My Whac-A-Mole Life: soapbox   

She Talks Funny

My Child Is Not Your 'Teachable Moment'

We're perched at a rectangular, kid's-size table in the art room of an indoor play gym, and she is painting a collection of methodically selected picture print-outs. Embracing her focus and age-appropriate activity - ephemeral as it will be - I attentively respond to her endless, artistic demands like an attendant in an operating room. I don't want to break the spell.

Her word approximations erupt loudly, jumbly and jolty: "Wa du"..."On-ch"..."hep." Instinctively, I know to present water for her paintbrush; fresh, orange paint; and the help she wants un-sticking her painted papers - all the while, rewarding and validating my autistic, apraxic child's emerging language and articulation.

A younger boy enters, maybe around 4 or 5, his mom by his side. (I know this because be calls her "mom" with the startlingly perfect clarity and tone that sucker-punches me every time. It shouldn't surprise me to hear children half her age orating like rock stars, but somehow it still does.)

Awareness Galore: A Collection of Autism Awareness Month Posts


 Loading InLinkz ...

Light This Way: Musings on Autism 'Awareness'

It's April - the annual 30 days where we commemorate, celebrate, showcase, discuss, debate and generally spread "awareness" for things like Jazz (appreciation); Poetry; Confederate History (observed only in the Southern United States, according to the source - um, duh...and um, really?); Mathematics (curiously dubbed Awareness not Appreciation); and the obligatory list of disorders/differences/diseases and such, including Diabetes, Parkinson, Asperger's* and Autism.

Get "lit" for autism: A collaborative piece
by the bloggers of My Whac-A-Mole-Life; Pancakes Gone Awry
Yeah. Good Times.; Disability and Representation;
and, of course Edvard Munch.
On top of that, Autism gets its very own worldwide DAY: April 2nd. But surely you know that because anyone with a pen, keyboard, quill or cave wall has told us that already. And in the volatile blogosphere, boy did they! Take your pick. You've got your serious, snarky or poignant. Perhaps you prefer your awareness flavored indignant, sanctimonious, or rose-colored? There are posts ranging from curmudgeonly to cheerleader-y...and many combinations thereof. Are you pro-blue? Are you pointedly not? There's a blog post for you.

So where am I planting my flag today? The honest truth is, I don't know what to think.

We diagnosed my little girl very early, due to her pushy, uber-"aware" mom (ahem). Autism Speaks has a large presence in these parts, and it was the go-to resource. Their messages, videos ("No, I can't go for a bagel"**), and community spoke to me.

Then I became immersed in behavioral and educational endeavors. I read Jenny McCarthy's books. I fell in love with Holly Robinson Peete. My autism identity crises progressed to Floortime vs. ABA; sensory fulfillment vs. academic goals; the pros and cons of eating bark.

Managing Your Child's Medications: A Lay-Parent's Guide

We're on drugs. Yep, you name it (duh, legally prescribed drugs), we've probably tried it. I can't say I'm as drug-savvy as Nancy Botwin, and we certainly don't grow or sell them, but we do manage them. Doses, prescriptions, times, counter-effects, interactions, half-lives - it's a lot to take in when you're just trying to keep a kid from scratching your eyes out.

This post is NOT about the pros and cons of medicating children. It's a highly personal, emotional issue for many of us, and I don't wish to debate that here. Obviously, medications are not always the answer. Medications alone rarely are the answer. And unfortunately identifying the RIGHT medications and dosages often can feel like chasing a carrot: just when you think you've nailed it -bam! - the kid has a growth spurt; or completely new symptoms; or they stop making THAT pill in THAT dose; or something else.

Nonetheless, I chose to add medications to our treatment plans, and any reservations I had quickly dissipated after witnessing undeniable, SIGNIFICANT results.

Of course, that doesn't mean I love doling out psychotropic medications any more than I like my kid's melatonin habit. However, I defer to the age-old wisdom: if your child needs a wheelchair, you provide the wheelchair. Yes, you also offer therapy, rehab, counseling, sporn flushing, and so on, but you must provide the wheelchair.

Anyhoo, I've become somewhat of a preachy busybody on this topic because I screw up a lot, and it makes me feel much better to pretend I've learned something from it. So, as much as I support the use of  psychiatric medications when needed, I am militant about the following pointers. If you have others, please share them below, because I'm pretty sure we will continue to be a poster household for Big Pharma for many years to come.

Am I Normal?

I wasn't going to post this today, but this ongoing conflict* within the autism community is eating away at me. So I'll make it quick.

I was hanging out with my son today in the kid's nonfiction section at Barnes & Noble, one of his favorite places on earth (well, it really could be the nonfiction section of ANY bookstore).

Leaning innocently next to the almanacs; the "Wacky But True"s; and the good, old "Book of Why," we saw this book: "Are You Normal?" (At least they had the sense to put normal in quotation marks!)

I'm sure that title was someone's seemingly clever way of cheaply and quickly repackaging a bunch of facts from the "humans" section of any of those other books I mentioned above, but National Geographic, REALLY?

This week's online autism community drama aside, "am I normal" is a very real, very poignant question for parents of any "quirky" kid. When they ask it, it can be glorious - because it requires a level of social awareness that might not come naturally. Still, when they ask it, how could your heart not skip a beat?

So my son sees this "Are You Normal?" crap, picks it up, flips through it, and puts it down.
Then he says this:
"Everyone should know there's no such thing as normal.
A lot of people are going to be disappointed."
I hugged him so hard.

-----------------------------------------
*Here are a few thought-provoking posts and comment streams from well-respected blogs that touch on this disturbing divide.

No, It's Not Okay

My daughter has autism. She's beautiful, smart, loving and full of personality... and she has autism. She also happens to be one of those autistic kids with "behaviors."

Now, the parenting manual (what? you didn't get one?) states that parents can produce well-behaved, respectful children with a few basic tenets that usually come down to these:

  • Set limits.
  • Be consistent.
  • Be patient.
  • Reward positive behavior.
  • Clarify expectations and consequences.
  • Follow through.

Actually, I believe these easily apply to kids with autism, too...if you set them in all caps, bold them, raise the font size to 42 and keep your fingers crossed.

My daughter has and follows lots of rules. I don't even know some of them. Like every time we pass a certain restaurant on a Tuesday when it's raining, she gets a Frosty. Because that's what happened before - ONE Tuesday, ONE time, when it was raining.

You see, there's really no such thing as exceptions, special occurrences and temporary changes in routine. To her, every occurrence simply is a new precedent that she files away in that mysterious superbrain of hers.

As for rules that we intend to impose on her...well - and I probably can't even blame autism for this one - she thinks breaking those is hilarious. There's nothing more entertaining than someone in trouble. Especially if it's herself.

One more little reminder before I go on: she has no regard for social decorum. Yet, the world around her requires it - for inclusion; acceptance; safety; and even civility (we just can't all walk around without pants in most parts of this country).

Now, like many like-minded parents, we have invested ridiculous amounts of time, money, energy and tears in hopes that our sweet, mischievous little girl could learn to retrofit herself into our strange and dangerous world. This world has many social expectations that make little sense to her - like not hugging strangers; not stealing food from others' plates; not wandering hotel hallways alone; not shoplifting; and so on. While she likes to do all of these things, and as much as I respect her individuality and her independence, I simply won't allow them. Even when you tell me, "It's okay."

Look, I know you don't mind if she grabs the pickles from your sandwich. And I know you barely know her, but her hug really made your day. I realize that, by allowing her to do these things, you're intending to be kind, or helpful, or supportive.

But when she sneaks up behind you and yanks your ponytail holder out of your hair, I really do have to reprimand her. We both might think it's cute (and OMG she is cute), but it's simply not acceptable. It easily will snowball into a month of drive-by hair snatching, ponytail-holder hoarding, hell, I don't know...something that inevitably will take me by surprise. And while I know you probably don't mind, I do. And society certainly will.

Further, when I scold her, you probably will think my reaction surpasses the crime. Or that I'm just really, really mean. I assure you, I'm not half as tough, consistent or patient as the job requires. But I love her beyond words and I know her potential, so I try.

Maybe you're thinking that, as her special friend (great grandmother...favorite teacher...fairy godmother...whatever), you should be allowed to indulge her. Of course it's "okay" with you if she pulls the band aid off of your paper cut. You're thrilled at the chance to make her happy.

However and especially BECAUSE you love her, you should know it's not okay. She adores you, yes, but she will not necessarily differentiate this behavior between you and strangers. Safety aside, even if it's cute now, it will get less and less cute as she grows older.

So, the next time she swipes your baby's sippy cup or follows you into the bathroom for a peek, please don't giggle and correct me when I discipline her...or harshly remind her of our rules and expectations...or tear my hair out. Because no, it most definitely is not okay.

All Kids Do That: Obsessions

I'm willing to bet that even if your kid's issues aren't as screwed up complex as mine, you've heard this phrase before: "Oh, all kids do that."

I know it's meant to be comforting. But to an anxious parent - who has bravely put their worst fears out there - I posit that it instills reassurance maybe 1-3 percent of the time.

The other 97-99 percent of the time, it likely does the opposite. It can belittle, demean and certainly invalidate a parent's instincts.

My child's speech seems to be regressing!
"Oh, all kids do that. As one skill develops, others might go under the radar. Give it some time."

My child is waking up at night with an excruciating headache.
"Oh, all kids do that. He's probably having nightmares. Or allergies. Give it some time."

Wrong and wrong. 

Today, I'm sitting at the cool kid's table doing my first guest post. Hooray! Jill Smo conceived this awesome "All Kids Do That" series on her snarky, very real blog "Yeah. Good Times."

Head over there to check out her pad, the brilliant "All Kids do That" series, and my very first, bloggy guest post. See you there!




How Old Is She?


The question seems innocent enough, right? Not even close. See, when it comes to a giant, 7-year-old nonverbal child with autism, it’s a loaded question. In fact, depending on the inquisitor and tone, it’s like the word “set” (which possesses the most definitions/uses in the English language - rumored to be in the 400s!).

So, allow me to help translate it for you, since I imagine you won't find these definitions on Wikipedia.

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: gentle, kind): I know she has autism because I recognize it. I am asking her age because I am empathetic and sensitive. I’m hoping you will volunteer the information so I can tell you all about my sister’s/cousin’s/neighbor’s kid with autism. I might offer you a hopeful message or simply a knowing, supportive smile.

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: sweet, cloyingly sympathetic):  I can tell something is wrong with your child. She is not acting anywhere close to her age. I’m slightly nosy and want to appear friendly. I will smile pitifully at you and probably follow up with something like “bless her heart."

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: rushed, alarmed):  I have (or am very close to) a child with special needs, and I am comparing our children. In an instant, I have assessed whether yours is older/younger than mine...yours is speaking better/worse than mine...yours is higher/lower functioning than mine. This comparison is not at all like the competitive nature of suburban, prep-school playgrounds. It’s more about survival, hope and support. Occasionally, resource ideas and therapists’ names will be swapped.

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: stern, accusing):  I have no idea what you’ll answer but it doesn’t even matter. She is way too old to be acting this way. I’m not really interested in hearing an explanation for her behavior. She’s bothering me somehow, and you should take her out of here. Have you no shame, lady? Just stay home if you can't handle your child.

HOW OLD IS SHE? (Tone: bright; speaker has child of similar age): Are our kids the same age? Will they be in the same class? I embrace and support inclusion...just not in my own daughter's classroom. Oh, I’ll say all the right things and use this as a teachable moment for my children, but in the back of my mind, I foresee that brat ruining my little dumpling's Hannah Montana birthday party. And I just KNOW that you ate too much tuna fish or drank too much while you were pregnant. Really, I’m just relieved that we escaped that statistic and you got the 1 in 88 instead.
***
There are many more. Perhaps one of my supportive readers will add to this list.

Meanwhile, for my sister mothers, I will share one last interpretation of this question which I learned only a few days ago. This scenario is a rare but exciting one. Last week I was asked the same, old question, but in a tone I’ve never heard before. It was like someone speaking in a foreign language. Here’s what happened.
Lady (Tone: casual, hopeful; Setting: store of some kind): HOW OLD IS SHE?
Me  (suspicious, unsure): 7
Lady (holding up two outfits): “Oh good. I'm buying a present for my granddaughter and thought they might be about the same age.”
(Addressing my daughter) “Which one would you like better?”
We were BOTH speechless this time. I explained to the lady that my dear, little girl doesn’t talk and doesn't really share the same interests as others her age...but still I repeated the question for her…and she pointed at one of the outfits (the uglier, more ostentatious one, of course). The lady thanked us sweetly and walked away.

I remained in place, somewhat flabbergasted but delighted that someone considered my daughter to be a typical peer of her age group. Best question ever!

***FOOTNOTE: Please don't EVER ask me “WHAT GRADE IS SHE IN?” There’s only one definition to that one: You are utterly clueless...(not to mention that I have absolutely no idea).


School Rant

Occasionally I can be eloquent. I don't anticipate that happening in this particular post. I'm really, really angry. The topic - and any parent of a child with "additional" needs already has had this conversation many times - is school.

When I was growing up, we simply went to school - whether it was a public school or a private school of your family's choice. You started there, and you finished there. If you had learning,  social or any issues at all, they probably were ignored, overlooked, undiagnosed or punished. And somehow, most of us managed to graduate high school and beyond. I'm not saying this was a good thing, but it seemed to work for lots of folks.

Fast forward and you'll find my family. Two kids under 11 that have not once left this county - and they are alum of no fewer than 8 school between them...and counting.

In my circle, we take school year by year. We switch schools for various reasons, whether it be evolving diagnoses/needs, school policy/leadership changes, etc. Sometimes it's because a parent has unrealistic expectations. (I received a huge compliment yesterday when another special needs mom pointed out that she thinks the two of us are pretty in touch with reality when it comes to our kids...many parents aren't. Are you?)

I admit public school is the one fight I haven't pursued, despite a few false starts. Scary tales of IEPs and abuse of nonverbal children keep me up at night. It doesn't help when I have to endure hours of redundant evaluations at ridiculous locations across the city...or I find a school situation/teacher I like, only to be told that nobody knows which school will house the "autism classroom" come Fall, let alone who will teach it. Even thinking about it is exhausting!

I am tempted to just pretend we are a typical family, and register my child to show up the first day of class just like anyone else. Hello 3rd grade, meet your nemesis. Bet that would result in some quick action!

Anyway, to get to the point here, school placement is hard. Inclusion is great, but only if other kids are decent and co-teaching is flawless. It never is. Self-contained can work, but only if those co-contained are a good match. I don't even know what I want to fight for!

So I've become a big fan of niche schools - those that know what they can do and do it well. (Of course there aren't enough of these and they never have enough room, but that's another story.)  These days, it's amusing to watch parents fight and compete to get their children into the "right" school - not the elite, college prep school that prefers legacy families with big pockets...but the LD school that takes "high-functioning" kids that might actually educate our children and not just stick them on a trampoline all day.

I am quite fortunate to have a support system of friends with kids on the spectrum, like mine (some would say this is a gift brought to me through autism). So when one of their kids is accepted and succeeds at a school of their choice, we celebrate. It gives me hope for my child. She's not ready now, but someday perhaps.

But when one of those kids - who I've always considered much more school-friendly than mine - gets literally kicked out of school, it's a huge blow for all of us. Really, SCHOOL, what do you expect from these kids? These are not teenagers...these are babies under 10 years old...teach them! We don't lie about their issues because we know that doesn't help anyone. So if you accept them, ACCEPT THEM.

On the same day, I spoke to another friend whose kid is sooooo much more "high-functioning" than mine who also can't find a satisfactory school placement. He's even been mainstreamed in a few places. He too was rejected from some of my back-up schools! It's so depressing.

We are finding programs that are either so dumbed-down for "lower-functioning" kids (aka passive kids) or, alternatively, stronger academically for "higher-functioning" kids but not capable of handling any behavioral issue. Or they weed you out by verbal vs. nonverbal. So what about my kid who is verbal through ASL or an iPad and needs facilitation? Is that less or more desirable to you than a child who is "verbal" but completely inappropriately, or completely echolalia-like (just made that word up I think)? You want to teach "social skills" but don't want the accompanying behaviors a child who needs this help might also have, resulting from frustration or perseveration? I wish I could pick cherry-pick my kid's high-functioning/low-functioning behavior/skills mix too, but that's not how it works!

I have paid a lot of money to a lot of schools. I have spent a lot of time filling out a lot of paperwork. I know it's hard, and I do not have the answers, but I just want a school that will not overestimate OR underestimate my child. And I don't want that school to be at my kitchen table!

P.S. Please, for God's sake, don't blame her (or me) when she runs out the door after you keep it wide open. I told you she would! Let's teach her together.


END RANT.