My Whac-A-Mole Life   

Wordless Wednesday: Pressure Vests - For DOGS!

Most of us already know about pressure vests, right? These vests - often weighted - provide proprioceptive feedback that (theoretically) calms and grounds kids with autism, ADHD, sensory processing disorder, and so on. Weighted blankets are a big thing, too.

Whenever an OT introduces this type of vest to my daughter, I can't help but wonder whether the benefits outweigh the fashion fail.

Well, never mind all that. Have you seen THIS? It's Thundershirt for your special needs pets, and I couldn't make this stuff up. For more information (and I assure you, I get nothing out of this click), check out www.thundershirt.com. Don't miss the free embroidery!


Screenshot from www.Thundershirt.com
Click to see Video
And for cats too!
   
More from the site:
THUNDERSHIRTS ARE GREAT FOR:
» Fear of thunder/fireworks
» Separation anxiety
» Travel anxiety
» Crate training
» Problem barking
» Hyperactivity
» Leash pulling
» And more!

Wordless Wednesday: The Language
Of Love

She tries to speak, but her body won't listen...so my daughter must fulfill her human drive to communicate in other ways. How would you do it?

Through sign language, grunting, pointing, screaming and "approximating" (sounding out words as best she can), she gets what she needs. The larger challenge, however, is understanding and expressing her feelings, motivations, abstract thoughts.

While we focused on teaching her to "look into our eyes" and "properly" play with dolls, she taught herself to read and write (with some help, of course, from phenomenal teachers and therapists). How lucky we are that we have access to technology that can serve as a surrogate voice for this expressive, nonverbal 7-year-old.

Often, it's still easier and more satisfying for her to stage a tantrum, but slowly we are uncaging our daughter's inner voice.

Perhaps the words never will readily flow from her mouth, and that's okay. That's not really where words come from anyway, is it?

Mommy on the Run

I am super-excited to participate in my first Yeah Write. If you like my post, you are more than welcome to follow the "Yeah Write 55" button to the voting page, scroll down, and click on that little yellow star thingy below My Whac-A-Mole Life. Voting is now open closed. Wow - I got 6th place out of 50. Just wow! You also should check out the other Yeah Write entries. It's an honor to be among them.

My happy place is shamefully cliche, but perhaps simply because it's so universally divine. Resting peacefully on a comfy beach chair...white sand...waves crashing...breezy sunshine...Oprah-blessed book in one hand; fruity, umbrella-topped cocktail in the other. My family's with me, building sandcastles, riding the waves and playing backgammon.

The best part: we're contentedly "still." Not still in the physical sense, but more of a relaxing, peaceful stillness, where our minds are able to join our bodies on this vacation.

BRRRRRRING (that's the sound of a one-button, analog alarm clock - circa 1986 - jolting me awake)! This fantasy is as unrealistic as time travel. Or you reaching me on a land line. You see, I'm Mommy on the Run. And Mommy on the Run is never still.

In the scene above, mine's the family disturbing the peace. A child is throwing sand, or screaming in terror, or wandering haphazardly, knocking over your sunblock and water bottle without even realizing it. Someone is yelling. Someone is apologizing to a stranger. All adults are counting down the minutes until this "vacation" is over.

If my kids were toddlers, beach-goers would smile knowingly and say nostalgically, "enjoy it. They grow up so fast." However, these kids are long past the terrible/adorable twos, and (while they still are exceptionally cute), universal sentiment is more like, "I hope they're not staying on our floor."

Mommy on the Run doesn't care. She's more concerned with making sure nobody drowns, drinks from a moldy, half-buried Mountain Dew can, or swipes a shovel from your baby. She's got the reflexes, speed and alertness of an Olympic athlete (though sadly not the body to match). You see, long after most kids are Ferber-ized allowing their parents to sleep again, she's still more exhausted than you can possibly comprehend, but her kids keep growing bigger, stronger and faster. So she focuses every working neuron on real-time, all-the-time crisis prevention and management.

At gatherings, while others' children are able to play unsupervised in the basement, Mommy on the Run is the sole adult chasing ping-pong balls. She hears that drop-off parties are a great time to run errands. Not for her. She lingers, in strangers' homes, awkwardly offering to hand out forks because "drop-off" is not an option. At the pool, while most moms are gabbing and sunning with gal pals, Mommy on the Run is begrudgingly in the water or, if she's lucky, running up and down the poolside in a sarong shouting with great hope: "Great job keeping your bathing suit on!"

At a holiday lunch, Mommy on the Run is even more vigilant. Her "crazy eyes" are (probably) not medically induced, but a sign that she's scanning the environment for potential destruction, meltdowns and escapes. She genuinely might want to talk to you, but it's likely she'll disappear mid-sentence, having to save a family heirloom from crashing to the ground or a guest's modesty from her daughter's compulsion to have everything buttoned just so.

Mommy on the Run is prone to sudden, unexpected outbursts, ranging from random warnings to guests ("Hold on to that water cup!" "Guard your salad!") to leaping to her feet to block an exit. Inevitably, you'll think she's nuts when she screams across two rooms, "Don't even think about it!" (You see, she and her child simultaneously spotted someone nearby with an irresistibly, rip-offable bandage.) Another parent - probably the PTA president - will say with a slightly judgmental  tone: "It's okay. She hasn't even done anything wrong." Oh, but she will. She will.

On a Saturday afternoon "relaxing" at home, Mommy on the Run is always at the ready, playing autism whac-a-mole with expertise, but failing to complete one load of dishes (tellingly, this is another fantasy of hers). The minute-after-minute demands of her resident Tasmanian Devil are all-consuming ... and more important.

Mommy on the Run is a master of observation, mind-reading and focus - but only when it comes to her child. As an adult conversationalist or party guest, she sucks. She will not and can not be still.

Once upon a time, I was a skilled networker, able to discuss Wall Street Journal insights with Fortune 500 CEOs. These days, I'm Mommy on the Run, leaving you with no other choice - as you must have figured out based on my diminished number of party invitations - but to clear a path and guard your china.

***By the way, if this post seems scattered or disjointed, please be aware that I popped up 13 14 times while writing it to avert disaster. Actually, consider this a disclaimer for this entire blog site. Thank you in advance.

To 'I Wish I Didn't Have Aspergers' - An AutismPositivity2012 Flash Blog Event

***This post is part of a community-wide flash blog event, responding to an anonymous Google search for "I Wish I Didn't Have Aspergers." Read more here: Autism Positivity Day Flash Blog Event.

To: I Wish I Didn't Have Aspergers,

I am writing this because you could be my child. I am writing this because it  is my responsibility as a parent of a child on the autism spectrum to relay this message every day - so you will grow up to be proud of your identity. The problem is, WHAT IS THE RIGHT MESSAGE?

This question rips me apart because, of course, it pains me to see my children struggle against the grain every day. Of course, I want them to take pride in themselves and be proud of their identity. It's true that being “wired differently” actually furnishes them with some very cool and unique attributes.

However, as their mother, I understand your plea. And you know what? I WISH THEY DIDN’T HAVE THEIR DIAGNOSES, TOO!

This sentiment is extraordinarily polarizing; some might even say it stigmatizes their existence. Of course not! It's okay to lament something that makes one struggle, which we wish were different about ourselves. Every human being does it - whether it's as mundane as math homework, athletic ability or hair color…or as magnanimous as your distress.

Psychologists tell us that struggles in life can foster resilience, a highly valuable attribute for anyone. Resilience might even make us live longer. But, seriously, nobody really WANTS to struggle. And watching someone you love struggle is equally as (or arguably more) painful.

If you've indeed arrived here wishing you don’t have Aspergers, you're not going to fall for me telling you: “You are wrong. Autism is a gift.” (So are Dyslexia, ADD, Down Syndrome and everything else, according to a multitude of books on Amazon.com.) I celebrate differences. I embrace and learn from different schools of thought. But tell me, who, when expecting a baby, thinks: "I really, really hope this baby will have autism.”

Still, just as each person has their own eye color, certain innate strengths and skills, many also have autism. And their place in this world is as important and valid as any other person’s. I agree that the challenges you face are greater than some...but also fewer than others. That’s life.

I cannot validate or invalidate your concerns or expectations. For all of us, life is full of joys and disappointment, and each of us just must do the best we can with what we've got. I suspect you have worked harder on developing yourself than the majority. As I think about it, autistic children easily could emerge from countless hours of therapy and special needs services with a shattered self-image and belief that they have unacceptable “deficits.” I mean, imagine if we all worked as hard on ourselves as those we send to therapy week after week! The world might be a much better place; but we’d probably all suffer from low self-esteem.

Some might fault society for these feelings of inadequacy. No doubt, there is a widespread lack of awareness and tolerance for differences. But the part of autism that’s not okay is the part that spins my daughter out of control...or results in too many children drowning in lakes. I cannot accept that. I see that many on the spectrum overcome these urges, needs and drives as they mature, but "overcoming" anything requires strength, work and persistence. Every. Single. Day. I admire that.

My dear "I Wish I Didn't Have Aspergers," if you are not thinking this, I am: Why should you listen to me? How could I possibly understand the complexities of your despair. I am an autism parent; not a peer.

Well, I do hope that you have your own family, mentors or friends looking out for you, doing the best they can for you - like I try to do for my children. So I can assure you that, while this help might sometimes be misguided, it usually comes from a place of love and support. Please TELL the people making you feel bad what's going on. As a parent, I'd want to know.

Remember, Aspies think very differently. Just as you might struggle to understand others’ motivations and feelings, they often are befuddled by yours. Please allow us work together to understand each other better.

If you do not have someone in your life who can fill that role, you must make that a priority. Start here. Click on the pretty button above and read all of these posts. I am about to do the same, knowing that the journey will take me through stages of agreement, disagreement, anger, admiration and education. Yet, I appreciate each post.

There has never been more awareness and dialogue around Aspergers and Autism than now. I am lucky, as a parent of a young child with autism, that I have access to a multitude of resources, ideas and support, including (and especially) amazing teens and adults on the spectrum willing to share a glimpse into their worldview. Since my daughter cannot speak for herself, they can - as much as any individual can understand another  – help me help her. Perhaps they can do the same for you.

Please continue searching, growing and connecting with others. And let us know what you’ve learned. Because if there's anything we all can agree on it's this: We all have a lot to learn.

“Knowing yourself is the beginning of all wisdom.” --Aristotle