tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10610006465338603092024-03-05T08:32:04.401-08:00Streak Of GeniusRebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.comBlogger34125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-81760538999496798512016-10-18T17:18:00.001-07:002016-10-18T17:18:27.013-07:00Bittersweet SeasoningsLife is pretty funny, don't you agree?<br />
<br />
I mean, here I am, alone in my house with only an old, wrinkly dog. This dog is either snoring so loudly it's distracting, walking around clickety-clacking on the wood floors, or worst of all, licking his privates with the grossest, mouthiest sounds you've ever heard. It's Jabba the Hutt sounds magnified 100 times. But even with all of these sounds, it's quiet.<br />
<br />
Too quiet.<br />
<br />
I am struck by the titles of my blog posts of yore-that I was in such survival mode for so long that I almost don't remember what "normal" was like. It was heavy combat for many, many years. Days seemed like months and years felt like decades. I cried ALOT back then. I longed for the days when I could just sit in a quiet home and not be bothered for hours on end. When I could have the windows up giving much-needed fresh air, the music on, the tv turned loud, and NO ONE would interrupt me and tell me I couldn't have all of those things going at the same time. Oh, and I would have a glass of wine in my hand and laugh and dance "like no one was watching" and gorge myself with chocolates and bon bons because life would be so wonderful.<br />
<br />
And then it happens...<br />
<br />
They get busy. School gets more involved and there are rehearsals and new schedules that take them away from you. Or, worse, they move away...how dare they! They take their belongings and move to a different home with another child their own age and make new friends and have new experiences that you know nothing about. They become involved with activities that they never showed interest in before. They tell you about professors that you do not know and classes they are excited about. They grow up into humans. They are monsters no more. I mean, don't get me wrong, I do still have to deal with one grumpy soldier who fires at will when I pick him up 30 seconds too late or if I smile the wrong way.<br />
<br />
But, I wasn't expecting this. I wasn't prepared for the quiet.<br />
<br />
I find myself not dancing and not singing. I was so sure this would happen. I had the mental calendar in my mind counting down the days when I would no longer have to hear my name called over and over for mindless requests. Instead I find myself not knowing what to do. "Who am I?" rings out in my head.<br />
<br />
Life is ironic and bittersweet. The things you want in one season are the things you long for in the next.<br />
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So what is the moral of the story? (I am a positive person. I cannot leave anything on a sour note.) Will I say to cherish every moment? To take a mental snapshot of each season and count the cost and the blessings? Will I say to be present even in the pain of life? Will I say to "do you" and go find your passions and your heart and all the things that make you tick? Will I say to pray and trust that God and all of his crazy Grace will carry you?<br />
<br />
Yes.<br />
<br />
To all of it. No season, whether light or dark, will last as long as you think.<br />
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<br />Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-82966968251965532632016-01-23T15:51:00.001-08:002016-01-23T15:54:45.874-08:00Dancing BaristaWintry days are here, and we have a whopping 6-8 inches here in the mid-state of Tennessee. That may as well be 48 inches to us southerners who gasp and shriek with delight at this alien form of white powder that rains down upon us! Roads are closed, businesses shut down, so there is nothing left to do other than to....<br />
<br />
HAVE AN IMPROMPTU DANCE PARTY IN THE KITCHEN WHILE DOING THE DISHES!!!<br />
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Well, this is what I tried to do when I realized that no one else was home. Kanye came on loudly and I was lip-syncing and white girl dancing so hard when I saw something out of the corner of my eye.<br />
<br />
I looked out the window and saw the battle-worn face of Liam coming home from sledding and playing in the snow. I only had a quick 3-4 seconds before I could turn the speakers down so that he would not have a conniption fit at the volume in which "Touch the Sky" was blaring. I had a tough choice to make- continue my kitchen concert and risk his rage, or turn it down and pretend like I had been heating up his hot chocolate the whole time.<br />
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I decided to take a risk-I mean, hey! This is my house, dadgummit (who's mom from Bama used that word when she was mad?!) I pay the bills and feed everyone (most of the time), so I can have the volume any way I want it!!!!<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg2u4tNeraIMfBfQjdpNgmNHql7-27jb3BrvCtXu4rfkKETjhQ1V4QXmkac5ri2iZFIiungFh-DLTcpMt7BERJupt1Yv84oZ3JhbM7iflfhivNC0PjdcToSN1ZDWA4zPGANN41bUEv5KU/s1600/giphy.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg2u4tNeraIMfBfQjdpNgmNHql7-27jb3BrvCtXu4rfkKETjhQ1V4QXmkac5ri2iZFIiungFh-DLTcpMt7BERJupt1Yv84oZ3JhbM7iflfhivNC0PjdcToSN1ZDWA4zPGANN41bUEv5KU/s320/giphy.gif" width="262" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is what I looked like in my kitchen!</td></tr>
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<br />
When he came in, he predictably rounded the corner with disapproving eyes and shook his head. Like he was the parent and he found me underage drinking in my closet.<br />
<br />
"MOM, ...WHY? WHY, MOM??!!<br />
<br />
Funtime over. Somehow my 'running man' with a huge grin on my face did not get the smirk I was looking for. I slowly went back to the speakers and turned them down, and eventually off.<br />
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I never know which mood I will get back. Sometimes I will get the playful side and get a few more fun moments out of it, but most of the time, this is the reality. Hard to know what's autism and what's teen annoyance.<br />
<br />
So, I decided to take this rare day of "nothingness" and get into my creativity of writing. I'm always glad when I do, but it seems so hard to start. Story of my life.<br />
<br />
I got some inspiration to write after a friend sent me a touching story about a man named Donald Grey Triplett. Donald was the first person ever to receive an autism diagnosis. The <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/magazine-35350880" target="_blank">story details</a> are unique and yet the same as those of us grappling with those first few years of autism. His parents did not know what was wrong with their child. After a doctor said there was nothing he could do, they made the difficult choice to institutionalize Donald because that was what you did in that day. Anyone that was seen as out of the ordinary wasted away in a sterile mental hospital. The doctor even told them to move on and forget about Donald- that somehow that was the best thing for him and his parents.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_pCyDVdDz3QLdgc3pQa6uw27Mtonhahm8yGFr-1hoFFAo_ir5Rc5tT1NrZkrCaW0HhVHeGwowIhqBjcCtepZuXPmnkkRQrxPdKP-yYQgGuEstfhYd8GJaZ6gV4zjoDtkWdrFb9hemNM/s1600/_87784307_cart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX_pCyDVdDz3QLdgc3pQa6uw27Mtonhahm8yGFr-1hoFFAo_ir5Rc5tT1NrZkrCaW0HhVHeGwowIhqBjcCtepZuXPmnkkRQrxPdKP-yYQgGuEstfhYd8GJaZ6gV4zjoDtkWdrFb9hemNM/s320/_87784307_cart.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Donald Triplett-wasn't he precious?</td></tr>
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<br />
But, the parents never forgot about Donald. They decided that they would not allow him to grow up as a patient, but a person with a story. A story that mattered. Their perseverance and hard work made him the man that he is today. He is remarkably still alive at 82 years old! He plays golf and lives independently in the house he grew up in.<br />
<br />
But the most incredible part of the story is how his small-town community rallied around him and accepted him. In the town of Forest, Mississippi, in the 1940's and 50's, when difference and diversity was not something embraced or encouraged, this community decided to make him one of their own. They welcomed him in their schools, their restaurants, and businesses. He even made some of the girls swoon!!<br />
<br />
Which brought me back to my own situation and how I have chosen to make Liam a part of his greater community. This past year we learned that Liam was not doing so great in school. The IEP that he had was not really working any more and we, wait, what am I saying, <b>I </b>had to make the difficult decision to place Liam on a special needs track. This track would knock him out of the traditional path that most students take. There is even a school close to our home that serves children with his diagnosis, and I have had many people ask me why I have chosen to keep him in the public system here.<br />
<br />
And my decision is simple. It comes down to community. The way the kids rally around him at school events and the way his church youth group members high five him when he walks in the door is worth it. My prayer is that he will continue to have community even when it is not in the bubble of school. This will be the real test. Will people accept him the way he is? Will he be given opportunities to do meaningful work? Will an employer see the gifts he has to offer the world and take a chance on him?<br />
<br />
These are answers I simply do not have. But, the tide is turning and more and more people are realizing the importance of including those with special needs in the work force.<br />
<br />
And just when I was finishing this post, another sweet friend sent me a link to a young man hired by Starbucks as a barista. He has autism and a movement disorder, so the Starbucks employees have dubbed him the "dancing barista". They have taken something that most would maybe see as a disability and reframed it as something with positivity and light.<br />
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See his awesome video <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ukDKrwoL36g" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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I don't know you Donald and Sam, but I am grateful for you. Keep paving the way!<br />
<br />
And, to the people in the world who go the extra mile for those with disabilities, you are the angels we need.<br />
<br />
Thank you.Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-84963097309636891602015-06-30T14:07:00.001-07:002015-06-30T14:07:58.279-07:00Summertime RulezAhhhh Summer!!!!!<br />
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The time of year where we can let the bedtime routine go. The time of year when the sun is hot, the pool feels welcoming, and fresh fruits taste amazing! This is the time that most of look forward to all year!<br />
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But, for families of autism, summer can be the most stressful, nerve-wracking, patience-disturbing time of all.<br />
<br />
Our kiddos with autism crave control and structure. It is in their DNA. This is why they love school so much. School is a bubble. It is a test tube of endless lists and tasks that are implemented by teachers that are trained to do such things. Home is a battleground of pesky siblings (who know the autistic's every button to push) and of over-tired parents who are just trying not to drown in their own problems of keeping it all together.<br />
<br />
As one mom said to me in tears, "why can't I seem to get it together enough to have the good report that my son's teachers seem to have of him?" In other words, why do our children seem to behave better at school than they do with us at home?<br />
<br />
I have a few theories about this:<br />
<br />
-First of all, as stated earlier, school has all the resources needed to set these little people up for success. There are at least 2-3 more adults in the room than at home. (hello!! Wouldn't we all love at least 4 more sets of hands at home?) There are other children that are NOT related to them that can distract them from whatever is bothering them in the moment. (aaaaauuuuhhhhhh!! This shirt has a tag in it!!) Also, this is what these certifiably insane people have SIGNED UP to do in life. Yes! They have signed up to teach/corral/herd these children by CHOICE! So that means that they have had more training and (hopefully) more patience than you ever will. They can be almost perfect with scheduling because they have to in order to keep more than three children alive!<br />
<br />
-Secondly, our children will always be more well-behaved with strangers. This is a good thing! We want our kids to act out with us because then we know they feel safe. We tend to "show our butts" when we feel like we can. We are our truest selves with those that we know will not abandon us.<br />
<br />
-Thirdly, these teachers can do all of their schedules, ABA appropriate rigors, and rule-keeping because THEY GET TO GO HOME AT THE END OF THE DAY.<br />
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<br />
Let's just cut to the chase. Summer is hard. Breaks are hard. So here are a few things I have found to help make it through.<br />
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<br />
1. Every summer when Liam was younger I poured over websites of churches and camps to see who would be able to handle my little bundle of joy. Sometimes my searches came up short, but I eventually landed on a YMCA camp through <a href="http://www.easterseals.com/" target="_blank">Easter Seals</a>. This would be more geared for elementary age children through high school, but well worth looking into to see if they have a program that would work for your child. We also did Vacation Bible Schools-several of them! It could be that a particular church has a ministry for special needs children. Or, maybe you could volunteer to go with your child and act as an aid for others. Obviously, if you're looking for a break, that is not the best option, but if you are looking for something to get you and your child out of the house, it could be ideal.<br />
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2. Schedule your down time!! This is my least favorite. By now, if you've kept up with this blog you know how much I hate schedules. But, for everyone's sanity, I would at least try to have a skeleton of a schedule for each day. Your schedule may have a large amount of digital activity on there (i.e. THANK YOU, JESUS, FOR IPADS!) This is okay. We're in summer mode and their brains are not going to rot if they watch several shows in a row. This is parenting bootcamp, let's not kill ourselves here.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlrjmxN2UpgJgg1kyhzZ-uFZQsfSW78VnPV-AfezbPJAN9OpI17abmhyphenhyphenyKUGqC8mFQ1P211jTaGhrQ_riJmkqr0EA3rwb3xeGTddx8hJXDn_KKrfwKemW3-EMZP1-8zvGwW3T2pua28Q/s1600/toddler-ipad.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQlrjmxN2UpgJgg1kyhzZ-uFZQsfSW78VnPV-AfezbPJAN9OpI17abmhyphenhyphenyKUGqC8mFQ1P211jTaGhrQ_riJmkqr0EA3rwb3xeGTddx8hJXDn_KKrfwKemW3-EMZP1-8zvGwW3T2pua28Q/s1600/toddler-ipad.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">How do they come out of the womb knowing how to do technology?!</td></tr>
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3. (in the same vein) Let go of Mommy/Daddy guilt. This may be your hardest task yet. Let go of trying to have it all together. You're exhausted, and so are they. If you need a nap, plug in the iPad and let that be their quiet time. Stop comparing yourself to their teachers and other parents on Facebook. Trust me, they're using the iPad too. That's how they have time to post on Facebook.<br />
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4. I realize that not all parents may have the luxury of taking a trip. Maybe a trip is the worst thing in the world for your family. Maybe it's just easier staying at home. BUT, every summer, we would plan a trip to the beach with my parents. I can say that I have been blessed with two people who, are not perfect, but love my children well and do pretty good with having them around. They have had to learn, like we all have, to roll with the punches and parent a little differently than maybe they did with me. This is a week that we always look forward to because it allows us to get away from our norm and rest. I encourage all of my readers to take the time to find rest--and water. Water is healing and may be the one thing that helps calm your little one.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCGe7joFi6s1x2AS2WZxhzq7vk7UHkEx3L3BdvAu7oDKa48HtWgyTCbRu0dxQkhHb-lEGYSTxnLgpOWDSEiRNqkcDMvWPtEIM4Bv_BXCRManZWIrlI-F8RWfeacrM31pEZsDjLP51S1k/s1600/MPZ5663_troupeWishingChairPuppetTruck.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxCGe7joFi6s1x2AS2WZxhzq7vk7UHkEx3L3BdvAu7oDKa48HtWgyTCbRu0dxQkhHb-lEGYSTxnLgpOWDSEiRNqkcDMvWPtEIM4Bv_BXCRManZWIrlI-F8RWfeacrM31pEZsDjLP51S1k/s320/MPZ5663_troupeWishingChairPuppetTruck.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Nashville Public Library Story Time</td></tr>
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5. Find something to do once a week that can become a summertime routine. One thing that we used to do each week was go to story time at our local library. Nashville has a beautiful library in the downtown area and has an award-winning children's outreach through their puppetry program. This is a free program and they have a beautiful outdoor area where you can picnic and kids can run around without people staring or judging you for their squeals of joy. I would encourage you to find something that you can do as a family once a week that helps both of you. It also teaches your little one to adapt to the outside world. They have to learn how to sit and behave at some point, and this could be a safe way to do it.<br />
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6. EAT LOTS OF ICE CREAM<br />
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7. Remember to laugh at yourselves.<br />
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8. Phone a friend.<br />
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9. Let go of household chores for maybe one day. (or 5)<br />
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10. Be kind to yourself.<br />
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Wake up. Repeat.<br />
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Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-3569283113991797882015-04-28T20:24:00.001-07:002015-04-28T20:25:50.071-07:00First ChairIn the hustle and bustle of life, we forget to feel. Well, it's not exactly like that. We just forget that we have all of these emotions pulsing through our veins at any given point.<br />
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Yes, that's right. Those things you thought you were pushing down into your belly don't exactly go anywhere. They tend to just float right back up to the surface. Those pesky little things that were created to tell us the temperature of our emotional selves continue to bounce all around us. And, as my mentor said, "If you try to get over 'em, you end up under 'em."<br />
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And, alas, the more work I do on myself (by way of counseling others and my own therapy), the more I find this statement to be true.<br />
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I found myself out and about a few nights ago, celebrating my best friend's birthday. We had amazing wine, great food, and hilarious banter! It was a fancy restaurant and I was dressed up both inside and out. I had my "outfit" on and I had my witty Self on that night as well.<br />
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On the car ride home, I was ecstatic to get to see Liam and tell him how proud I was of him. He had made first chair that day in percussion. First chair is as big a deal as any in our household. This is because the phrase starts with the word "FIRST", and as I have commented on many a blog, this is the word that sends my little guy through the roof!! He both loves and disdains competition. It excites him and freaks him out at the same time. He wants to be first every week, but there's always someone a little bit better than him...until this week.<br />
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The idea of chairs in percussion is you must play a scale on marimba the fastest without missing any notes and playing it in time. It occurred to Liam's friend, Zach, (see the blog "Sleepovers") that all of the other players had played the piece at 135 bpm, so Liam should bump it up to 140! Liam reluctantly decided to follow his advice and speed through his scale at 140.<br />
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He was so nervous after he played, he ran to the practice room and turned off the lights, waiting to see what the results were!! The pressure was just too much!<br />
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The list was typed up and printed off...the band teacher slowly walked over to the wall and slapped the results up so everyone could see who got what.<br />
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And there it was...Liam, after almost 7 1/2 months of school, was first chair.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The coveted FIRST CHAIR-I picture a throne in my head. </td></tr>
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So, you can imagine my excitement for him! I couldn't wait to hear the play by play and get a high five. I couldn't wait to bask in the moment with him and see his face light up when he told me about it.<br />
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Admittedly, I did get home a bit late, but I knew he would not be fully asleep. So, I tiptoed up to his room to have our big moment. </div>
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"Liam," I whispered, "I am so very proud of you getting FIRST CHAIR today!" **enthusiastic, but still tempered whisper**</div>
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Instead of rolling over to give me the high five my heart clearly wanted, he shot up so quickly in his bed, that he smacked his head into my forehead. It was most definitely going to leave a mark- on both of us.</div>
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"MOM, WHAT ARE YOU DOING- GET OOOOUUUUUTTTT!!!!" **enthusiastic teen rage in loudly audible voice**</div>
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"FINE!!!! I WAS JUST GOING TO SAY HOW PROUD OF YOU I WAS, BUT NOW I'M NOT! GOD, YOU RUIN EVERYTHING!!!" **enthusiastic teen rage coming out in a mommy's body**</div>
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Yep. Not my proudest moment. I was hurt- both physically and emotionally. I was angry. And I was lonely. </div>
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In my counseling office, I am teaching my clients to use feeling words instead of the all-too-popular responses like, "meh!", "frustrated", "stressed", etc. These words do not hit the heart the way that anger, sadness, shame, and lonely do. They just don't. So often we use these words to hide the very things that we NEED to be feeling. So, the very things that I am teaching my clients have to be put in to practice in my own life. (oy veh!!)</div>
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It's much easier to say that the traffic was mildly irritating, but my actions spoke much more like rage when I honked and cussed in my vehicle. Or, when I try to shrug off something important in my life and call it a "blah" day, I'm more likely extremely sad. I'm in grief. </div>
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My response to Liam was anger, but it came from a deeper place of hurt and longing for relationship with him. When I am honest with my feelings, it puts me in touch with my soul. It allows me to know ...well, ME! I can then begin to know the deepest places in my heart that need healing, that need restoration. If I am constantly using other words to describe myself, I am leaving myself on the operating table of life-bleeding and, sometimes, without a pulse. </div>
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When anger creeps in (as it does a lot of the time), I can begin to see the roots of other emotions that are trying to drive the bus of my heart. When I own up to it (what is actually going on inside of me), my heart/soul/Self then drives the bus. Then, it is I who sits in the "first chair" of my own heart. And I can begin to help my emotions sit in the passenger seat, continuing to give me clues to who I was made to be. </div>
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<br /></div>
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There will always be a tinge of loneliness, hurt, and anger as I live with a child who has very little capacity to see me. But, on those rare occasions when he does see me, I will relish it! I will know beyond a shadow of a doubt because there are no mixed words in autism. </div>
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There is only truth.</div>
Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-1407563007015353932014-10-28T21:11:00.000-07:002014-10-28T21:11:13.062-07:00Sleepovers<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We had our first sleepover....</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was so nervous to ask. What if this boy says no? What if he was just being nice to Liam at school, but had NO intentions of striking up a friendship? What if he says YES? Then what?!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I wouldn't know unless I asked.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For months, Liam had been talking about his friend, Zach, that happened to be in band with him. Liam talked about how cool he was and how he was always getting "first chair" in band-playing tests. Because, with Liam, everything is a contest. I have never met someone more competitive than my child. I don't know if it's better or worse that his mother simply doesn't care about winning per se. I just don't have a competitive bone in my body. So, maybe we cancel each other out? - or, maybe his competitive nature makes me want to drink...not sure.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But, in his talking about Zach, there was a longing. A longing to have a friend. He saw his brother have friends over and spend the night out- why couldn't he? And, I don't have to remind you of all the years I have been writing about birthday parties. Birthdays are painful reminders that he, more often than not, doesn't always get those invites. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, I prayed. I have been praying this prayer for a long time actually. Lord, just one friend. That's all. I would love it if you just provided one person that would see Liam for who he is and accept him-nay, ADORE him the way we all do. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(Now, I don't want to freak this kid out. I mean, I'm sure more than one friend will come along....hahahahahahahaha...seriously, though, will you be his friend???!!!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, needless to say, his mom said yes, and (gasp!) that Zach was really looking forward to coming over! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I told Liam about this, he was beside himself! Pacing, eyes staring off into space as his wheels turned thinking about the possibilities of the slumber party events. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I imagined his thoughts were something like this:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"First, I'll show him my video games and how I like to play them. I <i>will</i> win every game we play. Then, we will go outside. Then, he will watch me play a computer game. I will win all of those as well. The end."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The whole back and forth thing hasn't been nuanced quite yet in our house. He would prefer if everyone just did exactly what he wanted to do the entire time, no questions asked. We're still tweaking that one.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(hmmm...sounds like a few adults I know as well...)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, in an effort to have a back up plan in case Liam sat in front of a screen for 6 hours while his friend twirled his thumbs, I decided that we needed a destination. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Where do you want to go with Zach when he comes over?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Chuck E. Cheese".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I panicked. Do 13 years olds still think Chuck E. Cheese is cool? Doesn't Charles du Fromage (what we used to say in order to "hide" it from the kids) peak around age 9-10?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I reluctantly agreed. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAxGWk8kfRcwBqBCOlvy9SgFT9r4eOP6n8muIbs3b3RDF5ue4oP-H08HJiqhTAnH-RDdAcuDxRnbnnO2Y1hGLXlX9DPPvwr_8cOYFsIJh8Zp7htNUDDGGEuxsG5r5IvmIbPz1VRZtTjpI/s1600/388213b0ebef9ccdfb954c896d9f0491_special.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAxGWk8kfRcwBqBCOlvy9SgFT9r4eOP6n8muIbs3b3RDF5ue4oP-H08HJiqhTAnH-RDdAcuDxRnbnnO2Y1hGLXlX9DPPvwr_8cOYFsIJh8Zp7htNUDDGGEuxsG5r5IvmIbPz1VRZtTjpI/s1600/388213b0ebef9ccdfb954c896d9f0491_special.gif" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes! You are!! </td></tr>
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</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The day came for Zach to come over. Zach rode the special ed bus to our house like a champ! Didn't even bat an eye! He earned major friend points in my book for being willing to be seen on the not-so-short bus. (I don't know about your school, but the SPED bus at ours is SWANK! It is not short, and it is really nice!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He walked in, confident, but not too much. He was great with Liam. He was patient, kind, funny...do I sound desperate? Because I totally am. I had to tell myself to quit asking him if he was having a good time, or if he needed another snack, or if I bought the right snacks, or if I needed to pay him money to stay. (Okay, I didn't ask that, but I thought it!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The thing of it was, that I think Zach really DID want to be there. He knows that Liam is different than he is, but it's not a deficit to him- it's a bonus. He totally thinks Liam's ways of doing things are funny. And, he gets a kick out of seeing him excited about a video game, or an 89 yard touchdown on YouTube. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He also knew when to set boundaries with Liam and when to let the small stuff fly by! He knew that Liam would be anxious about what time they would be going to bed (there would be no improvising or playing "outside the scale" on the schedule!), so Zach said, "you know what Liam, let's play one more round of USA Soccer on Xbox and then go to bed at 9:30"! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have to admit, I was high-fiving myself at that point!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Call it what you will, but as much as people my age want to complain about the new generation coming up as being emotionally stunted from technology, or having issues with socialization, or even being exposed to too much too fast, I have to say that there is a new wave of compassion and empathy that my generation missed out on. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">These kids have been exposed to children of special needs from the get-go. No longer are the SPED children sent to another building to be "dealt" with. Kids with autism, Down Syndrome, cerebral palsy, and other neurological disorders are included in the mainstream classrooms. Kids today most likely have seen a child with autism have a nervous breakdown in the middle of class, or watched a child in a wheelchair struggle to move around a classroom. And, because of that exposure, they are not intimidated by differences- they embrace them. I do not think I would have been that patient or kind as a middle schooler. I was much too impressed with myself to give unconditionally to others with differences. So to now see these kids getting involved and helping their peers is so very inspiring!!!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, I do know there are sad stories of bullies and mean-spirited kids who have taken advantage of this inclusion of SPED children. I do not pretend to believe that there will never be someone who will be mean to my son. But, the overwhelming sense that I have gotten from all the classrooms my son has been in is that once his peers know what is going on with him, they are ready and willing to help him along. And Zach is a great example of someone willing to go the extra mile! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">His dad picked him up the next morning, and we have seen this family several weekends this fall at various school events. Zach even plans to have Liam at his house this weekend, Lord-willing! :)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The other day I asked Liam about Zach and his friendship with him. Liam replied, "Sometimes Zach disobeys me."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(Sigh)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Like I said, <i>little </i>tweaking here and there.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Baby steps. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My hope is there will be more steps, and more friends like Zach. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And maybe, just maybe, this journey won't be so lonely after all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-40418582706005325832014-08-14T20:43:00.000-07:002014-08-14T20:44:29.951-07:00Wild At HeartThis week has been especially hard.<br />
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The news of Robin Williams showed up on my phone just as I was leaving a meeting with a friend. It felt like a punch in the gut, as I'm sure it hit most everyone the same way. How could this man, so full of life, leave just like that? How could he not know how much we all loved him? How could he not know the blessing that he was to our lives?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg731uSdzNkeN2XjSzLf6CVbtQK-rzSCrObSXMbfQsHRFy5117apVIgr1WYE69zG1H0nCa30mfaF6iIhVL0Sqn4Di0SUIOIoOTjy8q8AlfmFqf-haQEh64teincrnWkMRPs27g0vVyZil8/s1600/4573t.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg731uSdzNkeN2XjSzLf6CVbtQK-rzSCrObSXMbfQsHRFy5117apVIgr1WYE69zG1H0nCa30mfaF6iIhVL0Sqn4Di0SUIOIoOTjy8q8AlfmFqf-haQEh64teincrnWkMRPs27g0vVyZil8/s1600/4573t.jpg" height="178" width="320" /></a>Over the next day, I watched as tributes and dedications poured in to the news networks and twitter-spheres. Celebrities, stunned, shook their heads and openly weeped for a man so full of heart and passion. From all accounts, he was everyone's favorite guest on the talk shows, as they never knew where the interview would go. Robin was wild and unpredictable, yet warm and inviting. Wherever he was, people forgot about their problems. He made people belly laugh until they cried. Robin Williams took them to another place.<br />
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When the final report on how Robin Williams died came in, my heart broke. I began to sob and I knew that this was touching my own story in more ways than one. It was, once again, time for me to grieve my own loss.<br />
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I lost my first true love to suicide.<br />
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Will and I were married when I was very young. We had our two boys, one of whom this blog refers to all the time- Will's namesake, Liam. Our marriage lasted for almost ten years before, sadly, ending in divorce.<br />
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Will was not unlike Robin Williams. He was passionate, larger-than-life, hilarious, warm, caring, crazy, silly, talented. His highs were wild and it was all I could do to keep up. But, his lows were low and there was a tragic theme of self sabotage and destruction always lurking around the corner. He could flip on a dime-keeping all of those around him guessing as to which person they would get.<br />
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His talent was undeniable- an artist's artist. Musicians still talk about his record, his guitar playing, and the way that his music made them feel. He made you love music. I mean, really love music. He would make you sit down in a chair and listen to whatever it was he was working on. You would grin ear to ear because he would "air" play every single part of the song as if he had a thousand people in front of him. He would so lose himself in the moment that he didn't care how he looked. He wanted to convey THE SONG. That was all that mattered in that moment.<br />
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He could tell the best stories. His imitations of people were so spot on that you would be crying with laughter on the floor. He was so animated while he was talking that you couldn't help be enamored with whatever story he was telling!<br />
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My sisters and I would laugh at him because anytime he would come in to the house it was like a windblown whirlwind. He was like Kramer on Seinfeld! He couldn't just walk quietly in the house- he and his presence would come in and overtake the room.<br />
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And then, one day, just like that. He was gone. He took his own life. And, even as I type this, I still cannot believe it. How can someone so full of vitality be gone?<br />
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Yes, there were the signs- depression, anxiety, but I never pictured life and the world without Will in it. It just wasn't an option in my mind. He was too big-it would never be something he chose. Never.<br />
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But...it did. And in one act, his seemingly endless light was extinguished. Such a profoundly dark ending to a life so full of light.<br />
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It is no wonder that I have been deeply affected by the events of this week. The accounts of Robin are so similar to Will's. But, I hope that writing about it will move me towards the necessary pain of grief and loss. As a mentor once said, if you try to get <i>over</i> pain, you end up <i>underneath</i> it.<br />
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And so the onion gets pulled back another layer. Another step towards the pain of grief.<br />
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I miss you, Robin.<br />
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I miss you, Will.<br />
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The world will never be the same without you.<br />
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<br />Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-13420094878868224302014-05-06T07:53:00.001-07:002014-05-06T07:53:49.421-07:00Italian SiestaI came home yesterday the same way I do most days. Armloads of Trader Joe's bags, exhausted and wiped out. My body felt so tired and depleted, I had to lay down for a quick power nap.<br />
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Unfortunately, this is not uncommon for me. I was recently diagnosed with something called Hashimoto's disease, which is a type of hypothyroidism, or Japanese for "no more happiness". Actually, I don't know what Hashimoto is named for. Maybe it was for the Japanese god of narcolepsy. I don't know. What I do know is for the millions of people who have this disease, it is crippling. The symptoms are unending tiredness, hair loss, weight gain, and endless tv watching.<br />
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I have always been tired. An unpopular personality trait in a world that says that napping is an abomination and being tired is equal to weakness. Our culture frowns upon siestas, while the rest of the world naturally shuts down their businesses between the hours of 2-4 to rest, (I'm looking at you, Italy!!) cook their evening <a href="http://www.huffingtonpost.com/marta-mondelli/quality-of-life-the-itali_b_152715.html" target="_blank">meals</a>, and catch up on life. Quality of life is not taken into account in our fast pace, "gotta strike while the iron's hot" way of existing. It is of no wonder that our adrenal glands are screaming at us to slow down!!<br />
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And, us mommy's of autism? FUGET ABOUDIT!!!<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This actually looks good to me right now.<br /></td></tr>
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I would go so far to say when there is anything "extra" in life that you have to deal with in the hustle and bustle of life, it is exhausting. Mothers and fathers dealing with other special needs, learning disabilities, health conditions, ADHD, even a child with emotional instability, can be that extra thing that pushes you over the proverbial edge. A friend of mine has a child that has difficulty just getting along with other children-it is something extra that she has to deal with on top of the other children in her family-and it is exhausting!<br />
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And we hate to begrudge our "extra heaping helping of hard" child, but sometimes we do...let's be honest!<br />
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As I was laying in bed, life was still happening around me. The groceries needed to be put away, phone calls kept coming in, Liam was coming in and out from playing outside, Walker was studying and doing homework. I felt guilt for not <i>exactly</i> knowing where my child with autism was. I felt <i>shame</i> for not really knowing if my teenager was really studying or playing video games. And, I felt irresponsible for not remembering if I put the milk away or not. But, I quickly shoved all of those pesky emotions down for a few prized moments of sleep.<br />
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I woke up groggy and out of it- the worst feeling at the bewitching hour of 5pm. (see <a href="http://streakofgenius.blogspot.com/2013/03/bewitched.html" target="_blank">Bewitched!</a>) I began researching essential oils that would help with hypothyroidism, exhaustion, and crankiness (funny, they don't have one for the that!). I began to think about all of the other supplements, oils, and holistic medicines that could help my kids. I started down a rabbit trail of research for autism, and alternative medicines used for attention and focus. Fifteen minutes later, I was overwhelmed thinking about adding something else to our already full routine.<br />
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And this is when it struck me: I CANNOT HELP MY CHILDREN WHEN I AM DEPLETED!!!!<br />
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I CANNOT GIVE TO THEM THAT WHICH I DO NOT GIVE MYSELF!!!!<br />
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Isn't this our plight? We spend so much time thinking, loving on, and doing for our own fold when we have nothing to give. I must be willing to research things that will help ME, so that I can, in turn, give to those I love the most.<br />
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It's the old, "put the oxygen mask on yourself before you put it on your child" mentality. If we are sucking for air, we cannot possibly be any good for those around us.<br />
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As Brene Brown said recently, we all wear exhaustion like it's a badge. We can all one-up each other with stories of our heroism and valor of staying up all night to bake cookies, holding down 4 jobs, stirring dinner, and sewing Suzie's ballet costume, but we cannot tell you the last time we actually felt good.<br />
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My son's therapist told me recently that in all of his years of practicing, this is the most anxious group of children he has ever seen. They are all medicated because we expose them to adult-like pressures of having so many balls in the air, that they cannot manage.<br />
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IF I AM DEPLETED ALL OF THE TIME, HOW CAN I TEACH MY CHILDREN WHAT IT MEANS TO BE RESTFUL AND PRESENT???<br />
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If I am overextending and not paying attention to my own exhaustion, how can I teach them to listen to their bodies?<br />
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It's time to stop. It's time to rest.<br />
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I closed all the tabs of my computer, and opened <i>one</i> window to ask questions about my own disease on a forum. I got helpful responses, and now it is up to me to take the plunge and try a few things that may work.<br />
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I think it may be an uphill battle to introduce the 'Italian siesta' into our culture. We are pretty stuck in our ways as Americans. But, I can introduce that concept of balance and holistic living in my own corner of the world. It begins with me.<br />
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<br />Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-74050198265239721732014-03-13T08:32:00.001-07:002014-03-13T08:32:33.987-07:00Gladness<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The weather is FINALLY warming up after a brutal winter over most of the United States. Even people in LA have experienced torrential downpours that are out of the ordinary for CA. (don't worry, I do NOT feel the least bit sorry for them!) The weather in Tennessee is bipolar at best. It is often said if you don't like the weather, stay until tomorrow. Because it does so often feel like that. My birthday was a few days ago and it was a wonderful 75 degrees, only to wake up this morning to a cool 28. It will make you crazy as you get excited for spring around the corner- only to be disappointed that you have to bundle up again.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74KFE_a_k_09j9UnyCPyVoTKzGo0dB4egVBOEXtQTgS9_nuPlwCnAG5flCfGxGLVnQTZz2Cwg4B64iUKtUBfBEZyCIz5V91RjpDdd9PGiUrxzhxpJynBY_Yc9blPkYIVeOE-y9LpZS7M/s1600/591359658536Weather.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg74KFE_a_k_09j9UnyCPyVoTKzGo0dB4egVBOEXtQTgS9_nuPlwCnAG5flCfGxGLVnQTZz2Cwg4B64iUKtUBfBEZyCIz5V91RjpDdd9PGiUrxzhxpJynBY_Yc9blPkYIVeOE-y9LpZS7M/s1600/591359658536Weather.jpg" height="198" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This picture sums up our weather experiences down here!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Speaking of bipolar weather, the mood of my preteen has been an unpredictable map of highs, lows, sunny skies, rain clouds, tornadoes, and spring delight. Each day I wonder which one I will get. The one thing that is consistent is the spring delight rarely shows up. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, I am not naive to think that this is not normal behavior. I do know the stats on preteens. But, it doesn't make it any easier to navigate. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The truth is, I long to connect to my son. There, I said it! He has autism, and as my oldest pointed out, if you look up the diagnosis in the <a href="http://www.newrepublic.com/sites/default/files/u36883/dsm-5-cover-050213-marg.jpg" target="_blank">DSM</a> "connection" and autism are not in the same paragraphs. If they are, the words "lack thereof" are some place close by. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is difficult to me, as this is probably the most important thing in my life- my connections. I cherish them. They are my life-force, in many ways. That is just the way God made me. So, not having a connection to my offspring is a little difficult for this attachment junkie. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Sadly, he is growing up. So that means he is pulling away. Before, he would ask me to tuck him in the bed or read to him. Even if it was slightly 'robo-tronic', he still asked for ME specifically. And, that connected us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, he has his after school routine of playing alone outside or playing video games alone. Or, he searches alone on the computer for his latest obsession, whether it be funny lines from Sheldon on "Big Bang Theory" or a long touchdown run by an Alabama player. I can always know his thought process when I look up his Google search history. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But that is where it remains. Google history. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSj4PXGMRoW5f-utoVmhLLP90Dwtu6nPrO7kjooH3h-CMgCQeUunqEUHFYmaVxiAQ0zEeJhNAZaYaCtcXYv7WLOlkVaZGyjYG9oMjFZNXoX7XhPa8MMa88eVGnosavUqKXXVEUxQS30w/s1600/google_doodle_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsSj4PXGMRoW5f-utoVmhLLP90Dwtu6nPrO7kjooH3h-CMgCQeUunqEUHFYmaVxiAQ0zEeJhNAZaYaCtcXYv7WLOlkVaZGyjYG9oMjFZNXoX7XhPa8MMa88eVGnosavUqKXXVEUxQS30w/s1600/google_doodle_01.jpg" height="211" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The key to my son's heart. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He doesn't want to share with me his thoughts about friends, life, love, and hurt. He shuts me down when I ask how his day was or probe into his middle school brain. And by probe I ask him what friends he has in his class. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, some of you reading this will be tempted to "normalize" things and tell me that I am simply dealing (as stated earlier) with a preteen. Preteens are known for their sudden distaste in all things parent related. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlWp0JKUwZLg_NLWBbrgmcevwmzLnNzZ3EEFILOi0CjJkwF8zyFZRGB4HvFOPGv8kr44hnL3XlA1wHqJi1aYUfWsxc4Kt4WQu6BUukGfeh-30_NlCOiooZZ6GcP58bBAkunUS2La19DdM/s1600/denial.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlWp0JKUwZLg_NLWBbrgmcevwmzLnNzZ3EEFILOi0CjJkwF8zyFZRGB4HvFOPGv8kr44hnL3XlA1wHqJi1aYUfWsxc4Kt4WQu6BUukGfeh-30_NlCOiooZZ6GcP58bBAkunUS2La19DdM/s1600/denial.jpg" height="301" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I like this picture for Denial.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I would tell you that you would only be partially correct. And, not to mention, shaming. This is not just your average preteen mood swing or distaste- this is a pattern, not an event. And, being the parents of these children, we know this in the back of our minds. We know that this is a pervasive pattern and not a 2-3 year 'season'. Our hearts are all too familiar with the disappointment and letting go that has to occur with autism. And, please, don't be one of the "those" people who say "well, at least he..." (see Brene Brown's brilliant take on <i>that</i> phrase in <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1Evwgu369Jw" target="_blank">this</a> clip). </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There is not much to say to make things better. I must grieve this part of autism- otherwise I live in complete denial. As I have said many times in this blog, life is not easy, and the sooner we can accept, feel, and face this reality, the sooner our true JOY can be felt. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then when he does do something out of the ordinary, it is absolutely <i style="font-weight: bold;">felt</i>. When he <i>sees</i> me, or touches my face, or hugs me without prompting- those are the joy moments. Those are the times when I am touched deeply in my soul. It does not take away the pain, but the pain gives way to true gladness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">TRUE gladness. It is a rare gift. But, it is something we all long for in our hearts. I believe the desire for true gladness was put into the very fabric of our being. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3pe_6mVmgt_bv3z80HpeHZmKcK8Eijb2e68IqYIgWKWMKv3Ig3GLTbTILqroMtatVsK1-RnREgvtOSxXEgnGFBXmAtd-rMV1KqG-EjVTK9FFLcYAoKzJGxLiP0omz3rzmitrtSdPz9I/s1600/IMG_2350.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm3pe_6mVmgt_bv3z80HpeHZmKcK8Eijb2e68IqYIgWKWMKv3Ig3GLTbTILqroMtatVsK1-RnREgvtOSxXEgnGFBXmAtd-rMV1KqG-EjVTK9FFLcYAoKzJGxLiP0omz3rzmitrtSdPz9I/s1600/IMG_2350.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gladness<br /><br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I look at this photo my dad took this year, I see Liam enjoying true gladness. He absolutely loves tossing the football up and making "touchdowns" over and over again until he can barely stand up. It reminds me of my own desire and the places where I am able to gain access to this rare gift. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But most of all, it reminds me that some things will change. It will not always be cold or rainy or unpredictable.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One thing we <i>are </i>promised. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The spring will come. </span><br />
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Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-79167196046511531702014-03-01T09:06:00.001-08:002014-03-01T09:06:27.135-08:00New Normal Life has changed quite a bit at our household these days. I have begun working.<br />
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I am currently in the beginning stages of my internship at school. I am seeing clients a few days per week in the counseling center of the college I attend. I have had the privilege of walking with college students in the throws of reality. It has been a blessing to see these brave students wrestle with who they are apart from their family of origin, and the fear that comes with not knowing who they will become. I remember that season of life very well, and really didn't figure out the answers to many of those questions until recently. Change that...I am still learning.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQVvRXQPJcd8mxSwYEZlT2YrwE3fvjvHgTbTx22FKbN0qRdm7CWx2_bW30YkgZjc764jDi-q5974_efcKPC8mWx0wfNJ76T9fO4QIuYd6y1OmHGA9gkl4gPxT7EudziMmxeE16FW1AglA/s1600/room1-1024x680.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQVvRXQPJcd8mxSwYEZlT2YrwE3fvjvHgTbTx22FKbN0qRdm7CWx2_bW30YkgZjc764jDi-q5974_efcKPC8mWx0wfNJ76T9fO4QIuYd6y1OmHGA9gkl4gPxT7EudziMmxeE16FW1AglA/s1600/room1-1024x680.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This room is very similar to the room I meet clients in!! Very calming!</td></tr>
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But, it has definitely changed the pace and routine of life around the house. I am not as emotionally capable as I was before. I am not as attentive and present as I have been in the past. Sometimes, my oldest has to come and push me when I am catatonic on the couch after a day of seeing clients in order for me to 'come to'. Okay, not exactly. But, there have been many conversations lately that go like this.<br />
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"HEY MOM!"<br />
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"Oh, hey, honey. I'm sorry. I'm a little out of it. How was your day?"<br />
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We are still trying to figure it all out. What is the balance? How do I self-care, yet be a mother?<br />
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As most therapists will tell you, we have a different type of exhaustion that sets in. No, I am not lifting a pile of bricks every day, or running around on the floor of the stock exchange, OR even saving lives in the back of an ambulance. I am sitting. In a chair. All day. In a room. Alone with one other person.<br />
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But, the thing we have to do that is not required of many other jobs is that we have to sit and be perfectly present with another one's story. My ONLY job is to hold a sacred space for the other to come and sit in their pain. And, I cannot waiver from this in that hour. I cannot "check out" and look at my phone or get up and walk around. I am looking straight into their eyes and tracking every single word they say. And I am trying to honor their life story in (hopefully) a way that is healing.<br />
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Now don't get me wrong, I do love this work!! I am, quite honestly, so honored that someone would allow me to come alongside their journey. It is remarkable to see people be so brave as to look at their pain dead in the eye!<br />
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But, when it comes to the end of the day, I am, many times, flat as a pancake. Our professors have been harping on something called 'compassion fatigue'. And, they are correct! As therapists, we must be balanced in getting enough sleep, good nutrition, breaks, self-care, emotional support, etc, before we can help other people.<br />
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And so begins the evenings with my guys...<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEUgzTeb_hyQJFYv1IGnbMfT-3qR3wkvisPa1jaZ_Pdx-WthgzPGXAMBLLnqC3nsGeWHba_9nW1Jvb1QqPXvGRArXvar3WBVYjbmGaVd6jbh_iY6X4LqNXSV0M3_3r6wDxoX7F8xWLrMg/s1600/TraderJoes440.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhEUgzTeb_hyQJFYv1IGnbMfT-3qR3wkvisPa1jaZ_Pdx-WthgzPGXAMBLLnqC3nsGeWHba_9nW1Jvb1QqPXvGRArXvar3WBVYjbmGaVd6jbh_iY6X4LqNXSV0M3_3r6wDxoX7F8xWLrMg/s1600/TraderJoes440.jpg" height="213" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bless the genius behind this place!!</td></tr>
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They are having to get used to this new way of being. As their mother and only parent, they rely on me to meet their needs that are largely emotional at this stage in the game. (and physical, if you live with two boys, you understand the messes they leave behind!)<br />
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So, we have a lot of Trader Joe's frozen, heat-up-and-eat meals. Thank heavens for TJ's!!!!<br />
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As my sweet friend calls it, the "Working Mom's Grocery Store". I am really sorry for those of you reading this that do not have access to TJ's. God love them. They make wonderful prepared meals that ACTUALLY have somewhat natural ingredients, are priced reasonably, and taste delish!!!! And, if you have some "study" that says that TJ's actually has GMO produce or their freezer food is laced with carcinogens- please keep that information to yourself. Thanks.<br />
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So, many of you mama's reading this will say, "What else is new? I've been working since my baby was two days old!!"<br />
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And, you would be right to say that.<br />
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This is just new for us. I have been working different part-time jobs, music stuff, singing, and performing this whole time. But, the work has been sporadic, and I have had the blessing of being able to, for the most part, be at home when my kids got off the bus every day. I have not taken it for granted one second. Because, in this day in age, my story is the exception. Most families are two income families. And, it is unheard of that single mama's get to stay at home. I have scrapped and saved to make that work because I knew it was the best thing for MY family. Not anyone else's story. Only mine.<br />
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So, things are different. And change is always hard.<br />
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But, this is the part of the blog when I say, HOW DO YOU ALL DO IT???????<br />
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How do you single, working parents juggle it all????????<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0H97H-tv4cKrNBAqyrC3gd6Ykyv4-OEP_SFY7pxxuz9AFhyphenhyphenf6ch0rntox-db-Wva4ujVhpBM3XyFzVw6EFEaBOByZpACgEqNeW5LTmedgeEMPc2xzSW49R7zOgmUM1Rumvwlgy0E2pgw/s1600/juggling-2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0H97H-tv4cKrNBAqyrC3gd6Ykyv4-OEP_SFY7pxxuz9AFhyphenhyphenf6ch0rntox-db-Wva4ujVhpBM3XyFzVw6EFEaBOByZpACgEqNeW5LTmedgeEMPc2xzSW49R7zOgmUM1Rumvwlgy0E2pgw/s1600/juggling-2.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I realize this may be the scariest picture of all time!<br /><br /><br /></td></tr>
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Seriously, how do we all make it work? I think that being a working parent has gotten so normalized in our society that it is often seen as WEIRD if you don't work. I remember my son asking me one time why I wasn't employed full time. I had to work really hard not to forcefully grab his collar, pin him up against the wall and say, "I DO WORK FULL TIME!!! LOOK AT THE FOLDED LAUNDRY, EXCEL SPREADSHEET BUDGET, AND FROZEN DINNER BEING HEATED UP ON THE STOVE!!"<br />
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No, no, I didn't do that. I slapped him across the face and demanded that he go get a job in the coal mine because he wasn't 'pulling his weight around here'.<br />
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Okay, okay, I didn't do that either. I simply said, "You'll understand one day."<br />
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I guess what I really want to say is, I want those of you who are doing this alone to stop and think about all you juggle. It wasn't supposed to be like this. No, I am not suggesting that women shouldn't work and should stay in the kitchen. NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT. It's just that it wasn't supposed to be this hard and complicated. In a perfect world, we would all have energy to love our kids, love our work, and have fulfilling lives in between!<br />
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It is hard stuff. And, don't let the culture tell you it's just what we do. Stop and take care of yourself. Feel your feelings and let yourself cry over the pain of not feeling like you're enough. Because you are not, and you weren't supposed to be. Let go of the expectation of being together and perfect! We are all so hard on ourselves and harbor such self-hatred over the comparisons we make to other people.<br />
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Say it with me:<br />
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It is okay if my child plays on the iPad for an inordinate amount of time.<br />
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It is okay that we are eating something out of a box.<br />
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It is okay to say this is hard.<br />
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As my spiritual director, Gail, says almost every time I see her, "Be gentle with yourself."<br />
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Even though you are fighting a big battle, put your weapons down for a bit, and let this tired warrior catch a breath. For when you do this, you are giving yourself a little more to give with each breath.<br />
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This is very counter to our culture of "Go big or go home" in America.<br />
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We aren't built to do it all.<br />
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But, once you give yourself that nod of acceptance, a crazy thing happens. You find you do have a little gas in the tank left to give to someone else. You can play that silly game with your kids, or have a serious heart to heart about girls, or go throw a football.<br />
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And, when they have their own kids, they just might get it. Maybe.<br />
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One can only hope.Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-19888571262656439382013-12-06T10:41:00.001-08:002013-12-06T10:42:44.081-08:00As "Iron (Bowl) Sharpens Iron"<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">***Many thanks to Kristen for reminding me why I do this blog! Thank you for writing and getting me back on the horse!!***</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have not fully accepted that winter is quickly making it's comeback. The weather is indeed frightful outside with a big ice storm on its way, so today is a perfect day to get under a blanket and write this blog. This southern girl does not do well in the cold. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Since the last blog, I am happy to report that Liam has settled in nicely to middle school. I have made great sacrifices to stay in the county where we live because the school system here is amazing! All of my support network and family lie one county over, so it can be difficult when the stuff of life happens. But, it has been well worth it when I come to an IEP meeting and his teachers give me good reports and seem truly invested in his learning. He is independently walking to each class and has minimal support in the inclusion classrooms. He is only pulled out a few times during the day for individualized teaching- which is HUGE! We are putting him in different arenas of extracurricular activities to see which one "sticks". I can report that while being the water boy for the middle school football team over the summer and early fall was an honor, I think he likes knowing the stats of the game rather than the manual labor required to actually fill the bottles up and take them to the players. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZSpmktIKiA_-WTwXIbQr3owJU5S1gciBRMtzYBo4eJGLPiP9h8BzSVglJo6dHOr-vZPvHvUxrNhzPbmbsT58SHcFU9ItIhPJwYUAZR2sIWJcMS6RmaupdsjCJDzESRhp_zAlV4_b91Ao/s1600/IMG_1585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZSpmktIKiA_-WTwXIbQr3owJU5S1gciBRMtzYBo4eJGLPiP9h8BzSVglJo6dHOr-vZPvHvUxrNhzPbmbsT58SHcFU9ItIhPJwYUAZR2sIWJcMS6RmaupdsjCJDzESRhp_zAlV4_b91Ao/s320/IMG_1585.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Water Boy!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To my horror, players and coaches were many times desperately yelling for water while Liam was too busy staring into space and adding up the yardage gain in his head from the previous play. I had to stop going to the games because I would get more stressed out about his lack luster performance than he would! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't believe I have fully explained Liam's obsession with football on this blog. He just so happens to be one of the biggest <a href="http://www.rolltide.com/sports/m-footbl/" target="_blank">University of Alabama</a>'s fans. And, unless you are just completely unaware of anything sports related, Bama has been consistently on top for the past 5 years. And, unless you live under a rock- there was a <i>small</i> (really tiny) game played this past Saturday that rocked Bama's hopes for a 3rd National Championship in 4 years under the reign of head coach, Sir Nick Saban, or "Lord Saban" as he is referred to in our house. And, this game <i>may</i> have been our fiercest rival ever. And, the last play of the game before inevitable overtime, <i>may </i>just have been played and replayed countless times on every single network on every single channel in the entire nation. Our beloved team lost. Our championship dreams dashed by a "miracle" <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fPlQHYkHEzc" target="_blank">play</a> that some are calling the greatest end to a football game in history. </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkGF0D44NJV3ImhE09is2vGen2cQiI1U-K1EBsV6L4jr2cjY5eCwC34gnopasdhXxWv0oat8QYaxIBtfjeRxwHVm3DklXidtKOzX2R-FFapr49CFlH6TkqHFQL9v3FDx-_3yWBpALxqs/s1600/images.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjkGF0D44NJV3ImhE09is2vGen2cQiI1U-K1EBsV6L4jr2cjY5eCwC34gnopasdhXxWv0oat8QYaxIBtfjeRxwHVm3DklXidtKOzX2R-FFapr49CFlH6TkqHFQL9v3FDx-_3yWBpALxqs/s1600/images.jpeg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lord Saban with his team!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We were in shock. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">To work so hard to get to this point in the season-only to lose in one moment was gut-wrenching! I act like it was me on the field playing the game, but this is SEC football! We live and die football down here. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As my mind stared blankly at the screen, my family members all muttering sighs of disbelief, a familiar sound came from the bedroom next to us. Liam had wisely given himself time-outs through out the game if the score was too close for comfort. He would emerge from the bedroom, check the status, and quickly go back in and close the door if he knew his blood pressure couldn't handle it! But, the sound I heard was one of angry screams of rage, things being thrown, and walls being punched! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I had been preparing for this day all along. It's pretty remarkable that Alabama has won as many games as they have. They have been the team to beat for several years and there was talk of a dynasty occurring. So, in the mind of a child with autism, winning becomes a routine. And, I know I have talked on this blog about the futile nature of trying to explain winning and losing to him. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Then, to make matters worse, another family member raged at the fact that Liam was raging...</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We were all grieving, and none of us knew what to do but to go to our default modes of coping.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I finally made it in to Liam's room without having things thrown at me, he was lying down, breathing deeply, hands close to his face, and eyes closed. I scratched his back and we both sat in silence for a while.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When enough time had passed, he looked at me wide-eyed and said, "Mom, MY 'play of the game' was the 99 yard pass that AJ McCarron threw!"</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">AJ McCarron is Alabama's QB that threw an incredible 99 yard pass for a touchdown in the <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidS2ymtjxoJPuz_PlTtJI-Ag8eHKFk6dzm9kCvj9Ax_gqs1DxgSAOXkiLuZ7Eb2oD2rnANHeDpfYNpOmUaEQ5hUWu2ZhYAguAYMTxh5K0_JRD1Y5BFgoufUJcgnXwLE5ps42x3ss6ZxaQ/s1600/aj-mccarron.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidS2ymtjxoJPuz_PlTtJI-Ag8eHKFk6dzm9kCvj9Ax_gqs1DxgSAOXkiLuZ7Eb2oD2rnANHeDpfYNpOmUaEQ5hUWu2ZhYAguAYMTxh5K0_JRD1Y5BFgoufUJcgnXwLE5ps42x3ss6ZxaQ/s320/aj-mccarron.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Few QB's have as many Championship rings as losses!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">same game that Auburn won. It was indeed a great play and probably would have moved AJ's chances of winning a Heisman- if Bama had won the game. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But, it was not the pass that stood out to me. It was Liam's ability to bring it back around to a memorable moment of joy in the game. To me, this was a giant leap for mankind!!! (okay, maybe just our family)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Liam was able to recall a good moment and let that be his comfort. He could have easily dwelt on the loss for days and days on end. But, instead, he focused on the positive- something that he has never been able to do very well (if ever) up until this point. And, something that is very difficult for him given his unwavering obsession with all things Alabama sports. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The Auburn-Alabama game is called the Iron Bowl every year for historical, and some more obvious, reasons. With Iron-Bowl-like strength, Liam managed to kick the walls, throw a few items, and tear things up. But, miraculously, he used that same strength to dig deep and find a ray of light in the midst of heartache. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The lesson here is that things are moving...things are changing...he is progressing...and the struggles we have dealt with for so long are finally moving more and more in to the past. And in the meantime, he teaches ME the stuff of life. He is teaching me to focus on what went right instead of what went wrong. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Proverbs 27:17 "As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He continues to "sharpen" me every day! I love this, and I love that little guy! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Oh...and Roll Tide Roll!!</span></div>
Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-75246944300429322682013-08-07T21:02:00.000-07:002013-08-07T21:02:04.883-07:00The Dreaded Transition<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I very much apologize for such a long hiatus from this blog! Summer time has, unfortunately, not given me long periods of down time. In addition to being the only parent, I am currently in school right now finishing a master's degree in Marriage and Family Therapy. I figure since I have been through, what feels like, about four lifetimes, maybe I can help someone else. I have another year and a half before I walk down the aisle with cap and gown. All told it will be about 3 1/2 years of extra schooling. So, you can imagine my disdain when I see claims of getting a "few weekends course" on becoming a therapist! There is a method to the madness, and I look forward to the day I can hang a shingle and begin seeing clients. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I may even see myself helping families with a new autism diagnosis. Those first couple of years after the initial "drop" into autism is a daunting one at best. You are, on the one hand, relieved that there is a name for all of the craziness that you have felt, and on the other hand, you are completely overwhelmed and thrown into an unknown world of doctor and therapy appointments, school meetings, diet changes, medications, THE WORKS! </span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cCd_PkfOI-aZYL-Fln6exn_ngyzwb53IumDZ6qyCTjF6_YFGFVs_NUMF_JZiadc7hpa0W8vbEJmboKMtv0CZhf-ztH6kiEi7rD9W7g-_WktnRHkIlXtOYxdhtTAvtcMcYtjtHG09YaY/s1600/autism-diagnosis-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="174" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0cCd_PkfOI-aZYL-Fln6exn_ngyzwb53IumDZ6qyCTjF6_YFGFVs_NUMF_JZiadc7hpa0W8vbEJmboKMtv0CZhf-ztH6kiEi7rD9W7g-_WktnRHkIlXtOYxdhtTAvtcMcYtjtHG09YaY/s320/autism-diagnosis-1.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A dear friend from childhood just sent me a message through Facebook to tell me that she believed that her son was on the spectrum. She gave me the list of 'symptoms' and all I could do was shake my head and say to myself, "yes, I believe she is right." My stomach dropped as I read her plea. I remember those first years and how freaking hard everything was. Nothing made sense. I was exhausted and depleted at every turn. Mind you, I am still tired, but life has a different pace to it. My hyper-vigilance is not quite what it used to be. But, I have a real empathy for those just now finding out. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This same friend asked me to write about transitions. Aren't these the hardest?? I can't say that transitions are not still the number one thing that sends Liam through the roof. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Here are a few tips I have learned (the hard way):</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>1. Keep a schedule</b></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This may come very natural to some of you. I, however, prefer to float aimlessly through my day. I love to see what adventures may arise out of the blue. I love to slowly waltz from one activity to the next. This. Does. Not. Work. With. Autism. I repeat, you may not be a creative-type without a plan. Free-form does not exist in the world of autism. I have learned that there is at least 85% less whining and freak outs when there is a visual schedule. What is a visual schedule, you might say? (Oooohhhhoooohhhhhooooo, your world is about to change!!!!)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhck2BZwqgcfApEjwOx5Wd2mNpOD46NiWcIdKmmX5eV0Kb4x0M7RrJZz0QgzYFRjQQRIgdeOyLSPwJTQPAGcI-NONfP-Ip_rQ-4_2I7q7zQFhtlYmh4I4Ol-0BA6nyxGkw0-RLnTlE44NM/s1600/schedule.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="135" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhck2BZwqgcfApEjwOx5Wd2mNpOD46NiWcIdKmmX5eV0Kb4x0M7RrJZz0QgzYFRjQQRIgdeOyLSPwJTQPAGcI-NONfP-Ip_rQ-4_2I7q7zQFhtlYmh4I4Ol-0BA6nyxGkw0-RLnTlE44NM/s320/schedule.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">PECS stands for Pictorial Exchange Communications System (now you're smart!)<br /></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When Liam's therapists began giving me all of these pictures of things that he liked or things that he did during the day, I just sort of stared at these them like, "um, yea, how is this supposed to help me not kill my child?" They just looked at me and winked, and seemed to say, "just give it time, you'll be using these like crack- and, oh, we know what we're doing and you don't." Turns out, they were right. Even a toddler at 2 years of age can see what the pictures represent. For whatever reason, this satisfies the autistic child's need for order and predictability. And, now that Liam is older, I can just write out his schedule without using the pictures. I even schedule his down time (shoot me!) like: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1. Eat breakfast</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">2. Watch tv</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">3. Play basketball</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">4. Snack</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">5. Computer time</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">6. Massage mommy's shoulders </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do not do what I did which was to ignore the <a href="http://www.nationalautismresources.com/pecs-software.html" target="_blank">PECS</a> for several years. Go ahead and start using it today!! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>2. The Great "If-Then" strategy:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Let's just get this right out of the way. You will be doing an inordinate amount of bribing with your newly diagnosed child with autism. You will say, in the beginning, that you will not partake of such parenting shenanigans, but, alas, my friends, you will. The "If-Then" board gives you a nicer name for your shenanigans than that nasty "B" word. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is self explanatory, but you simply have a laminated sheet of paper that has an IF column and a THEN column. I used to have this paper with pieces of velcro so that I could put the visual symbol I wanted to under each one. (I can't seem to find a good example of one online)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For example: </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">IF: THEN:</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">CLEAN TOYS EAT COOKIES</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When you are yelling maniacally at your child trying to reason with them as to why they should obey you, they do not get what you are saying. Stop talking, and start pointing at the chart. Remember the KISS method which is "Keep It Simple, Stupid". Anything more than the 'IF, THEN' turns to white noise! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>3. Give them a LONG RUNWAY:</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Much like an airplane that needs a really long runway to take off, a child with an airbus size tantrum ability needs a long runway to prepare for these transitions. You cannot expect a child sitting with the iPad on the couch to gently move to the carseat in 5 seconds time. You could with your other child. You CANNOT with this one!! When you foresee a transition coming up, you need to begin the countdown at LEAST ten minutes ahead of time, if not more. I even would do transitions for the end of a favorite book! (Okay, we are two pages away from being finished, then bed time...don't hit me.)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>4. Try to do all of this without emotion</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Now, I realize that even while I am typing this, I am clenching my jaws and yelling at my children to go to bed. There is hardly a good way to not show your annoyance when your child is screaming bloody murder and hurling themselves on the floor. But, I can attest that much of my son's tantrums and antics were to push my buttons. Yes, he has sensory and transition issues, but there is nothing quite as good as getting your mama's goat! Also, these guys need to be given credit where credit is due. They know that screaming gets the job done!! Everyone hops to it when Johnny Junior is having a meltdown. So, the key is to remain calm, grab your "IF-THEN" board and continue to point to the board until they respond appropriately. It may take you 20 times in a row. It may take you twice. But, once you have remained the calm one, you are actually modeling for them what normal behavior is. When you are not responding with chaos and emotion, the fun gets taken out of all the bad behaviors. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>6. Drink a glass of wine. (or three)</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>7. Share your journey with others</b></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Unfortunately, most people will not get it. But, it won't hurt to try. You cannot shoulder this alone. You need friends, family, therapists, pastors, and anyone else who can be there for you in a significant way to help. Do not be afraid to ask for help. There will come a day when you won't need as much. There is an end in sight. But, until that day, you have to invest in relationships that give back.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And, once you have done all seven of these steps, you will go to bed. Sleep as much as you can, and do it all over again the next day. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Power on! You are stronger than you think.</span>Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-78142268686503823662013-06-28T15:50:00.001-07:002013-06-28T19:48:00.777-07:00Surrey Dune<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Today, I am happy to say that I am down at the beach. My family and I come down to the Gulf of Mexico a few times a year. I am not unaware of this luxury. I realize there are some who may never get to spend a week off at the beach, or even get a vacation. Or as we say in the autism community, "same problems, different location".</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This family beach house is named Surrey Dune. For one reason, it was named after my grandfather's family farm outside of Anniston, Alabama called Surrey Hill. And the dune part comes from the fact that it is quite literally sitting on top of a dune. The views are gorgeous, and I have watched the landscape develop all around us since 1984 when we began coming down here. This house has watched as scenic 30-A has become the vacation destination of the entire southeastern region of the country. <a href="http://www.seasidefl.com/" target="_blank">Seaside</a> was built close to the time when my grandparents obtained Surrey Dune, and it has been steadily growing ever since. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As a child, I was not satisfied with our beach front haven. I wanted to be where all my cool friends were- at the Sandestin Hilton. But, it was just a far enough drive from my beach that my parents would never take me. I dreaded going back to school after spring break to hear all stories that I missed. I pretended that long, solo walks on the beach and playing UNO with my parents was just as fun. Little did I know that I would crave that time as an adult. But, what did I know as a kid? You can never tell kids that in the moment and have them get it! (stupid kids!)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuohf9yTITVUrzCOB5qGoKCOANfJIakuu0ar5k3CtMgSM_0jrRnEkARBxOf0CNEyaacE2EkuBtKta01WTm1xQpBOEgdwFW_SfDubheTMwsrEaoAcnFL912MowPBSTNx4z4V5nG9qU0JhQ/s874/kelly.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiuohf9yTITVUrzCOB5qGoKCOANfJIakuu0ar5k3CtMgSM_0jrRnEkARBxOf0CNEyaacE2EkuBtKta01WTm1xQpBOEgdwFW_SfDubheTMwsrEaoAcnFL912MowPBSTNx4z4V5nG9qU0JhQ/s320/kelly.jpg" width="210" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Note the high cut hips!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Some things about this area haven't changed a bit. Alvin's Island, a store with an identity crisis, is still going strong. Alvin's Island was a store that everyone in the 80's thought was the coolest place in the world. I can remember asking my mom to take me there to get an awesome one-piece suit. I was not allowed to wear two piece suits, so the concession was to allow me to pick one out from Alvin's Island. My swimsuit was pastel pink and white pinstripes with cute snaps going down the front. It also was high cut on the hips! This was going to be a big hit with the fellas when I was in 8th grade. (think Tiffani Amber Thiessen circa 1989 "Saved By the Bell"--SO HOT!!) The outside of the store looked and still looks like a fake rock or island- like something out of Disney World that was so cool when the park opened, but less appealing next to the more glitzy rides like Space Mountain, the Tower of Terror, or the Dumbo Ride. It has palm trees and the logo is written in 80's skater font, or in some locations, like the logo from Gilligan's Island. The sign usually reads ALVIN'S ISLAND (WHERE YOU TOO CAN LOOK LIKE TIFFANI AMBER THIESSEN, OR GET A HENNA TATOO, OR PICK UP A PUKA SHELL NECKLACE) <table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUaQ1sDt7hyBgyTTqj_KTkAjmU3m83i6y8M-Xx69fvrjEoA9JLbSp_OiV5jl6RibVtQ5ndKHryciU3xrzOZ3AmEoD3KHViuKQi7HkVgW_6ngpx3vLRMhs5kg8dqgDPwqxUhr5dA12zZ_s/s259/alvin's+island.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUaQ1sDt7hyBgyTTqj_KTkAjmU3m83i6y8M-Xx69fvrjEoA9JLbSp_OiV5jl6RibVtQ5ndKHryciU3xrzOZ3AmEoD3KHViuKQi7HkVgW_6ngpx3vLRMhs5kg8dqgDPwqxUhr5dA12zZ_s/s259/alvin's+island.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Not sure when the live shark and gator happen. This adds a whole, new dimension.</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Alvin's Island is located about 20 minutes east of where we are in Florida in a little town called Panama City Beach. Unfortunately, PCB (aren't there carcinogens named after this place) has seen better days. Panama City Beach is like the beautiful prom date from the 80's. Her hair was perfectly teased, her puffy sleeves were sexy, and no tan was tan enough! Now to look at her, the 'sun-in' has faded, her tan skin is sagging in all the wrong places, and the only places that are puffy are the bags under her eyes. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But maybe PCB will make a come back! Maybe, like Aztec print leggings, PCB will rise up and be the kitschy place we love and adore. Where else can you pick up a 6 pack, flip-flops, and an air-brushed t-shirt that says "Love Bites"?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">In keeping with the kitschy theme, Surrey Dune is quite the specimen of kitsch. My lovely grandmother has collected all things beach and crammed them in to make it a wonderland of dolphins, shells, flamingos, and crabs...and that's just the den!! In her generation, you would never put your nice things in your vacation home. You put the stuff you don't want and add whatever appropriate themed knick-knacks. If you have a lake house, you add bass master paraphernalia and signs that say "gon' fishin'". In a beach house, you add signs like "Two Olde Crabs Live Here" next to a vase full of airbrushed seashells.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Or you have things like this:</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ4cItFdvLps-LJikHpJJ95BFFyngcC_gpwtYqdXZg4JoZn-4WFetm7YGohBhNpQTq9FzAoHEj0kcZtnWOv9DUYRChS7wERnvsuoyf7GCdbDvRrPOmPOj9m-5_Nuh2rxo5lPxBrtWvWtQ/s1600/IMG_1320.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZ4cItFdvLps-LJikHpJJ95BFFyngcC_gpwtYqdXZg4JoZn-4WFetm7YGohBhNpQTq9FzAoHEj0kcZtnWOv9DUYRChS7wERnvsuoyf7GCdbDvRrPOmPOj9m-5_Nuh2rxo5lPxBrtWvWtQ/s320/IMG_1320.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTBU9Y5qpMVZ8IpMZzcXpNdB1J97Sa5Fei4AKFaWK1MkEa0bm1FHtg-tfXgBGEwnw2a2U8n7dODa8w7WpNucQ30Gc0fF_oPaj7fnEBOwASmXCSo8a0TtV81ea73QKC4_hFjED-j_3fFkk/s1600/IMG_1321.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTBU9Y5qpMVZ8IpMZzcXpNdB1J97Sa5Fei4AKFaWK1MkEa0bm1FHtg-tfXgBGEwnw2a2U8n7dODa8w7WpNucQ30Gc0fF_oPaj7fnEBOwASmXCSo8a0TtV81ea73QKC4_hFjED-j_3fFkk/s320/IMG_1321.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">These two items are NOT for sale, so do not inquire about them!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The best part of Surrey Dune is how my family is a firm believer in "if it ain't broke, DO NOT fix it...you add the new parts and keep the old." As demonstrated in this lovely outdoor shower head. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBObzQgoYH6hf1juEj0xPIDwugVjtbYNj8v27F9s5bDfn80ttW6TVJ5bNEsOdpRovyonV-OzQOcO3X8ox_c_Z4mPGMYhhYWcCQaDPNh4e2c5pIOZ2uRX9_7bkGaQCF_FdLXNPLBrkj-w/s1600/IMG_1319.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGBObzQgoYH6hf1juEj0xPIDwugVjtbYNj8v27F9s5bDfn80ttW6TVJ5bNEsOdpRovyonV-OzQOcO3X8ox_c_Z4mPGMYhhYWcCQaDPNh4e2c5pIOZ2uRX9_7bkGaQCF_FdLXNPLBrkj-w/s320/IMG_1319.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Do not, I repeat, DO NOT replace any part that works. This rusted out water pipe only looks like it doesn't work. We will, however, replace it with a killer shower head. (the bar of soap is original to the house)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anytime there was something broken or finicky, my grandmother would add a word of warning to ward off those who may want to break her rules when she is not around. One of my favorites was the disposal that had a sign that read:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">THE DISPOSAL IS OLD AND CRANKY LIKE ME!! DO NOT PUT LARGE FOOD INSIDE!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I do love this place. With all of it's clanky, quirky-ness, it is a wonderful place to grow up. My kids, of course, take for granted that you merely have to open the sliding glass door, and you are on your way to the beach. There are no high rises to ramble through, or resort fees to pay. We are directly in front of the gulf with the most magnificent views and sunsets! We will gladly put up with the scratchy poly-blend bed coverlets and water-stained ceilings. This is our beach house. This is Surrey Dune.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNy99OyTrKfjId9iBHyYGlane0SIwWN92SH09QPC906qfyvYgRHggC5lJ4JoghwnzPoDrzTakHjuSfkjCCuIzxE1uHRGd1WccAGKtqVMkJW0Fw_d1n6SjjE8UHo_JgVGMq_tVQ8f3OF4Q/s960/Surrey+Dune.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNy99OyTrKfjId9iBHyYGlane0SIwWN92SH09QPC906qfyvYgRHggC5lJ4JoghwnzPoDrzTakHjuSfkjCCuIzxE1uHRGd1WccAGKtqVMkJW0Fw_d1n6SjjE8UHo_JgVGMq_tVQ8f3OF4Q/s320/Surrey+Dune.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from our front porch!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-small;">***Surrey Dune photo credit: David Gunnells***</span>Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-78513539935756827732013-06-11T09:12:00.000-07:002013-06-11T09:17:26.036-07:00The Birds and the Bees<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Well, summer is here! I have been on an unusual amount of trips the past few months and have had zero time to write here on the blog! I have missed it, but between packing, airports, schedules, and end of the school year activities, my life has been crazay!!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But, along with the change of season comes another change in the household of autism- NO SCHEDULES! Per usual, this lack of structure does not bode well for my little guy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Who, btw, is not getting so little anymore, and I must rethink the way I address him! Yes, he is finally hitting his growth spurt and is quite fascinated with how tall he is. This obsession with his height stems from his love of numbers, but mostly with his fierce competition with his brother who is 3 years older. It bugs him to no end that Walker is much taller than he is- at least a good 12 inches- and he will not stop until he is at least neck and neck with him. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This competition prompted one of Liam's outbursts (and one of my all time favorite sayings of his!) when he asked, "<i>Why did God make Walker fall out of the sky before me?!!!!"</i></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAIx_qzxi34WFXVYMqoHRz5EvrwYD1EG_Yd8332LGCj80h9sDPLot3AG__vnlXkiFESDg4u7rJtT5td2n2zpAcTeJF7wVaxLPlBEK0tnFgtld6ltUYnYcS03nl3Ly-WyolQF7Gxdo_1nw/s1600/IMG_0770.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAIx_qzxi34WFXVYMqoHRz5EvrwYD1EG_Yd8332LGCj80h9sDPLot3AG__vnlXkiFESDg4u7rJtT5td2n2zpAcTeJF7wVaxLPlBEK0tnFgtld6ltUYnYcS03nl3Ly-WyolQF7Gxdo_1nw/s320/IMG_0770.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liam in the play Treasure Island with his ladies! </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">There are many layers to Liam's theological and existential question, but most disturbing is the fact that he actually believed that babies fall out of the sky. I will fully take the blame for this!! I have not had the proper "talk" with him about the birds and the bees. (are we still calling it that these days?)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I don't know what it is. Maybe it is because Liam has shown literally no interest in wanting to know more about the human anatomy, where babies come from, or the difference between girls and boys. He likes girls- of this I am certain! He gets borderline obsessed with a few of them, to the point where we have had to put a "no hugging" boundary in place at school. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But, he does not seem to be interested in the normal curiosities of boys his age. About a year ago, I made a feeble attempt at having the "talk" with him by starting the conversation like:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">ME: </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Hey, did you know that babies have to be pushed out of their mom's bottoms when they're born?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">LIAM: "OH SHOOT!!!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This was the end of it. No more questions. No asking why. He just simply stared out the window and probably tried to poke out his mind's eye while he thought about a woman pushing a baby out. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFp7gj58nvr49-9iUyl43rTDTOeYyTBOAeY25naQfkfieSUOJqbC_Jf48zsCOxElO259I8tKyhXdER2n2Rw3-yh2su8ZwzYg_vWDMO4h_fqfTozxV4VSZBZNIw5L8noG32wM4-Xfe2Q7Y/s1600/Stork.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFp7gj58nvr49-9iUyl43rTDTOeYyTBOAeY25naQfkfieSUOJqbC_Jf48zsCOxElO259I8tKyhXdER2n2Rw3-yh2su8ZwzYg_vWDMO4h_fqfTozxV4VSZBZNIw5L8noG32wM4-Xfe2Q7Y/s1600/Stork.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Actually, I don't KNOW what he thought about next. This is what makes Liam such a mystery! Half the time we will be tracking on one subject, and then he will quickly parachute in with some other subject that is completely different than where we were going. It can be very difficult and somewhat maddening!! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, my quest to know when the right time will be to tell him about babies and where they come from (the stork, DUH!!!) will continue unanswered for now. I will take some of my cues from him, and maybe throw in a few other conversation starters like, </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Did you know that a woman bleeds for 5-7 days each month?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This should go over well.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">****Our little family was featured in our neighborhood magazine with an excerpt from my blog! Go here to read the story! <a href="http://www.blogger.com/goog_1873533163"> </a></span><a href="http://www.fieldstonemagazine.com/">http://www.fieldstonemagazine.com</a> Click on the May issue!****Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-4422523349390538042013-04-25T09:23:00.000-07:002013-04-25T09:23:09.161-07:00Wheel of Fortune<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Eek! I just realized it's been a month since I last posted. Life has been busy in my household. I am not complaining though! I have been able to go out of town on not one, but two fun trips in the month of April. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">One of those trips was to Las Vegas. What a treasure trove of sensory overload that place is!! I thought of Liam several times as I went to the larger than life, four-story M&M's super store, saw the statue of Liberty made entirely of Jelly Belly's, and played the Wheel of Fortune slot machine. It truly is the Disney World for adults. I imagined what it would be like for him to walk in to a casino. I then imagined his head exploding.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-b_PRuz0cYiGPIEyHNBKEGUBITdaNrZzZCrAIdZIZ3LlgO_-InB_tZSAwRwIcqMNbOcFwtxRtXCyllsnIxzmCdpKizGywGuQvu9QcosHC0O3TvfPgu8o79ThuWstlfDznh5JQSC8hnm8/s1600/IMG_0422.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-b_PRuz0cYiGPIEyHNBKEGUBITdaNrZzZCrAIdZIZ3LlgO_-InB_tZSAwRwIcqMNbOcFwtxRtXCyllsnIxzmCdpKizGywGuQvu9QcosHC0O3TvfPgu8o79ThuWstlfDznh5JQSC8hnm8/s320/IMG_0422.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">JELLY BELLY GET IN MY BELLY!!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I brought home pictures of Vegas for him to see. I even posted a video of me hitting the button on the Wheel of Fortune slot machine. He was riveted! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"When can I go, Mom?"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My mind traced back to the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Pussycat_Dolls" target="_blank">Pussycat Dolls</a> dancing (if that's what you call it) in the middle of Caesar's Palace.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Probably not for a REALLY long time, Liam."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">You also have to have ALOT of money to make Vegas work for you. And, with my son's OCD capabilities, I will probably need to steer him clear of Vegas for a while.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Even as a well-informed, somewhat level-headed adult, I can see how gambling addictions happen. The "I'll-just-do-this-one-more-time" logic kicks in really fast. You see the breakdown happen when you notice someone two slot machines down from you win $100. You automatically assume that your big break is ONE pull away. You imagine what you will do with your winnings, the places you will go, maybe get that luxury SUV you've always wanted. Who cares? It's free money!! They're just GIVING AWAY MONEY AT THE CASINO.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vLlNhmWg10hTjQ3VjWhw571V9PhfH7cQujhD3wqEFnussw788kYjaOzOHSaA_o6in0ku2Ph7zu-EMvZim8dE7D67iof_PB9fCZHs1xo_y9me58ZPZiHMIy6TFA5XuNi4fwg8KXq1UEM/s1600/IMG_0400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9vLlNhmWg10hTjQ3VjWhw571V9PhfH7cQujhD3wqEFnussw788kYjaOzOHSaA_o6in0ku2Ph7zu-EMvZim8dE7D67iof_PB9fCZHs1xo_y9me58ZPZiHMIy6TFA5XuNi4fwg8KXq1UEM/s320/IMG_0400.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All of these flowers are real. Pictures do not do the Bellagio justice!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And then you wake up. You realize you've been pressing the same button 20o times and you have like 3 pulls left and $0.75 credit. You IMMEDIATELY cash out. I mean, you know when to stop! </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As my mama said, "Rebecca, the house always wins!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I did enjoy myself though. I was with a group of fun girls who make me laugh harder than anything. We saw two great Vegas-y shows- Shania Twain and David Copperfield, ate amazing food, and were awestruck at the beauty and architecture of the hotels. (I mean, hello <a href="http://www.bellagio.com/" target="_blank">Bellagio</a>!!!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">My favorite slot was by far the Wheel of Fortune machine. That machine ignited all of my pleasure centers in the brain at once because of the sounds that are JUST like the TV show, and the bonus spins they would throw your way at just the perfect time. (most likely when you were <i>just </i>about to cash out)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have a deep affection for Wheel of Fortune. I grew up as a child of the 80's watching Vanna spin that wheel night after night. I have a dream of going on that show. I even went to a cattle call in Tennessee they held in order to be a contestant on Wheel of Fortune. As fortune (or misfortune) would have it, I did NOT get my name drawn that day. So, I now sit along with everyone else and solve many of the puzzles before the contestants get to them. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I have passed this love for Wheel of Fortune down to my son with autism. It is the perfect 'Aspy' (that's short for Asperger's) game with a spinning wheel, puzzles, and the same routine every show. Liam does get frustrated when I solve the puzzles before him, but he likes watching it with me all the same. Pat Sajak and Vanna White were at the top of his celebrity list for quite some time. He would wake up and announce when it was their birthdays. To this day, he knows exactly how old Vanna is. (I'm sure she has tried to keep that info off of the internet, but even so, Liam will NEVER forget!!!)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, when February 18th rolls around...guess who is up at the crack of dawn eager to announce <a href="http://www.biography.com/people/vanna-white-9542236" target="_blank">Vanna's birthday</a>!!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">For some time, Liam would obsessively search for Youtube videos of Wheel of Fortune's past. Such as, do you remember the show from October 1993? Well, Liam does because has seen it 50 times. And, he can tell you the puzzles that were solved on that show. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh65jP_D_XF4Yh4dd5txZ-1Yqu40vR4sU9nYX5kvndc0x_l_tVvlYq62yFPeTrAqhkRQCKzrbuAVHLpPKPs2Ulhq8i0zcZ2UlecxtDEKseMlsu1iMlIB70TGxzgP2eDvpcTeolaS_XF0S8/s1600/IMG_0374.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh65jP_D_XF4Yh4dd5txZ-1Yqu40vR4sU9nYX5kvndc0x_l_tVvlYq62yFPeTrAqhkRQCKzrbuAVHLpPKPs2Ulhq8i0zcZ2UlecxtDEKseMlsu1iMlIB70TGxzgP2eDvpcTeolaS_XF0S8/s320/IMG_0374.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This machine was not a winner. :(</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He also figured out quickly that if he had his hand on the master rewind/fast forward button that he could fast forward to the end to see what the puzzle was, and then rewind again and "solve" it before the contestants. Liam has no problem using a little trickery if it means in the end he is the winner. Too bad life does not come with fast forward and rewind. We are still working on that little concept. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And, sometimes I think how could I make this incredible brain of his work to my advantage?? How can I use that seemingly endless memory of his? There's got to be a way! There's got to be a cash cow in there somewhere!!!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Hmmm...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Maybe that Vegas trip is not too far off after all!! </span>Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-36018280056695937262013-03-26T21:41:00.000-07:002013-03-26T21:41:13.954-07:00Spring Break(down)<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yes, who in their right mind came up with the term Spring Break? Break for who????</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Any kind of break from the routine is no such break in the houses of autistic families. It is a week of long days, filling up our little one's time with activities and schedules. By the time the week ends, parents are bleary-eyed and exhausted counting down the seconds until Monday morning school begins. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Because of this, I decided I would share some of my favorite things in the autism world. This list is by far NOT exhaustive (because I am!), but it is a good start and may give you something to do during this week without STRUCTURE!!!!</span><br />
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<a href="http://i205.photobucket.com/albums/bb52/The_Playlist/more/Adam_soundtrack-1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><img border="0" src="http://i205.photobucket.com/albums/bb52/The_Playlist/more/Adam_soundtrack-1.jpg" /></span></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">1. <b>Adam</b>- This is an incredible story about an adult with Asperger's Syndrome. This is the movie that I tell people to watch when they ask me what autism is like on a day to day basis, and what autism may look like in adulthood. It is a touching story, but also incredible acting! Go see it.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>2. Parenthood</b>. I've talked about it before, but it bears repeating...THIS SHOW IS AMAZING! The writing is so great and true to life. Sometimes I will talk to my friends who watch this show like the characters are real- as if they are who I was with last Tuesday night. Then, I have to stop myself and say, "oh yea, they're not real."Adam and Christina are a couple (on the show, Rebecca) with a child on the autism spectrum. His name is Max, and although he can grate on your nerves with his whining and complaining, or the way he calls the shots in his family routine, you cannot help but feel empathy for the whole family. Again, if you are a family with a child on the spectrum, it will give you a good laugh and a good cry. If you are not an autistic family, it will enlighten you to the real life struggles that having a child who demands so much, and gives back so little, has on the people closest to them. They are, I believe, four seasons in, but it is worth sitting in your bed with Netflix and starting from the beginning. You won't regret it!!</span><br />
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<b><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">3. Jasongood.net</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A friend of mine recently sent this to me and I howled with laughter!! Jason is a comedian, husband, and father. I love anyone that can make the ordinary funny and can throw in humor about the woes of parenting. Because as I often say, if you're not laughing, you're probably crying! Jason recently posted this little gem referring to his 3 year old. I have no idea if his son is on the spectrum, but it sounded so much like my little guy that I decided to copy and paste his post. </span></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: large;">46 Reasons My Three Year Old Might Be Freaking Out</span></b></div>
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Some of these are total guesses. Educated guesses, but guesses nonetheless. Seems like it’s hard being a kid.</div>
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His sock is on wrong.</div>
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His lip tastes salty.</div>
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His shirt has a tag on it.</div>
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The car seat is weird.</div>
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He’s hungry, but can’t remember the word “hungry.”</div>
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Someone touched his knee.</div>
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He’s not allowed in the oven.</div>
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I picked out the wrong pants.</div>
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His brother looked at him.</div>
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His brother didn’t look at him.</div>
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His hair is heavy.</div>
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We don’t understand what he said.</div>
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He doesn’t want to get out of the car.</div>
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He wants to get out of the car by himself.</div>
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The iPad has a password.</div>
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His sleeve is touching his thumb.</div>
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He doesn’t understand how popsicles are made.</div>
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The inside of his nose stinks.</div>
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Chicken is gross.</div>
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A balloon he got six months ago is missing.</div>
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A puzzle piece won’t fit in upside down.</div>
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I gave him the wrong blue crayon.</div>
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The gummi vitamin is too firm.</div>
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Netflix is slow.</div>
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He jumped off the sofa and we weren’t watching.</div>
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He’s not allowed to touch fire.</div>
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Everything is wrong with his coat.</div>
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There’s a dog within a 70 mile radius.</div>
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A shoe should fit either foot.</div>
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I asked him a question.</div>
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His brother is talking.</div>
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He can’t lift a pumpkin.</div>
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He can’t have my keys.</div>
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The cat is in his way.</div>
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The cat won’t let him touch its eyeball.</div>
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The inside of his cheek feels rough.</div>
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Things take too long to cook.</div>
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He has too much food in his mouth.</div>
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He sneezed.</div>
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He doesn’t know how to type.</div>
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The DustBuster is going to eat him.</div>
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His mom is taking a shower.</div>
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Someone knocked over his tower.</div>
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He got powdered sugar on his pants.</div>
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The yogurt won’t stay on his spoon.</div>
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EVERYTHING IS TOO HOT.</div>
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**********************************************</div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Another post from Jason talks about his wife's habit of trying not to use expletives in front of her children. If you've ever stepped on an action hero with bare feet, and have almost blown an O-ring from trying to keep from saying a bad word, then this is the link for you: </span><span style="background-color: transparent; text-align: left;">http://jasongood.net/365/2013/01/the-g-rated-phraseology-of-motherhood/</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><b>4. Jim Gaffigan </b>So, speaking of comedy, I don't know anyone who does not love the comedy of Jim Gaffigan. I hear he has a new special out on DVD, but the most recent one I have seen is <i>Mr. Universe. </i> He is a father of 5 kids, and has lots of material with that fact alone. Netflix has it, so no excuses! Go check it out!!</span></div>
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<span style="color: #383838; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; line-height: 26px;"><b>5. Savant "Burgertime" </b>So, my oldest son is WAY in to DJ's, </span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 26px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #383838; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">dub step, and electronic dance music. It is an entire other world of pulsating beats, light shows, and headaches. (because after several minutes of listening to it, you will get a headache!) But, every once in a while, he will play me something that I can hang with. I like some of the more pop stuff. And, there is a chap with autism who started making </span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 26px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #383838; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">dub step music several years ago. His DJ name is aptly called Savant. My son informed me that last year alone he produced four albums, so he is definitely living up to his name. I wanted to share his song "Burgertime" because I like the fact that he refers to his diagnosis in the song, and I think it's incredibly brave for him, and informative for us.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 26px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #383838; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will end my list of favorite things, for now. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; line-height: 26px; text-align: left;"><span style="color: #383838; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I hope this week proves to be a time when you actually CAN listen to a song on Youtube, watch an entire movie, or maybe even an entire season of a TV show.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: transparent; color: #383838; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; line-height: 26px;">Sometimes you just gotta just unplug.</span></div>
<fb:like class="fb_edge_widget_with_comment fb_iframe_widget" fb-xfbml-state="rendered" send="false" show_faces="false" style="background-color: white; color: #383838; display: inline-block; font-size: 18px; line-height: 26px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-align: -webkit-auto;" width="620"><i><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="display: inline-block; height: 24px; margin: 0px; padding: 0px; position: relative; text-align: justify; vertical-align: text-bottom; width: 620px;"></span></span></i></fb:like>Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-79531987185870868602013-03-20T07:56:00.000-07:002013-03-20T07:56:32.055-07:00Bewitched!<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am waiting with bated breath for the school bus to show up. It's almost that time and I can feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, my shoulders are tightening up, and my jaw is curiously tense. </span><br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLIhDTHFyPzHusDE9YqOAUaph1NZxCAE2yeDTL0TGsyAXzRBm1meTIR3Fq9UrqtpPbd1L65FhlHgDjwjr8WjhOzEBnxbPhcVN5nxqvIayGGzJehG48mo5R91Kt8QS6iUu33RJwo8oqRwQ/s1600/1975679-three-dark-children-s-silhouettes-in-halloween-dress-a-witch-a-devil-and-the-fairy.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="270" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLIhDTHFyPzHusDE9YqOAUaph1NZxCAE2yeDTL0TGsyAXzRBm1meTIR3Fq9UrqtpPbd1L65FhlHgDjwjr8WjhOzEBnxbPhcVN5nxqvIayGGzJehG48mo5R91Kt8QS6iUu33RJwo8oqRwQ/s320/1975679-three-dark-children-s-silhouettes-in-halloween-dress-a-witch-a-devil-and-the-fairy.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All children around the world become bewitched around 5pm.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Chill out, you might say!! What's the worst thing that can happen???</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is the time when the bewitching hour(s) begin. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">We all know what this is. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Bewitched. When I look up the definition it mentions something about being enchanted and delighted. I'm not sure what Webster was smoking when he came up with that. Because at my house, the bewitching hours are from after school/homework hours to bedtime. And to me, this is really just the in-between time before I get my kids in the bed. Can I get an AMEN!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As you know, I love my children. They both enchant and delight me, at times. But, something about the day getting darker, the dreaded "what will we ever cook for dinner", and the mood-altering homework hour is just about enough to send ole Mama over the edge. I mean, why can't the teachers do his homework with him at school?? I mean, what am i paying for???? Oh...wait...public education.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I do have a bit of a right to be tense. Last week was a doozy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Wednesday morning started like it normally does: me shuffling out of bed at the crack of dawn, scowl on my face because the sun was peaking in, and Liam being as loud as he possibly could be. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">He amazes me. I have never seen anyone dash out of bed like he does. He operates in 'off' and 'on' mode. No slow fade in. And this morning was no exception.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But something has been happening lately. He has grown a bit surly the past few months. I can only describe it as edgy and disgruntled. I know! You're thinking, uh, what else is new? He has autism. No, this is different. He has taken his complaining and whining to an entirely new level of awesome-ness. I think it is something called hormones. They are beginning to surge through his veins with the force of a tidal wave.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, there he was, yelling at the "stupid cereal box" because the cereal <i>clearly</i> poured itself way too much in the bowl. (How dare that cereal! Maybe it IS stupid!!!)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And, let's just say I was not on my game this morning. I was grumpy and tired and was in no mood to hear all this clatter over nothing this early in the a.m.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">So, I began yelling, complaining and whining (because that's productive!). After this tactic did not exactly get us anywhere, I sent him to time out. I was thinking what a genius I was because I thought I had won this little skirmish. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Nope. He just began hurling the whining and complaining from the chair. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I quickly walked over to him with wagging finger saying something about being the one in charge when he decided to throw his entire FULL bowl of cereal and milk at my face. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">It was exactly like the movies. Slow-mo, with a huge thud against my jawbone and streaming milk and shredded wheat all over myself, the furniture, the floor, the walls, the chairs, the rug-everything EXCEPT Liam!</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisAdoB3xm1lA9O0ngZfKHdzOgUfwdTSt7XFLGzudGzeIu09djEDLBJzhwUt2n5O6uvabuPQhwDMD7BZ7a2ZIfPGKiWs7avY4I8xf54lcLtE7WX0F4Ez0LT7_y6tXzVHxPMZYgnbdaSzqI/s1600/spilled-cereal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisAdoB3xm1lA9O0ngZfKHdzOgUfwdTSt7XFLGzudGzeIu09djEDLBJzhwUt2n5O6uvabuPQhwDMD7BZ7a2ZIfPGKiWs7avY4I8xf54lcLtE7WX0F4Ez0LT7_y6tXzVHxPMZYgnbdaSzqI/s1600/spilled-cereal.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wish our spill site was THIS clean!!</td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The look on his face was horror mixed with, "oh my God, what is she going to do to me!!!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This is one of those moments when the parenting book goes out the window. The response that you <i>want </i>to have and the response that you <i>need</i> to have are two very different things. And the chasm between the two is long and wide!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I will let your imagination fill in the blanks on what I <i>wanted</i> to do...</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">But, I knew that I was going to have to de-escalate the situation, and fast! I was the adult. Not him. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I threw my disgusting cereal-soaked clothes to the floor and showered off my hair as best as I could. I took a few deep, VERY cleansing breaths and headed in to face my opponent. I very calmly told him that he would have no more free time today and he would spend the rest of the morning cleaning up the mess he made and writing sentences until the bus came. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Some of you may be thinking that the punishment was not enough. But, I have learned that I have to parent Liam a lot differently than my other child. Consequences have to be immediate, and the worst thing in the world to him these days is to not have free time. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Anytime he tried to blame me for his throwing the bowl of cereal, I quickly interrupted him, and told him he was not allowed to speak unless it was directly related to cleaning up the mess he made. He mopped, and wiped, and swept. It took forever and I had to sit there and manage every second of the clean up. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I tried not to let him see my tears, but when he did, he asked me why I was crying. I didn't know whether to maniacally laugh in his face or weep uncontrollably. I just simply said, "You know why."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">The bus arrived and he set the mop and dish rags aside, gathered his books, and walked out the door like it was a normal day. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Bye, mom!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I was incredulous. Even after all this time, I still can't believe he doesn't get it. I want him to SEE ME! I want him to see what he does TO ME. But, he doesn't. It doesn't register. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I sat down and wrote an email to his team at school just to let them know the happenings of the morning. I asked his 5th grade teacher, who happens to be a male and an ex-cop, if he wouldn't mind giving Liam a little man-to-man talk about violence towards women- especially the mothering kind. He graciously agreed.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">(Now this is the part of the story that reminds me to tell you parents of autism that you need a team around you.)</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">A few hours later I received an email back from his special ed teacher saying that he seemed upset this morning when he arrived at school. She sat him down and he told her he was "very sad." Knowing what had happened, she probed a bit further and asked if he wanted to talk about the incident. He did, and said that his male teacher, Mr. Carnes' said that "men who hit women go to jail", and that their sentence would be, "two days."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I smiled when I read that. Of course! Now, THAT was the thing that stuck out in his mind. But, I didn't care. Whatever it took was fine by me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Mr. Carnes wrote me an email stating that they had a good talk, and that I should look for a letter from Liam when he got home. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Once home, Liam proudly waved the white envelope and announced that he had a letter for me. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"I'm sorry, Mama."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Thank you, Liam. What does the note say?"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"MOM, just read it, OKAYYYY." </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">**sigh**</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Dear Mom I am sorry that I threw a bowl of cereal at you and I really love you so much. Because you are my mother. The things I was sorry about was hurting you, yelling at you and being mean to you. I love you and I will never do that again. The things that you do is making me my dinner, you love on me and you snuggle with me. And you buy me surprises, you ride bikes with me. Love, Liam"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">**smile**</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I'm glad he stuck the part in there about buying him surprises. He's already a using a little Freudian technique. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEGmHUEFtXdjqXJYGfi5jrAXSPY1WXea0CfLC9lq2UjoaP7ka90a-LHNA3wi2IWZY3RE_BAhhyphenhyphen4UoKdAOsVqx3QLWzKQrkhffamTZr6zKK2otcW7LkkNO3wp0ypHxoJO6Gkt9lilxr-8/s1600/photo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOEGmHUEFtXdjqXJYGfi5jrAXSPY1WXea0CfLC9lq2UjoaP7ka90a-LHNA3wi2IWZY3RE_BAhhyphenhyphen4UoKdAOsVqx3QLWzKQrkhffamTZr6zKK2otcW7LkkNO3wp0ypHxoJO6Gkt9lilxr-8/s320/photo.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Letter.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I am so grateful for a team of people that rallied around us and walked Liam through something that didn't even happen at school. They jumped in, feet first, and took the opportunity to show him what it means to be empathetic and caring.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And, I am grateful for the corner of Liam's heart that this letter was written from. I know he cares. He has to. He just doesn't always know how to show it. But, I have the proof. It's written on a white 8x11 sheet of paper. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Even if it was scripted a little bit, those <i>are</i> his words. And, I'll keep riding bikes, I'll keep loving and snuggling, and making his dinners, as long as he lets me. After all, it's these little moments that make it all worth it. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Well, sort of....</span>Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-88250393925023123652013-02-24T14:31:00.000-08:002013-02-24T14:32:56.498-08:00God is at Cracker Barrel<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Many times I will head down to this awesome coffee shop down the road to work on my blog. Today was no different and I was horrified to discover an accordion player noodling away not as just a starving musician on the sidewalk, but as hired ENTERTAINMENT! </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKCuY_QAEUIUlhOu62tKO4UvTxEdHQAs9J79YbG8QoPWoDEPo-XMpkNR08a8eP6cc9oe_QTgQp2VkLC0TsXi4aL3l-8lRAPHpCWCqjyT44_CHnIrx7J0aRPeAFMEYIzHG9R8aUdUqXZN8/s1600/Accordion.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKCuY_QAEUIUlhOu62tKO4UvTxEdHQAs9J79YbG8QoPWoDEPo-XMpkNR08a8eP6cc9oe_QTgQp2VkLC0TsXi4aL3l-8lRAPHpCWCqjyT44_CHnIrx7J0aRPeAFMEYIzHG9R8aUdUqXZN8/s1600/Accordion.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just say NO!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Ugh. I will push through as I cannot go home during homework hour. I must stay here and endure the bad notes. Because if I go home while Liam's tutor is working with him, there are too many cooks in the kitchen. I will try to give him directions at the same time as the tutor and that just doesn't work so well. He is confused as to who he will talk back too! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Speaking of talking back, has your child ever had a seizure? (I couldn't think of a segue)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Well, mine has. And, it was incredibly scary. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was not there, mind you. It happened at school one day. And, I got that call, that scary, scary call. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The nurse had called to say that he was acting really strange and placed his head in his aid's lap. He began slurring his words and seemed confused. The nurse looked him over and immediately called me. She also mentioned that his balance was off when he was trying to walk down the hall.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I began to cry. I didn't know what was happening to my precious little boy. He was in first grade. We had been through so much- now this??</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We all decided it would be best to take him home for the rest of the day and let him lay low. I called Liam's neurologist and we scheduled an appointment the following week for an EEG. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The nurse called me the day before the appointment to give me the guidelines for the EEG. One little tidbit would be for him to stay up most of the night before his brain scan. She just "threw in" that he could only get about 3-4 hours of sleep. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Cool! I couldn't wait to attempt to keep an autistic 7 year old up basically all night.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I was also so nervous about how he would handle the actual procedure. How would he do with nodes all over his head? How would he act on no sleep? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">God will provide in mysterious ways, I have found. I run around with a creative, musician crowd that loves to stay up all night. I had a group of guy friends that would take this challenge on with absolute enthusiasm. We decided we would take Liam and his brother bowling at the midnight bowling center. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVMpDl2OEbQjoRodpciappHLrk8jXRPcIdmF2iFQ03GoTh9ncW3HbLjNoyugorfIqFX4ijfWHzst2c8hdY_-35f66Rms9SGPiGLFebjJHobZU2iUK3Iuc-JvM1cEJuh3KpNfxc0fXtH_I/s1600/Bowling.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVMpDl2OEbQjoRodpciappHLrk8jXRPcIdmF2iFQ03GoTh9ncW3HbLjNoyugorfIqFX4ijfWHzst2c8hdY_-35f66Rms9SGPiGLFebjJHobZU2iUK3Iuc-JvM1cEJuh3KpNfxc0fXtH_I/s320/Bowling.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Midnight bowling is the BEST for keeping little boys busy!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Liam thought this was the greatest moment ever! These three guys met us at the bowling alley at 10:30 at night. We grabbed a bucket of beers, a few hot dogs, and made sure Liam and Walker were the stars of the show!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We left the bowling alley about 12:45am, and my goal was to keep Liam up until about 1am. This was no easy task. We decided to stay at a friend's house that was closer to the hospital in case Liam tried to fall asleep on the way in. (Did I mention this was not allowed?!)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We settled in until about 1:15am and crashed. I set my alarm for 5am, but our appointment was not until 8:30am. This was going to be the longest 3 1/2 hours of my life. I was alone with two boys- one of whom got to sleep in and one who was so confused and angry as to why I was getting him up at this ungodly hour. (I still think this when the bus for my high schooler comes at 6:50am. WHY, DEAR GOD, WHY??)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I pushed him into the shower with him crying, saying he didn't want to be here, I hate you mother, why are you my mother, etc, etc. So, I told him I would take him to get the BEST breakfast EVER! Still not winning points with him. He was groggy and tired, and so was I.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, we went to the place where everyone comes alive and dreams really do come true- Cracker Barrel. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We all know that this is really just a glorified truck stop.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But, something about that familiar smell of grease and pancakes, a hot fire in the middle of June, and "Country with a 'K'" homestyle goodness that makes me feel right at home. I am from 'Bama, after all! </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiniGQiSQksUq2T4m8sLdV3aQ6DTTA1Kzo50KQj7BYxsDRetgAC7SUOyG12bqsEPrVFqHQuXOIadAs0UBIck_ryLyETMXp1t3bp_AlVtOAWPefpYpWW8xE0j9g_KjWMjFMiqRcL1CZ_-rQ/s1600/image1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiniGQiSQksUq2T4m8sLdV3aQ6DTTA1Kzo50KQj7BYxsDRetgAC7SUOyG12bqsEPrVFqHQuXOIadAs0UBIck_ryLyETMXp1t3bp_AlVtOAWPefpYpWW8xE0j9g_KjWMjFMiqRcL1CZ_-rQ/s320/image1.png" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Kountry Goodness</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The drive to Cracker Barrel was a comedy show in itself as I was trying to maniacally keep Liam awake- listening to loud music, singing at the top of my lungs. He just stared at me with utter contempt. Normally, this would have been an all out fist fight with me on the receiving end, but the fight had left this little one's body about three hours before, so I had that at my advantage.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We sat down to eat when he began to freak out in his chair. I tried to explain to him what was going to happen, the schedule, all of my usual tactics, but he was pissed. He was angry that I had dragged him from his comfy sleep to a room full of lights and country music. I began to cry as well. I felt alone and heartbroken as I did not know how to make him understand how necessary it was to keep him awake. I didn't even really know how to explain it to myself since I'm not a neurologist. (could've fooled you, huh?)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">After a stack of pancakes, bacon and eggs, an IV of coffee, and our hands on every piece of knick knack that Cracker Barrel had to offer, we left CB with still an hour and a half before our appointment. We went back to my friend's house and woke up Walker. He was not about to sleep through any more of our nightmare-he would be made to join in the fun! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, we packed our bags and headed for the hospital. It's always interesting looking around at all the sick people in the waiting area. You're thinking, "What are these people in here for?" Some are more obvious if there's a disgusting hacking cough or tubes coming out everywhere, but then some are not. I was hoping that we were blending in, but Liam was insistent upon "stimming" on the wheels of the wheelchairs going by. He would look intently at them, like his life depended on it. I really didn't care at that point.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Our name was finally called after what seemed an eternity. Liam was thrilled to learn that this jaunt earned him a ride in the wheelchair up to the 5th floor. He could not contain himself!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We were greeted by the neurology department who gave us the run-down of the morning. Liam was placed in a bed and he sat patiently while the nurse placed nodes all over his head. I teared up looking at him. To see your son lying vulnerably with tubes connected all over him is not easy. But, he had the attitude of a champ!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He had to simulate hyperventilating by blowing on a pinwheel several times, then he had to watch a strobe light, and then...they asked us to fall asleep. The most glorious part! And, he went straight to sleep without any hesitation. And, don't you know we all did!!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When we woke up, we were told we could leave, but would have to visit his neurologist before to get her diagnosis of the problem. She did not see anything terribly unusual in his brain patterns. There was, however, something that 'blipped' while he was sleeping that was congruent with his diagnosis of autism, and was not uncommon, she said, to see in someone like him. She said it was more likely that he needed to stay on the seizure medicine for the rest of his life.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I wasn't sure how to take this. She was confident that the medicine would help him regulate and keep from having seizures, but she could not be totally sure. Part of me was devastated that I was staring down the barrel of a life with medications and possible seizure activity. And, part of me was relieved to know there was help. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-tyacivAerTH8nvBNZFr_H3cOZDlAUcTmUSuI3dNecBvnBsomv72VpleEGP2YApWB-myM5IUCYjdxg5EPoHsu0JFOb3awFgDj6VOU30YJM5GDD_XsqO5ujIZrx0JrihbBVPY-JcR5sU/s1600/EEG.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="253" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgb-tyacivAerTH8nvBNZFr_H3cOZDlAUcTmUSuI3dNecBvnBsomv72VpleEGP2YApWB-myM5IUCYjdxg5EPoHsu0JFOb3awFgDj6VOU30YJM5GDD_XsqO5ujIZrx0JrihbBVPY-JcR5sU/s320/EEG.gif" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">See? It's not so scary! </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As with any part of autism, there is such a range of emotions. Sometimes you compare your lot with others and think, "well, it could be worse." And, then other times you just long for normal. You just want to have the 'normal' problems of having broken arms from tree climbing or stitches from falling down. No, with autism, you have all of that and much more to deal with. And, many times, the future is so hazy that you do not know at all what to expect. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But, what you can know is that, if you are aware enough, you will see the ways that God does provide in the moment. He provided my friends who were stoked to go bowling at midnight. He provided a breakfast place that was open early to house us and our need to waste a lot of time. He provided doctors and technology to help us get to the bottom of Liam's issues, and medicine to stop the seizures from happening. I forgot to say that while I was sitting in Cracker Barrel, I remember distinctly receiving several texts from friends as they were getting up saying that they were thinking and praying. That was God. He knew what I needed right then and there.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I am happy to report that Liam has (knock on wood) NOT had a seizure since that day. And, he is able to tolerate the generic brand of medicine so his meds are only about $6 per month as opposed to the almost $175 that the name brand was.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And, this experience was one of those that I can look back and see God's presence. He is not in the past and in the future. He is in the right now. And, when I am able to BE here- there is less fear and more trust. In these rare moments, I am able to accept and receive the grace of knowing that all is okay. That I will make it some way, some how. Even in the sadness, because nothing lasts forever.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There will be joy. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Even if it's in a pancake or a wheelchair ride. God is near nonetheless.</span>Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-12251296480220410382013-02-13T09:07:00.000-08:002013-02-13T09:07:35.920-08:00Homework Helper<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I thought this day was going to be such a good day! So far, all had gone the way I wanted it to- laundry was up to date, my paper for school was moving along nicely, and I even got to share a cup of coffee with my bestie at her house this particular afternoon.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All illusions of perfection were dashed when I saw the babysitter calling...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Uh-oh. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There are two phone numbers I do not like to see come up on caller id- babysitters and the school. Nine times out of ten, these calls are not going to be good. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I love all of my sitters! I have been blessed to have great girls that love Liam and are super understanding of his diagnosis- even when he is less than stellar or moody blues! This particular sitter has been a Godsend. She is one of those that just picks up on things that need to be done around the house. She doesn't use the down time as a time to get caught up on Facebook (because that's what I totally would've done if I was a babysitter nowadays). She texts me to ask me if I want my whites washed or if she can get dinner started. Brings a tear to the ole eye!! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But, this was not a good call. As soon as I picked up the phone, I could hear her trying to hold back tears. (not a good sign)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Are you coming home soon?"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Yes, but I'm still another 20 minutes away! What happened? What did he do?" </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It turns out Liam got violent this day, something that he hadn't done in a while. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xYUbDc4mJg9lyCK-Nv0ueAeH47EAKs2OgOaMwVj8Nh8bXaI5IxT5t9lJ99vq9ehy_6DGYAinj62DmxsJfGMRuDHDaeBju6ULAB785qsjANwmbFuMTredr7xoPk8YWDCOd-36yFWskOs/s1600/Tutor+pic.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8xYUbDc4mJg9lyCK-Nv0ueAeH47EAKs2OgOaMwVj8Nh8bXaI5IxT5t9lJ99vq9ehy_6DGYAinj62DmxsJfGMRuDHDaeBju6ULAB785qsjANwmbFuMTredr7xoPk8YWDCOd-36yFWskOs/s1600/Tutor+pic.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having a tutor helps me.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My sitter comes a few times per week to do homework with Liam. If she did not do this, someone would be hurt in my house- me or my children. Not sure which. Homework is NOT my strong suit. Which is why the <a href="http://www.botabox.com/" target="_blank">Bota Box wine</a> is nicknamed the "Homework Helper". Sadly, I have to get my high school freshman to work out math problems with my 5th grader because...well, the problems are too hard for me. Needless to say, my sitter is an integral part of my week. WE ALL NOTICE WHEN SHE IS NOT AROUND!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It seems my sitter asked Liam to recite his vocabulary words one too many times and he decided he needed to give her a swift kick to prove his point. I do not make light of this because I have been on the receiving end of this kick and it is painful. And, even more than pain, it is traumatic. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The trauma of having a child tantrum and assault you is tough. You cannot know this until it happens to you. And, when it does, it catches you off guard, and you feel exposed and vulnerable. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I have had to restrain him before because he was violently throwing things and was going to hurt himself and/or others. It has gotten so much better over the past few years. If it had not, I don't think I would have the emotional energy to even write this blog. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thankfully, my sitter handled it the best way she knew how. I told her to go ahead and leave my 14 year old in charge until I could get there in a few minutes. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, what do YOU do in times like these? </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I choose to turn the tv on and check out.... </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">***sigh***</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">No, that's what I wish I could do in these moments. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">These are tough times. You are mortified as a parent that your child is capable of hurting another human being. You are stressed for the sitter and wondering if they know what to do. You are sad because you thought you had dealt with this before- you thought this part was over. Or, at least, that's what you wanted.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Thankfully, I have an older child that can take over, if need be. In this instance, it was best that my sitter get out of the line of fire, assess for safety issues, and get out of dodge! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But, not every one has an older child capable of stepping in. And, not all autistic families have good help available to them. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">In the past, I have placed ads on the online bulletin boards of colleges to get help for Liam. I am a single parent, so having reliable, competent help is paramount in my life. But, looking for someone who has had experience with autism is really helpful- especially if that person will be a significant part in your child's week. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">There is nothing more traumatic than an autistic outburst!</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Having a behavior therapist on call is also helpful. My girl, Hunter, has been my go-to person when I have had to go out of town for any amount of time. I have her phone number plastered on the fridge in case the family member or sitter that is keeping Liam has any issues. Hunter is kind enough to do that. Not everyone would be so generous with their cell phone. But, she is committed to seeing her families through some of the most difficult times in their lives. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Also, having a 'safety' plan in place is key for those times when things are not going so swift. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Admittedly, I am not the best at warning my sitters of worst-case scenario. Who wants to tell their fresh-faced college student that they should wear a helmet in case a blunt object could <i>potentially </i>come flying in their face?? I like to do the slow fade approach. Win them over with Liam's precious smile and antics, and then cross my fingers nothing bad happens or sets him off. **<i>sheepishly</i>** "tee hee!"</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">And, honestly, his behavior has gotten increasingly better with age and maturity. So, many times, I simply forget.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"> [But, one could ask themselves if it is my unconscious (Freudian) "forgetting", and really I am just hoping someone stays on to help me with my kid. Not sure. I'll tackle that in my next therapy session.]</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Safety plans really could be as simple as locking the child in a room that is child-proof, calling for help, and sitting outside of that room until help arrives. Another idea is putting the rest of the family in the car and locking it while the parent or person in charge goes to deal with the child. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Getting the child to a safe place and calmed down is really the first order of business. We have worked so tirelessly on getting Liam to self soothe that the strategies are finally paying off. In this instance this week, he put himself in his room (albeit while slamming the door) and got himself out of the hostility. It takes training and a lot of patience and consistency to get these kids there, but it can be done. DON'T GIVE UP!</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">When I finally got home, I was calm and collected (after turning on rock music extremely loud and banging the drums on my steering wheel for the remaining 15 minute drive) because the last thing you want to do is seem flustered with your child. They smell weakness and they have 'won' when you show signs of being upset. (This is very hard to do- I have <a href="http://www.webmd.com/oral-health/guide/temporomandibular-disorders" target="_blank">TMJ </a>problems from clenching my jaws.) I gave him his sentence- he was going straight to bed (at 6:45pm) and no technology for the next two days. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">I did not get the empathetic apology I was hoping for. It was forced and he was still trying to justify his actions with, "well, she was making me do homework too long." I still made him write the apology note. As an older friend said to me one time, "You teach your kids to say please, thank you, and I am sorry. Eventually, it will catch up with their hearts."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Yesterday, he got off the bus as usual.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Liam, I made you your favorite snack."</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">"Thank you, mom!!!"</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">This thank you came out on his own. I didn't even have to ask for it.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Baby steps.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><br /></span>Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-87320923125299237462013-01-23T10:17:00.000-08:002013-01-23T10:17:39.086-08:00John Mayer Helps AutismIn the world of autism, we parents have many a battle to fight. Sometimes you don't even know there is a battle and it creeps up on you like a stealth, quiet ninja...<br />
<br />
"I had no idea that the color of the curtain at story time at the library would set him off!!"<br />
<br />
"I wish I had brought Honey Nut Cheerios for him to snack on instead of plain Cheerios-may I never make THAT mistake again!"<br />
<br />
These are the things in life that you didn't see coming. If you're anything like me, sometimes you are really on the ball as far as projecting ahead at the pitfalls and bumps in the road for that day. Other times (okay, let's be honest here, most EVERY DAY), I am just in survival mode and planning ahead feels exhausting.<br />
<br />
All you planners out there are shaking your heads...tisk, tisk...if only she was a bit more like me. Trust me, I WISH I was more on it. And, Liam has taught me a thing or two about being on it if I want to stay anywhere for an extended amount of time.<br />
<br />
Sometimes, though, there are just those blaring, obvious markers in your day that should indicate what your outcome will be. As I have said before, you can anticipate with some certainty what will be served on Thanksgiving day. In this instance, bring a sack lunch for your little one with autism. You can bet that the doctor's office will have a long wait time, bring the Nintendo DS or there's hell to pay! You know, things like this...easy!<br />
<br />
Then, there are those things that you KNOW better. You know in the deepest parts of your gut that it will not turn out okay no matter how much pep talk you give yourself or your little one. The thing that will set off a typical developing child, much less one with autism. You know the one...Fireworks!<br />
<br />
In the early stages of Liam's diagnosis, I was determined not to let this autism thing get me down! People go see fireworks on 4th of July, dedgummit!!!!! This is what you do and I will not, so help me, let my son determine whether or not I will see fireworks on the 4th.<br />
<br />
I think I thought that he would ultimately enjoy it. Yea, maybe it was loud and maybe it looked like there was fire raining down upon us, but Hey! He'll LEARN to like it. I was stubborn and deep down, I knew it.<br />
<br />
We always go to the beaches of the gulf of Mexico during the week of 4th of July. We have a family home right in the middle of the beaches of <a href="http://www.rosemarybeach.com/" target="_blank">Rosemary Beach</a> and Seaside in Florida. It is so beautiful down there. If you haven't been, make plans to go. Some of the most breath-taking beaches in the world are located just south of Alabama and Tennessee. Anyway...<br />
<br />
This particular year (I'm thinking it was 2004) was not unlike most years. We were down with a big group of extended family and had planned on watching fireworks in Seaside. We set up our lawn chairs, picnic basket, and blankets and settled in for what was sure to be a beautiful night. Liam was next to me and seemed just fine running around with all the other children who were there with their families.<br />
<br />
The first batch of fireworks began...BOOM! BOOM! CRACK!<br />
<br />
Liam looked at me with the widest eyes and the most horrific expression on his face like, "What in the freak are you trying to pull on me??" He instinctively plugged his ears quickly and again looked at me for reassurance. I was probably smiling maniacally, trying to make the whole thing seem like a normal occasion- which set him off even further.<br />
<br />
The screaming began, other families stared as we were frantically trying to figure out our escape route. And, with each passing second, another explosion would happen, loud cheering from the crowd, and even louder screams from Liam.<br />
<br />
Most of the businesses had closed for the evening and we were all in one car. Liam's dad, Will, scooped him up and noticed that the small record store located on the square at Seaside still had its lights on.<br />
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The guys working in the store saw the tear-stained face and heard the screams and reluctantly let Will in to the back of the store.<br />
<br />
"It's gonna be okay, Liam. Those are fireworks. They won't hurt you, I promise." More tears, more screaming...clearly, this was not our Kodak moment we were looking for.<br />
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Will thought that maybe some music might calm him down.<br />
<br />
"JOHN MAYER NUMBER 8, JOHN MAYER NUMBER 8!!!!!!!!!!!!!"<br />
<br />
"Okay, okay, uh...guys, can you put on some John Mayer for my son?"<br />
<br />
The song Liam was referring to was a song called <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4pDiBno4ZfQ" target="_blank">"3 x 5"</a> that we had listened to on occasion. And, come to think of it, it <i>is </i>a really soothing song. (hit the link above to hear it-I think you'll agree). For reasons unknown to us, it was the very song that led Liam into a calm trance in the back of that store. They put it on repeat and he laid down in the corner and let John Mayer take him to another place.<br />
<br />
Fast forward several years to this same record store. I had long since forgotten this story (because with autism, there is a 'story' about once per week, so life begins to run together). I took Liam in to the record shop to look around. He was yelling out all the band names on the placards and so excited when he recognized one of them.<br />
<br />
"Mom, we have THIS record- I LOVE THIS RECORD!!" He was enthusiastic and LOUD! The store clerk was hanging behind the counter and I kind of smiled and said, "He has autism, sorry it's a little loud."<br />
<br />
He was totally understanding, as most people are when I tell them about Liam's diagnosis. Then he went on to say, "Yea, that's interesting because there was this one time this kid came in here freaked from fireworks. He had autism and all he could ask for was John Mayer number 8."<br />
<br />
I laughed. "Uh, yea, well, that's Liam! That's the same guy you're talking about right here."<br />
<br />
"NO kidding!"<br />
<br />
So, I said,"Liam do you remember coming here with daddy during the fireworks show when you were upset? You were so little, you probably don't remember that."<br />
<br />
Liam very nonchalantly said, "Yes, I do. And, that guy's name is Edward."<br />
<br />
I looked at the store clerk and he nodded surprisingly that yes, he was indeed Edward. No name tag gave it away. Liam just remembered it. Liam had never talked about that incidence, so I never assumed he remembered. We both just looked sort of dumbfounded at each other. And, Liam moved on to other band names, "Vampire Weekend, we have THAT record!!"<br />
<br />
Huh.<br />
<br />
I was stunned. Liam's diagnosis is Pervasive Developmental Disorder NOS which is a fancy autistic name for developmental delay. But, I realized in that moment there was a lot more going on in Liam's brain than I gave/give him credit for. He knows things. He remembers a great deal. And, he is taking in a lot more than we can even know. His words and conversation do not match this knowledge, so it is difficult for me to know exactly what he sees. But, I am fascinated.<br />
<br />
Edward has become part of our routine down at the beach. We will go to the record store a few times a year and say hello. Edward gets a kick out of how tall Liam's gotten or the obscure bands that he knows about.<br />
<br />
And, I'm continually fascinated at the way my guy's brain really works. I get to see pockets of this every once in a while, but rarely. We mostly talk about the same few interests he has in looping paragraphs.<br />
<br />
But, I learned a lot that day. First, never go ANYWHERE without <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Vic-Firth-Kidphones-Isolation-Headphones/dp/B000Z31GGE" target="_blank">noise-canceling headphones</a> and NEVER underestimate your own child. They will surprise you!!<br />
<br />Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-45188795348528484022013-01-15T16:22:00.000-08:002013-01-15T16:22:07.470-08:00Joseph "Joby" Abbott Walker, Sr.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: normal;"><i>*<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-small;">Thanks for reading today's post. Due to life getting in the way (aka 'stuff happens') I am writing another post NOT directly associated with autism. I promise to get back in the swing of things, but had to just write about what was on my heart. I hope you will stick around....thanks, R*</span></i></span></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Today was a cold, bleak January day...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I couldn't believe the temperature change from one day to the next, and then I remembered I lived in middle Tennessee. I grew up in Alabama, and we could have extreme weather too. But, those 250 miles north give it just a little more bite. A bit more than this southern girl likes. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, today's weather sort of matched my mood.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I wept as I drove in to class early this morning listening to a song a friend wrote about the stuff of life. I woke up in a funk- which usually happens when I have to be coherent before 6am- but today's funk was different. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I experienced a death last week that I did not realize I was not ready to accept. My grandfather, Papa, died suddenly at the age of 85 in his home in Alabama. I include his age only because, while it is an 'old' age, there was nothing old about this guy's spirit. I have perused all of my pictures I have of him, and in every one, there is such a twinkle in his eye. There is so much life in his face. So, I think I just took for granted that I could travel to Bama and see he and my grandmother whenever I wanted to. The old cliche that you just think someone will be around forever.</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89PjRNpmpqJikOEnS36YxD-w8TvK5bdUaK4VgRNUU5M6nOORNLIBaZz_FlEuVGFy874_kiSTXtQAkfEmaczYEq3FECNB9fP8480X0slGZTGuR1ypOSO7vo7HqqEkMOaMqb9AqbR5FvZk/s1600/150663_10200380746510953_1689800853_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh89PjRNpmpqJikOEnS36YxD-w8TvK5bdUaK4VgRNUU5M6nOORNLIBaZz_FlEuVGFy874_kiSTXtQAkfEmaczYEq3FECNB9fP8480X0slGZTGuR1ypOSO7vo7HqqEkMOaMqb9AqbR5FvZk/s320/150663_10200380746510953_1689800853_n.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The stud that he was!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I realize that the past few posts I have done have not been specifically about autism. But, I hope you will indulge me and let me share a few stories about Papa. They're not fantastical, but they are funny/special to me. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It was rumored that my grandparents' house was haunted. My grandmother would often say that she would just say hello to the 'ghosteses' as she would call them. Whenever my parents would go out of town for any length of time, I would end up staying with my grandparents who lived right next door to us in this ginormous house. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Their house was huge in my mind as an 8 and 9 year old. There were 3 bedrooms upstairs, but I would always prefer to sleep in the study which was next to my grandparents' bedroom. One time, my best friend, Katy, came to spend the night. We would scare ourselves thinking about the ghost stories and get ourselves so worked up about them. But, we secretly loved it. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, there we were getting ready for bed in the bathroom in the long, dark hallway. We were looking in the mirror brushing our hair and teeth and whispering to each other. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All of a sudden, completely out of nowhere, Papa jumped out behind us to where we could see his reflection in the mirror. His hair was wiry, crazy, and going all over the place. He had on a white v-neck and white boxers, and his eyes were bulging out of his head.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We screamed like we have never screamed before! Even after we knew it was him! It felt like a good 30 second scream.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">His response was always the same after he teased one of us.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"GEEETCHEEEEEEE!!!!"</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I think this was supposed to be the country version of "I got you", but it worked nonetheless. He got us. And good. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He howled with laughter while I beat on his back out of frustration, but mixed with a ton of relief that the ghosts had not descended upon us.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> ****************************************************</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Papa grew up on a farm in the middle of the depression in the 1920's. My dad would often say he was 'depression scarred' because he would do things like leave paper towels out to dry. Or, he would fix EVERYTHING with this stuff called Shoe Goo. It didn't matter what the problem was, or if the problem really just needed to be thrown out, Shoe Goo was the magic touch. Yes, you could fix your shoes OR you could fix the seal on the window, or patch up an old lamp, or frying pan whose handle had broken off...didn't matter. It also didn't matter to him that it was urine yellow in color when it dried. </span><br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">My family is much more concerned with function than form.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One time on a beach trip, my grandmother, Gran, as we call her, bought me a pack of cinnamon sticky buns to eat for breakfast. As kids do, I left the package partially opened all night on the kitchen counter while I slept. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">When I woke up the next day, a pack, gaggle or herd of ants (not sure of the term there) had made their way up along the bar and into the entire package of cinnamon rolls. They were crawling in ecstasy as they were over every inch of my now ruined breakfast. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">As I looked to my left, I noticed that Papa had a huge jar of honey that he had gotten from his cousin's farm. The ants, not to be outwitted, had made their way under the brass Ball jar top and into the honey. It looked like someone had taken a pepper shaker and poured bits of pepper all in the honey. You could tell these ants had their dying wish to drown in this ocean of golden, yellow delight. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I felt so guilty for leaving the package opened all night and ruining Papa's favorite honey. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"I'm sorry, Papa. I've ruined it."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"WHAT?!! Nah! There's nothing wrong with this honey." </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And, I watched in horror as he spooned out tablespoons of honey and spread it all over his English muffin. He closed his eyes and ate it like it was something served on a silver platter. There was no way he was gonna let that whole jar of honey go to waste-noooooo sirrrr!!!!! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> ****************************************************************</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I could tell you stories of how he kissed everyone he met- grown men included. I could tell you about his loud, but beautiful, tenor voice that he pridefully sang all the harmony parts of the hymns in church. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I could tell you about all the times we would swim in his swimming pool in the backyard and play tag. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I could tell you about the road trips he would take me and my two boy cousins, David and Daniel, on: to the beach, Tennessee, Mississippi, ski trips, and family reunions.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I could tell you that he would always wake me up in the mornings with the same farm boy song that his daddy used to sing to him about two cows called "White Foot and Light Foot":</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Wake up, White Foot.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Wake up, Light Foot.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"> Come and follow Jesse to the milking pinnnnn.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">To this day, I still don't really get that song, but I love that it was his routine. And, it was <i>his</i> little thing.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I could tell you about how he always, without fail, had Wrigley's spearmint gum in his mouth because he said it helped him clear his throat. I knew where his stash was in his office, and I would help myself to a pack or two every once in a while. (sorry, Papa)</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And, </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I love the fact that I got to spend the most time with him in years because I was the oldest grandchild. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I could also tell you about the time a few years ago he said something so hurtful to me in passing. It cut me deeply. And, a year later, as I was sitting beside him, he looked at me and said he was sorry for what he said. He knew it was wrong, and would I forgive him. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">That healed me. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sorry's were not thrown around much growing up. So, his sorry meant something profound. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I could tell you all about the godliness of this man. A man that consistently pointed me to Jesus. A man that cried a little bit every time he said the blessing (and his blessings were always a little too long!). A man that tasted and grasped the Gospel. A man that asked everyone (much to my embarrassment) if they went to church, and if they did, did they tithe. You gotta love a man with conviction and heart. And he had both! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtbfe5EeMBNtCpD9K6rgL8biXz-qW1StFT8Q3EpJCNVye1nVQ-4hOeXZRi9TdW0rUoYCvgE02VRXvFJJb6ntn8a09Wxj5l-DqU9BwJls3xf2Z5bcbNXhp01F8nTAGtxkqdvzGhzkvAmN4/s1600/IMG_1051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtbfe5EeMBNtCpD9K6rgL8biXz-qW1StFT8Q3EpJCNVye1nVQ-4hOeXZRi9TdW0rUoYCvgE02VRXvFJJb6ntn8a09Wxj5l-DqU9BwJls3xf2Z5bcbNXhp01F8nTAGtxkqdvzGhzkvAmN4/s320/IMG_1051.jpg" width="239" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Papa and his cute little Christmas vest!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I guess I just wanted him to know all of these things. I wanted him to know the impact he had on me as a little girl and who I am as a mother today. So....I guess this is me doing that now.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And, as I share these memories, my mood lifts. I get a smile on my face. It gives me encouragement to be a legend in my own sphere of life. To touch those around me in ways that are meaningful and life-giving. To bring joy to seemingly ordinary days. To always laugh. And always be grateful because there is so much abundance around us every day.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This was my Papa. And, I love him.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-87734058969543960812013-01-04T21:56:00.000-08:002013-01-04T21:56:03.193-08:00Amish ParadiseSo...it's been a while since I last posted. As soon as I would remember that I had not posted something, I would get busy with something else. This is where my ADD shows up. The amount of half-done projects around my house is astounding...<br />
<br />
As I type this, I am multi-tasking by being on hold with my son's mobile carrier. I have them on speaker phone, and they keep playing these pre-recorded messages of different pop artists and bands announcing who they are, followed by a snippet of a song of theirs. I wonder if these artists know how completely terrible their songs sound on the phone speakers. It's pretty bad. It definitely doesn't make me want to run out and purchase their record.<br />
<br />
So, instead of focusing on autism this blog, I decided I would venture outside the circle of trust into a broader spectrum of parenting and parenting those pesky teenagers. Ha! As I sat down to write this, I went through my list of things that i <i>could</i> talk about relating to autism, but this is the thing that is most vulnerable to my heart right now- the internet.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTWTYLRNKTu1VUy5F04YIdkQ9FEiJWNeakFUPynxtqsvZeUd37ZPxJVT1jB1DW8UN-fIjEszV_fmTkF1iU27siKsItBN_o80l5gS2UBWInSRP9F6-XZULy5-yKY7T0sxklPSsMO9KuUQ8/s1600/Say_anything_iphone.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="230" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTWTYLRNKTu1VUy5F04YIdkQ9FEiJWNeakFUPynxtqsvZeUd37ZPxJVT1jB1DW8UN-fIjEszV_fmTkF1iU27siKsItBN_o80l5gS2UBWInSRP9F6-XZULy5-yKY7T0sxklPSsMO9KuUQ8/s320/Say_anything_iphone.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">*sigh* Simpler times. When he would just show up with the boom box and not the phone.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As I have said before, I am raising two boys. Two future men. And, let me tell you, this is no small task. I feel the pressure. I do. Without putting down half the population, I will just say that I know a lot more altruistic women than I know men.<br />
<br />
#Ouch! *Biff! %SLAM! #Pow!<br />
<br />
Sorry, guys. But, from my vantage point, that is what I see.<br />
<br />
By nature, it's kind of not their fault. Ever since that little wench, Eve, tasted that stupid apple, and Adam followed suit, the curse on men has been pretty much playing itself out over and over again generation after generation. Men are obsessed with careers, toiling and slaving away in an endless journey of achieving fulfillment and success. This inevitably leads to an unfulfilling life because we were (in my humble opinion) meant to be in communion with God instead of running around aimlessly plugging in our umbilical cords to work, sex, food, fill-in-the-blank obsession, etc.<br />
<br />
And, we've got our problems too. As women, we are forever chasing our relationships and trying to get the man to be for us what only God can be.<br />
<br />
I realize this is grossly overstated and cliche. I know every single man is not this stereotypical and every woman is not either.<br />
<br />
But, I gotta say...this darned internet could be the life and death of us!!! Just like anything, it is both good and evil. But, today, I can only see a glimmer of the good.<br />
<br />
I realize that I am setting myself up by typing anything about the internet and putting it up on the...[wait for it]... internet.<br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdr6UKxplU_ncznBcAT-gdV8YkmU6HDgyiH9UxqIuJ9nfvpmR57KDKvz9C8iIeYzaBAXpnBIonzPUjmAy5BW-ZQ74gXvGbBIzbmAfYh3Is5VxT1buSWgfJ6KFjxO27q4giL723R4R37c/s1600/iphone-5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUdr6UKxplU_ncznBcAT-gdV8YkmU6HDgyiH9UxqIuJ9nfvpmR57KDKvz9C8iIeYzaBAXpnBIonzPUjmAy5BW-ZQ74gXvGbBIzbmAfYh3Is5VxT1buSWgfJ6KFjxO27q4giL723R4R37c/s320/iphone-5.jpg" width="298" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Love it, hate it. It's here to stay.</td></tr>
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But, I will only be on my <a href="http://api.ning.com/files/iRhh93x186kq3YEq6Tj0RCrcpSL3OvQdtbwchc04sZTEH*dDTiI18*jIZaAzy9XsZVInwk1aB5SKywdbwOhLYdUjlIQc5*pL/soapbox.jpeg" target="_blank">soapbox</a> for a brief moment...<br />
<br />
I consider myself somewhat 'with it' when it comes to knowing what's happening in today's world. I love pop culture, indie music, great TV, comedy, all of it. I am a consumer, without question. And, I will say, if you are not "in the know" as it relates to what your kids are in to, then you are already behind the 8 ball.<br />
<br />
If you do not have a Facebook account, don't know what a 'tweet' or 'tumblr note' is, then start researching now.<br />
<br />
If you don't know who T-Swift, <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bZkp7q19f0" target="_blank">Psy</a>, or Macklemore is, clear your calendar and spend a night on Youtube.<br />
<br />
If you don't know what Halo, Skyrim, or Call of Duty are, we got a little work to do.<br />
<br />
I'm not suggesting you need to like these things, but you gotta know what your kids are in to. You've got to stay a few steps ahead. Otherwise, you've missed the opportunity to speak truth and light into kids who so desperately need it.<br />
<br />
I have since learned over this holiday season that all phones are moving towards being "smart" phones a.k.a.- they get on the internet. Before too long, you will not be able to get just a simple phone that texts and makes calls- it's all going digital, 4G, etc.<br />
<br />
Personally, after I got my iPhone, I do not even know what I did with my life before I got it. It has revolutionized and helped my ADD-ness (think iCalendar with alert features) and has kept me connected in ways that have helped (and probably aided in my distractibility, truth be told) so much.<br />
<br />
But, I am a grown woman. I know somewhat of how to filter what I need to see and what I don't need to see. Kids do not. I also know what to place on the internet and what not to place on the internet. Kids do not.<br />
<br />
So, we have equipped and outfitted this whole new generation with these portals of infinite knowledge, with one click of a button. If my 14 year old wants to know how to do something, he will not ask me how to do it, he will ask Google or Bing or Yahoo.<br />
<br />
And, as one male friend told me, these smart phones are little porn portals. Sorry, folks, but that's what they are. And, moms, you need to get your head out of your @$* if you don't think that YOUR boy is doing that. It's basically like placing a big box with a shiny bow on top of their laps and saying, "Sorry, don't look at what's inside!" It's too much to handle. It is asking WAY too much of them.<br />
<br />
Then, if you think, well, I'm out of the clear, I have girls!!<br />
<br />
NOPE. Think again.<br />
<br />
The popular thing for girls to do now is post nude photos of themselves with the cameras that are on these little phones.<br />
<br />
NOT MY LITTLE PRINCESS!!!! Uh, yea. It's happening.<br />
<br />
And, why wouldn't they? If they are not getting the appropriate attention they want at home, they look to their peers, and then, if not there, let's take it up a notch. This'll get 'em talking!! *click*<br />
<br />
So, I can protect my guys from my end, but I cannot protect them from other people. And, the way that men are wired and the way that women are wired...it's the perfect storm.<br />
<br />
Some of you may be wanting to move to Pennsylvania on an Amish farm about right now. Believe me, it sounds tempting. You might think, "okay, I could pump my own water!" "I can rock a skirt and bonnet!"<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWPKm3ebjbxrZil-jzcPQ_X8vXXai8zGuIA4M68ljlDNRP7pzVw30Nh-JO-P-1DVLontOVzt62htg_g0p0PUPqH82zeiIbRjv_H5VzgatyT-dgDbiNyX7aIu43VKZ9kRjXmbw7aY_h_EM/s1600/04292008_amish.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWPKm3ebjbxrZil-jzcPQ_X8vXXai8zGuIA4M68ljlDNRP7pzVw30Nh-JO-P-1DVLontOVzt62htg_g0p0PUPqH82zeiIbRjv_H5VzgatyT-dgDbiNyX7aIu43VKZ9kRjXmbw7aY_h_EM/s1600/04292008_amish.jpg" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Exhausting!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
But, it's probably not going to work. And, I went on that field trip with my kid, and it ain't all that. There were women with beards...<br />
<br />
So, what do we do with Pandora's box infinitely open?<br />
<br />
My only answer is logic and communication. It is not fool proof, but it is a good enough start.<br />
<br />
The bottom line for now is that my boys can't have internet on their phones. Hence, the hours of phone time for me with customer service. These companies do have a way to disable internet access. It takes a little finagling, but it can be done.<br />
<br />
Even iPods. My son has a classic iPod and not an iPod touch. Sorry! Lame-o mom, at it again!<br />
<br />
Also, computers are in all the main parts of the house. No computers in the bedrooms and hiding in closets. Anyone can walk in at any point in time, so no funny bizz-ness. I also have software that sends me emails to my account that lets me know what's being looked at. It is not fun to peruse through the stupid stuff that is googled, but it beats the alternative.<br />
<br />
I know what you are thinking...uh, duh! Your son will not always be in your house. What will happen when he leaves for college. Guys, I've got this! I will simply put a police type "house arrest" ankle bracelet and shock collar for any websites that are PG-13 and above. Done and done.<br />
<br />
I kid, I kid.<br />
<br />
The answer is. I don't know.<br />
<br />
This is where trust, grace, faith, prayers, and all of that combined come in to play. I will not always have the filters on and around my children.<br />
<br />
But, my hope is that maybe they learned a little something along the way. Maybe they listened to me at some point. Maybe when I am on the edge of their beds with quiet tears letting them know the dangers of the world, they get it.<br />
<br />
Maybe I won't try to lecture them in the morning since all I get is glassy-eyed stares. Maybe night time is better.<br />
<br />
I do not know.<br />
<br />
But, my hope is that the "lame" rules that are in place now will be seen as protective shields later on.<br />
<br />
Plus, I am definitely too lazy to live in an <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lOfZLb33uCg" target="_blank">Amish community</a>.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<i>P.S. Hopefully no men were 'harmed' in the writing of this blog. </i>:)<br />
<br />
<br />Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-3358427545741449182012-12-16T10:43:00.000-08:002012-12-16T10:43:00.310-08:00To Know Is To Love<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"></span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcaNFLR0of9VynGfEHVnoAfGNkXrBk6ZiSoO_V0c1r2b2qN3pQimaDshtoh2QNMw41a8LxsQDwQVA1dqPt84Ata5qK4hmtjdSTUj-ZrAZCpkFbj-EA-NyBw1JbrcvtgMz-rD0UDTCC48/s1600/15rdv-shooting-tmagArticle.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="235" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOcaNFLR0of9VynGfEHVnoAfGNkXrBk6ZiSoO_V0c1r2b2qN3pQimaDshtoh2QNMw41a8LxsQDwQVA1dqPt84Ata5qK4hmtjdSTUj-ZrAZCpkFbj-EA-NyBw1JbrcvtgMz-rD0UDTCC48/s400/15rdv-shooting-tmagArticle.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: #999999; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: x-small;">Candles light up the memorials of the victims of the CT shooting.</span></td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I, like you, have been staring at the television the past few days trying to organize, file, and store the tragedy that occurred on Friday morning.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There are no words...I wonder how many times that has been written on the internet the past few days. Or, "our hearts go out", or "condolences"... We try to form sentences to say, but we cannot. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Just this morning, I read a post from a mother who struggles with a son with violent tendencies. Her blog post can be found <a href="http://anarchistsoccermom.blogspot.com/2012/12/thinking-unthinkable.html">here</a>.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It is a poignant, open, and honest column about the real life struggles of what some of us live with as we deal with children who run against the grain of life. I was so glad to see this woman (who seems to have a big following) have the courage to show her 'underbelly'. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I do not want to speculate on unknown facts surrounding the motive of this shooter. I do not want to try to piece together what may or may not have happened in the life of this guy or the life of his mother. From all accounts, it sounds like his mom was just like me- just living life, having friends, decorating for Christmas, making dinner, checking off her list of stuff she needed to get done. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I bet she did not have this ending written down. She would have never known the evil capabilities of her son. A son that, in her mind, was someone she loved- maybe to her he was just her quirky, little guy. We may never know.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">With all the talk on the tv from 'experts' and pundits about blame and what is happening to our society, I began thinking about what my responsibility is in this life. What am I held accountable for? I am responsible for myself and the actions I take. And, I am responsible for my two boys. The government is not responsible for us, we are. The organizations I am a part of are not responsible for us, we are. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I, too, have a son that is different from most of his peers. He has difficulty making friends, social interactions are forced and hard, and his capacity for empathy is severely lacking. It took me a few years to accept this realization, but I had to. Because, he is my son. He belongs to no one else on this earth but me. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And part of that responsibility piece is for me to know my son to the best of my ability. Some days it is difficult to know what in the world is going on in that little head of his. He is fascinating and curious. He is difficult and lovable- many times all at once. He is quirky, funny, but sometimes he is downright mean and abusive. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Some days I feel like the worst parent in the world, and other days I shrug my shoulders and say, 'only by the grace of God go I'. But, my guess is that most of us feel that way. Sometimes we are high-fiving ourselves internally (or externally, which looks really weird), and other days we are bludgeoning ourselves with shame and doubt. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But, it is most imperative that I know my children. There are sometimes two different rule books in my house- one for Walker and one for Liam. This may seem unfair to the outside world, but I have learned that I must parent these two very differently. My son Walker is allowed to play video games with warcraft in it, and Liam is not. Liam is 'allowed' to be a picky eater at dinner time, and Walker is not. At one time, Walker was allowed to have a smart phone/iPod, but now neither can have one until they are on their own. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">These are a few of the working rules in our household. For now, they work. But, I may have to be willing to change directions at any given point in time. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One of the hardest things to do as a parent is being willing to admit that our children are capable of great evil. Who wants to dwell on that???!! NO ONE! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">We all have these skewed views of our precious, little ones. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Not my little guy, nope, he is the most generous, tender-hearted one of the bunch."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"REALLY? Because I just saw your generous one give a generous shove to my son on the playground."</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yep. This is a tough one. I don't want to admit that my kids are capable of evil because I believe they are an extension of me. And then, I would have to be willing to look at the evil in my own heart. All the little murderous things I do in my own heart when someone pulls in MY parking place. Or, when someone (as happened yesterday) cuts me in line at Target. Or, when a friend calls to share about her ex-husband's mind games, I am thinking of people that could break his kneecaps. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I won't go on and on. You're a smart bunch. But, as the woman said in the aforementioned blog post:</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">God help me. God help [her son]. God help us all. </span><br />
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<br />Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-6074458942757937362012-12-12T06:20:00.000-08:002012-12-16T10:43:41.304-08:00'Tis the Season to Share the Diagnosis<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggdQLLnDVuoguxDt2XeAHxjz7rLzbbFr56POFxeAu-WcTIfmtlfyDqc-BhZ1SDI_nrlXYvfHcB4lMrFy4yW1sexkS96zgMEfTcjYf3C6hdjTKJiBicLpGkGgkP4SxT1mr71KmFnh865IQ/s1600/principalsOffice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEggdQLLnDVuoguxDt2XeAHxjz7rLzbbFr56POFxeAu-WcTIfmtlfyDqc-BhZ1SDI_nrlXYvfHcB4lMrFy4yW1sexkS96zgMEfTcjYf3C6hdjTKJiBicLpGkGgkP4SxT1mr71KmFnh865IQ/s320/principalsOffice.jpg" width="288" /></a></div>
So...Liam got sent to the principal's office yesterday.<br />
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It seems that one sweet little girl got her name called during the announcements for winning a character award that Liam did not win. This was, apparently, unacceptable in his mind, so she deserved to have a few school supplies missing from her cubby when she got back from snack time.<br />
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Poor guy. In Liam's eyes, life is just not very fair. He doesn't understand why sometimes his name is called to win a character award (Perseverance three years in a row-can't say he doesn't deserve THAT one!), and why sometimes other people's names are called.<br />
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I've tried to explain sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. I think I've even sung Kenny Rogers "The Gambler", but nothing seems to make sense to him. And, if I stop to think about it, to explain this concept is pretty difficult. It is very abstract- something that Liam cannot categorize in his mind full of folders and filing systems.<br />
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What he understands are things that are never-changing and constant. Like concepts of math and grammar, and the news anchor, Holly Thompson, at 7:27am on Channel 4 news. And, like whenever he says, "But, mom, I don't want to do that," I always reply with, "Too bad." (Sometimes when I don't say, 'too bad', he asks me to say it just so all is right with his universe--- I wish I was kidding.)<br />
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This poor little girl probably got really upset by the fact that Liam stole her goods. But, I know she understands the big picture.<br />
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I know this because every year I go into Liam's classroom and give a little presentation about autism. I tell the class a bit about how the brain works and how Liam's brain works differently than theirs. Many times they will ask questions about Liam and his behaviors. We usually do it when Liam is pulled out of the classroom for reading, so his classmates feel the freedom to ask the sometimes tough questions.<br />
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Some of you may question my reasons for doing this. Don't you want him just to blend in with his peers? Don't you want him to feel as 'normal' as possible?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNamcnIexM1YaHhGa1plyspcB9y6DK5UpyNPB-AZVTu-65fsXhaZ4aGP2e6i3N06C3vw7bj3LdE4rUx3imI3V6_nwh_Q32padCvhEFZTlIV1WJSz56pF0D13-4q2zgUnIlVaWdVF0bjFU/s1600/no-autism-web.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNamcnIexM1YaHhGa1plyspcB9y6DK5UpyNPB-AZVTu-65fsXhaZ4aGP2e6i3N06C3vw7bj3LdE4rUx3imI3V6_nwh_Q32padCvhEFZTlIV1WJSz56pF0D13-4q2zgUnIlVaWdVF0bjFU/s320/no-autism-web.jpg" width="130" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Cerebral scan of autistic brain.</td></tr>
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The answer to these questions is yes. Of course. I want Liam to feel welcomed, loved, and admired by his peers. And, that is why I choose to do it this way.<br />
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I have found that the more information people have, the more equipped they are to have empathy and understanding for the situation. I can see the lightbulbs go off in these children's minds when they start to understand what Liam is going through.<br />
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The fact is that Liam is not 'normal'. He doesn't behave in appropriate ways a lot of the time. He's getting better, but it's not missed on the other children that he is sometimes talking to himself or laughing out loud when he shouldn't be. But, the other tricky part is that Liam also doesn't 'look' the part of an autistic or special needs child. He does blend in at first with his peers, and if you are not looking for symptoms, you might not notice.<br />
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But, that can become problematic when he does break a school rule and gets a consequence that may look different than what the other kids get. If he throws a book across the room, he might be asked to simply take a break. If these kids did not know his condition, they might begin to hold him in contempt. "Why does he get special treatment?" "If I did that, I would lose all of my recess.""Hey! That was a perfectly good book!"<br />
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I did this when we played baseball (or attempted to play). I sent an email out at the beginning of the season explaining Liam's condition and that I would appreciate their patience. I was amazed at the compassion that the parent's had on Liam, and even that they would explain things to their own children about learning to cooperate and being patient with others that are different.<br />
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Being open and honest has worked for us. I know there are some families who choose not to be open about their child's diagnosis, and that is okay too. But, it seems that when I am comfortable with my son and autism, everyone else seems to relax too.<br />
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And, hopefully, these trips to the principal's office will be fewer and farther between. Mr. Parman, our school's principal, is a kind and patient man and has watched our little Liam grow up leaps and bounds over the years. He admitted the other day that he will be really sad when Liam and his ever-present light leaves his elementary school next year.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin-kJrvOmQWWpI6DbOCX1YgbI5E4s9cR8rKE6k0nOdiCvkZbHQPxRfNqdOCfN0SXbiCh7i9JEVJyrQERpIucdjP4dIFFpsbu-faogmgqEs8RhbZMGFzVfLzFc9pON6yKI6ZbqgQcVk7pk/s1600/IMG_2222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEin-kJrvOmQWWpI6DbOCX1YgbI5E4s9cR8rKE6k0nOdiCvkZbHQPxRfNqdOCfN0SXbiCh7i9JEVJyrQERpIucdjP4dIFFpsbu-faogmgqEs8RhbZMGFzVfLzFc9pON6yKI6ZbqgQcVk7pk/s1600/IMG_2222.JPG" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liam with two of his buddies. So sweet!!</td></tr>
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And, I may be packing up my art and presentation supplies with Liam headed to middle school (yikes!) next fall. I haven't decided yet. We will have to see if the need for information and the uncool mom will outweigh the need for space and independence.<br />
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If the latter happens, that's one opportunity that being uncool will be just fine with me.<br />
<br />Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-20160643179716099542012-11-26T20:23:00.000-08:002012-11-26T20:23:00.185-08:00Road Trips and Tryptophan<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Whew! So, you made it through! Round one of family gatherings, tryptophan, over-eating, and endless road trips. Pat yourself on the back for that one. No, seriously! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Family gatherings and autism do not necessarily go hand in hand. For one, we are completely off any sort of routine. And, we are scrambling on Turkey Day to find something for little junior to eat since we all know he won't even begin to touch anything on the buffet line. I think one year I ended up feeding Liam peanut butter crackers. Just hand over the "Mom of the Year" plaque for that one. Oh, and he probably ate all of the Sister Schubert rolls too! Guys, there's totally like 5 grams of protein in one of those six pack of crackers, right?</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Honestly, I am grateful I have a family of which I can let my hair down. My precious Grandmother let go of the fact that Liam wasn't going to eat any veggies a long time ago, and things have been pretty smooth ever since. My family also gets quite the kick out of him like I do. They love quizzing him on everyone's birthdays and birth years. And, this year, they set up a basketball goal that allowed him to 'dunk' away any anxiety that may have crept up with all the people that were there. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_R8BjxlMTSP3BEdGBYYbPv9-QJQPO4qai4SWPf2OSm_spFiaFpoagsqSOC6k2Xk7wToxN7hzCEd6qM23XGh_wu8bG-mnIHx_UOCSWBoa43zd6rzYQ48vzDlP3CnW-yi4RtuGJlLD02k/s1600/IMG_1051.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0_R8BjxlMTSP3BEdGBYYbPv9-QJQPO4qai4SWPf2OSm_spFiaFpoagsqSOC6k2Xk7wToxN7hzCEd6qM23XGh_wu8bG-mnIHx_UOCSWBoa43zd6rzYQ48vzDlP3CnW-yi4RtuGJlLD02k/s320/IMG_1051.jpg" width="238" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Papa Walker- Warning: He is always looking for free hugs!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLR1KHkC3geiIvq6Vi3N3WBso28qNAjHoqHV9k9hHwa7SK2DsZjPe1TrSq84zYG3ZlEKZjwRAYTneMVXZM_yaEjWJYjIGYl2K9XVzNT2q_i5iXmOSRF_IzknLKY8T5UKVJVP3_RLc-Hs/s1600/IMG_1050.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcLR1KHkC3geiIvq6Vi3N3WBso28qNAjHoqHV9k9hHwa7SK2DsZjPe1TrSq84zYG3ZlEKZjwRAYTneMVXZM_yaEjWJYjIGYl2K9XVzNT2q_i5iXmOSRF_IzknLKY8T5UKVJVP3_RLc-Hs/s320/IMG_1050.jpg" width="236" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'Gran' Walker- isn't she cute?</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I come from a huge family. Every second Thanksgiving the big Walker family gets together for our dinner where we celebrate Christmas and Thanksgiving together. We had to do this out of necessity since there were so many of us (I think there are almost 50 in just the immediate family). Sure we put the 'fun' in dysfunction like every other family, but for the most part, it is pretty enjoyable. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And, having understanding family members is key! </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">If you are one of the millions of immediate families that have autism in your clan, being a sympathetic person can be a lifesaver during the holidays. These parents do not need lectures or suggestions. They just need a safe place that they can take their child and let him/her be whomever they need to be. </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sometimes this is the hardest part! We all have expectations for our children and family members. We want our kids to act a certain way when they open a gift, or to be nice to someone they hardly know. ("ooohhhh, say thank you for such a nice gift" or "give aunt so-and-so a hug") But many times our kids don't want to be touched. Or, they may announce "Mom, she got me the same gift that you got me last year!!" </span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span>
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">****head in hands****sigh!****</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLiGgVFQSeEmpeBvFqvLvyqc3AKOL2V32KlpQsz5-ks0BgBFontfBcYXsrJMYHOtGa8b6q5LyONMbmxPIvKCGJq5pldSfM-UCOWhK9ofBpJ_C1zcxhAO8mRkz7JapDRshPdXfOcv0OW8/s1600/2244_68787500688_3604_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="219" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtLiGgVFQSeEmpeBvFqvLvyqc3AKOL2V32KlpQsz5-ks0BgBFontfBcYXsrJMYHOtGa8b6q5LyONMbmxPIvKCGJq5pldSfM-UCOWhK9ofBpJ_C1zcxhAO8mRkz7JapDRshPdXfOcv0OW8/s320/2244_68787500688_3604_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is a portion of my crazy family from 2009. Again, 'fun' in dysfunction.</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The best moments are when everyone just kind of happily ignores the rude comments or the freak outs. Or, even better, looks at you and says, "hey, I got this!", and takes your little one out to shoot hoops. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And, as parents, we need to be better about asking for what we need. Our family members cannot read our minds. And, if leaving a few minutes after dinner to go home is what is better for you, then do it. Or, if stopping by KFC on the way in to bring a bucket of chicken because turkey and dressing is NOT on the short list of foods they eat, then let the Colonel in. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Communication is everything, and once people understand what you are going through and what is most helpful for the family unit-- folks begin to get on board to help!! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This year, I had to drive from Tennessee to Florida and back up to two different cities in Alabama somewhere in between. As Liam was kicking my seat and backseat driving--("Mom, why are you going slow???" "I will freak out if you let Grandmama beat us!!") I actually thought to myself, "you know, if Liam were not in my life, it would be so boring!"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Yes, I would have more peaceful road trips and less gnashing of teeth, but I wouldn't have his light. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Liam, you light up my life, do you know that?"</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">"Yeah, I know."</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Of course, he does.</span>Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1061000646533860309.post-82809996328601467322012-11-16T09:19:00.001-08:002012-11-16T09:21:48.765-08:00Siblings Matter Too<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Good morning, readers! I only put one exclamation point because I am NOT a morning person. There is only so much enthusiasm I can take in the mornings. You can bet that Liam's feet hit the ground running when the day begins. For years, he would barge into my room-quite literally-announcing his presence with, not a "good morning, mama", but a "(annoying whine sounding like a shortened ambulance siren)...MOM, GET UP!!!! GET ME SOME BREAKFAST!!!" </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And, I am sure that you can imagine my less than enthused response to this assault on my sleep and my morning with a sigh and a disgruntled look on my face. Eyes half-closed, breathing heavy, limbs not fully functioning yet- "MOM, Why don't you look happy??!! LOOK HAPPY!!!!!" </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">This is where I perfected the fake perma-grin- no teeth, just a plastered smile, with my eyes still closed. From this point, I go through the motions of shuffling feet into the kitchen to pour a bowl of cereal, put it on the table, crawl back into bed, and pray that he would eat his cereal slowly enough to give me ten extra minutes of sleep. </span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTw3RGfH4vVQJItZBl8yDaV7i86pYH5LMCV9jJC7P9WZ41C1pkyD4ICe9m4cXebPtjYvgg0Z2nhoV0KVzPuWtMj04S2BUYG5GSi1wnNyUWRMGIIp6Y88MVJuFrS3h09swyvMfazJ4sF4/s1600/IMG_2214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpTw3RGfH4vVQJItZBl8yDaV7i86pYH5LMCV9jJC7P9WZ41C1pkyD4ICe9m4cXebPtjYvgg0Z2nhoV0KVzPuWtMj04S2BUYG5GSi1wnNyUWRMGIIp6Y88MVJuFrS3h09swyvMfazJ4sF4/s320/IMG_2214.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It IS hard to be mad at this face for TOO long! What a smile that boy has! </td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Sometimes I wish I was a morning person, but,... alas, I am not. I long to be one of those people who slaps their knees when they get up and can't <i>wait</i> to tackle the day and whatever problems arise. I wish that the world and work day didn't really start until 10am. This seems reasonable to me. Leisurely starting the day at 8am, slow drink of coffee (I am picturing the Folgers commercial with the woman staring out at the sun coming through the window), the kids come in around 8:30-8:45-very slowly- giving me a big hug and kiss, "mom, how was your sleep?" Because I have had this quiet time to myself AND a full 10 hours of sleep, I am sweetly humming to myself and whipping up blueberry scones and fresh squeezed orange juice. "I'm such a good mother," I think to myself. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Nope. This is not our life. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">And whoever the genius on the school board that makes the older kids get on the bus at 6:50am is clearly one of you <i>morning people. </i>(said with disdain and judgment)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I know, I know. My utopian dream of late start mornings is just that--a dream. But, this is why we all need each other. Our differences are what makes the world go 'round. I just happen to think that night owls like me are better people, in general. ;)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I wish that I could operate a giant fader, like on a music console, that <i>slowly</i> fades the day in. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Speaking of sleeping in, my oldest son, Walker, is a sleep champion. If there were awards for longest sleep, deepest sleeper, and least likely to be awakened by a nuclear crisis, these would be bestowed upon Walker. On Saturdays, I feel like I am being abusive by making him get up before 11am. The amount of effort it takes for him to put his feet on the floor is astounding! How many of you mothers use "Feet on the floor!" as your code for, "don't make me ask you more than two times to get up!" It is probably a scientific fact that 'feet on the floor' is the only way to ensure that these people will get up. Even turning on the light and ripping the covers off are not adequate for getting Walker up. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Professional Sleeper at work! </td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">On a side note, a friend of mine's dad used to wake up his 5 boys (ay caramba!) with water guns. I haven't tried this yet because it would require too much thinking and assembly in the morning. But, it intrigues me nonetheless!</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">So, yes, you can just know that whatever child you were born with first- whether they are easygoing or difficult, the second child will be the complete opposite. Walker was born with the most calm affect you have ever seen. As a baby, I would bring him to restaurants with me and a friend, and he would literally sit and just look around- completely content to just hang out. It was ME in a male, baby body!! </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">(I have often said that "hanging out" is my spiritual gift)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I remember having one mother so alarmed by his calm-ness that she suggested I have his hearing tested. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">He is still that calm, easygoing guy. So, you can imagine when Liam hit the scene- our calm, little world was turned upside down!!! (<i>easy does it</i>, almost too many exclamation points)</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I thought I would talk a little bit today about the siblings of our autistic children. So much emphasis has been placed on the research and the autistic children themselves. And, rightly so. The research is going to be the thing that hopefully changes the diagnoses and ultimately our lives for the better. And, there is a lot more information on the autism itself which helps the public understand what it is all about. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But less understood is the role that siblings play in the care-taking of these children. These kids have to grow up so fast. They are not allowed to have their own needs and concerns because they live with an autistic sibling that overshadows them. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">It has also been hard to watch sometimes as Walker longs to have an emotional connection with his brother. But, by the very definition of autism- emotional connection and empathy are qualities severely lacking with these children. Many times, Liam will want to 'bond' with Walker by being rough and tumble (sounds like normal boy stuff), but he lacks the social and emotional cues of when it is okay to be rough and when it is just not. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Or, as in the recent season of Parenthood (NBC, Tuesday nights, 9pm CST), when Haddie leaves for college, all her autistic brother can do is play with his toys in front of him and not look her in the eye. It is heartbreaking to watch (I wept!) because it is exactly how it is at home. Haddie feels unimportant and devalued as she has been a huge advocate for her brother his whole life. (If you are not watching this show, stop what you are doing and start from the beginning- the portrayal of Max, the younger bro with ASD, is quite accurate!)</span><br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cLXAAQx2GnIcOkvii-nvjjKnYRKOtOnoNzpUeE5SRblo1aQUQyyReafhW1ef1Ej4BJVp83FfP87Tex2J6B9YuCFlmVeDAfYTnKMmcwc01XHI6bJapFlCjIddaEckaINImKtUeu2CWKA/s1600/Max+and+Haddie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8cLXAAQx2GnIcOkvii-nvjjKnYRKOtOnoNzpUeE5SRblo1aQUQyyReafhW1ef1Ej4BJVp83FfP87Tex2J6B9YuCFlmVeDAfYTnKMmcwc01XHI6bJapFlCjIddaEckaINImKtUeu2CWKA/s320/Max+and+Haddie.jpg" width="213" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Haddie (left) with Max (right) as they go to a dinosaur museum. Haddie didn't want to go in the first place, but went to make her parents and Max happy. Watch this show!! It's amazing!</td></tr>
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Most of the time, as normal siblings get older, they can set aside their "annoying-ness" and selfish agendas to realize when something greater is going on. If an older child is leaving for a mission trip or camp for several weeks, other siblings can rally and give a somewhat meaningful hug, fist bump, or SOMETHING. But, kids with autism will almost seem numb and unaffected to what is happening. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Or, another example would be if Walker is clearly upset by something happening in his world, it's probably not the best time to gut punch him in the stomach because he walked in front of the TV. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">These siblings expect there to be conflict. What brother and sister don't fight?? But, this goes beyond the normal scuffles. These sibs have to be patient and long-suffering. They are forced to see a bigger picture that is difficult for us to do as adults, much less when you are an adolescent. They must learn to deal with the meltdowns that occur when you are trying to do something 'enjoyable' as a family. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There have been many times when I have had to look at Walker and say, "I'm sorry, but for the sake of the peace and harmony of our family, you will need to give up what you want right now for Liam." Almost all of the time, he will concede defeat and give up his cause for the greater good. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Things have gotten better over the past year or so. I think Liam is maturing. But, that doesn't stop him from slapping Walker's brand new glasses on the floor, or yelling, "HEY, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, GET AWAY FROM ME!" when Walker is just simply walking outside of Liam's room. To say that these siblings walk on eggshells is an understatement. The kids with autism didn't ask to born with their diagnosis, and the siblings didn't ask to have a brother or sister with autism. And so begins the difficult task of wrestling with hard issues early on in their lives. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Like anything in the realm of the complicatedness of life, people will say that it is good for them. They'll say it's good for these kids to realize that the world doesn't revolve around them. And, I would agree with that. These siblings have a greater understanding of what suffering is and is not. They have a deeper capacity for empathy. I tend to think Walker may make an amazing therapist one day. I will let him decide for himself what he wants to do, but God may just use him in the lives of others because of what he has had to go through. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">But, I want to make sure that we don't take these sibs for granted. These guys need a break from it all. Make sure you are taking time out for just them. Ask them to talk about what it feels like to have a bro or sis with ASD. (autism spectrum disorder- in case I haven't said that before) Ask them if they feel like they need to be heard sometimes. Make sure they have another safe place to go if things at home feel like too much. You don't want them to feel as if they are in a pressure cooker that cannot be turned off. Much like us mommies and daddies, they want to know that someone cares about them and they don't have to carry this huge weight all of the time. One family I know takes their vacation time when their son with autism is away at a special camp for a month. You have to do whatever it takes to get your sanity back.</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Walker and I watch Parenthood together. We haven't talked specifically about it, but I think it makes us feel normal. We will make knowing looks at one another when something with Max happens. And, we feel genuine excitement and relief when the parents of Max have a small victory with him. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Other times, jokingly, Walker will refer to "our son" as in, "Mom, our son is getting in trouble outside with the neighborhood kids. You may want to deal with that." We will laugh, and I will say just add it to the counseling bill that is inevitable to follow. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The point is, let's not forget about these little super heroes. Go give them a big hug and tell them how proud of them you are. Or better yet, text them a sweet note or leave one on their bathroom mirror. If they are teenagers, they will likely not respond in kind or at all. But, they will not forget it. This will make their burden just a little bit lighter- if only for a moment. </span>Rebecca Whttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04387534432004174463noreply@blogger.com0