Usually I get on here if I have some story that's cute or funny or touching to share. Today I just don't feel that way. I wish I had a way of yelling at the world, and this is the closest I can come. I have a kid who repeats everything he hears, and also repeats actions that he sees, because he doesn't know any better. So think about that when you are out in public and are loudly exercising your right to free speech frequently punctuated with completely unnecessary profanity. Look around you and think about who might be listening. A week or so ago, my 11 year old son asked me, "Mom, what does f**k mean?" After my husband had revived me with our home defibrillator, I had to explain to William, who has the maturity of a five year old, that this is the worst of all the bad words and that he must never say it again. I have tried every which way to explain WHY I don't want him using profanity, and after every session, I can see that he absolutely does not understand.
I used to hear disabled young adults and even disabled kids using bad language all the time, and I was so haughty! "Well! They must hear it at home! How else could they pick it up?" Now I know! We do NOT use it, at all. In fact, if you come into my home and use that kind of language, I will send you out the front door on the business end of a cannon. I try to moniter what they hear online and on TV. It may be naive, but I want them to be innocent for as long as possible. Desensitize them to it now, and they will find it as acceptable as many people do. And when we do hear it, they ask me, "Mom, was that a bad word? Is it wrong to say that word?" So at least we do talk about it. And now when they hear a bad word off the TV or something, they both look a little worried and sad and seem concerned for the person who said the bad word, especially William.
Almost everyday after school, I take both boys to either the playground at William's school, or the one at Sean's school. Since the weather is nicer, we frequently have older kids from the nearby Jr High and High School who come and seem to be there for no other reason than to just hang around and be offensive. A couple of weeks ago I had to chase off 2 boys, one of whom was exposing himself and both were using lewd and offensive language. All while surrounded by kids Sean's age (6). Today on William's school playground, were 2 girls and a boy, Jr. High age, who were fooling around. The 2 girls were trying to get the boy's pants off. 10 feet from me. I ran them off pretty quick too. In both instances, these kids looked at me like I was an alien from another planet. Now I know I don't really look that bad, so I could only assume that their experience with adult discipline is limited. None of them mouthed off at me, I have to give them that. But I think it was only because they were shocked that someone had said something to them.
I bring this up only because I hope people will read it and think about what they say and do, and also because I hope they will all talk to their kids, know what they are doing after school and who they are doing it with, and DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT!! How would you feel if you found out your son was exposing himself on a school playground in front of 10 elementary school children? Or if your daughter was giggling over a boy on the ground getting into his pants? What would you do? If adults were caught doing what these kids were doing, they would be arrested and become registered sex offenders. Your thirteen year old doesn't need a boyfriend or a girlfriend. They're physically old enough, but mentally they aren't old enough to make mature decisions. They're STUPID!! They need you!
Wednesday, May 2, 2012
Monday, March 12, 2012
Adventures in Williaming
For the last couple of weeks, William has been required, in school, to practice for a program that will be put on tomorrow. They're singing music from The Lion King, and I'm not sure what else. He doesn't want to do it. I know he doesn't like being surrounded by the crowd of kids onstage. He doesn't like facing the crowd in the audience. Sometimes the music is too loud and overwhelms him. He purposely misbehaves during practices, because he's hoping that will get him sent to time out, which is just sitting out in the hallway.
Today when his brother and I arrived at the school to get him, we saw them practicing in the gym. The door where we have to enter is in full view of the gym stage and he had apparently been doing okay until he saw me. He believes my appearance is his signal to leave the gym and came running to me, teachers chasing after him. It took an argument and a slight tussle to get him back to his place. As we were leaving the school, I asked him (again) what his deal is when it comes to this program. He said, "That gym is just too big for me." That may not make sense to some people, but I caught his meaning right away. He has a very hard time explaining himself, but once in a while he hits the bulls eye. I think his senses get overwhelmed and that's very upsetting to him. It's too much noise, too much light, too many people, and too much space. I think that someone who doesn't have autism just can't understand what it might feel like to have great things crushing in upon them, making them smaller and smaller to the point where they might just disappear altogether. Maybe it isn't like that at all-that's just my analogy. I have had sudden panic attacks in crowds. I once left a New Year's Eve party at quarter to midnight. I had to get out of there. I think I may have some small understanding about how he feels with these things. Ever been in a Hard Rock Cafe where the music was so loud it drowned out everything else and made you feel like hiding under the table? Imagine being affected that way by what we consider normal noise levels.
He has been overly sensitive to almost everything since the day he was born. Touch, sound, light, food, anything-but particularly touch. Practicing for this program is also not part of the normal schedule, and that upsets him too. He loves the songs, and sings them at home. So, here's hoping his program goes well tomorrow!
I also need to mention-I hope it doesn't sound like I think the teachers are mean for making him do the program. I don't! I just got back from the program, and he did a great job, and everything went absolutely fine. I yearn for normal parent moments. I want to be able to go to an assembly and watch my kid sing. I sat there this morning and thought about all he has gone through in his life, all he has accomplished, and all that teachers and teacher's aides and therapists have done for him over the years. These people have devoted their professional lives (and their hearts as well, I suspect) to these children and their betterment, and some of them are danged good at it. So thank you, to all of you who have spent your lives in helping William and all these other kids who need you so much. You know who you are.
Today when his brother and I arrived at the school to get him, we saw them practicing in the gym. The door where we have to enter is in full view of the gym stage and he had apparently been doing okay until he saw me. He believes my appearance is his signal to leave the gym and came running to me, teachers chasing after him. It took an argument and a slight tussle to get him back to his place. As we were leaving the school, I asked him (again) what his deal is when it comes to this program. He said, "That gym is just too big for me." That may not make sense to some people, but I caught his meaning right away. He has a very hard time explaining himself, but once in a while he hits the bulls eye. I think his senses get overwhelmed and that's very upsetting to him. It's too much noise, too much light, too many people, and too much space. I think that someone who doesn't have autism just can't understand what it might feel like to have great things crushing in upon them, making them smaller and smaller to the point where they might just disappear altogether. Maybe it isn't like that at all-that's just my analogy. I have had sudden panic attacks in crowds. I once left a New Year's Eve party at quarter to midnight. I had to get out of there. I think I may have some small understanding about how he feels with these things. Ever been in a Hard Rock Cafe where the music was so loud it drowned out everything else and made you feel like hiding under the table? Imagine being affected that way by what we consider normal noise levels.
He has been overly sensitive to almost everything since the day he was born. Touch, sound, light, food, anything-but particularly touch. Practicing for this program is also not part of the normal schedule, and that upsets him too. He loves the songs, and sings them at home. So, here's hoping his program goes well tomorrow!
I also need to mention-I hope it doesn't sound like I think the teachers are mean for making him do the program. I don't! I just got back from the program, and he did a great job, and everything went absolutely fine. I yearn for normal parent moments. I want to be able to go to an assembly and watch my kid sing. I sat there this morning and thought about all he has gone through in his life, all he has accomplished, and all that teachers and teacher's aides and therapists have done for him over the years. These people have devoted their professional lives (and their hearts as well, I suspect) to these children and their betterment, and some of them are danged good at it. So thank you, to all of you who have spent your lives in helping William and all these other kids who need you so much. You know who you are.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
Pity Party Sundays
It's very hard for us to get to Church. Now you might answer, "Things are hard for everyone." But I honestly wonder. I know, we all have our crosses to bear. Here is one of my crosses. William hates Church. That I am aware of, he has not had a traumatic experience, or anything like that. He just doesn't want to go. He doesn't want to sit still in a seat while someone at the mike up front drones on about things he doesn't understand. Then, he doesn't want to go to Primary (children's Sunday school). I think there are many reasons he doesn't want to go to Primary. One, I don't go with him. His brother would be with him part of the time, but they would not attend the same class. He also has a problem being surrounded by people. Sometimes, music can upset him.
So, Sunday mornings are a challenge for me. I confess, I have given in to weakness more often than not. I tell myself all the time, that if I had just never given in, had just made him go every week, he would be used to it by now. But a very small, smarter part of me says that it isn't true. I do make him go to school 5 days a week, and that has never gotten any easier, either. Every single school morning is a fight, right up to the last second, right up to the moment that I leave him at school. And every morning, I come out of it feeling like I need a nap, or maybe a baseball bat to the head. So lots of Sundays, we just don't go. My husband works all weekend, morning to night, and so I don't have anyone to help me-but I don't know if it would make any difference. I think I average 5 or 6 weeks between each Church attendance, and I'll tell you, when you are a Mormon, that makes you "inactive". I don't like being inactive. I want to be active. I want to teach a Primary class or be the Relief Society secretary or give a talk in Sacrament meeting once in a while. But if you are not active, they tend not to ask you to do those things.
This morning I got up, and said to myself, "Today, we go." I came down the stairs where the boys were already up, and I was in my Church clothes. William went into panic mode. He cried. He screamed. He laid on the floor. He hit. He kicked. If there is someone out there who thinks I should step up my attendance efforts, one of these days, I'll video this encounter and let you watch it. You'll change your mind. And don't get me wrong, in our Church, I have never encountered anything but understanding. That I know of, no one looks at me and judges me for not being there every week. I don't need anyone to judge me that way, because I do it myself. So anyway, I finally fought him into his clothes, his little clip-on tie. Sean had calmly informed me that he didn't want to go, but with him all I have to do is say, "We're going." He shrugged, made no further comment and appeared shortly in his dress clothes. We did go. We sat through that hour. But I can't get him to go to Primary no matter what I do. Sean likes Primary, but there seems to be nothing I can do to induce William to go. So when we do go, we attend the first hour and then go home. So they don't get their lessons, and I don't get mine, either. But that hour is always better than nothng.
I think one of the reasons I have such a problem is because I have this issue with him every day, preparing for school. I do it 5 times a week, you'd think making it 6 wouldn't be such a big deal. But somehow it is. The unbearable weariness of it all. I wonder all the time, "Am I really doing my BEST?" And, "Is it enough?"
So, Sunday mornings are a challenge for me. I confess, I have given in to weakness more often than not. I tell myself all the time, that if I had just never given in, had just made him go every week, he would be used to it by now. But a very small, smarter part of me says that it isn't true. I do make him go to school 5 days a week, and that has never gotten any easier, either. Every single school morning is a fight, right up to the last second, right up to the moment that I leave him at school. And every morning, I come out of it feeling like I need a nap, or maybe a baseball bat to the head. So lots of Sundays, we just don't go. My husband works all weekend, morning to night, and so I don't have anyone to help me-but I don't know if it would make any difference. I think I average 5 or 6 weeks between each Church attendance, and I'll tell you, when you are a Mormon, that makes you "inactive". I don't like being inactive. I want to be active. I want to teach a Primary class or be the Relief Society secretary or give a talk in Sacrament meeting once in a while. But if you are not active, they tend not to ask you to do those things.
This morning I got up, and said to myself, "Today, we go." I came down the stairs where the boys were already up, and I was in my Church clothes. William went into panic mode. He cried. He screamed. He laid on the floor. He hit. He kicked. If there is someone out there who thinks I should step up my attendance efforts, one of these days, I'll video this encounter and let you watch it. You'll change your mind. And don't get me wrong, in our Church, I have never encountered anything but understanding. That I know of, no one looks at me and judges me for not being there every week. I don't need anyone to judge me that way, because I do it myself. So anyway, I finally fought him into his clothes, his little clip-on tie. Sean had calmly informed me that he didn't want to go, but with him all I have to do is say, "We're going." He shrugged, made no further comment and appeared shortly in his dress clothes. We did go. We sat through that hour. But I can't get him to go to Primary no matter what I do. Sean likes Primary, but there seems to be nothing I can do to induce William to go. So when we do go, we attend the first hour and then go home. So they don't get their lessons, and I don't get mine, either. But that hour is always better than nothng.
I think one of the reasons I have such a problem is because I have this issue with him every day, preparing for school. I do it 5 times a week, you'd think making it 6 wouldn't be such a big deal. But somehow it is. The unbearable weariness of it all. I wonder all the time, "Am I really doing my BEST?" And, "Is it enough?"
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Updates on Sean and William
I was just reading an old post, Sean's Future In a Trenchcoat. I am relieved to be able to say that we don't have this issue with him anymore. That was at the beginning of his kindergarten year, and now we are halfway through first grade. He seems to have outgrown this problem.
William, on the other hand, is now halfway through the fifth grade, and can be counted on to appear in the nude at just about anytime. I sure hope he grows out of it, but he is going very slowly. He has been known to get past issues and have them resolved, but the overcoming of one problem takes him a very long long time, years, typically. They call it a delay, they call it slowness. What this means to me in my hopeful heart is that he will get there, someday. He just isn't going to get there at anyone else's pace. I'm glad this isn't a race, because he will probably come in last. But in a case like this, the important thing is not to get to the finish line first, but just to finish the race.
William, on the other hand, is now halfway through the fifth grade, and can be counted on to appear in the nude at just about anytime. I sure hope he grows out of it, but he is going very slowly. He has been known to get past issues and have them resolved, but the overcoming of one problem takes him a very long long time, years, typically. They call it a delay, they call it slowness. What this means to me in my hopeful heart is that he will get there, someday. He just isn't going to get there at anyone else's pace. I'm glad this isn't a race, because he will probably come in last. But in a case like this, the important thing is not to get to the finish line first, but just to finish the race.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Back in the saddle
I am back online again and so I can blog again. I'm just trying to remember how the thing works!
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
William and going to college
Lately William has been watching the new Toy Story 3 movie. For those who don't know, in this third installment, Andy is grown up and is getting ready to go to college. It's bittersweet, all right. Andy is excited at what the future may hold, but he will miss his mother, and his childhood. His mother is sad and will miss Andy. Andy is going to store most of his old toys in the attic, but Woody is going with him to college. Of course, near the beginning of the movie, the toys escape and then have a nail biting, hair raising adventure before making it just in the nick of time, back into their box.
For William, the important part of the story is that Andy is going to college. He has begun to obsess over it, and I know why. He has realized that when he is old enough, he might go to college too. He has alternated between excitement and worry over this. A few days ago, he was in his room watching the movie for the umpteenth time and came downstairs to me in the living room. He was crying and he was very upset. I pulled him down on the couch with me and we hugged each other tight. I asked him what was wrong.
"When I'm 18 I'll go away to college and I'll miss you!" Wow, way to get to me. If anyone out there is looking for a way to make your mother do anything you want her to do, put this as number one on your list of things to try. If your mother is 98 years old and you tell her that the reason you are SO upset is that you are going to miss her, she will do cart wheels across the floor if that's what you are wanting her to do.
I continued to hold him tight (I am one of the privileged few who is allowed to do this), and I said, "William. You don't need to move away when you go to college. You can stay right with me. You can leave for college in the morning and come home in the afternoon, just like you for school do now."
"I can?" Mingled giggling and sobbing now. He was so relieved. I told him that there is a college right here in this town, and he could go to that college, and at the end of every day, he can come right home to me. I told him he can always, always come home to me. (Note to self: Don't ever die.)
Now he was trying to recover from crying, but he was laughing and he was so happy. He told me he was happy now. He went tripping back upstairs to finish his movie and to come up with the next anxiety causing scenario.
If I were granted one wish for William, it would be that he could understand the world he's in. He is getting some of it, very slowly. His younger brother has long ago surpassed him in his understanding of "things" and Sean is forever trying to explain "things" to William. I'm thankful for that, and I hope they will always be there for each other.
For William, the important part of the story is that Andy is going to college. He has begun to obsess over it, and I know why. He has realized that when he is old enough, he might go to college too. He has alternated between excitement and worry over this. A few days ago, he was in his room watching the movie for the umpteenth time and came downstairs to me in the living room. He was crying and he was very upset. I pulled him down on the couch with me and we hugged each other tight. I asked him what was wrong.
"When I'm 18 I'll go away to college and I'll miss you!" Wow, way to get to me. If anyone out there is looking for a way to make your mother do anything you want her to do, put this as number one on your list of things to try. If your mother is 98 years old and you tell her that the reason you are SO upset is that you are going to miss her, she will do cart wheels across the floor if that's what you are wanting her to do.
I continued to hold him tight (I am one of the privileged few who is allowed to do this), and I said, "William. You don't need to move away when you go to college. You can stay right with me. You can leave for college in the morning and come home in the afternoon, just like you for school do now."
"I can?" Mingled giggling and sobbing now. He was so relieved. I told him that there is a college right here in this town, and he could go to that college, and at the end of every day, he can come right home to me. I told him he can always, always come home to me. (Note to self: Don't ever die.)
Now he was trying to recover from crying, but he was laughing and he was so happy. He told me he was happy now. He went tripping back upstairs to finish his movie and to come up with the next anxiety causing scenario.
If I were granted one wish for William, it would be that he could understand the world he's in. He is getting some of it, very slowly. His younger brother has long ago surpassed him in his understanding of "things" and Sean is forever trying to explain "things" to William. I'm thankful for that, and I hope they will always be there for each other.
Tuesday, September 21, 2010
Latest on Sean
Oh, Sean, Sean, Sean. You know, the first week of Kindergarten Sean seemed to be having such a bad time that I felt really sorry for him. Ached for him, in fact. This week, I realize, I really should feel sorry for his teacher, and I do. She is such a sweet and gentle young lady. I'm sure that she is used to kids who are smart, rambunctious, shy, not shy, who color outside the lines, who need extra help and who shove glue sticks up their noses. I wonder if she's ever taught a kid who gazes down haughtily from a lofty intellectual perch and occasionally graces the common folk with his presence. Such children think themselves above the resultant indignities of things like circle time, story time, the coloring of bears, and being forced to wash one's hands when certainly they are not dirty. These children cannot be expected to wear pants which have waistbands that may cover any part of the picture of Thomas the Tank Engine on one's shirt.
His teacher is at a loss as to how to deal with Sean when he is refusing to comply with a requirement. She wants him to wash his hands and instead of just doing it, he doesn't see why he should. She insists, and so he responds by laying down on the floor in a prone position, hoping to stay there until everyone around him forgets that he was supposed to wash his hands. At school, this cannot be tolerated, and I understand that. He's not learning anything, he is being disruptive and distracting, not to mention that some of the other kids might think laying on the floor like that is a good idea. But I don't know what to tell her! She wants to have a teacher's conference so that I can tell her what to do with him, and the only answer I have is "I don't know."
Once something like this happens to him during his day, it's over for the day for him. He immediately powers down like some robot on stand by. His arms go limp, his little robot gumball lights dim, and he will not cooperate again until the proper voice command in the correct voice print is administered. The, uh, proper voice command is :"SEAN!! Get yerself up off that floor NOW!!!" Proper voice print is MY voice. When he hears it, he knows, he better move, and I mean now. I do know that he does not like it when Mr. Principal gets involved. Such terrible authority makes him feel powerless and bitter. It may work for the moment, but I would hate for him to hate school or dread it every day.
I did finally find out the other day from the Special Services office why he was turned down for special ed services last year. He had several evaluations. OT, PT, speech, cognitive, and I don't remember what all. Every one of those evals said that services were recommended in the professional opinion of the evaluator. However, every eval ALSO said Sean had "advanced intelligence," "highly developed problem solving skills," "will learn more quickly than his peers," "advanced vocabulary skills," etc. The woman in the office told me that was why he was turned down for services-because he was "too smart." I wanted to say, "Excuse me, um, have you ever heard of AUTISM???"
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