Moment of truth

(*Note: This was the back story to a post I submitted on SMITH Magazine's Six Word Memoirs.)

Imagine how alarmed I've felt the last 2 days hearing my autistic son say repeatedly, "He touched the butt." This is a child who is verbal yet rarely expresses himself clearly. He often speaks in riddles, forcing us to crack codes and hunt for clues to figure out what he is really saying. Anyway, I checked in with the teacher, and she said nothing's awry at school as far as she knows. They keep a close eye on him at my insistence and because he tends to be very random with his not-so-pleasant behaviors. 

I decided I was going to get more info out of him cleverly. He kept saying this over and over, and I asked him, "Oh, yea? Who touched the butt." No answer. I waited. Then I asked again, "Hey, did somebody touch the butt? Person's name is __?" He often fills in the blank. This time, no answer. This continued all evening. I kept nagging him with my incessant yet subtle interrogation. If anyone messed with my boy, I was already getting revved up for war! 

After a zillion times, I tried one last time before he went to bed. This time, I tried a different angle to the question. "So ... somebody touched the butt. I wonder who it was. Hmmmm. Was it Optimus Prime? Hey, Optimus, did you touch the butt?" He has a giant cardboard Optimus Prime hanging on the wall in his room. 

Then from behind me, I hear, "NO. Nemo touched the butt." 

Then the fluorescent mental light bulb came on, and I remembered that scene from Finding Nemo; butt being "boat" since they didn't know how to pronounce this human word correctly. It was a hilarious scene and one of my favorites from the movie. My son, since he was tiny, has a habit of blurting out random lines from shows and movies. Another thing he's done since he was much younger is to correct me. It's a homemade tactic I came up with when he was around 5-7 to make him talk once I realized that saying something wrong annoys him into correcting me. Anytime I wanted to force him to speak, I'd say something totally false, like "Hmm. Look. This shirt is red." (It was blue.) After any length of silence, he'd blurt out, "It's BLUE!" 

*Wicked grin* 

So, I'm glad a burden was lifted off my shoulders like dropping a backpack full of bricks. Whew! All is well in the world again.

Hungry man angry man

It's been a rollercoastery few weeks, but as always we live to tell about it.

Week before last, there was an act of aggression (to say the least) toward a classroom aide during lunch one day. When the school's name comes up on my cell phone caller ID in the middle of the day, I cringe a little and get a stomach cramp, especially if I know it's not time to set up an ARD. I'm not surprised said incident happened during lunch. The kiddo tends to be most testy during feeding times. I've learned the hard way to never approach a hungry lion as it devours its prey (i.e., a hamburger and fries). Thank goodness for a patient and dedicated team at the school and for that being the first such episode all school year.

I still haven't figured out how to stop or quell the projectile-spitting issue after four years of it, which is a whole other set of interesting tales. But how boring would life be without such disgusting mysteries to crack, right?

Live and Learn

As I always say, he teaches me new things all the time. I was taught a lesson just the other day during breakfast, again, feeding time. Picture this. Chocolate chip poptart on his favorite red plastic plate. Avengers cup full of Crystal Lite passion fruit punch. Little blue pill next to it on the counter. Son seated on the bar stool. We were in a time crunch, so as soon as he wolfed down the poptart, I took the plate to rinse it off. Behind me I heard a growl and turned around to see him giving me the evil glare that means "Mommy, you screwed up." Then he mumbled, "Put.The.Plate.Down. Mommy." He sat seething for a few seconds before he swallowed his med and finished his drink. Prior to the plate incident, he'd been humming happily. Suddenly, he was Poker faced and silent. During the ride to school, he kept repeating the phrase "Put the place down," even during his favorite rap playlist. Apparently, I ruined his day by taking up the plate too soon.

Next morning, I noticed he ate his poptart with one hand while the other was holding down the plate. (I turned my back to him to giggle.) He didn't take his hand off the plate until he'd finished eating, took his meds, and finished his drink. Then he released the plate from captivity and nudged it toward me across the counter, imply, "OK to rinse." Point noted!

This morning, I was awakened at 6:30 a.m. by the sound of hysterical laughter and high-pitched singing. Needless to say, I got up with a smile.

Have a wonderful weekend, all.

Operation: Get Back to Normal

Happy Sunday,

As I mentioned last time, my son with autism has refused to hang out in my room (which was always the norm) because of a certain new, unwelcomed intruder I brought in here—my new 28-inch flatscreen TV and PlaySation 3 setup. (The 24-inch RCA's picture wasn't too impressive, so we exchanged it for a 28-inch LG, making it even more prominent on the desk.)

We're a bunch of home bodies, so we don't spend a lot of time chillin' outside the homefront. While I'm at my desk writing, reading, or making crafts, he usually roams around, chatting, humming, and just hanging out near me. Nowadays, he doesn't do that because of these new additions to my desk. I've been thinking of ways to make him feel comfy again and to understand that Mr. TV and PlayStation are not a threat. Here are my attempts at bringing back normalcy.

Attempt #1 - Be bold
Called his name and asked him, in a brisk tone, to come through the doorway and hang out with me for a while.

Attempt #2 - Music
I have a small stereo system on my dresser with all his CDs. We can't put a lot of items in his room because during tantrums he has proven to be part Hulk. So the DJ area must remain on my dresser if it is to have a prolonged life. He loves music, so this was his usual thing when hanging out with me, playing all his favorite songs and bobbing his head to the music. I opened up the large CD case so he could eyeball its content and told him to play me some music.

Attempt #3 - Computer time
My eldest son got a new laptop and left the old one in his room after moving away to college town. So we took it, cleaned out old files, updated the virus protection, dusted it off, and got it in working order. I put it on my bed, and turned it on to the Google search screen because he loves to look up restaurant menus and video game trailers and walk-throughs.

Attempt #4 - Conversation
I asked him questions about things he liked (through the doorway), hoping he'd feel compelled to come in and answer me face to face.

Attempt #5 - Candy
He may not enter and stay for a long time anymore, but I know that he peeks in from the doorway, so I decided to sprinkle some Starburst pieces all over my bed, dresser, and side table as a last-resort and desperate attempt to get him to come visit me.

Results

#1 - Fail
#2 - Fail
#3 - He surfed the Web for about 10 minutes. Just when I thought I'd won, he glanced over at me and my desk area, made a disgruntled face, and keeled over moaning like he was in pain for a few seconds before leaving. Drama queen! haha
#4 - Fail
#5 - He spotted the candy, walked into the room, picked up all the pieces of candy, and walked right back out. He ate them in his room.

So there. Not a total fail, but there was a surprising moment. He walked in during a period of non-attempts, patted me on the back lovingly, then left. That was priceless! Made me smile all day long. As for getting him back in there like it was in the pre-TV/PS3 days, I won't give up! I love him way too much for that. :)

New TV is a party pooper

Greetings and happy new year!

Jan. 1 was an exciting day as always for me, symbolizing a whole 365 (this year 366) new days of new possibilities. It also marked one day closer to my son's highly anticipated back-to-school extravaganza. He's been ready to go back into his comfortable routine since day 1 of winter break. He spent day 1 of the new year flooding the house with crocodile tears, moping from cabin fever and an extreme case of the boredom munchies.

His most recent catalyst of misery is the new 24-inch flat screen TV I got for my desk in my room. It's coupled with a Playstation 3 (I'm not cool enough for a 4 just yet). My room is also his evening hang-out spot where he paces from end to end, speaking our friendly banter, which sometimes consists of mouth-fart noises back and forth or one to two sentences on repeat. His joyful place to unwind before bedtime. Now, evil mommy went and changed something, and he's acting like his whole world has been shattered.

The first day or two, he would only inch one toe into my doorway, just enough to ogle the TV and Playstation with extreme suspicion, then walk back to his room. Once he attempted to peep inside just enough to eyeball me and say, "Put it downstairs?" When I said "No, honey, this is mom's new toy. It has to stay here." Silently, he went away. After five days, he's managed to enter his once enjoyable domain, but it's not the same. He enters walking sideways, keeping his back to my desk area, only facing toward the side of the room where these intruders aren't visible.

Backstory

Long, long ago when the sons were less than 10, mommy was a gamer. I was all about my Nintendo console, and both of them used to be seated, one on each side of me, watching me kick ass in Tekken, Street Fighter, Rayman, and Mario Cart, among others. As time went by, mommy got too busy with going back to college and working full-time to bother with video games.

Is it worth it?

My eldest is the one who set up this game station for me with a stack of games and insisted I get back in the "game." I've been super stressed out lately, and this was his way of saving my sanity. It has worked, except now I'm sad and guilt-stricken that in seeking out some fun for myself for a change I've destroyed my other boy's happy zone.

A family meeting ressulted in the husband and eldest son insisting that I leave everything the way it is, enjoy some innocent and well-deserved fun, and allow him time to adjust to the new additions, that one day soon enough, all will return to normal. I suppose they're right, but I always do the mom thing, put myself last, and cave in to whatever makes my baby happy. Logically speaking, he still has his own room in which to dwell, and a DVD player and movie collection all his own in the living room. He didn't seem to mind when I hung up all my handmade, giant paper flowers in that one corner when they were spread out all around the room before. This desk is my crafting, Netflix, writing, reading  AND now gaming station. It constantly evolves with my interests.

He'll be 18 in March, so it's time to toughen him up. It's not that I haven't been teaching him that life isn't always going to conform to him and his quirks, but sometimes, especially in our home, I bend the rules for him.

Time to play some Uncharted: Drake's Fortune!

Winter break blues

Most kids look forward to holiday breaks from school, but my autistic teen son views them as torture. It's only day 3 of his 2-week winter break, and he's aggravated. He is very dependent on routine and this year, he seems to LOVE school, so he misses it. It may have something to do with a couple girl names he's been mumbling to himself, mmHmmmm. On no-school days, one thing must not falter. His eating schedule. Breakfast at 9 a.m., lunch at 1 p.m., and dinner at 6 p.m. All else, well, that's the challenge.

He's a tough one to entertain because he doesn't like the outdoors (scared of bugs, birds, loud noises). He cannot handle crowds and too much chatter around him. He is a super good reader yet hates to read books or write. He gets fed up of his video games (refuses to evolve from a Playstation 2). His favorite things are food, water (as in bath, sink, ocean, etc.), mom, music, inside jokes, and random fits of laughter.

And seeing as how mom is on a tight budget at the present time, there isn't much we can do that won't be costly.

He just got annoyed because I was sneezing (hates sneezing, coughing, hiccup, and sniffling noises). So his stepdad called him downstairs to give me a break. They're watching Elf (one of his favorite movies).

Whew! When my sneezes make him keel over and groan, that's when I know we need time apart, lol (he's very attached to me).

So here are my ideas for keeping him entertained during this 2-week break (that's going to feel like 2 years).

- Some computer time
- Some video game time
- One short outing per day (an ice cream run, quick stop at a store, visit grandparents, go for a drive playing his favorite music in the car, a spin through the touch-free carwash, food outings)
- Canvas painting (he's good at art)
- Baking brownies/cookies

And that's all I've got for now. Bright ideas are welcome!

Echolalia Mania

I got home a little early today to put the finishing touches on a sci-fi short story I've been working on for a week. My boy's eyes twinkled when he saw mommy come home. Call me nuts, but I'm a very optimistic pessimist. As much as I intend to be productive at home, I already know how near impossible this can be. He gets so happy to see me that he doesn't really know what to say, so here's how our communication goes most evenings:

(I'm on my laptop sitting on my bed, and he's roaming around the room doing random stuff like stimming, singing, tapping the walls, making himself belch, jumping up and down, saying the same phrases over and over, shaking his head rapidly from side-to-side, making squawking sounds, and on a bad day, screaming and projectile spitting. Finally, he'll play some CDs, usually keeping the same song on repeat. It's usually the most annoying track on Earth ...)

Nabeel: Hi, mommy, how are you?
Me: I'm good. <smile>
3 seconds later
Nabeel: Hi, mommy, how are you?
Me: I'm good, honey. <smile>
3 seconds later
Nabeel: Hello, mommy, how are you?
Me: Good. <smile>
3 seconds later
Nabeel: Hi, mommy, how are you?
Me: I'm good, babe. <smile, wink> How was your day?
Nabeel: My day was good ... Hi, mommy, how are you?
Me: mmHmm. <smile>
3 seconds later
Me: What did you have for lunch today at school?
Nabeel: Food.
Me: What kind of food?
Nabeel: Brown.
Me: Oh! Cool.
3 seconds later
Nabeel: Hi, mommy, how are you?
Me: I'm good. <no smile, stares at laptop screen>
3 seconds later
Nabeel: Hello, mommy, how are you?
Me: I'm good. <half smile>
3 seconds later
Nabeel: Hi, mommy, how are you?
Me: Good. <fake smile>
3 seconds later
Nabeel: <loud belch> Hello, mommy, what's up?
Me: mmHmm
3 seconds later
Nabeel: Mommy is doing works on her computer.
Me: Yes, I am, love. <puckers lips and makes smooching sound at him>
Nabeel: <laughs and does it back>
3 seconds later
Nabeel. Hi, mommy, how are you?
Me: Good <nods>
3 seconds later
Nabeel: Hi, mommy, how are you?
Me: Good <poker face>
3 seconds later
Nabeel: Hi, mommy. How are yooooooooooou?
Me: Great, honey. <smile, scream silently in my mind>
3 seconds later
Nabeel. Hi, mommy, how are you?
Me: Good <nods>
3 seconds later
Nabeel: Hi, mommy, how are you?
Me: I'm good. <smile, look at the clock>
3 seconds later
Nabeel: Hi, mommy, how are you?
Me: Good <poker face>

In case you don't know, many autistic individuals display echolalia (uncontrollable repetition of words or phrases). This has been one of Nabeel's most definitive characteristics.

This carries on from about 6:30 p.m. until bedtime, which is usually between 8:30 to 10:30 p.m. (much longer when it's the weekend or a holiday). If you're wondering why I don't talk more when he does that, well, he doesn't like talking. That's about all he can handle. If I start asking too many questions or putting him on the spot, he starts growling and panting, meaning "Shut uuuuup, woman." He's 16 after all. Controlling the chatter is important to him, so I let him take the wheel. Oh, and I must keep the affection to a minimum, too. Too much TLC is like in the movies when they drop the lit cigarette on a trail of gasoline.

Believe it or not, this simple method of communication took years to perfect, lots of hard lessons. Lots of trying, royally failing, then remembering what not to do. Yes, sometimes the repetitiousness makes me want to scream and flail and throw my own tantrums because it's annoying, but I try to keep those volatile emotions inside my head. :)

My sweetie gets all the smiles and cheer I can muster, no matter how bad of a day I had, how worried I am about bills, how angry I am that a Houston team lost another game, or how profoundly my head hurts. He should never have to pay for any of that. Once I'm home, and my kiddo is safe and sound, I am HAPPY MOM because one crucial lesson I've learned is that he can sense my emotions, tenfold if I let them show even a little. All it takes is a negative tone or a slight frown, and he snaps into a bad mood and starts getting loud. So the key here is to let only good vibes surface. It's a difficult thing to do at times, but that's what being his mom is all about. It's a technique that took eons to perfect. I've screwed up many times. All part of this special world.

I'm sure every autism parent has a very specific method that caters to his/her child's personality. In the textbooks and media, autistic people are often portrayed as uniform, but I can say for certain that they're as unique as their fingerprints.

My goal each day is to take deep breaths, stay calm, and keep the peace while still maintaining a productive and structured environment for my son. All else, I keep below the radar. <smile>

How chicken nuggets taught me a lesson

Just about every day, I experience something interesting, hilarious, adorable, or frightening as the mom of a super cool teen boy with autism, Nabeel, and as the big sister to a lovely young lady with Down Syndrome named Yasmin Anna, a.k.a Yazzy, a.k.a Anna Banana. Having grown up in the special needs world and to be living it in my adult like as well, I can tell you, it makes life fantastically interesting.

A new blog on the block ... 

As for autism, I see a lot of stories on the news and online about milestones of people with autism, but none seem to reflect what we go through. It always seems to be the happy-ending stories, the ones who don't seem so severe, that make it on the front page. I hear about the high-functioning kids who are star athletes, beauty pageant winners, artists, and musicians. And there are the adults on the spectrum who become authors, doctors, scientists, and motivational speakers. I'm so happy to hear about the folks who are able to accomplish such amazing things. It gives me hope and inspiration.

Then I think, what about my boy? His story is just as inspiring, isn't it? He might not be one of the above-mentioned, but he is a bright young mind in his own right, like so many other individuals on his level in the spectrum. Let's see:

He speaks in second person ● He's very verbal, but most of his sentences are nonsense until you realize he's speaking in code, which takes some detective work to figure out (pretty cool). When he starts mentioning "baseball," duck and cover ● He's a super speller and reader ● Has a very colorful and broad taste in music, anything from 80's rock to reggae to Bollywood hits to R&B to disco ● He likes to play practical jokes and laugh hysterically ● He says "Hi, mommy, how are you?" seemingly every 10 seconds and expects an answer ● He has phenomenal meltdowns that leave holes in the walls, fallen TVs, broken knick-knacks, and throbbing eardrums from the intensity of his shrieks ● But lately, he's been coming up with his own unique ways of calming himself, an admirable feat, one of which is making up songs about random things and singing in soprano.

The teen years are something I could never have imagined, even with my twisted writer brain. But we survive.  

The spectrum is a vast expanse of talents and challenges alike, hence why I decided to start a new blog. A writer by trade, words always seem to soothe the savage beast in me (as the old saying goes), whether in the form of musical lyrics, novels, articles, or a blog. This is a place to share what I've learned and what I experience, as well as seek knowledge from others who are living on the same
cloud. 

I welcome you here because it's nice to connect with people who GET IT. 

Today ... 

Today's adventure was interesting, as they all are. Just when I think I don't have anything left to learn, he schools me. 

I only do fast food once a week, usually on the weekends, because I'm trying to incorporate a more healthy diet for him. Today, I sent my eldest son to pick up the NFL special meal deal at McDonald's, a whole box of food for 15 bucks. Nabeel has always liked their nuggets, so I figured this was a winner. He ate the nuggets and fries, but he didn't seem thrilled at ALL. Post-eating, he started making noises and shaking his head from side-to-side very fast—never a good sign. An hour later, with much hesitation, I took him for his scheduled haircut. On the way, he said, "You want Popeye's?" about three times. Remember, he speaks in second person. That sentence translated means "I want Popeye's." Then it hit me. I neglected to ask him what he wanted for lunch. I just up and decided it would be McDonald's, so he was holding a grudge and being snippy. Ha! Luckily, the haircut went smoothly, but I had to promise he could choose what he wanted for dinner.

Lesson learned. Sometimes I forget he's a 16-year-old young man with opinions, even though he can't express them as freely as the rest of us. I had made this mistake before many times, and believe me, it didn't end well. I should have known, but I'll count my blessings that today was good and remember to let him have a say in the future.

With something as simple as deciding what to eat, it's great to give a choice. There are so many things in his life in which he has no choice like taking his meds, going to school, brushing his teeth, etc. A choice now and then serves to empower in the right way.

Cheers to choices!