It's not all about You

It's been a long time since I posted, but an article that Natalie posted on Facebook caught my attention.  I really should post more here.  I'm noticing more and more a divergence between my son and the rest of the children his age and in his class at school.  The days are filled with "autistic" moments, but I don't always notice them because I'm used to them.  It's just JR.  Reading the article, however reminded me of yesterday's "moments."

Christmas just passed us on Sunday.  JR's dad and I were very good at getting him the things he loves -- anything with numbers on it:  a money bank that counts the money, a digital alarm clock, a toy mixer (you know, for baking), a calendar.  All of these things have something to do with numbers.  We also decided to get him something to just play with:  a remote control car.  I took my husband's advice and bought two so they could play together.

JR spent all day yesterday playing with his blue car.  It is such a fun car that has a wheel on top of the car so it can do flips (in a way), roll on its back, spin, and do some fun tricks.  JR loved making it go fast and making speeding noises to go with it.  He asked several times when his dad was going to be home.
    "But what time, Mom?"  when I told him that Dad would be home after work.
    "Can I call him?" 
     "Sure." JR dialed his dad's cell phone number and waited.  After the conversation (with which I was pretty pleased), I asked what time his dad said he would be home.  Was he still at work?  Was he on his way?  JR suddenly lost it.  He was crying, "I can't remember.  I don't understand."  After a few minutes of tears and yelling, he finally asked, "Mom, can I call him back to ask?"
    "As soon as you're calm."  When Dad didn't answer, JR whimpered and said, "He didn't answer."  (My husband later got the whimpering, sad message on his voicemail.)  When Dad finally did call back, I talked to him.  The dilemma was the he never told JR exactly what time (hour and minute).  He just said, "I haven't left yet, I've had to fix a problem at work."  You see, JR has to have specific times.  We're trying to teach him that we don't always have those, but he still feels like he needs a specific time - to the minute.  I told my husband to talk to JR again, and this time give him a specific time.  It worked.
     As we sat around the dinner table, JR and his dad discussed playing with the cars.  JR looked at his dad and said, "Dad, you can have the blue car, and I can use the red one."  If you remember, JR's car was the blue one - the one he'd been playing with all day.  I tried very hard to tell JR that he couldn't just tell his father how they were going to play, he had to ask him if he could play with his car.  I reminded him that the red car was given to his dad, and that the blue car was his.  I told him, "You have to say, 'Dad, can I have a turn playing with your car?'"
    JR turned to his father and said, "Dad, we can play with our cars for 5 minutes and then we can switch and I can use the red car."
    I shook my head and said, "No, JR, you can't say that.  You can't tell your dad how he's going to play with his toy.  You have to ask him if you can."  I then tried to give him another script he could say.  He still failed.  I wondered why he couldn't just ask and why he wasn't understanding.
    Just before they began to play, the answer came.  Something was wrong with the blue car.  JR never said anything about it, my husband spotted a loose wire under the car.  Thank goodness he is handy with things like that, and he fixed it.  You see, JR couldn't tell me that something was wrong with the car; he'd forgotten that part.  He only remembered that he couldn't play with the blue car for some reason and that he would need to play with the red car. 
    They played for a while together, having fun.  Eventually, my husband let JR play with the red car.  Turns out that both cars were on the same frequency, so they really couldn't race their cars at the same time.  Bummer. . . it would have been a GREAT social tool for him; instead, it turned out to be a difficult moment for him to understand why they couldn't play together and how to take turns.  Sharing is difficult (as you can tell).  You're probably thinking that you have the answers to this one, but I assure you that you'd be surprised how your answer may not work the way you think it would.  ;)
    I find that I'm constantly telling JR what to say and how to say it.  It's difficult.  He doesn't always understand facial expressions or why I tell him the things I tell him. I only hope that one day it will come naturally to him to think about others and how they feel.  That he should ask, not tell or do because that's what he thinks is right.  I hope I can teach him not only by telling him but by showing him as well.

Water on the Head

There's something about water being on his head that JR just hates.  Showers make him nervous, and being dunked is traumatic.  I'm sure some of it could come from the fact that he has slipped under water a couple of times and had that drowning sensation.  I don't blame him for that. 

Splash parks are fantastic, aren't they?  Most of the time they're free (if you don't count your property taxes as the entrance fee), and it's really a glorified sprinkler park.  I know I would have LOVED one as a kid! 

Today I decided to take JR to the splash park without telling him beforehand.  I knew it would be a gamble if he would like it, but I also knew that I have plans to take him with friends in two days.  So, I had to acclimate him.  After about 15 minutes, of running in, dipping his toes or his hands and running back to the towel, he was getting more and more wet and didn't worry as much.  I can't say "didn't look back" or "didn't think twice," because I know my son by now.  He thinks about it very much and what he's going to do.  He lasted for about 25 minutes.  I was so proud of him. 

Is it bad to say that I'm proud of myself, too?  I didn't push him to hard.  I kept encouraging him and nudging him along, but I tried very hard not to force it.  I didn't give him the option of going home -- I didn't give him an out -- but I didn't make him run in the water.  I pointed out different children and how they were playing and what they were doing.  I didn't say, "Oh, see, now that kid is doing it right."  It was more like, "Oh, see that girl stuck her hand in the water, you could try that." 

I'm learning that I need to not be afraid to introduce new things to JR.  I'm worried about how he will react and that I will regret trying something new.  I'm working on it, and I think I'm almost to the point where I'm ready to look for opportunities that will push him because I'm almost ready for him to push back.

Dressing Dilemma

Post by LeMira

This morning was another reminder of how out of tune I am sometimes with my son.  This morning we had to go back to the school (he's been out for a week) for post-assessment with his Kindergarten teacher, his special ed. teachers, and the school counselor.  After breakfast he went to his room for a few minutes, and then emerged and announced to me, "Mom, I can't get dressed."

I looked at him and told him,  "You can do this.  Go pick out some clothes."

A few minutes later the same thing happened, but this time, he was more frustrated.  "Mom, I can't get dressed!  I need you to do it for me.  I opened the dresser."

At this point, I was confused, but also frustrated.  I tried to be in tune to him, and I started asking him what to do first, second, etc.  He responded, "Mom, I know that, but I can't do it. You need to come to my room."

I responded, "Yes you can; you're seven.  Just go get dressed.  Tell yourself, 'I can do it.'"  Ten more minutes passed, and he came and sat next to me on the couch in his underwear.  This time he was sobbing, "Mom, I can't get dressed."

I exhaled and followed him to his room.  "I can't understand what's going on this morning." When I got to his room, the bells finally went off in my head.  There it was.  He had found a red polo shirt -- a school uniform shirt -- but couldn't find any school uniform pants.  I had taken the pants and turned them in for the uniform exchange since he'll outgrow them by the end of the summer.  He knew he had to go to school, but he didn't understand that he didn't need his uniform.  He was confused at what to do.  I was upset with myself for not catching on earlier and for dismissing his frustration.  This entire episode took 40 minutes.  I should have gone in earlier. 

This dilemma reminded me that I have a good kid.  If he says he "can't" do something, sometimes it's because he doesn't understand or something's confusing, and he doesn't have the words to tell me.  Once in a while it's that he won't do something, or that the task is overwhelming, but a lot of times it's that he doesn't understand.  Today was a reminder that I need to check out a situation before I just push him.

Just Like Mom

(Post by LeMira)

At some point, we all look at our kids and start comparing their attributes to ours and to the people around us.  It's natural.  "He bounces his leg just like his dad," or "his mom bites her tongue in concentration, too."  For my son, it's obvious just by looking at him who his father is, especially when they're together.  My mom thinks we should have named him after his dad because they look so similar.  He even has some of his dad's personality traits, but not as many.  When it comes to many of his more noticeable traits, he's just like me.

As a child, I cried whenever someone raised her voice or if my parents started arguing.  I tense up when voices start rising and opinions start conflicting.  I just want everyone to get along. 

I'm a people-pleaser.  I want to like everyone, and I want everyone to like me. You tell me that I did something wrong, I cry -- not because I'm offended, but because I'm affected, deeply.  My son is exactly the same way.  When I raise my voice, he cries.  He's very fearful of getting in trouble.  He's a rule follower (I was, too).  You don't break the rules, you just don't.

It takes some time to feel comfortable in a big crowd of people. We wait a minute or two to volunteer, if we volunteer at all.  If we are black sheep at home, in public, we're white, like everyone else.  We obey all the rules, follow the crowd.

We're both very passionate.  Although we are affected when others begin disagreeing, we are not afraid to be right.  We are not afraid to voice our opinions at home or with those whom we are close and do not feel stranger to.  We want to be right, we are afraid of being wrong. 
 
Not good.

I have this uncanny ability to come "un-glued" very easily and very quickly without warning.  When I'm frustrated, deep breaths don't usually do it for me.  I'm someone who needs to break dishes, punch a wall, throw a chair, cry uncontrollably, or scream.  My son is the same way.  Yes, a lot of it is inherent behavior, I've learned that just by watching him, but I know that much of it is because it's how we handle things in our house.  It hasn't been easy to watch this lately, knowing that he has the prime example in his mother.

I'm working on a longer fuse, or getting rid of the fuse all together (meaning I never blow, not that I blow every time), but it's so hard.  I'm hypocritical when I yell at my son to not yell every time he's frustrated.  Yeah, nice one.  Anyway, I've been trying to find ways to help us let off steam immediately; here are some of the things we've tried:

1.  Deep breaths.
2.  Count to 10 (never works for either one of us)
3.  Screaming into pillows
4.  Tarzan yell while beating your chest
5.  Screaming matches while plugging our ears
6.  Clasping hands and squeezing the life out of them -- either squeezing your own together or a partner's.
7. Raiding the pantry (I don't recommend this one)

What are ways that you blow off your steam to help you cope with your power struggles and frustrations?

Transition and Incentive

A post by LeMira

The first week back to school from the holiday break was hard, really hard.  By Tuesday evening, I was ready to run screaming from my house and not come back.  We just weren't getting along, J.R. and I, that is.  His responses were mostly, "No," "I don't want to,"  "I don't like it," and "Grrrrr."  (Yes, he kept growling at me.) Instead, I just screamed into a pillow.

After meltdown after meltdown (his then mine, then his again then mine again), I finally remembered:  transition.  Transitions are so hard, and they are something I should never forget because they will always be hard for him.  At the beginning of the school year, I wrote about my son's anxiety transitioning to a new school with a new teacher. This time, the transition he was so worried about was having homework again.

The biggest problem is that he gets so fixated on not wanting to do homework, that he starts getting angry that he has to do it.  His anger flows through everything because then he starts counting down the days until Friday (when he has no homework), and he takes it out on us.  One little worry snowballs into something huge and affects everything.

Side-note: I was curious if it was just me (because sometimes it is), or if my son struggled at school this week.  When I went to volunteer on Friday, I talked to his aide, and she said that she'd noticed he'd regressed in his math. Two weeks, that's all it has taken for him to regress.  Do I think it's because he has a retention problem?  No, it's all because of his anxiety and his fear of failure which leads to a lack of self-confidence (of course, that's ANOTHER post for another time).  Basically, I was relieved just a little to hear that he struggled at school, too, because I wanted to make sure that it wasn't just me as the common factor, (not because I was happy he's struggling).  I just need to know when it is across the board, you know?


By Wednesday morning, I knew that something had to change.  We started doing reading and speech in the morning before school and math and spelling after school.  He only has "two homework" (as he would say) after school now.  Breaking up the workload has a made a wonderful difference.

After school that same day, he and I were waiting to get a prescription filled and were wandering around the store.  He found the ONE loud toy on clearance and immediately began his whining and begging for the "electric" guitar.  At that point, I just wanted to give in and not deal with the tantrum, but then I had an epiphany.  I could make him earn it.  Yes, I'd buy it (I couldn't go back later because the store is closing its doors in a few days), but then I'd make him work for it. 

I started a point system.  Each day he can earn points for doing his chores and homework with a good attitude, being happy when playing games, and just following directions.  He loses points by yelling, screaming, or talking back to mom and dad.  At the end of the day, he earns a sticker for every five points he earns.  Each day is a new day, and we start back at zero points.  I keep the points on a whiteboard on the fridge so I can easily put them up and wipe them off.  When he earns 20 stickers, I'll take the guitar off the top of the fridge, and it's his.  In the end, he'll earn a total of 100 points. 

At first I thought it would take about two weeks for him to adjust and transition, but I've realized that it's taken a little less.  Since adding the incentive, he's come a long way.  He has something to work for, and I'm glad it's successful so far.

When I bought the guitar, I rationalized that bribery was okay.  After thinking about it more, though, I realize that we all need motivation, and we all work harder when we see results.  He's at an age where he's still learning to control his emotions and reactions and learning appropriate behavior, and he apparently needs an incentive.  This is a good thing for something he wants.  I don't feel bad at all because he's earning it.

Vacuum Therapy and Trust (by LeMira)

I swear it seems that any time a person (usually another parent or friend) tells me that they just can't tell that J.R. has any sort of social delays or signs of PDD-NOS, he is sure to have not one, but several reaffirming PDD moments.  It's like they happen to remind me that yes, it's real.  Yes, I'm not just making up these stories.

When my son was young, it seemed like he loved the vacuum.  He'd crawl around the house, find the vacuum, pull up and stand next to it, and just stare.  He wasn't scared of it, it seemed,  for so long.  In fact, he seemed infatuated with it.  It was a little odd, I admit, but cute, nonetheless.  It was nice that I didn't have a screaming toddler when I vacuumed.  Today, I realized that those days are gone.  Honestly, I think they disappeared after our last vacuum broke and we threw it out.  With that vacuum when J.R.'s comfort; this is the first vacuum change in his life.

The best thing I ever did was make a weekly chore list for J.R. that doesn't change.  He's very good at doing his chores as long as it's routine.  Recently, we had to change his Wednesday chore from vacuuming his room to sweeping the kitchen (you'll understand why as you keep reading, I hope).  J.R. asks every week about this, "We don't have to vacuum, right?"  He knows, but he wants and needs reassurance.  Today I, being the wonderful mother I am, said, "Oh, why don't I vacuum the living room while you sweep the kitchen?"  Sounds reasonable, right?

J.R. responded immediately by plugging his ears and hysterically trying to clamber to his room.  Remember how wonderful of a mom I am?  I grabbed him, trying to be a tease, and forced him into the living room.  Seeing the sheer terror on his face and the tears brimming, I decided the force had to go and the understanding had to come.  I calmly asked what, why, and how the vacuum terrified him.  He couldn't really answer me definitively, although he tried.

I decided to try something.  I let him hold the plug and touch the vacuum.  I encouraged him to push the on/off switch; and touch all over the vacuum.  I wanted him to get to know the vacuum.  When I could see he was still completely terrified after plugging it in, I led him to his bedroom.  While sitting on his bed, we practiced plugging his ears for three counts, then not plugging his ears for three counts.  Then we took turns being the vacuum while the other person counted and plugged.  When he felt comfortable enough, I went and vacuumed the living room while he plugged and counted.  No screaming, running, slamming doors, or tears ensued.  It was a small success.  I then asked him to unplug the vacuum for me.  He asked me to go with him, and so I did. 

This is not the only irrational fear that my son has.  This is only ONE of them.  Dealing with these fears has been very difficult and yet educational for me.  The biggest breakthrough for me was when I finally admitted that I didn't understand them, and then asked myself how could I understand.  That's when I realized that I have fears that seem irrational to others.  My irrational fears usually have to do with reptiles, amphibians, and the dark.

We seem to think that dealing with our fears head on and jumping in to them is the way to "get over them," or that doing these pranks (like me pulling my son into the living room) will help us; that it will be therapeutic.  The truth is, I think it's actually more detrimental.  How would I feel if someone stuck a snake around my neck, or even worse, a frog down my shirt?  I'd probably scream!  (Now, don't get any ideas.)  And then, I would never trust that person near me again with anything moving.  EVER.

How did my son feel today when I was carrying him to the vacuum?  How did he feel when I turned it on, even just for three seconds, without his permission?  I daresay he felt violated.  I took the trust and stomped on it.  That's why we did the "vacuum therapy."  I had to regain his trust.

I find that I have to constantly rebuild trust with him.  It pains me that I have to do this because it means that I keep breaking that trust.  It's hard.  I don't fully understand, and I never will.  The one thing I want, though, is for my child to feel like he can always come back to me.  I need to figure this one out.

How do you deal with your child's irrational fears?