Today, I tried something new. I needed to eat breakfast and we also need to go to the store, so all I could find was a packet of plain oatmeal. I am fine with oatmeal but plain is...kind of plain. Sort of like glue. Anyhow, instead of cooking it like that I also put a packet of hot cocoa mix in with it. I know, it sounds gross! But, it turned out tasty! I just might do that again. Sometime.
Having the kids at home all summer is great. It really is, because I miss them and worry about them when they're at school. But...it can also drive you crazy. You clean the house and then the next day it's right back to where it was. The dishwasher is broken, so you do the dishes and then as soon as they're done, someone puts another dirty plate or cup in the sink. They come to you and complain that they're bored and expect you to entertain them. And then there is Logan, when he gets bored.
It's not very fun when Logan gets bored, because then he finds ways to amuse himself. Such as: jumping off the furniture, flinging water at the ceiling, harassing his sister, and then, of course, there are the hoses.
This is something new that he has started doing. He has several vacuum cleaners and also a lot of vacuum components (for building them). He has three or four vacuum hoses, and he has started taking a couple in each hand and smacking the floor with them over and over. He looks like Ivan Vanko (Mickey Rourke) off of Iron Man 2. Remember that scene, where Tony Stark (Robert Downey, Jr) is in Monaco, and he's racing on the track, and Ivan Vanko appears with his electrical whip thingies that can slice through metal? That's my son. Whipping those vacuum hoses around and smacking the floor. All he needs is a Russian accent: Motherrr, I am verey boored. If voo do not entairtain me, I veel vreak havoc on dees house!
I find the thought very endearing. In the meantime, I think I will be hiding his weapons of mass destruction.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
He-Man or Superman?
I think I mentioned this in an earlier blog. When we took Logan to be diagnosed, we were given a questionnaire. One of the questions was, "Does your child appear to be stronger than the average child?" And of course, we answered, Yes.
Logan was and still is very strong for his age. He is small for a seven year old, but wrestling with him is like wrestling with approximately fifty pounds of pure muscle that wiggles all over the place and puts up maximum resistance. He can move every-and I do mean EVERY-piece of furniture in our house. If I need him to come with me somewhere, and he doesn't want to go, he will sit on the floor. I can barely lift him. We have a heavy, carved wooden bench in our front room. Once, during a temper tantrum, he picked up the end of it and banged it up and down on the floor over and over. So, we have these issues.
Anyhow, yesterday he and I went over to my brother's house to pick up a ladder. I had big plans to get rid of more of that popcorn stuff on our ceiling. (I really hate that stuff.) Anyway, we got home and the ladder was heavy and awkward. I sent Logan into the house and carried the ladder inside and set it down in our front room, then left the room to get some more supplies. When I came back in the room he had set the ladder upright and unfolded it. I was gone less than five minutes. I thanked him for his help, of course.
While I was up there, scraping some of that popcorn off, I noticed that the vent that was high up on the wall was closed! No wonder that room keeps getting so stuffy! And this is a room with a high ceiling. You do have to climb to the very top of a very tall ladder to even reach the ceiling. So. I told my husband about this and he was very confused. "The vent was closed? It wasn't always like that. Hmm. I wonder who was up there?"
Who was up there, indeed? Perhaps I should be sewing a cape. Size seven. Red.
Logan was and still is very strong for his age. He is small for a seven year old, but wrestling with him is like wrestling with approximately fifty pounds of pure muscle that wiggles all over the place and puts up maximum resistance. He can move every-and I do mean EVERY-piece of furniture in our house. If I need him to come with me somewhere, and he doesn't want to go, he will sit on the floor. I can barely lift him. We have a heavy, carved wooden bench in our front room. Once, during a temper tantrum, he picked up the end of it and banged it up and down on the floor over and over. So, we have these issues.
Anyhow, yesterday he and I went over to my brother's house to pick up a ladder. I had big plans to get rid of more of that popcorn stuff on our ceiling. (I really hate that stuff.) Anyway, we got home and the ladder was heavy and awkward. I sent Logan into the house and carried the ladder inside and set it down in our front room, then left the room to get some more supplies. When I came back in the room he had set the ladder upright and unfolded it. I was gone less than five minutes. I thanked him for his help, of course.
While I was up there, scraping some of that popcorn off, I noticed that the vent that was high up on the wall was closed! No wonder that room keeps getting so stuffy! And this is a room with a high ceiling. You do have to climb to the very top of a very tall ladder to even reach the ceiling. So. I told my husband about this and he was very confused. "The vent was closed? It wasn't always like that. Hmm. I wonder who was up there?"
Who was up there, indeed? Perhaps I should be sewing a cape. Size seven. Red.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
It's Okay, We Get It
Today we acquired a Uromastyx lizard. This is in addition to our two shih-tzus, hamster, and the parakeet. We are becoming a zoo. Or a jungle. "Jungle" is a much more fitting word.
I invited a friend of mine and her son to come over and see the lizard, because it's not really that common of a pet. Well, they came over and Logan went berserk. I have no idea why. He was hungry and tired, and he hadn't seen my friend's son in a few months. Perhaps he was overexcited at having a lot of people in the house in addition to new animals. I don't know. But he did everything he could to create a ruckus. He punched and banged on every surface he could find, he screamed at the top of his lungs. The noise became so loud and so interfering that I could barely hear my friend as she tried to tell me about something that had occurred earlier in the week. When they left, I apologized and she said not to worry, that there was no need to say sorry.
Well, still, I fretted about it. Lots of people, in an effort to be polite, insist that no apology is necessary when it really is. I was so frustrated and so embarrassed by what had happened that I didn't know what to say or do. I sent her a text apologizing again for all of the chaos and she called me.
She was insistent that no apology was needed. She said it would be different if Logan were a child who knew better and was just acting that way just to act up, but that Logan was trying to communicate in the only way he knew how, and that he was probably overwhelmed. She went on to say that I was doing everything I could think of for him, and that I didn't need to apologize for something like that.
Her kindness almost undid me. I try to put on a good front, saying I don't care what people think and that this is Logan and this is how he is, and most of the time, I really mean it. There's not a lot I can do to change things when he acts that way. I am hoping that, as his pediatrician counseled us, that as he gets older these behaviors will lessen. But to have someone say to me, "It's okay. Please don't worry. We get it." is not something I hear that often, and to be perfectly honest, it almost brought me to tears.
It would be heaven to be able to have friends over and not worry about what affect it might have on someone's mood. It would be a great relief to get through a meal without worrying about finishing it before time runs out and someone is ready to go. But that's not where we're at, and I can only say that I am very, very thankful for friends like the one that came over to my house today, and I wish there were more like that in this world.
I invited a friend of mine and her son to come over and see the lizard, because it's not really that common of a pet. Well, they came over and Logan went berserk. I have no idea why. He was hungry and tired, and he hadn't seen my friend's son in a few months. Perhaps he was overexcited at having a lot of people in the house in addition to new animals. I don't know. But he did everything he could to create a ruckus. He punched and banged on every surface he could find, he screamed at the top of his lungs. The noise became so loud and so interfering that I could barely hear my friend as she tried to tell me about something that had occurred earlier in the week. When they left, I apologized and she said not to worry, that there was no need to say sorry.
Well, still, I fretted about it. Lots of people, in an effort to be polite, insist that no apology is necessary when it really is. I was so frustrated and so embarrassed by what had happened that I didn't know what to say or do. I sent her a text apologizing again for all of the chaos and she called me.
She was insistent that no apology was needed. She said it would be different if Logan were a child who knew better and was just acting that way just to act up, but that Logan was trying to communicate in the only way he knew how, and that he was probably overwhelmed. She went on to say that I was doing everything I could think of for him, and that I didn't need to apologize for something like that.
Her kindness almost undid me. I try to put on a good front, saying I don't care what people think and that this is Logan and this is how he is, and most of the time, I really mean it. There's not a lot I can do to change things when he acts that way. I am hoping that, as his pediatrician counseled us, that as he gets older these behaviors will lessen. But to have someone say to me, "It's okay. Please don't worry. We get it." is not something I hear that often, and to be perfectly honest, it almost brought me to tears.
It would be heaven to be able to have friends over and not worry about what affect it might have on someone's mood. It would be a great relief to get through a meal without worrying about finishing it before time runs out and someone is ready to go. But that's not where we're at, and I can only say that I am very, very thankful for friends like the one that came over to my house today, and I wish there were more like that in this world.
Friday, June 24, 2011
It's Okay, I'm Swimming!
Yesterday I took the kids to our local state park. We love this park. If we go during the week, we usually have the place to ourselves. There's a beach area, and picnic tables under lots of shade, piers for fishing, and the water is cool- deliciously cool, being that it's a spring-fed lake. So, I usually meet a friend there and we let our kids bob around in the lake. Logan and Sarah are required to wear life jackets. If my oldest gets in the water, he has to also, but he's usually too busy scouring the shoreline for evidence of frogs or passing birds and animals. He is a biologist at heart.
Well, we had a great time. It was pretty uneventful for a while, if you don't count the man who drove up in a flashy black convertible and got out to reveal that he was wearing a bright orange tank top, blue plaid mini-kilt, tube socks, and hiking boots. It went well with his clan insignia and his full, orange beard. The phrase "somewhere in Scotland a village is missing it's..." oh, never mind. He walked by and looked at the lake and left.
And I wish that had been the extent of our excitement. The children were able to wade out pretty far...it stays shallow forever in that lake. I was standing in the water keeping a close eye on them, not too concerned because they were all happy and bobbing around and having the time of their lives. Then I saw Logan's feet pop up. I realized that he was floating in water that was over his head and called him back to me. He immediately got angry. "No, I'm swimming! I'm swimming!" And he continued to float and kick and completely ignore me.
After a few more attempts to get him to come back to me, I realized that I was going to have to go to him. I grabbed a styrofoam "noodle" and swam over to him, grabbed onto his life jacket and towed him back to shallow water. He was very angry. He hit and punched my arm over and over, yelling and insisting that "It's okay!" and "I'm swimming! I'm swimming! I want to swim!" And I said, "You only thought you were swimming. You were in over your head."
I tell you this story because it makes me think of all of us, as children of God. How often are we doing something we're not supposed to do, or how often have we allowed ourselves to get into a situation over our heads, and we insist that we're fine. It's okay, I'm swimming! And we get angry at God, or at whoever is trying to help us, because we are sure we can handle what's going on in our lives, we think we are swimming. We're really just a life jacket away from drowning.
After I towed him back to shore, he did not attempt to go into deeper water again. Perhaps when he felt his feet touch the bottom, he realized that he was finally where he was supposed to be, and while the sensation of floating weightless in the lake, his feet not finding any purchase below, must have been thrilling to him, in some way it must have been a relief when he finally touched the ground.
Well, we had a great time. It was pretty uneventful for a while, if you don't count the man who drove up in a flashy black convertible and got out to reveal that he was wearing a bright orange tank top, blue plaid mini-kilt, tube socks, and hiking boots. It went well with his clan insignia and his full, orange beard. The phrase "somewhere in Scotland a village is missing it's..." oh, never mind. He walked by and looked at the lake and left.
And I wish that had been the extent of our excitement. The children were able to wade out pretty far...it stays shallow forever in that lake. I was standing in the water keeping a close eye on them, not too concerned because they were all happy and bobbing around and having the time of their lives. Then I saw Logan's feet pop up. I realized that he was floating in water that was over his head and called him back to me. He immediately got angry. "No, I'm swimming! I'm swimming!" And he continued to float and kick and completely ignore me.
After a few more attempts to get him to come back to me, I realized that I was going to have to go to him. I grabbed a styrofoam "noodle" and swam over to him, grabbed onto his life jacket and towed him back to shallow water. He was very angry. He hit and punched my arm over and over, yelling and insisting that "It's okay!" and "I'm swimming! I'm swimming! I want to swim!" And I said, "You only thought you were swimming. You were in over your head."
I tell you this story because it makes me think of all of us, as children of God. How often are we doing something we're not supposed to do, or how often have we allowed ourselves to get into a situation over our heads, and we insist that we're fine. It's okay, I'm swimming! And we get angry at God, or at whoever is trying to help us, because we are sure we can handle what's going on in our lives, we think we are swimming. We're really just a life jacket away from drowning.
After I towed him back to shore, he did not attempt to go into deeper water again. Perhaps when he felt his feet touch the bottom, he realized that he was finally where he was supposed to be, and while the sensation of floating weightless in the lake, his feet not finding any purchase below, must have been thrilling to him, in some way it must have been a relief when he finally touched the ground.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
Get Off Your Duff
Okay, so somebody complained because I haven't written in a few days. I'm sorry! It's summer, for crying out loud, all the kids are home, and you know...You know how it is. Sometimes after dealing with autism during the day you DON'T want to sit down and write about it. I'm just sayin'.
I knew we wouldn't be able to go on vacation this summer, so I've been trying to keep everybody busy by going different places and doing different things. Instead of hearing "I'm bored" fifty times, I've only heard it five or six. It's a record. And, due to my efforts to stay busy, I have acquired: a light tan, a freshly textured bathroom, two pet mice (yes, eewww, geez, I know, long story), and a pet parakeet. The animals actually belong to my oldest son, and they are his responsibility. So far, he is doing quite well. We've had the bird a day. As long as it doesn't start yelling, "Krabs, Krabs, admit it!" or begging for a new vacuum cleaner, I think we'll keep it.
So, yes, the bathroom. Because of Logan's fascination with water, he got over-fascinated one day and wadded up some paper towels. He then got the paper towels soaking wet, rolled them into a ball, and threw them at the bathroom ceiling. Great fun. Except that the "popcorn" started coming off the ceiling and was hanging in shreds. Yesterday my sister-in-law came over and said, "What happened to your bathroom?" I replied, "Logan happened." Oh. Enough said.
I really can't completely blame the cute little guy, since he learns a lot through repetition and imitation. We do have his older sister to thank for setting that fine example.
Anyway, it gets depressing, having things in your house moved around all the time, or broken, or beat on, or torn up. I dreaded walking into the bathroom. It was depressing. I hated it. So today, finally, instead of moping around about it, I got a metal texture spatula thingy and I scraped it all off. Logan was thrilled. "We need to vacuum it up." Knock yourself out, kid. Then I found a box of all-purpose joint compound in the garage and textured the entire bathroom, including the ceiling. And I feel great. My right arm is almost completely numb, but just wait 'til I paint it!
It was a good experience and it reminded me of something I had allowed myself to forget. If something is depressing you, or you aren't happy, or you're irritated with something that you know needs to be done and you just haven't done it...then get off your duff and do it! Take some action! Change something! And if it's something you can't change, then stop carrying it around with you everywhere! It's heavy, that burden you have...put it down, for crying out loud! Later, it may resolve itself, or you might be ready to deal with it...but until you are, try to do some things for yourself that will make you a little happier or help you deal with just life!
And that friends, is my little pep-talk for the day. See what three hours of spackling will do to a person?
I knew we wouldn't be able to go on vacation this summer, so I've been trying to keep everybody busy by going different places and doing different things. Instead of hearing "I'm bored" fifty times, I've only heard it five or six. It's a record. And, due to my efforts to stay busy, I have acquired: a light tan, a freshly textured bathroom, two pet mice (yes, eewww, geez, I know, long story), and a pet parakeet. The animals actually belong to my oldest son, and they are his responsibility. So far, he is doing quite well. We've had the bird a day. As long as it doesn't start yelling, "Krabs, Krabs, admit it!" or begging for a new vacuum cleaner, I think we'll keep it.
So, yes, the bathroom. Because of Logan's fascination with water, he got over-fascinated one day and wadded up some paper towels. He then got the paper towels soaking wet, rolled them into a ball, and threw them at the bathroom ceiling. Great fun. Except that the "popcorn" started coming off the ceiling and was hanging in shreds. Yesterday my sister-in-law came over and said, "What happened to your bathroom?" I replied, "Logan happened." Oh. Enough said.
I really can't completely blame the cute little guy, since he learns a lot through repetition and imitation. We do have his older sister to thank for setting that fine example.
Anyway, it gets depressing, having things in your house moved around all the time, or broken, or beat on, or torn up. I dreaded walking into the bathroom. It was depressing. I hated it. So today, finally, instead of moping around about it, I got a metal texture spatula thingy and I scraped it all off. Logan was thrilled. "We need to vacuum it up." Knock yourself out, kid. Then I found a box of all-purpose joint compound in the garage and textured the entire bathroom, including the ceiling. And I feel great. My right arm is almost completely numb, but just wait 'til I paint it!
It was a good experience and it reminded me of something I had allowed myself to forget. If something is depressing you, or you aren't happy, or you're irritated with something that you know needs to be done and you just haven't done it...then get off your duff and do it! Take some action! Change something! And if it's something you can't change, then stop carrying it around with you everywhere! It's heavy, that burden you have...put it down, for crying out loud! Later, it may resolve itself, or you might be ready to deal with it...but until you are, try to do some things for yourself that will make you a little happier or help you deal with just life!
And that friends, is my little pep-talk for the day. See what three hours of spackling will do to a person?
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Caroline's Pet Peeve
I have a really good friend named Caroline. I love her to pieces. She has an adult son with cerebral palsy. She raised him largely on her own, and she has been a real blessing to me when it comes to knowing the ins and outs of raising a special needs child. Autism is not cerebral palsy, but some things are similar...like the school system. And the reactions you get from different people when you take your child somewhere. And the days that just wear you out and the days where you are so very, very grateful that God saw fit to entrust you with someone so precious.
I think sometimes people see a disabled child and they immediately make allowances for behavior. And that's fine, and it's right, because some behaviors cannot be controlled as easily as you would a "normal" child. But Caroline and I had this discussion one day, and I loved what she said. "Michael (her son) is not his disability. Michael is Michael, and cerebral palsy is just something that afflicts him." That is so true. What do people see when they see Logan? Do they see autism? Or do they see a seven year old boy?
Sometimes people don't realize that just because a child has autism, or cerebral palsy, or any other mental disability, doesn't mean that the child can't deliberately misbehave. If you were to see Michael, you would see a young man who struggles to speak and make himself understood. But if you were to watch Michael and observe him over a long period of time, you would notice behaviors that were very deliberate...obstinancy when he was upset with something. Calling his mother a nickname that he knows she doesn't like. Normal things that kids do when they misbehave. Logan does the same thing. Deliberate breaking of the rules. Just because someone has a a disability doesn't mean that accountability is completely off the table.
One of Caroline's pet peeves (and mine too) is when she is out in public and she asks Michael to do something. Michael refuses to comply. The other person or persons in the scenario say, "Oh, it's okay. Don't worry about it. He doesn't have to." Well, I am here to tell you, it is NOT okay to say "It's okay". A lot of learning with disabled children takes place through repetition. If a parent is trying to get their disabled child to do something, and it's obvious that it's not an unreasonable request, then saying, "It's okay, they don't have to" completely sabotages what that parent is trying to do. It is not okay to let them off the hook. It is okay to push them, just a little, and have expectations. The same as you would of any child. Logan is not his disability. Logan is my seven year old son. He has autism. Nathan is my ten year old son. He has allergies.
Two little boys. Two different afflictions. Two little boys. Two different afflictions that do not add up to the sum total of who they really are.
I think sometimes people see a disabled child and they immediately make allowances for behavior. And that's fine, and it's right, because some behaviors cannot be controlled as easily as you would a "normal" child. But Caroline and I had this discussion one day, and I loved what she said. "Michael (her son) is not his disability. Michael is Michael, and cerebral palsy is just something that afflicts him." That is so true. What do people see when they see Logan? Do they see autism? Or do they see a seven year old boy?
Sometimes people don't realize that just because a child has autism, or cerebral palsy, or any other mental disability, doesn't mean that the child can't deliberately misbehave. If you were to see Michael, you would see a young man who struggles to speak and make himself understood. But if you were to watch Michael and observe him over a long period of time, you would notice behaviors that were very deliberate...obstinancy when he was upset with something. Calling his mother a nickname that he knows she doesn't like. Normal things that kids do when they misbehave. Logan does the same thing. Deliberate breaking of the rules. Just because someone has a a disability doesn't mean that accountability is completely off the table.
One of Caroline's pet peeves (and mine too) is when she is out in public and she asks Michael to do something. Michael refuses to comply. The other person or persons in the scenario say, "Oh, it's okay. Don't worry about it. He doesn't have to." Well, I am here to tell you, it is NOT okay to say "It's okay". A lot of learning with disabled children takes place through repetition. If a parent is trying to get their disabled child to do something, and it's obvious that it's not an unreasonable request, then saying, "It's okay, they don't have to" completely sabotages what that parent is trying to do. It is not okay to let them off the hook. It is okay to push them, just a little, and have expectations. The same as you would of any child. Logan is not his disability. Logan is my seven year old son. He has autism. Nathan is my ten year old son. He has allergies.
Two little boys. Two different afflictions. Two little boys. Two different afflictions that do not add up to the sum total of who they really are.
Don't Mind Me, I'm Just Stimming.
I am sure that some people read my last post and thought, Holy smokes! A broken window?! Flooded bathroom??? What the heck!
A lot of autistic children stimulate themselves through different mediums. The name for it is actually "stimming" and children on the spectrum will stimulate their five senses through various, repetitive means. For the five senses, of course, we have taste, touch, smell, sight, and our sense of hearing. So, how do these children "stim" through the senses?
1. TASTE They may lick themselves or an object over and over again. They may enjoy the taste of a particular food and gravitate toward that food the most. They may eat things they shouldn't be eating.
2.SMELL This is pretty self-explanatory. They'll smell different objects or their hands or they may actually go up to another person and smell the other person.
3.SIGHT Blinking, hand flapping, gazing at a light or out the window for long periods of time, waving things in front of their faces...all stimming through sight.
4.TOUCH There are two categories under "touch". There is actually touching something, which can mean anywhere from rubbing a piece of fabric against their skin over and over to scratching at their skin compulsively. Then there is the vestibular side of it, which relates more to balance and equilibrium, having to do with the inner ear. They may rock back and forth or side to side or find some other rhythmic motion to do. I find this interesting because a lot of children have frequent ear infections. Since a lot of autistic children are non-verbal and don't really know how to tell you when they are in pain, perhaps the rocking motion serves to ease the pain of an ear infection. It would be interesting to look into this.
5.HEARING I left hearing for last because this is a big one with Logan. Stimming through hearing means making noise. Snapping fingers, clapping, banging things, yelling....This is the way Logan gets his stim on. His favorite things to do are yell at the top of his lungs. Usually it's something that doesn't make sense to anyone else. For the longest time he was yelling a phrase from an episode of Spongebob: "Krabs, Krabs, admit it! Krabs, Krabs, admit it!" Over and over and over again. In the harshest, loudest voice possible. We had no idea what he was saying and he sounded like he was trying to bark like a dog when he did this. Finally one of our other children figured it out. So, he yells a lot. He also likes to bang on things. He knows it's stressful to us. Hey, don't look at me like that. He KNOWS. Trust me. He loves the noise and he also loves the attention it brings. So, he will bang toys against the walls or floor, he will hit the front of the tv and computer, and...drumroll, please...he will bang on windows. Hard.
So, what have we done about this problem? You can't take a child like this and just say, Hey, quit stimming. You also can't spank him. Why? Because he doesn't understand the correlation between the action he is engaging in and the punishment he received. To him, mom or dad just got mad and smacked his butt. He doesn't get why, so it's an ineffective deterrent for this behavior. So, we take him to a different room. We distract him. We feed him. Nine times out of ten if he's acting like that he's hungry.
The other thing Logan likes to do to stim is play in the water. He will turn on a faucet and let the water run over his hands. He will get in the shower with his clothes on because the weight of the wet fabric feels good to him. (They actually sell weighted vests and blankets at some special-needs stores. The pressure of these items on the body is actually calming to the child.) So, one day the water play got out of hand and Logan flooded the bathroom. It's not the first time this has happened. We try to keep an eye on the bathroom, we really do, but it just happens. We can't lock the bathroom for obvious reasons and we did once put a child lock on the toilet. He broke it within a week.
I think, somehow, in my Premortal life, that God must have asked me a question. He must have said, Do you have anything that you specifically don't want while you're down there? And I must have answered, I just don't want to be bored. Because if that was my request, He has obliged in a very big way!
A lot of autistic children stimulate themselves through different mediums. The name for it is actually "stimming" and children on the spectrum will stimulate their five senses through various, repetitive means. For the five senses, of course, we have taste, touch, smell, sight, and our sense of hearing. So, how do these children "stim" through the senses?
1. TASTE They may lick themselves or an object over and over again. They may enjoy the taste of a particular food and gravitate toward that food the most. They may eat things they shouldn't be eating.
2.SMELL This is pretty self-explanatory. They'll smell different objects or their hands or they may actually go up to another person and smell the other person.
3.SIGHT Blinking, hand flapping, gazing at a light or out the window for long periods of time, waving things in front of their faces...all stimming through sight.
4.TOUCH There are two categories under "touch". There is actually touching something, which can mean anywhere from rubbing a piece of fabric against their skin over and over to scratching at their skin compulsively. Then there is the vestibular side of it, which relates more to balance and equilibrium, having to do with the inner ear. They may rock back and forth or side to side or find some other rhythmic motion to do. I find this interesting because a lot of children have frequent ear infections. Since a lot of autistic children are non-verbal and don't really know how to tell you when they are in pain, perhaps the rocking motion serves to ease the pain of an ear infection. It would be interesting to look into this.
5.HEARING I left hearing for last because this is a big one with Logan. Stimming through hearing means making noise. Snapping fingers, clapping, banging things, yelling....This is the way Logan gets his stim on. His favorite things to do are yell at the top of his lungs. Usually it's something that doesn't make sense to anyone else. For the longest time he was yelling a phrase from an episode of Spongebob: "Krabs, Krabs, admit it! Krabs, Krabs, admit it!" Over and over and over again. In the harshest, loudest voice possible. We had no idea what he was saying and he sounded like he was trying to bark like a dog when he did this. Finally one of our other children figured it out. So, he yells a lot. He also likes to bang on things. He knows it's stressful to us. Hey, don't look at me like that. He KNOWS. Trust me. He loves the noise and he also loves the attention it brings. So, he will bang toys against the walls or floor, he will hit the front of the tv and computer, and...drumroll, please...he will bang on windows. Hard.
So, what have we done about this problem? You can't take a child like this and just say, Hey, quit stimming. You also can't spank him. Why? Because he doesn't understand the correlation between the action he is engaging in and the punishment he received. To him, mom or dad just got mad and smacked his butt. He doesn't get why, so it's an ineffective deterrent for this behavior. So, we take him to a different room. We distract him. We feed him. Nine times out of ten if he's acting like that he's hungry.
The other thing Logan likes to do to stim is play in the water. He will turn on a faucet and let the water run over his hands. He will get in the shower with his clothes on because the weight of the wet fabric feels good to him. (They actually sell weighted vests and blankets at some special-needs stores. The pressure of these items on the body is actually calming to the child.) So, one day the water play got out of hand and Logan flooded the bathroom. It's not the first time this has happened. We try to keep an eye on the bathroom, we really do, but it just happens. We can't lock the bathroom for obvious reasons and we did once put a child lock on the toilet. He broke it within a week.
I think, somehow, in my Premortal life, that God must have asked me a question. He must have said, Do you have anything that you specifically don't want while you're down there? And I must have answered, I just don't want to be bored. Because if that was my request, He has obliged in a very big way!
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Sometimes You Have to Let Go (A Little)
Yesterday while my oldest was at day camp, I took my daughter and Logan to a local state park to meet some friends of hours. I was a little leery about going, just because I hadn't been there in years. She assured me that they had a nice beach area. I'm always nervous when it comes to Logan and water, or Logan and a restaurant, or Logan and a grocery store, or Logan and any errand outside the house.
Well, my good friend was right and the water was shallow, the beach was clean and very, very uncrowded. Logan and Sarah waded out into the water, and out, and out...and the water never got above their waists. Slowly, by inches, I could feel myself relax. I thought of how I went to the doctor a few months ago for something, and out of the blue he starts asking me if I have a lot of stress in my life. I laughed. I told him about our family, about Logan, then shrugged it off. "I want to take an X-ray of your neck," he says.
He was very concerned. The muscles and tendons in my neck were so tense and so tight, he said, that it had forced my vertebrae to be completely straight. (Your neck vertebrae are supposed to be gently curved, not completely straight.) He told me this and I thought, So? What do you want me to do about it? All of this stuff, it's not going to go away.
Well, he gave me something for it and voila, months later I am feeling ten times better. I watched Sarah and Logan wade out into the water (wearing life jackets, of course!) and thought, maybe it's time to relax, just a little, and let them just be kids, and not worry, quite so much, about what might or might not happen in the future.
I stepped into the water and felt all my cares slip away.
Of course, that was yesterday. Today, we have another broken window and a flooded bathroom. I could say I stepped into the water today also and let my cares slip away again, but mostly I just sighed and mopped it up. Not every day is a day at the lake with friends, but I'll take them when they come!
Well, my good friend was right and the water was shallow, the beach was clean and very, very uncrowded. Logan and Sarah waded out into the water, and out, and out...and the water never got above their waists. Slowly, by inches, I could feel myself relax. I thought of how I went to the doctor a few months ago for something, and out of the blue he starts asking me if I have a lot of stress in my life. I laughed. I told him about our family, about Logan, then shrugged it off. "I want to take an X-ray of your neck," he says.
He was very concerned. The muscles and tendons in my neck were so tense and so tight, he said, that it had forced my vertebrae to be completely straight. (Your neck vertebrae are supposed to be gently curved, not completely straight.) He told me this and I thought, So? What do you want me to do about it? All of this stuff, it's not going to go away.
Well, he gave me something for it and voila, months later I am feeling ten times better. I watched Sarah and Logan wade out into the water (wearing life jackets, of course!) and thought, maybe it's time to relax, just a little, and let them just be kids, and not worry, quite so much, about what might or might not happen in the future.
I stepped into the water and felt all my cares slip away.
Of course, that was yesterday. Today, we have another broken window and a flooded bathroom. I could say I stepped into the water today also and let my cares slip away again, but mostly I just sighed and mopped it up. Not every day is a day at the lake with friends, but I'll take them when they come!
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Sometimes It's Not the Autistic One
Okay. So I just said it's "normal" to have an autistic child in my life. It is. I also realize that I've written about a lot of the things he does, some things that are not "normal" to other people. Some things that may seem downright stressful and unbearable to some people. The temper tantrums. The banging and yelling and water (more on that later) and all kinds of stuff. But sometimes, it's NOT the autistic kid that's causing the havoc, okay?
So I leave today, this evening, in fact, to go and visit a sick relative who has been in the hospital for forever. I clean the house top to bottom (temporary bout of insanity), I feed everybody, do two loads of laundry (even thought the washer is leaking...it HAD to be done...that laundry, it reeked!), made sure there were towels within reach of my spouse who although he did not feel well, very kindly agreed to watch the kids (towels...because of Logan's fascination with water, hence the smelly WET laundry in the bathroom), and just made sure that everything that possibly needed to be done, was done before I left. (Don't press the red button while I'm gone, kids!. 4 8 15 16 23 42! Thank you, Lost.)
So I leave, (Bye honey! Trying not to feel guilty while I leave you here with three kids and two shih tzus!) and I walk out the door and that's it.
I am gone longer than I planned. I call my husband four hours later. How are the kids?
Well. LOGAN, our littlest, was fine. However. My oldest son did this, to his dad and his sister:
"Sarah, I swallowed a black widow spider."
"DAAAAD! Nathan said he swallowed a black widow!"
"Did you swallow a black widow, Nathan?"
"Yes. I swallowed a black widow spider."
"So what you're telling me, is, I'm going to have to take you to the hospital, because you swallowed
a venomous spider."
"Well...it was dead, so I'm okay."
"So what you're telling me, is, I'm going to have to take you to the hospital, because you swallowed a venomous spider." (My husband can smell a load of crap from fifty miles away, by the way.)
"It was dead."
"You still swallowed the venom. We have to take you to the hospital."
"Weeellll...I'm not sure it was a black widow."
"But you swallowed a spider and we don't know what it was. It might have been venomous. We have to take you to the hospital."
"But it was dead."
"But if it was venomous, you still swallowed the venom."
"Wellll...I'm not sure if it was really a spider. It might have been a weird looking bread crumb."
"So you put something in your mouth that you weren't sure what it was and it might have been a spider, possibly a black widow or something venomous?"
"I don't think it was spider. It wasn't. It was a weird looking bread crumb."
"Go to bed."
And if that wasn't enough, friends. If that wasn't enough:
"Hi honey, I'm on the way home."
"Hi." (Sounding tired.)
"What's going on?"
"Fang tried to eat a turd out of the toilet."
Okay, that is gross. But I am not surprised. Fang is our "retarded" dog, remember?
"And then he fell in the toilet."
Okay, he really IS "retarded".
"The kids pulled him out and he had a turd stuck to his face."
The only reason we haven't gotten rid of him is because A. He's really cute. and B. He is so stupid.
"They hosed him off in the front yard."
Did they brush his teeth, too? I sure as hell hope so, because that dog ain't licking my feet when I get home!
So I leave today, this evening, in fact, to go and visit a sick relative who has been in the hospital for forever. I clean the house top to bottom (temporary bout of insanity), I feed everybody, do two loads of laundry (even thought the washer is leaking...it HAD to be done...that laundry, it reeked!), made sure there were towels within reach of my spouse who although he did not feel well, very kindly agreed to watch the kids (towels...because of Logan's fascination with water, hence the smelly WET laundry in the bathroom), and just made sure that everything that possibly needed to be done, was done before I left. (Don't press the red button while I'm gone, kids!. 4 8 15 16 23 42! Thank you, Lost.)
So I leave, (Bye honey! Trying not to feel guilty while I leave you here with three kids and two shih tzus!) and I walk out the door and that's it.
I am gone longer than I planned. I call my husband four hours later. How are the kids?
Well. LOGAN, our littlest, was fine. However. My oldest son did this, to his dad and his sister:
"Sarah, I swallowed a black widow spider."
"DAAAAD! Nathan said he swallowed a black widow!"
"Did you swallow a black widow, Nathan?"
"Yes. I swallowed a black widow spider."
"So what you're telling me, is, I'm going to have to take you to the hospital, because you swallowed
a venomous spider."
"Well...it was dead, so I'm okay."
"So what you're telling me, is, I'm going to have to take you to the hospital, because you swallowed a venomous spider." (My husband can smell a load of crap from fifty miles away, by the way.)
"It was dead."
"You still swallowed the venom. We have to take you to the hospital."
"Weeellll...I'm not sure it was a black widow."
"But you swallowed a spider and we don't know what it was. It might have been venomous. We have to take you to the hospital."
"But it was dead."
"But if it was venomous, you still swallowed the venom."
"Wellll...I'm not sure if it was really a spider. It might have been a weird looking bread crumb."
"So you put something in your mouth that you weren't sure what it was and it might have been a spider, possibly a black widow or something venomous?"
"I don't think it was spider. It wasn't. It was a weird looking bread crumb."
"Go to bed."
And if that wasn't enough, friends. If that wasn't enough:
"Hi honey, I'm on the way home."
"Hi." (Sounding tired.)
"What's going on?"
"Fang tried to eat a turd out of the toilet."
Okay, that is gross. But I am not surprised. Fang is our "retarded" dog, remember?
"And then he fell in the toilet."
Okay, he really IS "retarded".
"The kids pulled him out and he had a turd stuck to his face."
The only reason we haven't gotten rid of him is because A. He's really cute. and B. He is so stupid.
"They hosed him off in the front yard."
Did they brush his teeth, too? I sure as hell hope so, because that dog ain't licking my feet when I get home!
The New Normal
Having an autistic child, or any special needs child, changes your life. It's not something you can decide to stop doing one day, it's not something you can really pass off to someone else. It's the lottery you won, the gift God chose to give, the lessons specifically designed for you. And when you hear someone talk about their life and the things their child does, sometimes it can give the impression that everything is just total havoc and chaos, or that every single day is a stressful climb ridden with raw-edged nerves and restless sleep.
That's really not how it is. We have Logan, he is who he is, we know him and love him...boundlessly love him, and all our other children. This is just how things are. This is our life. There was a time when we just had our other two children. And we thought we had it rough, having two kids who were seventeen months apart. We didn't. We were ignorant. We didn't know. And with each year that passes, the memory of what it was like B.L. (Before Logan) fades and fades some more.
I have a friend who has an autistic relative. Unlike Logan, this young man does not speak. He is the same one I mentioned earlier who has a photographic memory. He does, however, communicate using a letter board...he can spell out words. Someone once asked him what it felt like to be autistic. He replied, "It feels normal."
Well, of course he had nothing to compare it to. It's like asking someone who is born deaf what it's like to be deaf. They don't know what "deaf" means because they don't know what it means to hear.
Well, I know, distantly now, what it was like to live without this child in my life. But I don't really think about it. And I don't really care. That was then. What is it like to raise an autistic child? It's normal. More so every year.
That's really not how it is. We have Logan, he is who he is, we know him and love him...boundlessly love him, and all our other children. This is just how things are. This is our life. There was a time when we just had our other two children. And we thought we had it rough, having two kids who were seventeen months apart. We didn't. We were ignorant. We didn't know. And with each year that passes, the memory of what it was like B.L. (Before Logan) fades and fades some more.
I have a friend who has an autistic relative. Unlike Logan, this young man does not speak. He is the same one I mentioned earlier who has a photographic memory. He does, however, communicate using a letter board...he can spell out words. Someone once asked him what it felt like to be autistic. He replied, "It feels normal."
Well, of course he had nothing to compare it to. It's like asking someone who is born deaf what it's like to be deaf. They don't know what "deaf" means because they don't know what it means to hear.
Well, I know, distantly now, what it was like to live without this child in my life. But I don't really think about it. And I don't really care. That was then. What is it like to raise an autistic child? It's normal. More so every year.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
L'art Du Deplacement
It must be summer. I have a sunburn.
We went to a local park today, because the kids wanted to go fishing and Logan wanted to play on the splash pad they have there.
Well, something is wrong with the splash pad and it comes on for two minutes and then stays off for fifteen. (I timed it.) But, I have to tell you, those were the most exhilarating two minutes of Logan's day! Ever! And I noticed something as I watched him running around amid all the sprinklers and twirly thingies...Logan doesn't just walk or run somewhere. He leaps. He skips. He jumps. He crouches. If he did have a "power" (see my very first post), then I think it would be parkour. Parkour. L'art de deplacement. The art of movement. There is something elegant about the way he runs and jumps and "overcomes any obstacle in his path" as wikipedia describes it.
The way that he jumps and climbs, my husband has seriously thought about installing a climbing wall in our house. I can just hear it now: I can't finish dinner, honey, I have to belay the children. One moment.
It's actually a good idea, all things considered, and probably more legal than the Wall of Velcro.
We went to a local park today, because the kids wanted to go fishing and Logan wanted to play on the splash pad they have there.
Well, something is wrong with the splash pad and it comes on for two minutes and then stays off for fifteen. (I timed it.) But, I have to tell you, those were the most exhilarating two minutes of Logan's day! Ever! And I noticed something as I watched him running around amid all the sprinklers and twirly thingies...Logan doesn't just walk or run somewhere. He leaps. He skips. He jumps. He crouches. If he did have a "power" (see my very first post), then I think it would be parkour. Parkour. L'art de deplacement. The art of movement. There is something elegant about the way he runs and jumps and "overcomes any obstacle in his path" as wikipedia describes it.
The way that he jumps and climbs, my husband has seriously thought about installing a climbing wall in our house. I can just hear it now: I can't finish dinner, honey, I have to belay the children. One moment.
It's actually a good idea, all things considered, and probably more legal than the Wall of Velcro.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
Vacuum Cleaner. Enough Said.
School let out for the summer and she didn't write for days! What happened to her? Is she okay? What have the children DONE to her???
Truly, I'm fine. After I escaped the duct tape and tore up the ransom note, I put all the kids down for a nap. They'll never try that again!
Seriously, change is hard for an autistic child. Logan has had a devil of a time adjusting to school being out. It's because their schedule is disrupted...suddenly everything is different, we're not going the places we normally go, and that makes things difficult for him. The kids are now, as we speak, camped out on the couch watching "Billy the Exterminator". Oddly enough, my oldest thought he spotted a copperhead slithering into a closet this morning. There was no snake. We checked.
So, I've been thinking about Logan and how things started with him, and how no two autistic children are alike. But...there are things you should pay attention to, if you have a baby, that are good indicators that something isn't right. If your baby exhibits the following behaviors, then you should definitely get them checked out:
-Won't respond to his/her name. (For the longest time, Logan would not do this. He still sometimes refers to himself as "Giovanni", a former classmate from a year ago.)
-Does not babble or make gestures by 1 year old (Logan DID do these things, BUT---)
-Loses words (This, Logan did. Words he used were suddenly gone. Never to be heard again.)
-By two years old, should be combining two or more words.
He/She may also exhibit the following:
Poor eye contact
Fixation on a particular object or toy
Does not play with toys they way they are intended (Logan plays with "pieces" of toys. He will carry around a single piece for a while.)
Makes odd movements, repetitive movements
Sometimes appears to be deaf...won't respond to questions even if you get in their face and repeat it loudly
There are a lot of other things that can cause the above symptoms...But I want to reiterate, as I did in an earlier blog, that you won't be doing your child any favors by ignoring the problem and pretending it's not there. With autism, the sooner you catch it and the sooner you begin therapy, the better chance you are giving your child to make some progress. You won't cure him/her, but you will be giving them a chance to overcome social and communication obstacles, however slight their progress might be.
And on that note, dear friends, I will close by relating the conversation Logan had with his father on the phone the other day. There was a time when Logan refused to even put a phone up to his ear and did not understand what a phone was for. So, my husband called from work the other day. We talked for a few minutes. Then I said, "Logan, do you want to say hi to daddy?" He took the phone and said, "Hi-yeee, Da-deee!" "Hi Logan! How are you?" "Vacuum cleaner!" "Wow, I like those too!" And Logan handed the phone back. Vacuum cleaner. Enough said.
Friday, June 3, 2011
The First Day of the Rest of the Summer
Miles to go before I sleep. Miles.
It started out this way, "Mama, I found this in belly button." "Mama, can I go in the front yard?" "Mama, where is Fang?" (Fang is one of our two shih-tzus). "Mama, can so and so come over?" "Therapy is dead. School is dead." "Logan hit me." "Eek-eek-shriek!" "Stop hitting me, Logan!" "It's time to go!" "I forgot your lunch." This was all before 730am.
Dropped the kids off at school. Picked up our extra kid and dropped her off at her school. Came home. Fed Logan. Took him to therapy. Therapy is one hour away in a different town and lasts for two hours. Brought him back to school. Received a phone call from my oldest son. "Mama!? Where is my lunch?" "I dropped it off in the office." "They gave it to Sarah." "Did she eat it?" "I don't know, they gave it to her!" "Get a tray." "*sigh* Fine!" Picked everyone up at 130 (early release, last day of school). Was horrified but not surprised to see that Logan had kicked the van door so hard that the vinyl is now falling off of it. Went home and Googled "autism and car seats" (I am tired of having him slam his feet into the back of my chair. I literally cannot breathe.) Found a lovely car seat with feet restraints for a measly 795.00. Does anyone want to buy a house?
Went outside to get the mail just as the postman was pulling up. Asked him if I could come with him. Explained it was the last day of school and that I could just climb into the mail truck and I didn't care where we went. Was rewarded with a chuckle and vaguely uncomfortable grin. Gave up and came back in the house.
Today is the first day of the rest of the summer.
"Mama, can I come over? Mama, can I take a nap at your house while the grandkids play? Mama, where is my lunch? Mama, mother, mommeeee!"
*sigh*
It started out this way, "Mama, I found this in belly button." "Mama, can I go in the front yard?" "Mama, where is Fang?" (Fang is one of our two shih-tzus). "Mama, can so and so come over?" "Therapy is dead. School is dead." "Logan hit me." "Eek-eek-shriek!" "Stop hitting me, Logan!" "It's time to go!" "I forgot your lunch." This was all before 730am.
Dropped the kids off at school. Picked up our extra kid and dropped her off at her school. Came home. Fed Logan. Took him to therapy. Therapy is one hour away in a different town and lasts for two hours. Brought him back to school. Received a phone call from my oldest son. "Mama!? Where is my lunch?" "I dropped it off in the office." "They gave it to Sarah." "Did she eat it?" "I don't know, they gave it to her!" "Get a tray." "*sigh* Fine!" Picked everyone up at 130 (early release, last day of school). Was horrified but not surprised to see that Logan had kicked the van door so hard that the vinyl is now falling off of it. Went home and Googled "autism and car seats" (I am tired of having him slam his feet into the back of my chair. I literally cannot breathe.) Found a lovely car seat with feet restraints for a measly 795.00. Does anyone want to buy a house?
Went outside to get the mail just as the postman was pulling up. Asked him if I could come with him. Explained it was the last day of school and that I could just climb into the mail truck and I didn't care where we went. Was rewarded with a chuckle and vaguely uncomfortable grin. Gave up and came back in the house.
Today is the first day of the rest of the summer.
"Mama, can I come over? Mama, can I take a nap at your house while the grandkids play? Mama, where is my lunch? Mama, mother, mommeeee!"
*sigh*
Myth Number 4: Autistic Children Are Not Affectionate and Do Not Interact With Others
Before I talk about this post, let me give you an update on Operation OILHIT: we haven't done it yet. Our air pump has disappeared and as soon as we fix that little issue, we will be Inserting Logan into Hollow Inflatable Thingy. I'm sure he'll have a blast.
I think one of the "myths" I posted on this site was that autistic children do not make eye contact. That is a myth, they DO make eye contact...but a lot of times, they also avoid it.
A lot of people still don't really understand what autism is or what it means when you say someone is "autistic". They picture Dustin Hoffman in "Rain Man" or they picture a catatonic head banger. These are both really extreme examples of someone who has autism or other mental deficiencies.
Because autism is a "spectrum" disorder, you will see different levels of communication in different children or individuals. One autistic person may have no speech at all but actually be brilliant in his/her way of thinking. Another autistic child might talk you to death, going on and on about one particular subject and boring you with statistics and other irrelevant minutia.
My son is autistic. His autism was diagnosed as severe. But he has always interacted with us. In the beginning, when he started to lose words, his speech was extremely limited. He would get really frustrated because there was something he needed or something he wanted to say, and he couldn't figure out how to get those thoughts out.
Gradually, through therapy and some very patient teachers and therapists, he is being pulled out of his shell. He can ask for things now that he needs or tell us about basic emotions he is feeling. And he loves to play games with us. These are games that he makes up that might seem redundant to other people but that he finds extremely hilarious. One such game is "tackle". He stands in front of me and backs up. I hold my hands up palms outward. He charges and rams himself into my hands as hard as he can, and bounces off. He loves this game, and each time he does it he bounces a little higher until he ends up "tackling" mommy. I think he would do well at football if he had the attention span for it (he doesn't). He also likes to throw a blanket over our heads and proclaim: "It's dark in here." (Yes, thank you. We know.)
So what kinds of things do we do to get him to interact and draw him out? At school he is on a strict schedule and his teacher actually has expectations of him. He is expected to do work and he is rewarded when he follows those instructions. He also receives speech therapy at school. At home, if we want to know something, we ask him a question. And we don't assume what he wants. If at all possible, we repeat the question over and over until he gives us some sort of answer. Sometimes, if it's obvious what he wants, we will give him the answer and have him repeat it. He also has a specialist that comes from the school once or twice every six weeks to work on educational skills, pattern recognition, opposites and things like that. Every one that's worked with Logan has had his best interests in mind (except for one time, which I've mentioned before and is pretty much a non-issue now.)
So, since having Logan, my new motto has been "Never assume anything." Never assume your child can't do something, never assume he/she will never progress, never assume anything about anyone...why they speak the way they do, why they appear to be rude or anti-social, why they can't seem to control themselves. Sometimes the explanation is not what you think.
I think one of the "myths" I posted on this site was that autistic children do not make eye contact. That is a myth, they DO make eye contact...but a lot of times, they also avoid it.
A lot of people still don't really understand what autism is or what it means when you say someone is "autistic". They picture Dustin Hoffman in "Rain Man" or they picture a catatonic head banger. These are both really extreme examples of someone who has autism or other mental deficiencies.
Because autism is a "spectrum" disorder, you will see different levels of communication in different children or individuals. One autistic person may have no speech at all but actually be brilliant in his/her way of thinking. Another autistic child might talk you to death, going on and on about one particular subject and boring you with statistics and other irrelevant minutia.
My son is autistic. His autism was diagnosed as severe. But he has always interacted with us. In the beginning, when he started to lose words, his speech was extremely limited. He would get really frustrated because there was something he needed or something he wanted to say, and he couldn't figure out how to get those thoughts out.
Gradually, through therapy and some very patient teachers and therapists, he is being pulled out of his shell. He can ask for things now that he needs or tell us about basic emotions he is feeling. And he loves to play games with us. These are games that he makes up that might seem redundant to other people but that he finds extremely hilarious. One such game is "tackle". He stands in front of me and backs up. I hold my hands up palms outward. He charges and rams himself into my hands as hard as he can, and bounces off. He loves this game, and each time he does it he bounces a little higher until he ends up "tackling" mommy. I think he would do well at football if he had the attention span for it (he doesn't). He also likes to throw a blanket over our heads and proclaim: "It's dark in here." (Yes, thank you. We know.)
So what kinds of things do we do to get him to interact and draw him out? At school he is on a strict schedule and his teacher actually has expectations of him. He is expected to do work and he is rewarded when he follows those instructions. He also receives speech therapy at school. At home, if we want to know something, we ask him a question. And we don't assume what he wants. If at all possible, we repeat the question over and over until he gives us some sort of answer. Sometimes, if it's obvious what he wants, we will give him the answer and have him repeat it. He also has a specialist that comes from the school once or twice every six weeks to work on educational skills, pattern recognition, opposites and things like that. Every one that's worked with Logan has had his best interests in mind (except for one time, which I've mentioned before and is pretty much a non-issue now.)
So, since having Logan, my new motto has been "Never assume anything." Never assume your child can't do something, never assume he/she will never progress, never assume anything about anyone...why they speak the way they do, why they appear to be rude or anti-social, why they can't seem to control themselves. Sometimes the explanation is not what you think.
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