Dark Humor

Today I picked my son up from school.  It was already a strange day...the kids, getting out at 130 and 145 respectively for Christmas vacation, the fact that I was running on three hours sleep due to Logan's sleeplessness the night before (330am...want to watch Bee Movie?  Anyone?)  And the fact that Nathan was already done with home school just combined for a weird kind of day.

When I picked Logan up, his teacher assured me with a smile on her fact that he was "Sugared up and ready to go!  Merry Christmas!"  I love her.  I love his teacher.  She has done so much for us.  I will say nothing more.

Well, because the schedule was so messed up, and because Logan was so full of sugar and dye, he was extra cranky this afternoon.  By extra-cranky, I mean lots of constant yelling, screaming, and just general inability to deal.  He finally went in the bathroom and just sat in the tub naked and yelled and yelled.

I know this because I had his brother check on him.  He was sitting there yelling, "I need help!" when in fact, nothing was wrong.  So we left him alone because if he needed to yell, then maybe we should just let him.  Sometimes autistic children yell and stim a lot after school because they've had to "hold it in" all day.  When Logan gets in the car, depending on the kind of day he's had, he's either calm or he lets loose with a verbal smorgasboard sure to tickle your eardrums and rattle your nerves.  It's not his fault, he can't control it very much, and that's just the way it is.

So I sat here at the computer, chatting with a friend to keep my mind off of the total chaos in the other room, and the yelling continued, and all I could think was, "Polar bears yell when they poop."

Seriously, have you seen this meme, on the internet? You know, I don't know if it's true.  I know almost nothing about polar bears, except that they are more vicious than normal bears, extremely territorial, do not drink Coke, and it's best to just stay away.  But there's this pic going around on Pinterest that states the aforementioned interesting fact.  I will spare you a visual.

And what has this got to do with anything, you ask?

Nothing.  It has to do with nothing.  It has only to do with the fact that when things are completely chaotic, and you can't do anything about it, you have to find humor somewhere.  You can't sit there and cry or stay angry at a situation that is beyond your control.  EMT's do it all the time.  So do police officers.  Because the alternative of truly thinking about the situation in all of its stark clarity, and truly considering what is happening, especially when you can't do anything about it doesn't help anyone.  Humor is my coping mechanism. So is talking to friends, asking them to unload (because if I'm listening to their problems, I'm not thinking of mine), and chocolate.

Now I'm going to go in the kitchen, finish dinner, and sing.

 Logan sounds better than me.  Trust me.

Dinosaurs in the Backyard

When Logan was six years old, a child psychiatrist told us that he did not engage in pretend play, and that he had no imagination.

Logan is nine years old now.  Today he ran into the house from the backyard, breathless and excited.  He came up to me and said, "Dinosaurs in the backyard!"

"Really?" I said.  "Dinosaurs?"

"Dinosaurs get you!" he proclaimed.

"Well, be careful out there, " I cautioned, and he was gone.

A little while later he came into the kitchen with a plastic container that I had just washed and the bread pan from my bread machine.  Both had remnants of grass and dirt in them.

"What did you do?" I asked.

"This dinosaur's food, this dinosaur's water," he said.

"Okay.  Put it in the sink."

And he did, and then he disappeared again.  I didn't care about the dishes.  Dishes can be washed.  This is what I cared about:

A boy playing outside, pretending things that little boys pretend.  Of course, it's a few years behind what a normal nine year old is into...but I cannot describe the happiness and satisfaction I feel, watching him come into the house, talking about his "dinosaurs" that he "fed".  And I think that the more I discover of Logan's little world, the more I love it.  These are the days that make the other days worth it.  The days when he's hard to deal with or won't sleep...dinosaurs make up for it.

Comfort Food

Yesterday, because we were going to get a lot of ice, I decided to make some good old fashioned comfort food.  One or two people have asked for the recipe.  I have to say this is not my recipe, I got it off of Pinterest, but it turned out really well.  I would suggest pairing it with some baked beans or a green salad.


Chicken and Dumpling Casserole

2 chicken breasts, cooked and shredded (You can use a rotisserie chicken to save time, or do like I did and steam two chicken breasts in your steamer with some veggies).
2 cups chicken broth
1/2 stick butter
2 cups Bisquick (or generic baking mix)
2 cups whole milk
1 can cream of chicken soup (cream of chicken with herbs is better, or do like me and mix it with some Kick'n Chick'n spice)
3 tsp chicken bouillon granules (I used Wyler's, and I only used  1 1/2 tsp because I don't like the salt content)
1/2 tsp dried sage (I used 1 tsp)
1 tsp black pepper
1/2 tsp salt or more to taste

DIRECTIONS:  Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.  Layer 1:  9x13 in casserole dish:  melt 1 stick butter .  Spread shredded chicken over butter and sprinkle black pepper and sage over this layer.  DO NOT STIR.
Layer 2:  In a small bowl, whisk milk and Bisquick.  Slowly pour over chicken.  DO NOT STIR.  Layer 3:  In a medium bowl, whisk together chicken broth and cream of chicken soup, and bouillon.  Once blended, slowly pour over Bisquick layer.  Again, DO NOT STIR.  Bake casserole for 30-40 minutes or until the top is golden brown.


Vegetarian Modification:  I do have friends who are vegetarians and welcome their suggestions on modifying this dish.  I suggest substituting the chicken with salmon, the chicken broth, cream of chicken soup, and chicken bouillon with vegetable broth, cream of potato or other favorite vegetable cream soup, and vegetable bouillon.  Substitute the sage with dill and the pepper with lemon pepper.  Then follow the directions as needed.

Dope

No cure exists for autism.  That much we know.  But something that I haven't really discussed much in this blog, and that perhaps bears looking at now, is how autism is treated organically.  And by that I mean, what do parents and caregivers do to alleviate the symptoms of autism other than take their kids to therapy sessions and seek out specialized education?

You can't really treat autism as a whole.  It's a mystery, it's an enigma, we have only scratched the surface of it.  And each child is different.  What one autistic child does may be unique to that child.  However, there are main symptoms of autism that many children share, that often can be alleviated with the help of medication.  Some of these symptoms include:

OCD (obsessive compulisive disorder)

Repetitive behaviors

Aggression and irritability

Mood swings

Self-injurious behaviors, such as picking at a sore 

Anxiety and general nervousness

Disrupted sleep

We have personal experience with all of the things on this list through our son, Logan.  He has exhibited all of these at one time or another.  

There are some people that are violently opposed to putting a young child on any kind of anti-psychotic medication.  There are many people who point out the risks of medicating children with drugs such as Risperdione and Naltrexone, because medicating children with these types of drugs is not an exact science.  Children change all the time. They grow, their weight changes, they may not respond to the medication the way that is expected.  And many of these medications have side affects such as weight gain, increased irritability, and eventually, tolerance.  This means that over time, the child will develop a tolerance to the drug and it ceases to be effective.  And some people believe that it's just plain wrong to give your kid a medication like that, and that a good ol' fashion whippin' will do the same thing.  These people are ignorant and have never had to raise a disabled child.

It's a difficult and sometimes heartbreaking conundrum.  Do I medicate my kid and watch him get heavier and perhaps, even , sit back while his personality changes?  Or do I not medicate him and watch while he beats his head against the wall or engages in multiple temper tantrums a day?  Which should I do?  I can try something else.  Perhaps change his diet.  Perhaps move out and separate him from his siblings.  Perhaps have him committed.  You see, folks, it's not that easy.  It's not like treating a bacterial infection.  "This medication isn't helping so I'm going to go back and get a different one."  It doesn't work that way.  There aren't many specialists in the state of Texas who will treat something like this.  A normal pediatrician, in my experience, hesitates to mess around  with these types of medications.  You can't call up the autism doctor and set up and appointment for your kid.  In the state of Texas, good help is hard to find if you're looking for someone who will evaluate your child and then recommend a medication that's appropriate for what he or she is going through.

In conclusion I will acknowledge that yes, there are side effects.  Yes, sometimes they are detrimental.  Yes, you should exercise extreme caution when choosing a medication for your child.  But you are also the only one who knows what is best for your child, and despite what other people may say, that is what you have to rely on.

No Room at the Inn

Do you remember that a couple of entries ago, I mentioned that we were going to get Logan re-evaluated?  The purpose of this was that it had been so long since his last evaluation, and this person we took him to said that she might have some ideas that could help him.  Well, today I met with this doctor and got the results back of Logan's evaluation.

And it said that Logan was autistic.

Ha!  Got you.  Of course he's autistic!  I won't go into all the details of this test.  Suffice it to say that no new information came up. What was incredibly sad, and incredibly frustrating, is that this doctor, who had said she had some ideas that could help us, changed her mind and told us that we needed to go to some outfit two hours away from us.  That they could do a bang-up job with our son, and that she wanted to "wait" on having him come to see her.  Oh, and by the way?  This other place does not accept insurance.  No big deal.  It will run us in the thousands.  When I got home I checked out the place she was talking about.  The word "autism" did not appear anywhere on their website.  We had been kindly shown the door and asked not to come back for a very long time.

I only feel mildly disappointed.  You see, this is the story in the state of Texas.  We hang out at the bottom of the pool when it comes to services for the mentally ill and developmentally delayed.  More often than not, people with a child like ours are pointed in one direction, and then another, and then another.  No one has the time or know-how to deal with someone who falls in the severe range of the autistic spectrum. Parents of autistic children knock on doors and are told, "We can't help you here, but maybe this other place can."  And it becomes a journey of nightmarish proportions that lasts a lifetime.

Why does Logan need to go?  You ask.  He's doing fine. He goes to school.  It's not that he NEEDS to go or something bad will happen.  It's that children like Logan do need a lot of extra help.  They have such a complexity of communication and  behavioral issues that finding someone who specializes in that is like searching for the holy grail...it's elusive, and legend tells that such a things exists.  It will take you forever to search for it, and you may never find it.  However, if you do, you better hold onto it because it may be the only one!

Did anything positive come out of this scenario?  One thing that I can tell.  In all the testing she came up with one thing that sticks with me:  Logan is happy at home.  Logan is most secure at home.  Logan wants mommy to play more.  And perhaps this much is true...perhaps no one can help him more than his family.

And that, at least, is something we CAN do.

I Ruin Pants.

Many children with autism display obsessive-compulsive tendencies, some to a greater degree than others.  These behaviors and tendencies may range from wanting to wear the same type of outfit or clothing every day, to needing to look up information about trains or cars or vacuum cleaners.  What happens when these behaviors are blocked and the child is not allowed satisfy their compulsions?  Frustration occurs.  Anger occurs.  Screaming, yelling, kicking, hitting,  tantrums, self-harm...I have seen it all.

Each child with autism is different.  They display traits that are similar but in different ways, and they don't all do the same things.  For my son, clothing is important.  It's important in the sense that he is very uncomfortable in long pants, especially rough materials like denim or anything with a tight waistband.  He would, if we allowed him, wear shorts year round, rain or sun, snow or sleet.  The temperature appears to make no difference to him.

Tomorrow it's supposed to get very cold here.  Logan's teacher, and myself, both talked with him and explained that tomorrow, he would have to wear long pants.  My big mistake was leaving a pile of laundry on the table!  We came home from school before leaving again to pick up my oldest daughter, and during the short time we were home,  he found a pair of scissors and a pair of cargo pants (one of the few pairs of long pants he owns) and proceeded to cut a hole in them!

He immediately told me what he had done.  He said, "I ruin pants."  He thought if he cut a hole in them, then he wouldn't have to wear them.  Knowing that he might have to wear those pants the next day upset him so much, that not only did he cut a hole in them, he began keening and hitting things (including himself) for the duration of the afternoon.  It's still going on as we speak.  Even after I removed all the laundry and told him the pants were gone, he was still upset.

This is an unvarnished truth about autism.  This is one of the not very pleasant facts of this life...that your child will ask you, over and over and over again to the point of exhaustion, for something he is fixated on. He will get angry and loud and destructive if his compulsions are frustrated.  And it will take him hours to calm down.

What does a parent do when their autistic child acts like this?  I don't know what other parents do.  I know what I used to do.  I used to get really angry. I used to yell at my kid.  I used to cry.  Now I just wait it out because if having Logan has taught me anything, it's that every trial is temporary, and this one, too, shall pass.  The other thing I do is just stick to my plan.  I move on to the next thing I was going to do.  It doesn't matter if he's screaming or not.  It doesn't matter if he's angry.  It's like shopping for groceries in a hurricane, people.  The wind may rage and the rain may pour but I'll be damned if I get cheated out of my trip to the store.

Don't Get All Emotional

One myth I seem to hear a lot of lately is that autistic children and adults do not show any emotion, or that they don't have any facial expression.  I've written about this before, but that was a while ago, and I feel the need to address it again.  Nothing could be further from the truth.  I can think of nothing more emotional than autism itself.

First we need to look at this myth and ask ourselves where it came from.  It's difficult to tell and we may never know.  It may have been born from an innate misunderstanding of ASD.  Early on autism was classified as "childhood schizophrenia".  That definition, coupled with glamorization from the media, painted a picture of autism that was highly inaccurate.  What kinds of pictures come into your head when someone mentions the word "autism"?  Do you imagine a head-banging, screaming child?  Do you imagine a poor little soul trapped in the depths of catatonia?  Do you picture a non-responsive dreamer who is replicating a Picasso with crayon on his living room wall?  All of these are aspects of autism but they are exceptions to the general rule.  The biggest challenge that autistic children deal with is the inability to communicate effectively.  Some of them, as I've mentioned many times, are non-verbal.  So getting their wants and needs addressed by their parents or teacher is an almost insurmountable challenge.  This begets frustration.  So much so that they may engage in behaviors that are odd and do not make any sense to anyone around them.  They scream a lot.  They scream in different ways for different reasons...out of pain, hunger, joy, fear, and sometimes, simply because the vibration of their vocal chords feels good to them.  They may keen and wail out of distress, or to drown out other noises that are bothering them.  Does this mean they do not display emotion?  No.  They are.  Some of them do it in a different way than you or I.

Several times a day, my son comes to me and proclaims that he loves me.  He is autistic.  He is an autistic child who hugs and kisses his mother and says, "I love you."  Sometimes he does this almost frantically...and what he is really saying is, "I feel insecure and I don't know how else to tell you except to say I love you over and over again."

Some autistic and Asperger's children do not have an emotional vocabulary, or they may display inappropriate emotions during certain situations.  For example.  You and I both know how to tell someone when we're angry, or sad.  We know the words for that.  We know what those words mean.  And we are able to distinguish between more complex emotions, such as, "I'm not angry, just disappointed."  "I'm not just happy, I'm overjoyed."  Autistic children don't have the words for this.  That doesn't mean they don't feel it.  They may laugh when they are, in fact, nervous or scared. or they may cry out of the blue for no reason.  This doesn't mean they don't show emotion or exhibit facial expressions.

Autistic children also have problems controlling their emotions.  When my son gets frustrated about something, he expresses it in a very big way. A small upset, such as not finding the shirt he wants to wear, can lead to a lot of screaming.  It is only because his world is ordered in a certain way, and when that order gets upset, so does he.  Boredom may elicit more screamng, or he may decide to poke his older brother over and over again.

In spite of all this, I have to say that in my own son at times I have seen an incredible sensitivity. There have been times when I have been rocked by emotion...upset by an event or some experience I had.  During these times he has quietly approached me and pushed my hair away from my face.  He has given me little kisses...different from the frantic, overwhelming ones he normally peppers me with...and whispered, "I love you."

Tell me again that they don't show emotions.  I will show you that you are wrong.

I Want To Do Everything.

Starting school again has been amazing.  It reminded me of just how much I love to learn new things.  The problem is...I want to do everything.

When I was growing up I had really grand plans.  I wanted to be a famous author.  I was going to go to college and major in music performance and play for a symphony.  And I was going to travel...to every country and every place I could possibly get to.

Life doesn't turn out the way we want to.  I'm still working on the author thing.  Music performance was something that happened for me, but in a different way than I imagined. My own daughter chose to play the flute this year...despite repeated assurances from me that it didn't matter what instrument she picked as long as she was happy with it.  She still chose the flute.  I feel like I came full circle the other day when she opened her book up and said, "Mom, I have to learn how to play this."  I looked.  It was one line of notes.  The title of it was "Hot Cross Buns".  I groaned.  When I was learning how to play, my mother made me practice for an hour each day after school.  For a novice player, this is a lot of time.  Your lungs aren't fully developed and it's extremely repetitive because you don't know all of the notes yet.  That song..."Hot Cross Buns"...I got so sick of that song.  And here was my daughter, practicing away...and although that symphony dream is still there, in the back of my head, I feel like I have been blessed.  Being able to watch my daughter discover this talent, and know how to help her if she needs it...that is priceless.

So here I am, going back to school, trying to stay focused because I find everything just so fascinating.  It would be so easy for me to get distracted and just start taking random classes, but I can't do that.  And it's frustrating because I know, in this life anyway, I will never have enough time to learn everything I want to learn and do all the things I want to do.

The other day a friend shared this quote with me, and now I'll share it with you:  "Live as if you were to die tomorrow.  Learn as if you were to live forever" -Mahatma Gandhi.

You're Hired!

This week I started editing an old resume I had in my files.  The thought had crossed my mind that it's always a good idea to keep an updated resume on hand, and so that's what I started doing.  Job searching for me at this point is laughable, because my schedule is already so packed.  As I researched different resume styles and the no-nos that come with sending out a contemporary resume, I started thinking about job descriptions.  We've all read those articles, where it details the all the different jobs that a mom does.  My own mother in law once kept a running tally for a month of all the things she did, then researched how much it would cost to hire those things out or pay to have them done.  The bill for one month of those services was staggering.

I realized when I was putting my resume together that I have such a mishmash of job experience that if I were to tell someone about it, they would probably screw up their face and say, What were you trying to do?

I'm not sure.  I was trying to live.  I can look back at the last fifteen years or more and say that I have done the following:  pharmacy technician (before they had to be licensed...scary!), file clerk in a real estate office, travel agent, clerk in a furniture store, salesperson for children's and women's clothing, carhop, reporter for local newspaper, clerk in a grocery distribution warehouse, realtor.

It was a little disheartening to put all of that together.  I never finished school, for a variety of reasons.  I went on to get married and have four kids.  Now I'm going back to finish, at the age of thirty nine, and I wonder, did I waste a bunch of time?  What could I have done differently?  And the answer I always come up with is nothing.  Circumstances being what they were at the time, there wasn't anything that could have been changed.  And so I had to conclude that what was the most important was the job description I have now, and if I included it on my resume it would go something like this:

Professional caretaker for special needs child, twenty four seven, seven days a week, barring when he's at school.  Personal advocate for special needs child.  Private teacher for thirteen year old boy, covering math, science, world studies, health, language arts, electronic media, art and religion. Professional caretaker for said boy, plus his two sisters.  Private flute teacher.  Private chef for busy family of six.  Accountant for family of six.  Bundle service (laundry).  Teacher for girls, age 12-13, Sundays and occasional Wednesdays.  House cleaning service, as needed.  Writer, musician, and jewelry craftswoman.  Activity planner and party planner for family of six.  Professional shopper (hey, for real..someone has to know a good sale when they see one!)

And so I wrote this down, and then I thought...I do a lot.

To all those moms out there...don't sell yourselves short.  Sometimes value isn't measured in dollars.

Around and Around and Up and Down

Yesterday I took Logan to another therapist that we found close by.  When I made the appointment, the receptionist suggested getting Logan re-evaluated.  I agreed.  It's been three years since his last evaluation.

What is the purpose of re-evaluating a child?  What can we expect from having this done for him yet again?  Besides filling out the now-familiar reams of paperwork and answering questions regarding his behavior and how he performs at school, what is the point? What can we expect at the end of it other than, "Your son is still autistic.  Surprise!"

I don't expect a different answer regarding Logan's diagnosis.  There are many autistic people who, as they mature, progress to the point where their symptoms all but disappear.  They learn to cope with the bombardment of stimuli that overwhelms them.  They begin to assimilate information at a faster rate. Then there are some that don't, who remain silent for all of their days, and who do not appear on any outward level to mature as far as learning or social skills are involved.

The fact of the matter is, what we know about autism changes all the time.  While a cure has not been discovered and may not ever be, there are better therapies for dealing with autism than existed five or ten years ago.  It's more widely understood.  And that is part of why we are taking Logan to be re-evaluated.

What was interesting to me was the way I, myself, dealt with this new visit to the doctor.  I found myself sitting on her couch as Logan played, reciting almost by rote the things that Logan does and the concerns I have about him.  I thought of the way it was three years ago when, at the age of six, we took him somewhere else.  At that time, I remember sitting more on the edge of my seat, nervous and anticipatory at the same time, thinking, this woman will help my son!  And she didn't.  She was able to test him and give us a concrete diagnosis, but beyond that, she had little to offer.  That was then.

Now I find myself proceeding with much more caution.  It's not that I'm jaded.  It's more like autism is a ferris wheel.  It's a ride, that's for sure.  I love ferris wheels.  I especially love when I'm at the top, and it stops for a minute or two, and I can see the horizon.  Autism is like that, for me.  There are times when I look at my son, and I enjoy my experience with him so much.  I can picture the years ahead and know that although there will be challenges, everything will be all right and it will work out.  Then there are times when it's still like a ferris wheel, but I'm at the bottom.  It's a never ending round of stimming, doctors visits, challenges, and waiting to get to the top again.  But that doesn't mean I want to get off the ride.  Will this new doctor give us something helpful for Logan?  A new therapy or a way to help him cope with sensory overstimulation?  I don't know.  I hope so.

I went to the Texas State Fair once.  I went with a date from high school, and I can say that I never went anywhere with that particular individual again.  We had nothing in common.  We went to ride a ferris wheel.  Not the giant one that the fair is famous for, but a smaller one.  At first the ride was enjoyable.  But then the man operating the wheel wouldn't let us off!  He let other people leave, but not us.  He put a child on the seat with us.  She sat in between us and as the ride progressed around yet again, she began to complain about feeling sick and said she needed to throw up.  We were more desperate than ever to get off that ride!  We finally were allowed to leave...after half an hour of being stuck on that wheel.

Now, had I been stuck on that wheel with, say, the person I'm married to now, or one of my best friends, then I don't think I would have minded so much.  We would have laughed about it.  We would have found things to look at and talk about.  Sometimes it's all in who you share the ride with, and I am more thankful than ever for all the friends and family that are part of mine and my son's life.

What Happiness Is

Happiness Is

eating when you're hungry and not punishing yourself because you ate.

moving.  Running, walking, swimming, riding a bike, dancing.  Just moving.

reading a book and getting lost in that book, especially if it's raining outside.

doing something hard and doing it well.

staying close to people who truly care about you.

letting go of things you cannot control and finally admitting to yourself that you did all you could.

extracting yourself from a difficult, painful situation and trusting God to sort it out.

laughing long and loud and not caring if you snort a little.

learning something new everyday, challenging your mind and reaching for what you thought was an impossible dream.

sleeping in.

watching your children play.

putting time and thought into a carefully planned meal, especially if you plan on serving it to someone other than yourself.  And especially if there's music on while you cook it.

not worrying about how old you are, but about how well you are living.

being completely and unapologetically yourself.

avoiding negativity.  Avoiding people who spout negativity.  Avoiding depressing books, movies, and angst ridden music.  Keeping sadness and despair out of your life while seeking out things and people that truly uplift you.

forgiving those who wronged you.

hoping that those who wronged you can find happiness also.

tilting your face up to the sun with your eyes closed and breathing.

growing things.

being honest.  Being honest with yourself, with your loved ones, with everyone you deal with.

doing all the laundry before the weekend.

watching a spooky show with your best friend.

paying off bills.

driving with music on.  Good music.

Singing.  In the shower.

taking a walk in the evening and smelling good things, and hearing people talk and music drift through the air.

petting a tame lizard.

creating.

knowing who you are, completely, unequivocally, and what you're capable of.

praying and knowing that God is listening.

Limitations

On Christmas day of this year, I will turn forty.  It's hard to take in.  I don't feel like forty.  I don't feel like a "grown-up".  But the day is coming, no matter how I feel.

I made a huge decision this year when I decided to go back to school.  I know that women do it all the time, especially single moms, out of sheer necessity.  But for me, it was huge.  I have to explain why.  My grandmother was very poor when she was growing up.  Her father was a sharecropper and she dropped out of elementary school to help him on the farm.  After that she got married at age nineteen and had one child- my mother.  Throughout the rest of her life she took care of other people and worked various part time jobs.  I once spoke to her about going to college and her philosophy was that "it's just not important for a woman to go to school. There's no need."  I didn't listen, of course.

My other grandmother also grew up on a farm.  However, her experience was different.  Her family owned their farm, grew all their own food, had livestock, and made all of their own clothes for the most part.  They were very self-sufficient.  She grew up and wanted to be a nurse.  She also got married at a young age, but fate dealt her a rough hand- her husband left her when her three children were very young.  She was encouraged to put them up for adoption, but she determined that what was left of her family would stay together.  She took typing classes at night.  She worked full time during the day.  And she eventually landed a job at an insurance company and was able to support herself and her children.  She never got to go to college but she did what she could do.  Even later in life, with her hands ruined from rheumatoid arthritis and her once quick gait reduced to a painful shuffle, she would still exercise by walking up and down the ramp in front of her house, and call all of her friends every day.  She never gave up. When she became too ill to live alone and went to a nursing home, she died within a week.  I like to believe it was because she didn't have time to sit around there, and had other things to do in the next life.

I have heard many women say, "I'm too old" to do this or that. "I'm too old to try something new."  "I'm too old to travel."  "I'm too old to exercise."  "I'm too old to go back to school."  Grandmother #1 never tried to get her GED because she would "have to be taught too much".  Yet, she could do complex math problems and once ran her own business- a daycare.

I never played a sport in high school and my first attempt at college was an absolute disaster, for many reasons.  It would have been so easy for me to say, That was then, and that time is over, and now I'm just doing this, and I can't go back and do those other things anymore.

But those are the kinds of lies we tell ourselves.  After I had my fourth and last child I started running.  I go through time periods when I don't do it for a while, but I always return to it.  My husband bought me a bicycle and even though I was embarrassed (my neighbors were standing in their garage staring), I got on that thing and suddenly remembered what it was like to be eight years old.  I discovered cardio kickboxing.  I discovered that all my can'ts were won'ts.

At the top of this page is a picture of Ayrton Senna, a Brazilian racecar driver who was killed doing what he loved in  1994 at the San Marino Grand Prix.  As you read his quote I hope you understand what he's saying...that constantly pushing yourself, constantly trying new things, will help you discover your limitations..and sometimes, overcome them.

And Then It Hit Me

I don't get out much.  I have four kids.  Sometimes getting out of the house, and being alone for a few minutes means a simple trip to the grocery store, which is exactly what I did tonight.

Summer is winding down and next week school will start.  I've enjoyed this summer probably more than any other in a long time.  Logan is finally at a point where he is learning to control his screaming, and that has been a huge relief.  We still have days that are way off...but those days are becoming fewer and fewer.

Still, after being stuck in the house all day due to a busted whatever on our van, I had to get out. I drove over to Wal Mart (there's really not much else to do at 9 pm in this town) just to buy some stuff that we were out of.  It was uneventful until I got to the checkout.  Ahead of me was a man who appeared to be in his mid to late forties.  He looked like an average guy...thick around the waist, glasses, mustache.  The woman he was with was much older than him...she looked a little tired, but otherwise very sharp and mostly focused on paying for her groceries.  As they prepared to leave the man grabbed onto the cart and looked over at the woman and said, with a slight speech impediment, "Mama?  Mama?  Is that everything?" the same way that a child might ask.

And I froze.  I'm crying as I write this because it was so simple and so sweet...the man, by all outward appearances, was just an average man...but when I heard him talk I knew that he was challenged, and there was his mother, still taking care of him so late in life...and I'm crying because the one thought that hit me, that rose above all other thoughts was this:  That's me.  That's me, and my son, in thirty years, forty years.  I will still be taking care of him, he will still be with me, wherever I go.

Some people might think this kind of revelation is idiotic...my son has autism and is a three year old trapped in a nine year old body...of course he's going to be with me.  But let me tell you.  It's one thing to know that, and tell yourself that, every day, and be aware of it.  Because of course I know it, I've known it since Logan was small, that he would always be with us, that he would probably never go out on his own and live the life his brother and sisters will.  It's one thing to know that and tell yourself that.  It's another thing...quite another thing, for someone to hold a mirror up in front of you and say, Look.  This is you, in thirty years or so.  Look.

It made it real.

And I'm not sad.  Because that woman I saw in the store wasn't broken, and she wasn't sad, she wasn't angry, or bitter.  A friend of mine once told me that expectation is really what creates the most problems for people.  People expect their lives to be a certain way; they expect certain things to happen, or they expect a person in their life to BE a certain way...and when it doesn't happen, then they get upset.  They get depressed.  Angry.  I have no expectation of a perfect life.  I let go of that a long time ago.  What I feel, after seeing that woman, and seeing her son, is affirmation.  I saw her there, and she didn't know I was watching...but I saw her in the store, late at night, with her adult, mentally-challenged son, very matter-of-factly going on with her life and paying for her groceries, walking with him out to her car with two carts full of whatever it was they got...and all I thought, was Yes.  Of course. Now and in thirty years and all the years between, yes.

Changed, Not Wrecked

Today I stumbled across an article by Carol Sarler of dailymail.co.uk entitled "Why can't we face the truth?  Having an autistic child wrecks your life..."  Here is a link to the article:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-1116602/Why-face-truth-Having-autistic-child-wrecks-life-.html


She went on to detail the lives of  Cath and John, who have an autistic child named Tom.  She describes all the ways that Tom's condition has interrupted their lives, changed their plans, and in general, made life a living hell for his parents and grandparents, and concludes the article with this very jaded and cynical point of view:

"But looking on, as a relatively dispassionate observer; looking at the damage done, the absence of hope and the anguish of the poor child himself, do I think that everyone concerned would have been better off if Tom's had been a life unlived? Unequivocally, yes." 

As I read through the article, many of Tom's behaviors reminded me of my own son, Logan, and some of the struggles we faced early on with him.  We did feel despair.  We did feel hopeless.  Finding help for Logan was a challenge, and it still is.  We have a tough time going out together because our babysitters are limited.  Finances are in short supply...but I can't blame that entirely on Logan, because there are six people in my family, and two of them are tweens.  I suppose I could write a whole article on how having two tweens has wrecked my life with worry and depleted my grocery budget, but why would I do that?  I love them.  And it wouldn't be an honest article, anyhow, because it would leave out too many facts and focus only on the negative aspects of raising those children.

I can't look at my life, or the life of my family, and say that it has been wrecked by Logan's autism.  It's not the life I expected to have.  As Logan grows, I am delighted by the changes I see in him:  increased communication, increased affection, more willingness to learn, and great effort to communicate, just to name a few.  I know that all parents are not so blessed.  Buy saying that Tom's life would have been best unlived is like saying that any child that poses a struggle or a challenge to a family would have been better off as just a twinkle in their dad's eye and leave it at that.  

No life ever goes the way anyone expects it to.   Logan and his autism have not wrecked my life.  It has changed my life.  I have learned so much from him.  There are so many things that I was unaware of before Logan.  The other day I was speaking to my friend Caroline.  Her son has cerebral palsy and a host of other behavioral and mental complications.  At the age of almost twenty, he can finally go to the bathroom by himself.  Speaking with her about our respective situations, we both agreed that we would not want to go back to the way we were before we had our sons.  I cannot speak for Caroline, but for myself, I was very naive and judgmental towards other people.  I had compassion and charity, but I can honestly say that Logan has instilled in me a greater sense of patience and empathy than I had before. 

Sarler also mentioned the guilt that Cath struggled with...blaming herself for her son's autism, wondering if this thing or that thing she had done in pregnancy or when he was an infant had triggered his condition.  I did this too.  When Logan was first diagnosed with autism, I wondered if something I had done had caused it.  I have since concluded that it doesn't matter.  I do not blame myself for my son's condition, because there is no way to know what really caused it.  Being a parent is all about guilt, sometimes, anyway.  You do constantly question yourself, and sometimes berate yourself, because you feel you could have done better by your child.  And you constantly worry.  This is not exclusive to autism. 

I'm not perfect. There are many days when he is not at his best and I'm not either. I wish for a normal day when I could take him somewhere and not worry about a meltdown.   But this hasn't wrecked my life.  If anything it has made me more passionate...about life, about grabbing onto opportunities when they present themselves, and about being a parent.  Would I go back and do it all again?  Unequivocally.  Yes.

Shame on You

The church that I attend is a family church.  The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints places a great deal of importance on the family...on strengthening the family, supporting the family, keeping the family together, etc.  Even so, I have still been amazed at times by couples whose children have long ago grown and moved away, who say things like, "Children should sit in the back."

Now, just so there is not a misunderstanding, I do want you to know that I understand that when dealing with different generations of people, some do have the attitude of "children should be seen and not heard".  Especially in a reverent setting, such as a sacrament meeting, I can completely understand that people come there to rejuvenate spiritually, and that a loud and disruptive child can affect that.

An exception does exist to every rule, however.  We rarely bring Logan to church.  The noise from the organ, multiple conversations going on at once, the silence of the sacrament being passed and then the break from that to people speaking...it wreaks havoc on his senses.  Most of the time, he can make it through that meeting by playing with his dad's Kindle Fire or covering his head up with a blanket.  One particular Sunday,  a couple of weeks ago, he was having a very hard time.  He very loudly asked to go home and got very upset because the hat to his Woody doll got lost.  The only way we could get him out of the chapel was to promise him we would go look for it.  That's the thing about autism and Logan.  He also displays a lot of OCD tendencies.  The hat goes on Woody's head.  If the hat isn't there then it's a crisis.  The same thing with the shower curtain in the bathroom.  There has to be a shower curtain there, and if it's not there, he will hang a blanket there.

In the midst of this disturbance and our desperate attempts to get it under control, an older gentleman turned around in his seat and glared at our family.  I didn't know that this happened until later, when a friend of mine gave me a hug and expressed sympathy for what had occurred.  She felt the man was being very rude.  (He was).  I realized later that this same man, who has trouble getting around, ignored my efforts to hold the door open for him, brushed past me, and didn't answer me when I spoke to him.

I am writing about this, not because I care what this man thinks of me, but because his behavior appalls me.  All I can say to him, and to anyone who treats a struggling family in this manner, is this:  shame on you.  Shame on you, for your immaturity.  Shame on you for your lack of empathy.  Shame on you, for sitting in judgement against a mother, and her family, who are obviously dealing with a difficult situation.

At the same time, I can understand.  I'm embarrassed to say that before I had Logan I was a lot like this man.  I would go to a store, or to church, and witness a screaming, crying child, and shake my head at the parents who obviously didn't know how to parent and who could not control them.  Not anymore.  What Logan has taught me is that you don't do that.  You don't look at someone, and make assumptions based on just what you are seeing.  There is so much more than meets the eye, to anyone, to what they are doing, to how they're reacting.

It would be so easy to never attend church.  I think of this often.  It would be so easy to stop trying, and to stay home, and let Logan run around and stim and not try to expose him to a spiritual atmosphere.  It would be easy to never have to worry, again, about people who are lacking in empathy or understanding, who are simply ignorant of children like my son.  But I don't go to church for them.  And if this individual, or any other, decides that glaring at our family in irritation over something my son can't control will help, all I can say is they'll find me gazing right back at them.

Heroes

Today while we were out running errands, we (meaning myself and my four kids) went to a local grocery store.  While we were there, Logan picked out a WWF action figure that he wanted.

When we got into the car, I asked him, "Logan, who is that?"  He held up the figure with a big grin on his face and said, "That is Daddy!"

It occurred to me that every action figure that Logan has ever owned, whether it was a superhero, or an army guy, or this WWF one, has been "Daddy".  I started thinking about what that really meant.  And what that means is that Logan's daddy is the central male figure in his life.  He never identifies these figures as our neighbor, or his uncle, or a teacher.  These action figures, in their various appearances and roles, are always "Daddy".

I think sometimes that fathers underrate themselves, and don't realize the important influence they have on their children's lives.  As mothers, we get a lot of attention.  We carry the babies for nine months.  We bring them into the world.  When they're sick, they almost always want "mommy", when they're hungry, we prepare their food.  We dress them, we clothe them, we sing to them and we nurture them.  What we do as mothers is important, there's no doubt about that.

But what about dad?  I cannot speak for other families, but in our own, Logan's father works long hours.  He comes home from work and comes in the house with a smile on his face every time.  He greets the kids, and says he's glad to see them.  Logan dances around him and says, "Hi, big guy!"  And what I see on his face is adoration.  When something breaks, and we don't know what to do, Logan's dad fixes it.  (I hold the firm belief that he can fix absolutely anything, even though he says this is not the case.)  He builds things.  He takes care of problems.  He spends times with the kids.  He comforts us when we're sad, in a "buck up, this is no big deal" kind of way.  He has another job he goes to on the weekends sometimes.  When we go to church, he is right there next to Logan, distracting him with some sort of gadget, then taking him home when everything becomes too overwhelming.  He picks up the heavy burdens in my life and he makes them easier to bear.

In short, he is a hero.  And I think that's what Logan is seeing when he looks at these little action figures.  He sees these images of strong men, who are capable of all kinds of things...and he thinks, Oh, that's daddy. And he's my hero.

Self vs Selfishness

A few weeks ago I took my two oldest children and the baby to the Ft Worth Zoo.  It was home school day at the zoo, and I viewed it as an opportunity to spend time with them that I don't normally get to spend.  I didn't feel guilty about not taking Logan.  I never know how he is going to react in a new and different place, especially a place with so much sensory input.  He may have loved it and wanted to stay all day.  Or he might have begged to go home five minutes after we got there.  Either way, it was best to take him at a different time.  But that's not what this entry is about.

We took a lot of pictures.  I had my son take a picture of me, I took pictures of them, and we had a great time.  When I got home I looked at the pictures and was dismayed by what I saw.  I didn't like my appearance.  I had gained some weight, with the help of a certain dessert at Sonic, and now I was paying the price.

I thought of Logan.  When you're the mom of a child that is bound to live with you for the rest of your life, you really do want to live forever.  The uncertainty of what may happen to that child after you're gone is a strong motivation for sticking around.  We don't have the luxury of living recklessly, in our thoughts, our diets, or our lifestyle.  Too much is on the line.

I started taking time for myself.  Every morning, I decided to get up and spend some time simply exercising.  I took the time to take a shower and do my hair and makeup, even if I knew I wasn't going anywhere, simply because it made me feel better to know I was taking care of myself.  I started trying to make better choices about what I was eating.  And I do all of this, not with the focus of losing weight, but with the focus of being more healthy, feeling better, and being around for my kids.  In fact, I hardly ever use a scale.  Scales can be so misleading.  A lot of women think that if they don't weigh 110 pounds, then that must mean they're fat.  The problem with this is that muscle actually weighs more than fat.  When you start exercising, you burn fat, but you're also adding muscle.  Judging myself by a number just didn't add up for me.  Instead, I used a pair of  jeans.  A pair of jeans that I'd kept since I gave birth to my now 11-year old daughter.  I loved those jeans.  Couldn't zip 'em up or snap 'em.  Until this week.

I think it's sad that a lot of mothers have the attitude that if they take time for themselves, if they let someone watch their children for an hour, if they spend a little money on their hair or take the time to do their makeup, then they feel they are taking time away from their children or they're being selfish.  I've found the opposite is very true.  If I don't feel good about myself, because I'm not doing those things, then I'm not the best mom.  I don't feel as confident, I feel cranky, I don't feel good physically, and that affects my children.  I'm also setting an example for them by how I care for myself...if they see that mom doesn't care about her appearance, then why should they?

In the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, of which I am a member, we are taught that every person has a divine nature.  That each person is of worth individually, that each person has unique abilities and talents, each person has something to offer, and that each girl or woman is a precious daughter of God.  And if I am a precious daughter of God, then so too is every mother and every daughter on this earth.  Investing time in yourself is not selfish.  It's necessary in order to be the best mother that you can be.

You Got a Question, I Got an Answer!

A while ago...I don't know...maybe it's been a year, or something...I posted a list of questions or facts about Logan and his autism.  I don't remember what the list says and I'm too darn lazy to look it up right now.  But I think it's about time for such a list once more.  I still get asked many questions about Logan, his appearance, his behavior, and autism in general.  So here are some of my favorite questions, and the answers that go with them:


1)  He's autistic, isn't he?  Yes, he is.  

2)  What happened to his face?  Did he fall off his bike?  or, my favorite, usually from old people who can't see well:  "Somebody had himself some kool aid!"  He didn't drink too much kool aid, he didn't fall off his bike, he doesn't have food caked around his mouth.  When Logan gets anxious...and he gets very, very anxious in certain situations, he licks his lips.  Around and around and around.  Constantly. And his lips become dry and chapped and he picks on them.  It takes forever to heal and it drives us crazy.  When he gets agitated and upset, he scratches himself.  Same story. And no, we cannot put anything on it that cannot be ingested, because he will lick it right off and eat it. End of story.

3) Does he have a power?  I still get this question.  No, he does not.  He has talents.  Like many children.

4) Why does he scream all the time?  Autistic children scream for many reasons.  They don't have the words to express themselves.  So they scream.  They're in pain or uncomfortable.  They want something.  They are making noise to drown out all the other ambient noises bombarding their very sensitive ears.  They like the way their voice feels when it vibrates their vocal chords as they are screaming.  Pick one.  Logan screams a lot.  We literally can hear him at least a block away, if not more.

5) How do you do it?  You must be so stressed!  I'm not the only one raising this child.  My husband is too, and so is God.  Yes, I am stressed.  I've also developed a healthy sense of humor and really, really don't pay attention to a lot of normal things that stress other people out.


6) What is he...what...how does he...I mean....?  I think this person just wanted to know the whole story behind Logan and wanted me to explain autism in general.  If that's the case, start at the beginning of the blog and work your way to here.

7)  Does Logan talk?  Yes, he does, and his vocabulary is growing every day. I  am blessed.  Some parents never hear their autistic children utter a word.


8) Would you do anything differently if you knew Logan was going to be autistic?  No one's ever asked me this but I'm sure someone will one day.  No, I would not.  I would do it all over again.  

9) How does Logan act around his little sister?  For the most part, he ignores her.  Sometimes he kisses the top of her head, and sometimes if she makes a loud noise, he mimics her.

10) What can I do to help?  How can I learn more?  I always appreciate it when people offer help.  It's always better to ask what can be done instead of telling us what you are going to do...Logan requires specific things, and behaves specific ways in given situations.  Learning more...there are tons of websites on autism.  FEAT NT has a great site, and there are many others.  Just remember...if you've met one autistic person, then you have met one autistic person.  No two are ever alike and each person is in a different spot on the spectrum.

In conclusion, I would just like to say I am all about educating people about autism, and creating awareness.  1 in 150, or less children are considered autistic.  It's appalling to me that with so many special needs children out there, people still do not really understand what autism is or how it will affect families and communities.  So, I invite you all, dear readers, to ask me questions.  Please.  Don't be afraid to get answers.  Is there something you've wanted to know about autism, or something you've wanted to ask but were afraid someone would get offended?  Ask me.  I can help you.  Message me on Facebook or email your questions to rstogner2003@yahoo.com.  Thank you all.

Pants on Fire

Today I took my kids (all four of them) to a place called "Jumpin' Apes".  It's basically a giant room filled with inflatable bounce houses.  You pay a fee, your kid gets to jump and run and holler and nobody cares.  There is also a small arcade there, and when you win enough tickets, you can buy some candy, or a little toy or something.  These things are kept in a display case in the middle of the facility.

About an hour after we had been there, Logan walked up to me, his mouth full of chalky green sugary goodness.  He said,  "I eating it."  I said, "Ooookaaaay,"...not sure where the stuff had come from.  I thought perhaps his brother had bought him some candy at the concession stand or something like that...but then he walked up to me again with more candy in his mouth.  "I eating it.  It's yummy."  I said, "Logan, where did that come from?"  He said, "I got it."  I tried again, "Logan, who gave that to you?"  A slight hesitation, then, "Sarah gave it to me."  And I looked into his beautiful little eyes and thought, This kid is lying!  He is lying to me!  And I was happy.

Shortly after that the manager came up to me and said that some kids had seen Logan getting into the display case and stealing candy.  I explained his condition and offered to pay for the missing candy and she was very kind, and said that wouldn't be necessary, but to keep an eye on him because he was getting in there.  

You may question why I was happy that my kid was lying to me.  I don't encourage my children to lie about anything, but I also recognize that for the first time, Logan thought far enough ahead that he was able to actually concoct the lie.  And this pleased me for the simple fact that it's a developmental marker...at about the age of 4, children begin to fib.  They'll fib about things that happen at school. They'll lie about things they did that they weren't supposed to do...they'll story about candy they took that didn't belong to them.  It's a normal thing.  And even though Logan is eight, soon to be nine, his development is much slower than that of normal children in some ways. So when he lied, it was wrong.  But it was normal.

When we got home, I sat down with him and wrapped him up in a blanket, and asked him about what really happened.  I said, "Did Sarah give you that candy or did you take it?"  And he admitted taking it.  I explained that we don't take things that don't belong to us, and that next time, if he wants something, he needs to ask first.

And I hugged him and wondered once again where we would be in eight more years.

WHY

Today as I sat in the chapel of our church building, I listened to a friend give a talk about special children.  He related the story of his own son...and went on to talk about how he struggled with the question of "why?"

No one plans to have a special needs child...I have said before...unless they adopt one, and then those who do that are a very rare and special breed of people. So when you are faced with the devastating news that your child is not going to be like other children, ever...in fact, your child is going to remain, in a sense, a child, throughout their entire life...the inevitable question that comes to mind is almost always the question of "Why?"

I can't speak for other parents of special children.  I can only speak about my own situation.  For myself, as we processed the news that Logan was autistic and as it became apparent that he had some severe behavioral and communication challenges, I did ask a lot of "whys".  "Why is he like this?  Why can't we have a 'normal' child?  Why do we have to deal with this?  Why can't he get better?  Why did God send him to ME?  Why are we in this situation?"  Followed by: "Did I do this to him?  Is it something I did wrong?  Did he eat something that affected his brain?  Did I not pay enough attention to him as a baby? Was it, in fact, a vaccination that caused this?  Did I put too much sunscreen on him?"

Ridiculous theories.  I know that, now.  But when you're faced with this sort of challenge, you want answers. And here is what I've learned, over the course of eight years, almost nine.  As a member of the
Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints, I have a deep and abiding love for my Savior and brother, Jesus Christ, and for my Father in heaven.  I know that before I was born upon this earth, into a mortal body, I lived as a spirit with Him.  I made the decision, myself, to come to earth,  be born to earthly parents, and experience love and hope, anger, sadness, pain, faith, happiness....in the school of mortal life I knew I would get to learn many things through trials that Heavenly Father allowed me to pass through.  I also know that I am not alone on this journey.  God is there, watching out for me, His daughter, and He is just a prayer away.  He knew that I would have Logan.  He knew that I was capable of raising this child.  What makes it more comforting for me is that LOGAN also made these decisions for himself. He chose to come to earth this way.  I look forward to the day when the veil is rent in twain and I can meet my son again in that life, and be reminded of who he really was before he came here. Logan made the same choices I did.  And he is not just my son. He belongs to God, and God gave him to me to take care of.

So..as to the question of "why".... why is Logan like this?  The physical reason is unanswerable at this time. We still don't know what causes autism.  The eternal reason is because he was capable of it.  Of living a life with this type of challenge.  Perhaps, like my friend's son, he is here to help teach people...to make others aware of differences, of how to treat people who have those differences, and to test us all...how well will we treat Logan and others like him, how well can we relate to them, serve them, love them, reach out to them and their families?  As to why I have to go through this and not someone else...everyone does have trials.  Some appear to be greater than others...in fact, I had another mom with a child on the spectrum tell me that my situation was harder to deal with than hers.  How could she know?  I think she understands.  But I would love to tell her that just because someone else seems worse off than you, does not in any way minimize or make less the challenges that you are facing.  What is difficult and overwhelming for one person is cake for another.  It just depends on who you are.

In the end I've decided that ultimately the answer to the question "why" doesn't matter.  It doesn't change Logan, and it will not make a difference to me...and if I asked God why, I think He would answer, Because I love you, and one day, in this life or the next, you will have all the answers.

Three Things

My husband has a little phrase he used to say..."You go into marriage with both eyes open, then you go through marriage with one eye closed."

Raising a child with autism spectrum disorder, or just raising children...it can take a toll on marriage.  The usual challenges are there...exhaustion, lack of time, inability to focus on your spouse because your offspring require so much attention, not being able to carry on a conversation because of constant interruptions, the changes you go through as you become a parent and raise children. You grow in one direction and your spouse may grow in another.  Sometimes you won't be on the same page.  Sometimes you will feel that your spouse has no understanding of how you feel on any given day.  You will feel unappreciated by said spouse. Some days you will barely look at each other, or you'll be so tired all you can do is grunt.  With an autistic child, these challenges are multiplied by (pick a number higher than 100).  It doesn't matter how much more, really...just know that it is much, much more difficult to maintain a healthy marriage when you have a disabled child.  Does that make any marital problems you experience the fault of those children, disabled or no?  No, it does not.  It's just part of the territory.

So what is the best thing you can do for your marriage, in the midst of child rearing, baby wrangling, or dealing with ASD in one of your children?

Stop keeping score.

Stop tallying up all of the minute things your spouse did wrong.  Stop keeping track of the things they do that you don't think are quite right.  Did you take out the trash five times and they didn't lift a finger? Forgive them.  Did you run the kids back and forth to school while they slept in?  Let them sleep.  Did they forget something that caused you to have to do extra work or run an extra errand? Fuhgettaboutit.
Let the little things go, because for every little thing they let slide, or don't do the way you think they need to, I promise you, so have you.

So you're going to try to stop keeping score.  That's wonderful.  It takes away stress.  A marriage should be a place where you feel safe.  Safe to vent your feelings in a reasonable manner.  Safe to express your opinions without someone slapping you down.  Safe to have a bad day and know that even if you did have a bad day or you weren't your best self, the person you're married to still loves you anyway.  So what's the next thing you can do?

Stop carrying heavy things.

What are heavy things?  Heavy things are grudges.  Things like, Twenty years ago, you forgot to pick me up on this date, and you left me waiting at such and such place...or Five years ago, you embarrassed me in front of my boss...or You forgot our anniversary.  Again.  Don't dig up old crap and serve it to your honey for breakfast.  Old stuff is old stuff...stop renewing it.  Every time you bring it up, you reopen an old wound, you add fuel to a fire...you damage your relationship. Let stuff go. There is a little quote that I love.  It says, "Eternity is made of nows."  So, someone screwed up, maybe badly...fine.  Did you talk about it?  Did you try to resolve it?  Have they tried to fix it?  Have you?  If the answer is yes, move on, and focus on NOW.  What are you doing NOW to get closer to your sweetheart, what are you doing NOW to help them understand that yes, you still love them, you are still there for them, and you always will be?

And the last thing.  Perhaps one of the most important things.

Don't assume.

Sometimes if you've been married for a while, you assume that your spouse knows you so well that they can just read your mind, or that they understand you enough to know what you mean, blah blah blah. Don't assume that your honey knows that you love them.  Well, I'm here, aren't I?  Well, of course I love you, don't you know that?  Why do I have to say that?  People ALWAYS need to hear "I love you".  They always need to feel it, they always need to know it.  Find ways to let them know.  And if something is on your mind, don't assume your spouse gets you well enough to know what it is.  Women are bad about this.  The man will say, "What's wrong?"  and the woman will say, "Nothing", then get mad because the man doesn't just understand what pissed her off in the first place.  I mean, to us women, it's so obvious, right?  It's so obvious, sometimes we can't believe the man doesn't just smack into it, it's staring us right in the face, so it must be staring him in the face too, right?  NO!  It doesn't work like that.  Go to the person you love.  Sit down with them.  Pick a time when things are calm and free of distraction, and say, "Something's on my mind and I want to talk with you about it."  Notice I said "talk with you" not "talk at you".  That's a key difference.

I just want to end this particular entry by saying how grateful I am for my own husband.  I am under no illusions...the stress of raising an autistic child is not exclusive to just me.  He lifts a lot of that burden.  He provides a calming influence for our children, and for myself.  His sense of humor has provided relief for me on more times than I can count.  And his compassion for me, and for our children, has sometimes just melted my heart.  I'm grateful for him, I love him, and I'm thankful that he keeps one eye  closed.