgrew the ethopian baby look), we've told him how precious and cute he is. Just like all parents do with their kids. Only with Froggie, when we say, "You are so sweet," we are answered with, "I know." No matter how many times we try to explain that's not the most polite answer, it doesn't really matter...he's just answering the statement truthfully.
Another example. Last week Froggie had a substitute. Before she came to his class, his teacher made the mistake of asking everyone if they knew which sub she was. Of course, they couldn't place her...so the teacher informed everyone that she's the one who wears too much lipstick. Thankfully, FrogBoy mentioned this to us several days out, which gave us time to deprogram him before her visit.
The first day she was there, FrogBoy didn't want to go to school. He'd heard rumors around the school that she was mean. He got in the car that afternoon and told me, "You know, she wasn't so bad after all." That's Froggie for you.
If I want to know how I look, I make sure I can take the cold, hard, honest truth before I ask FrogBoy. He's not going to play the "Oh, Mommy, you look beautiful" game, and he's not going to mince words. If I look like a giant eggplant on steriods, he's going to tell me.
Even when he SAYS he's lying, he really means he's joking. We've spent a lot of time working with him on the semantics there, because we don't want him getting in trouble at school for "lying" when he was really just kidding around...but so far he still confuses the 2 words. He HAS gotten in trouble at school, but it's because he WOULDN'T lie, not because he did. He did something wrong, his entire class lied and said he didn't do it (they are VERY protective of him), and he would have gotten away with it, but he 'fessed up. And got detention.
One caveat: Whenever Froggie tastes a new food, he feels compelled to gulp it down, and then say, "YUM." This is regardless of whether he likes it or not. You can only tell by how he answers your next question: "Do you want more?" Usually his very honest response: "No thanks." That means it was disgusting, but for some reason he thinks he's supposed to say "YUM" after tasting things.
So there you have it. You won't always hear what you want to hear from him, but you will always hear the truth.
Does anyone remember the awesome song by Billy Joel about honesty...and how it's so hard to find...and yet so needed by people? Well, let me tell you, you don't have to worry about that in our house.
One of the great selling points of autism is that autistic kids aren't mean, they don't generally manipulate people or situations, and they don't lie. They are so black and white that there's just no room for anything but the truth in their lives.
And so it is with FrogBoy.
Since he was a baby (well, after he outgrew the ethopian baby look), we've told him how precious and cute he is. Just like all parents do with their kids. Only with Froggie, when we say, "You are so sweet," we are answered with, "I know." No matter how many times we try to explain that's not the most polite answer, it doesn't really matter...he's just answering the statement truthfully.
Another example. Last week Froggie had a substitute. Before she came to his class, his teacher made the mistake of asking everyone if they knew which sub she was. Of course, they couldn't place her...so the teacher informed everyone that she's the one who wears too much lipstick. Thankfully, FrogBoy mentioned this to us several days out, which gave us time to deprogram him before her visit.
The first day she was there, FrogBoy didn't want to go to school. He'd heard rumors around the school that she was mean. He got in the car that afternoon and told me, "You know, she wasn't so bad after all." That's Froggie for you.
If I want to know how I look, I make sure I can take the cold, hard, honest truth before I ask FrogBoy. He's not going to play the "Oh, Mommy, you look beautiful" game, and he's not going to mince words. If I look like a giant eggplant on steriods, he's going to tell me.
Even when he SAYS he's lying, he really means he's joking. We've spent a lot of time working with him on the semantics there, because we don't want him getting in trouble at school for "lying" when he was really just kidding around...but so far he still confuses the 2 words. He HAS gotten in trouble at school, but it's because he WOULDN'T lie, not because he did. He did something wrong, his entire class lied and said he didn't do it (they are VERY protective of him), and he would have gotten away with it, but he 'fessed up. And got detention.
One caveat: Whenever Froggie tastes a new food, he feels compelled to gulp it down, and then say, "YUM." This is regardless of whether he likes it or not. You can only tell by how he answers your next question: "Do you want more?" Usually his very honest response: "No thanks." That means it was disgusting, but for some reason he thinks he's supposed to say "YUM" after tasting things.
So there you have it. You won't always hear what you want to hear from him, but you will always hear the truth.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Baby It's Cold Outside
We have a little issue with FrogBoy. (If you've been reading every day this month, you're probably thinking we have a LOT of little issues with FrogBoy. You would be correct.)
Anyway, FrogBog does not like to be cold. And EVERYTHING makes him cold. It causes great distress every morning, from the time SuperHubby tries to wake him up ("But it's COLD!!"), to the time SH wraps him in a snuggly warm blanket so he'll eat breakfast, to the time I try to get him dressed for school (while he's hiding under said snuggly warm blanket, screaming, "But I'm COLD!!!!!!")
No amount of coaxing or pleading or screaming or threatening helps. It takes an act of Congress to move him along to getting his clothes on. After 10 years, we still haven't convinced him he'll be LESS cold if he puts MORE clothes on.
And this is in the summer months. Forget it during the winter. I'd rather cut off my toe than have to try and get him dressed. It is not fun.
To make matters worse, water makes him even colder, and he isn't particularly fond of getting wet (which is why sometimes we don't leave the house when it's raining), and if water gets in his eyes - water, not soap - he is BLINDED FOR LIFE!!!! Are you seeing where I'm going with this? Bathing the child is a daily battle.
But here's the twist: The minute he walks in the door, whether it's summer or winter, he takes off all his clothes. He streaks around the rest of the evening in just his underwear, possibly socks, and maybe his blanket wrapped around his shoulders for good measure. But HE'S NEVER COLD. I don't understand.
I asked him yesterday why he took off all his clothes. SH suggested it might be because I do the same thing. In my defense, I take off my shoes and my bra and put on a ratty tee when I get home...but I see his point. I'm not much for clothes myself, so while we're blaming the autism for Froggie's naked desires, it may actually just be hereditary.
Lucky Froggie. He takes after me.
We have a little issue with FrogBoy. (If you've been reading every day this month, you're probably thinking we have a LOT of little issues with FrogBoy. You would be correct.)
Anyway, FrogBog does not like to be cold. And EVERYTHING makes him cold. It causes great distress every morning, from the time SuperHubby tries to wake him up ("But it's COLD!!"), to the time SH wraps him in a snuggly warm blanket so he'll eat breakfast, to the time I try to get him dressed for school (while he's hiding under said snuggly warm blanket, screaming, "But I'm COLD!!!!!!")
No amount of coaxing or pleading or screaming or threatening helps. It takes an act of Congress to move him along to getting his clothes on. After 10 years, we still haven't convinced him he'll be LESS cold if he puts MORE clothes on.
And this is in the summer months. Forget it during the winter. I'd rather cut off my toe than have to try and get him dressed. It is not fun.
To make matters worse, water makes him even colder, and he isn't particularly fond of getting wet (which is why sometimes we don't leave the house when it's raining), and if water gets in his eyes - water, not soap - he is BLINDED FOR LIFE!!!! Are you seeing where I'm going with this? Bathing the child is a daily battle.
But here's the twist: The minute he walks in the door, whether it's summer or winter, he takes off all his clothes. He streaks around the rest of the evening in just his underwear, possibly socks, and maybe his blanket wrapped around his shoulders for good measure. But HE'S NEVER COLD. I don't understand.
I asked him yesterday why he took off all his clothes. SH suggested it might be because I do the same thing. In my defense, I take off my shoes and my bra and put on a ratty tee when I get home...but I see his point. I'm not much for clothes myself, so while we're blaming the autism for Froggie's naked desires, it may actually just be hereditary.
Lucky Froggie. He takes after me.
Wednesday, April 09, 2008
He Likes It!! Hey Mikey!!
Everyone remembers the Life cereal commercial with the catchphrase, "He likes it! Hey Mikey!" The kid won't eat anything...but he loves Life cereal.
Oh, if only we were so lucky. Apparently one of the "quirks" of autistic kids is that they don't like a lot of variety in their diets. It has to do with the whole sensory issue, although sometimes it just feels like he's a picky eater.
Here's a complete list of the foods FrogBoy will eat:
Waffles (preferrably Lego Eggo waffles) and pancakes
Eggs
Cheese (including "white cheese" - feta - which we totally don't understand)
Mac and cheese - Easy Mac only
Hot dog buns
Cereal
French fries (which he likes to call "a basket of golden fries")
McDonald's chicken nuggets
Chocolate
Sometimes his lack of flexibility in the food area can be a little challenging. Sometimes SuperHubby manages to sneak something in the mix and he eats it before he realizes it's not on his approved list. However, the one thing he will never, EVER eat is corn. I can't even buy corn when he's with me because he protests so loudly. It's a little embarrassing - like he was abused with an ear of corn as a toddler. But I digress.
So whenever we go out to dinner, Froggie orders "a basket of golden fries." He's precious in how he orders though. He always asks "Do you have a basket of golden fries?" The server, of course, has no clue what he's talking about, so we have to start translating. Actually, I have to start translating - SH can't do that in a crowded restaurant. That would be like me standing up in front of a group of people and sharing my deepest, innermost feelings.
Notice all the foods on the approved list are carbs. We're going to have to get this kid active or we'll have a 600 pound, hot dog bun eating teenager on our hands. And at that point, friends, it stops being cute.
Everyone remembers the Life cereal commercial with the catchphrase, "He likes it! Hey Mikey!" The kid won't eat anything...but he loves Life cereal.
Oh, if only we were so lucky. Apparently one of the "quirks" of autistic kids is that they don't like a lot of variety in their diets. It has to do with the whole sensory issue, although sometimes it just feels like he's a picky eater.
Here's a complete list of the foods FrogBoy will eat:
Waffles (preferrably Lego Eggo waffles) and pancakes
Eggs
Cheese (including "white cheese" - feta - which we totally don't understand)
Mac and cheese - Easy Mac only
Hot dog buns
Cereal
French fries (which he likes to call "a basket of golden fries")
McDonald's chicken nuggets
Chocolate
Sometimes his lack of flexibility in the food area can be a little challenging. Sometimes SuperHubby manages to sneak something in the mix and he eats it before he realizes it's not on his approved list. However, the one thing he will never, EVER eat is corn. I can't even buy corn when he's with me because he protests so loudly. It's a little embarrassing - like he was abused with an ear of corn as a toddler. But I digress.
So whenever we go out to dinner, Froggie orders "a basket of golden fries." He's precious in how he orders though. He always asks "Do you have a basket of golden fries?" The server, of course, has no clue what he's talking about, so we have to start translating. Actually, I have to start translating - SH can't do that in a crowded restaurant. That would be like me standing up in front of a group of people and sharing my deepest, innermost feelings.
Notice all the foods on the approved list are carbs. We're going to have to get this kid active or we'll have a 600 pound, hot dog bun eating teenager on our hands. And at that point, friends, it stops being cute.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Encyclopedia FrogBoy
Most days, it starts in the car on the way to school. Before 7:00 a.m. Today was no exception.
This morning, it was just me and FrogBoy. We had plenty of time in the 3 minutes it takes to get to school to have a very confusing (for me) conversation.
It started with FrogBoy telling me all about different animals. He loves science - nature, planets, weather - you name it, if it's science, he's all over it. And, being autistic, and frankly just a little annoying at times, he has to repeat every tidbit he knows about a particular subject every time he brings it up.
For example: "Blah, blah, blah...Pluto...which was the smallest planet, but it's not a planet anymore, it's a star. And then there's planet X...blah, blah, blah." It's like this with anything he has any sort of knowledge about. And he reads A LOT.
This morning, he really reminded me of that kid in Jerry Maguire - when he says "Did you know the human head weighs 8 pounds?"
BEFORE 7 a.m., friends, I got: "Have you ever heard of a melon jellyfish?" (I hadn't) "We'll, they're really cool. They're jellyfish that look like melons." (I kinda figured)
Then..."What kind of animal are you interested in knowing more about?" (frankly, at 7 a.m., none) "How about a pygmy rhino?"
"Well, honey, I don't know what a pygmy rhino is. I'm sure it's nice though."
"Oh, you'd love it. It's a rhino, but smaller, and it has a big horn and blah, blah, blah..."
I know, I should have paid more attention. But seriously, this is the kid who plays regular, adult Jeapordy every night, and ALWAYS gets questions right. A bunch of them. And not the stupid "crossword Q" questions. (Those are the ones I get) No, he gets "Polynesian Wars" and "Senators" and "Pollination" and other such nonsense. It's hard to keep up sometimes. He has a great memory for concrete, rote memorization like science and spelling and social studies. Things like math, where he has to make conclusions, are not so good.
Meanwhile, we get schooled daily in the things that interest him (and we're learning some interesting things in the process!), and we get to hear word-for-word movie and TV scripts (an amazing characteristic a lot of autistic kids have called echolalia - which basically means they echo what they've heard in the past - sometimes out of context, sometimes in context - which makes it very difficult to know if they mean it or are just mimicking something they heard Superman say).
All that said - it's like one of my favorite tees:
AUTISM - NEVER A DULL MOMENT!
Most days, it starts in the car on the way to school. Before 7:00 a.m. Today was no exception.
This morning, it was just me and FrogBoy. We had plenty of time in the 3 minutes it takes to get to school to have a very confusing (for me) conversation.
It started with FrogBoy telling me all about different animals. He loves science - nature, planets, weather - you name it, if it's science, he's all over it. And, being autistic, and frankly just a little annoying at times, he has to repeat every tidbit he knows about a particular subject every time he brings it up.
For example: "Blah, blah, blah...Pluto...which was the smallest planet, but it's not a planet anymore, it's a star. And then there's planet X...blah, blah, blah." It's like this with anything he has any sort of knowledge about. And he reads A LOT.
This morning, he really reminded me of that kid in Jerry Maguire - when he says "Did you know the human head weighs 8 pounds?"
BEFORE 7 a.m., friends, I got: "Have you ever heard of a melon jellyfish?" (I hadn't) "We'll, they're really cool. They're jellyfish that look like melons." (I kinda figured)
Then..."What kind of animal are you interested in knowing more about?" (frankly, at 7 a.m., none) "How about a pygmy rhino?"
"Well, honey, I don't know what a pygmy rhino is. I'm sure it's nice though."
"Oh, you'd love it. It's a rhino, but smaller, and it has a big horn and blah, blah, blah..."
I know, I should have paid more attention. But seriously, this is the kid who plays regular, adult Jeapordy every night, and ALWAYS gets questions right. A bunch of them. And not the stupid "crossword Q" questions. (Those are the ones I get) No, he gets "Polynesian Wars" and "Senators" and "Pollination" and other such nonsense. It's hard to keep up sometimes. He has a great memory for concrete, rote memorization like science and spelling and social studies. Things like math, where he has to make conclusions, are not so good.
Meanwhile, we get schooled daily in the things that interest him (and we're learning some interesting things in the process!), and we get to hear word-for-word movie and TV scripts (an amazing characteristic a lot of autistic kids have called echolalia - which basically means they echo what they've heard in the past - sometimes out of context, sometimes in context - which makes it very difficult to know if they mean it or are just mimicking something they heard Superman say).
All that said - it's like one of my favorite tees:
AUTISM - NEVER A DULL MOMENT!
Monday, April 07, 2008
Musical Michael
I love music. Sadly, I'm not a very good singer, but I love to sing anyway. I have apparently passed this trait on to both my children (the love of music AND the lack of talent).
Right now, FrogBoy's favorite song is "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred. Indeed. He saw the video on VH-1's Top 100 1-Hit Wonders - and thought it was hilarious. That's all it took.
So now he sings this song constantly. It's more for the reaction he gets from Spanky than anything else. But he also likes it because he can just insert random things that he's "too sexy" for.
Most mornings, on the way to school, we're hearing some rendition of "I'm Too Sexy," belted out in a very strange, very deep voice..."I'm too sexy for my shirt, to sexy for my bookbag, too sexy for my waffles, too sexy for my underwear..."
It just goes on and on. The more Spanky protests, the longer the song. There's absolutely no rhythm, it makes no sense, but it makes 2/3 of the van laugh so hard we almost pee in our pants. Every single day.
I love music. Sadly, I'm not a very good singer, but I love to sing anyway. I have apparently passed this trait on to both my children (the love of music AND the lack of talent).
Right now, FrogBoy's favorite song is "I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred. Indeed. He saw the video on VH-1's Top 100 1-Hit Wonders - and thought it was hilarious. That's all it took.
So now he sings this song constantly. It's more for the reaction he gets from Spanky than anything else. But he also likes it because he can just insert random things that he's "too sexy" for.
Most mornings, on the way to school, we're hearing some rendition of "I'm Too Sexy," belted out in a very strange, very deep voice..."I'm too sexy for my shirt, to sexy for my bookbag, too sexy for my waffles, too sexy for my underwear..."
It just goes on and on. The more Spanky protests, the longer the song. There's absolutely no rhythm, it makes no sense, but it makes 2/3 of the van laugh so hard we almost pee in our pants. Every single day.
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Awesome Tees Part 2
Back to the site that offers all the autism-related stuff. I misspoke in my earlier post - they have almost 7000 items for autism alone. Now that's what I call hitting a market.
Anyway, one that I really like is:
If you've met one autistic child, you've met one autistic child.
Man, that's the truth. Autism is such a strange disorder. It's classified by certain behaviors. But not everyone has all the behaviors, and certainly not in the same combination. So while FrogBoy is autistic, he's a very sweet, lovable child, which is totally off-kilter for most kids with autism. Most of them don't want to be touched at all; meanwhile, he'll crawl right up in your lap to snuggle. A lot of them don't talk; at times we can't get Froggie to stop.
Like the saying goes: You are 100%, totally unique. Just like everyone else.
Back to the site that offers all the autism-related stuff. I misspoke in my earlier post - they have almost 7000 items for autism alone. Now that's what I call hitting a market.
Anyway, one that I really like is:
If you've met one autistic child, you've met one autistic child.
Man, that's the truth. Autism is such a strange disorder. It's classified by certain behaviors. But not everyone has all the behaviors, and certainly not in the same combination. So while FrogBoy is autistic, he's a very sweet, lovable child, which is totally off-kilter for most kids with autism. Most of them don't want to be touched at all; meanwhile, he'll crawl right up in your lap to snuggle. A lot of them don't talk; at times we can't get Froggie to stop.
Like the saying goes: You are 100%, totally unique. Just like everyone else.
Friday, April 04, 2008
Personality Plus
NEWSFLASH: FrogBoy is autistic. He has autism. That said, let's move on to my point.
Being autistic is NOT who FrogBoy is. It does not define him. Frankly, he doesn't even realize he has the disorder.
FrogBoy is also a very sweet, loving child. He's frequently quite funny. He can build amazing things with Legos and can put together puzzles with thousands of pieces in a snap. He is a spelling whiz (98 average) and reads grade levels above the rest of his class. He stinks at math.
There are times when I think there's a little Mini Me running around; he mimics my words and phrases and mannerisms in a way that surprises even me.
He loves Easy Mac. Not good mac and cheese, Easy Mac. He's a morning person, and the minute he wakes up, he wants breakfast. The minute he has breakfast, he wants dessert. Almost 10 years and we still haven't convinced him you don't get dessert after breakfast.
He likes to burp and he thinks farts are funny. He knows exactly which buttons to push to make Spanky go crazy, and he delights in pushing them frequently. He's just a little boy.
So yes, FrogBoy is autistic. But he's so much more than that. His autism doesn't define him, and it shouldn't limit him. Unfortunately, so many people hear "autism" and think "Rain Man." People don't realize that a child with autism can be as high-functioning as FrogBoy is. When he DOES act out, they think he's just being a brat. When he performs poorly in school, it's "okay" because "Maybe he didn't get it." Well - maybe he didn't get it - but maybe it's just because ancient history isn't his thing.
In our house, we don't allow the autism excuse. It may actually factor in to our decisions, but he doesn't know that, and he won't. I just wish more people would see the child and not the label that has been smacked on him.
He's a great kid. End of story.
NEWSFLASH: FrogBoy is autistic. He has autism. That said, let's move on to my point.
Being autistic is NOT who FrogBoy is. It does not define him. Frankly, he doesn't even realize he has the disorder.
FrogBoy is also a very sweet, loving child. He's frequently quite funny. He can build amazing things with Legos and can put together puzzles with thousands of pieces in a snap. He is a spelling whiz (98 average) and reads grade levels above the rest of his class. He stinks at math.
There are times when I think there's a little Mini Me running around; he mimics my words and phrases and mannerisms in a way that surprises even me.
He loves Easy Mac. Not good mac and cheese, Easy Mac. He's a morning person, and the minute he wakes up, he wants breakfast. The minute he has breakfast, he wants dessert. Almost 10 years and we still haven't convinced him you don't get dessert after breakfast.
He likes to burp and he thinks farts are funny. He knows exactly which buttons to push to make Spanky go crazy, and he delights in pushing them frequently. He's just a little boy.
So yes, FrogBoy is autistic. But he's so much more than that. His autism doesn't define him, and it shouldn't limit him. Unfortunately, so many people hear "autism" and think "Rain Man." People don't realize that a child with autism can be as high-functioning as FrogBoy is. When he DOES act out, they think he's just being a brat. When he performs poorly in school, it's "okay" because "Maybe he didn't get it." Well - maybe he didn't get it - but maybe it's just because ancient history isn't his thing.
In our house, we don't allow the autism excuse. It may actually factor in to our decisions, but he doesn't know that, and he won't. I just wish more people would see the child and not the label that has been smacked on him.
He's a great kid. End of story.
Thursday, April 03, 2008
Dancing King
One of the quirky characteristics of people with autism is their tendency to engage in repetitive behaviors. Think of Rain Man rocking back and forth. That's a common one. And yes, every night at our house, we have a certain time set aside for FrogBoy to enjoy "WHEEL! OF! FORTUNE!" and "This Is...JEOPARDY!" Same deal, every night, without fail. Do it once and it's a routine.
All that to say, FrogBoy loves to spin. He's a spinner. He also chews on his shirts. We spend a lot of money on clothes for the kid because he eats his shirts. These behaviors give him sensory feedback that you and I don't need. But FrogBoy needs it. So he chews. And he spins.
FrogBoy also can't stand to have clothes on. We're not sure if they just irritate him (another sensory issue) or if he just likes being naked, but the minute he walks in the door from school, he strips down to his underwear and is as happy as can be. If we tell him we're going somewhere or someone's coming over, he's fine to stay in his clothes, but if we don't prevent the stripping, off they come, the minute he gets home.
We've also always had issues with FrogBoy getting dressed in the morning. Apparently, it is ALWAYS too cold for him to get dressed - even in the middle of the summer. So it is ALWAYS a big fat hairy deal.
However, several years ago, we got a real treat. When FrogBoy would change his clothes, he would remove the articles one-by-one and spin around and dance and swing the clothing above his head, male-stripper style. He was our own little Chippendales dancer. He would dance until he was tired and then release the clothes mid-spin. We would find underwear behind the bookshelves and hanging off lamps. It was quite enjoyable.
Sadly, the days of the dance party have gone by the wayside. FrogBoy still strips, and he still dances, he just doesn't combine the two anymore.
One of the quirky characteristics of people with autism is their tendency to engage in repetitive behaviors. Think of Rain Man rocking back and forth. That's a common one. And yes, every night at our house, we have a certain time set aside for FrogBoy to enjoy "WHEEL! OF! FORTUNE!" and "This Is...JEOPARDY!" Same deal, every night, without fail. Do it once and it's a routine.
All that to say, FrogBoy loves to spin. He's a spinner. He also chews on his shirts. We spend a lot of money on clothes for the kid because he eats his shirts. These behaviors give him sensory feedback that you and I don't need. But FrogBoy needs it. So he chews. And he spins.
FrogBoy also can't stand to have clothes on. We're not sure if they just irritate him (another sensory issue) or if he just likes being naked, but the minute he walks in the door from school, he strips down to his underwear and is as happy as can be. If we tell him we're going somewhere or someone's coming over, he's fine to stay in his clothes, but if we don't prevent the stripping, off they come, the minute he gets home.
We've also always had issues with FrogBoy getting dressed in the morning. Apparently, it is ALWAYS too cold for him to get dressed - even in the middle of the summer. So it is ALWAYS a big fat hairy deal.
However, several years ago, we got a real treat. When FrogBoy would change his clothes, he would remove the articles one-by-one and spin around and dance and swing the clothing above his head, male-stripper style. He was our own little Chippendales dancer. He would dance until he was tired and then release the clothes mid-spin. We would find underwear behind the bookshelves and hanging off lamps. It was quite enjoyable.
Sadly, the days of the dance party have gone by the wayside. FrogBoy still strips, and he still dances, he just doesn't combine the two anymore.
Wednesday, April 02, 2008
Awesome Tee - Part 1
Several months ago, I read an article about a family that has 6 autistic kids. Actually, that's a technicality - they have 6 kids on the spectrum. Two have Asperger's and one has PDD-NOS...but 2 are severely autistic and non-verbal, so if they want to simplify things and say they have 6 autistic kids, I'm not going to argue.
Anyway, I was reading this article and noticed in one of the pictures that one of the non-verbal kids had this great tee-shirt. It said:
I'M AUTISTIC. WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM??
That really tickled me. Sometimes we just have to laugh at the issue at hand - that's the only thing we can do. So I began frantically searching the internet for other awesomely inspiring tees with autistic messages.
I found a site that carries over 3000 autism-related products. Another one I like is:
AUTISM...NEVER A DULL MOMENT.
I'll share more throughout the month. Count on things to get snarkier as the days go by.
Several months ago, I read an article about a family that has 6 autistic kids. Actually, that's a technicality - they have 6 kids on the spectrum. Two have Asperger's and one has PDD-NOS...but 2 are severely autistic and non-verbal, so if they want to simplify things and say they have 6 autistic kids, I'm not going to argue.
Anyway, I was reading this article and noticed in one of the pictures that one of the non-verbal kids had this great tee-shirt. It said:
I'M AUTISTIC. WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM??
That really tickled me. Sometimes we just have to laugh at the issue at hand - that's the only thing we can do. So I began frantically searching the internet for other awesomely inspiring tees with autistic messages.
I found a site that carries over 3000 autism-related products. Another one I like is:
AUTISM...NEVER A DULL MOMENT.
I'll share more throughout the month. Count on things to get snarkier as the days go by.
Tuesday, April 01, 2008
On My Soapbox
Okay, so today is April 1. The first day of Autism Awareness Month. Lucky for you, it's a short month. My intent this month is to post at least one tidbit every day about this uninvited, permanent guest in our lives.
Today, I'll start with something I find interesting. Seems this very intelligent, yet autistic, guy in Dublin, by the name of Michael Fitzgerald (no kidding) did some research to find out about other very intelligent, autistic folks. Here's a short list of historical figures who seemingly were on the spectrum:
Hans Christian Anderson
Lewis Carroll
Albert Einstein (sometimes FrogBoy has the same hair, so I can see this connection)
Thomas Jefferson
Michaelangelo
Mozart
Sir Isaac Newton
George Orwell
Andy Warhol
...and several serial killers...but we're not going to count them.
All that to say, my child is a genius, he just processes things differently than other kids, and if you don't like it, he doesn't care. For that matter, neither do I. He's mine, he's perfect, and I love him.
Happy 1st day of Autism Awareness Month!
Be sure to tune in to CNN tomorrow for their coverage of World Autism Awareness Day.
Okay, so today is April 1. The first day of Autism Awareness Month. Lucky for you, it's a short month. My intent this month is to post at least one tidbit every day about this uninvited, permanent guest in our lives.
Today, I'll start with something I find interesting. Seems this very intelligent, yet autistic, guy in Dublin, by the name of Michael Fitzgerald (no kidding) did some research to find out about other very intelligent, autistic folks. Here's a short list of historical figures who seemingly were on the spectrum:
Hans Christian Anderson
Lewis Carroll
Albert Einstein (sometimes FrogBoy has the same hair, so I can see this connection)
Thomas Jefferson
Michaelangelo
Mozart
Sir Isaac Newton
George Orwell
Andy Warhol
...and several serial killers...but we're not going to count them.
All that to say, my child is a genius, he just processes things differently than other kids, and if you don't like it, he doesn't care. For that matter, neither do I. He's mine, he's perfect, and I love him.
Happy 1st day of Autism Awareness Month!
Be sure to tune in to CNN tomorrow for their coverage of World Autism Awareness Day.
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