TAG

Due to the incredible volume of work that is coming at me and the also incredible volume of projects/reading/discussions that are due at school, plus being a wife and mother, and running a support group for parents of disabled children, and homeschooling a teenage boy in math and history, I probably won't be posting on this blog as often for the next few months.  Please forgive me.  Oh wait, I don't care.  Seriously, I need to breathe.

It's actually been a huge blessing to be able to work with my son on those subjects I just mentioned, because he chose the middle ages to learn about, and I love that time period. When I was in the 6th grade, I got put into something at school called "TAG".  It stood for "Talented and Gifted" and it was the equivalent of painting a target on your back for all the other kids to aim at who didn't get to go to TAG.  Being in TAG meant that once a week, you left your normal class and got bused over to a building on another campus, where a teacher would work with you and teach you things that the other kids didn't get to learn.  We were so lucky.  We had this teacher named Mrs. McKey, and she decided that for that semester we would be studying the Middle Ages. So, she read to us from Ivanhoe. We studied castles.  We learned about knights. We learned all kinds of stuff.  In between times we were given ridiculous, problematic situations to solve and we had to team up with other kids in the class to figure out the solution to these problems.  We also got to play a lot of board games, like chess and Pente, and other stuff that was intended to bend your brain into unreasonable shapes. The biggest thing we did was choosing a project that involved a lot of research...a LOT of research...and we had to work on it for the entire semester and then present it at the TAG medieval fair.  So, I wrote a book.

I always wanted to be a writer.  So, this book, it had a lot of stuff in it about the time period, but it was also very girly...a princess falls in love with a stable boy who gets drafted into her father's war, so she disguises herself as a knight and goes off to fight in said war, much to the chagrin of her father, who finds out after the fact.  I killed off the stable boy.  Yeah, I know.  Heartless. And yes, it was sort of Mulan-esque, but I didn't know about Mulan then, and the movie was still just a twinkle in Disney's eye.

The thing about being in TAG was that once you were in it, you were in it.  So when we got to middle school (6th grade was in elementary then), you were put in TAG and you were with the same people in those classes until you graduated.  We had a lot of opportunities that other kids at the school didn't have, and later I thought that this was probably a bad thing..because some of those kids probably could have been in our class and done just fine..but they didn't have the opportunity.  After a while we became like this weird family: people who were thrown together who normally wouldn't have hung out with each other at all, but we were in these classes, and we learned to tolerate each other just because we all had the same "classification".  Now, when I talk about it, it sounds like some weird social experiment.  Perhaps it was.  No one really harassed me about it at school, but I know that some of my classmates were.  "Does your mother dress you?" etc.  That sort of thing.  Ridiculous.

So, anyway, I'm not sure how I got on this subject.  What I do know is that being passionately, avidly curious, has kept me from feeling depressed many, many times, has probably kept me from feeling "olde"  (it's a four-letter word to me, so I have to add the "e"!) , and helped me instill that in my kids.

Back to the original subject:  I will still be posting on this blog, but probably not as much, just because there are other things that really need my attention right now.

Now, the day is getting Olde, and I have to go and explain radioactive decay and half-lives to my daughter.  A goode tyme will be had by all.

"I thought, How many new lives can we have? Then I thought, as many as we like." -Dame Judi Dench, The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel


Sometimes you come to the realization that you are exactly where you need to be.  Even if it's hard, and not ideal, and not what you pictured, and you know that you could quite possibly be much happier somewhere else....after much prayer and deliberation, you realize that this situation you're in is there for a reason, you're in it for a reason, and sometimes, you just have to stand up on your hind legs and deal.

I'm a patient woman.  Most of the time.  It makes me proud to say that, and I say that with the knowledge that I am patient compared to who I was about nine or ten years ago.  I read an advice column today.  It was Carolyn Hax, and I absolutely love love love her, adore her insight, and her unique talent for putting people in their place with a few well-spoken words.  Well.  Someone wrote in tonight, and it was a woman lamenting the fact that she was blessed with a hard working husband, a home that they worked really hard for, and a graduate degree that she was just dying to use.  Add to that small town life and the draggy housewife/stay at home mom duties that go with it (I believe the word she used was *blergh*) and you have a recipe for a dissatisfied thirty-something longing to break the chains of suburban hell and explore the world and all it has to offer.

Ms. Hax encourages honesty about feelings, so I am going to be honest about how I felt when I read this woman's complaint.  On the one hand, I understood. About ten years ago, I was thirty, and I thought I had run out of "time", and that nothing cool would ever happen to me.  I was stuck at home in a tiny house with two small children that were born eighteen months apart.  We only had one car, so I really was trapped there until Husband came home from work.  This house was also located in a tiny Texas town that I never dreamed of setting down roots in and I thought life was just horrible.  So I understand why this woman feels the way she does, because I used to feel that way.

On the other hand, I wanted to throttle her.  I wanted to tell her, by God, woman, be thankful.  Be thankful for your sedate, boring life, for the opportunity to be with someone who loves you enough to work hard everyday, be glad you have healthy children, be grateful you have a roof over your head, understand that you had the opportunity to get an advanced degree and think about that, every day.

I understand the longing to feel important.  To feel like you are contributing, that you are doing something worthwhile.  Please, sweet lady who is bored at home and wants more.  Take my word for it.  You are doing something worthwhile.  It can all change in an instant.  Degrees are important.  Education is important. The need to carve your place in the world and experience things, that's important too.  But your children and your husband are no less important and valuable and that has to be considered.

I never thought I would get to go back to school, or have a job outside of the home.  When my husband and I got married, I had already racked up a bunch of useless hours at more than one college, and failed miserably because I could never seem to find something that fit.  I gave up on it for a while.  The demands at home were too great.  Now ten years later, I have a career that allows me to work from home that I LOVE, and I'm back at school.  And you know what?  I'm not too old, and it's totally the right time to do it.  There's not any *blergh* here.  If anything, there's a little wistfulness for a more peaceful time that I know is not going to come around again for a long while.  But that's okay.  By all means, seek to enrich yourself.  Do what you can to build a career where you're at.  Think outside the box.  Talk to your husband and be honest about how you're feeling, and find out what his feelings are about the future. What does he want?  Is he satisfied with his job?  With the town?  With the house?  Where does he want to be in five years?  Ten?  How about you?  Look at what you do every day and ask yourself what you're doing that's just for you.  Do you have a hobby?  Do you have a social group that you're part of?  Do you keep yourself updated in your field? Stay at home moms experience burnout, just like anyone else with a full time job.  I once had a friend who was really confused at the idea that a mom might need a break from her kids.  But we do.  All moms do.  Why?  Because you are with this person, or people, 24/7.  You're constantly providing all the things they need, which is what you're supposed to do, but to assume that you don't need a break is to assume that you are a mother and only a mother and that that is your sole function in life.  The you that existed before you had kids still exists, and that you needs personal care, time to breathe, and time to remember that you are not a laundry/cooking/diaper changing/grocery shopping/owie kissing machine.


A good friend of mine once told me that life changes, and it changes yet again, and again.  Enjoy the time you're existing in now, because this time will never come again.

Slowing Down

So, here's the thing.  I looked back through some of my recent posts and realized that some of them were actually sort of depressing.  And if that worried anyone or gave anyone cause for concern, I apologize.

I had this epiphany today, and it came about in the most subtle of ways.  I met a friend at Starbucks. This is a "new" friend, someone I haven't really sat down to talk to before, and we were discussing our sons (her son has autism, too), and what we do for a living, and she casually observed:  Wow, you do a lot.

And it surprised me a LOT when she said this.  Because I don't think I do enough.  But I thought about what she said on my way to take a picture of a house (because, by golly, I am always on the clock), and I wondered if what she said was really true.  And then I wondered if maybe I do too much.  I think about it and I can't remember the last time I was at ease, or didn't feel stressed, or had so much fun I talked about it for days, or felt truly, deeply happy in the most uninhibited way.  And that's bad.

And then I remembered this article I read.  It was about how to start a new personal fitness program.  It didn't tout one program over another, it just gave general advice on what to do and not do, and I remembered that there was one piece of advice that seemed strange at the time.  It said that if you find yourself crying frequently or having mood swings, or becoming irritable, it means that you are actually exercising too much and you need to slow down.

So maybe the best thing I can do for myself, that any parent of a special needs child or not can do, is to slow down, just a little, and allow yourself time to enjoy life.  Sometimes simply existing and letting go is not a waste of time and is actually truly, vitally, necessary.

A Word About Discipline

I thought I wasn't going to write anymore on this blog tonight, but something came up.  It's really hard for me to find new material about autism, just because right now I feel like I've exhausted the main points of the subject.

Tonight, though, I was wading through some other blog, and in the comment section of this particular article, a man wrote in.  Basically he went on a rant about how ill-behaved autistic children are, and how they tear up houses and don't do what they're told, and why are their parents so permissive, and how when he watches so and so's kid, they do what he tells them because "he's afraid of me".

There is only one word worth paying attention to in that entire heap of garbage, and that's the word "permissive".  The rest I cannot comment on, because ladies don't write words like that on their blogs.

But to address the word "permissive". Yes, to someone who doesn't get it, autism looks like bad parenting.  The autistic child screams a lot.  They destroy things.  They do strange things.  They don't sleep, because they can't.  They hurt themselves when they get overwhelmed.  They hurt other people when they get overwhelmed.  They cry a lot.  They laugh at inappropriate times.  They bang their heads.  They insist on eating the same foods, over and over again.  (I've never seen a child destroy a plate of nachos the way my son does.)  So, there are a lot of behaviors that vary drastically from the way a "normal" kid acts.  Because the autistic child has a different brain than a "normal" child, you cannot discipline them like a "normal" child.  You cannot spank them.  Do you know why?  They don't understand why they're being spanked.  If they're non-verbal, they can't tell you they're sorry for what they did, nor can they explain why they did it in the first place.  You cannot scream at them.  Why?  Because it hurts their ultra-sensitive ears that take in every little sound from the garbage truck passing by on the street to the tree branch scratching on the window. You cannot take away their favorite toy.  Why?  Because they use it for comfort.  They do not play with it.  They just hold it.

But there are things you can do.  Positive reinforcement works really, really well with autistic children.  This means praising them to the moon and back when they're behaving appropriately.  It means allowing them to earn something with good behavior.  (You were very patient in the store...you get a sticker. Or a balloon.  Or whatever works.)  It means telling them that you love them.  It also means not engaging with them when they throw a temper tantrum.  (Walk away, and make sure the space is clear and there aren't any objects around they can hurt themselves with).  It means forcing them to sit in a time out chair  when they do something they're not supposed to, and repeating the word "NO" firmly and clearly over and over.  It means doing these things, over and over and over again.  Why?  Because the child with autism needs repetition in order to learn.  Behaving in a certain manner that is contrary to what they normally do has to be learned, and it has to be repeated in order for it to become part of their routine.  Unlike other children, who can be told once or twice and then they understand, autistic children have to integrate it.  And in order to integrate it, they have to be shown many, many times what is expected.  This has to happen from a very young age.

The absolute WORST THING EVER you can do to a child like this is make them fear you.  Why?  Because a)they won't trust you  b)Guess what happens when they get bigger and harder to handle?  They're bigger and harder to handle!  There will be a limit to how much you can intimidate this kid, and if you haven't built trust, and you haven't laid a foundation of positive expectations with them, then you are screwed, my friend.  They won't listen to you, and once they hit puberty, all bets are off.
That being said, some parents don't understand that they actually do have to set boundaries and reinforce certain behaviors with their autistic children.  Many of them are still reeling from the diagnosis.  These kids don't act like the kids they're used to, so they don't know what to do, and they decide that being autistic means that the parent is helpless to do anything.  In some cases, you will be.  There are limits to what you, as a parent, can do.  But you are still the parent, this is still your kid, and you have to find what works without crossing the line from loving parent to angry intimidator.

National Suicide Prevention Week

1-800-273-TALK (8255)

The week of September 7-13 is National Suicide Prevention Week.  We're getting on the tail end of it, but I feel it's important to post the above number, and to make people aware that help is out there.

Something that special needs parents often struggle with are feelings of despair, loneliness, and anguish.  Parents that have a special needs child go through a grief cycle that is very similar to the grief cycle that someone goes through when they've lost a loved one.  Upon finding out their child's diagnosis they deal with denial, anger, bargaining, depression,  and if they're lucky, acceptance and then they adapt.  Some people never make it past the anger phase. Some people get stuck in the depression phase.  For some people it's difficult to gain perspective on a life you never thought you would have. Some of these parents remain overwhelmed with what to them seems an insurmountable task:  raising a child that will remain a child for the rest of their life and yours.

It's also a myth that only teenagers commit suicide. And it's also a myth that the suicidal person is doing it to exact revenge or because they're angry (see suicidology.org). Most people are in extreme emotional pain.  They feel trapped, useless, helpless, and that the world might actually benefit if they were gone.  They will speak of being a burden to loved ones, of loved ones being better off if they weren't there anymore, and so on.

I urge everyone to be more in tune with friends and family members.  No man is an island. God put us here to help each other, not make things harder.  Don't be quick to judge and don't assume that you know the cause of what may appear to you to be standoffishness, aloofness, plain rudeness,  or an unwillingness to communicate. Some people are getting by minute by minute.  Some people are ready to let go.

I also want to remind everyone that you can offer support, you can let them know you love them, encourage them to get help, get them help, include them, involve them, be positive, and pray. If you're a teenager or child reading this, you can call the hotline number on this page for advice, you can tell a teacher or school counselor, or other trusted adult.  The important thing is that you tell someone, and don't try to fight the fight alone.

Sometimes You Just Gotta Put Your Lipstick On

I'm still not over this crud.  I would be perfectly justified to stay in my Wonder Woman jammies and languish on the couch another day.  I can't really breathe, and I feel exhausted.

But sometimes, you just gotta put your lipstick on.  Even if you feel bad, and you'd rather not see the light of day, you just have to get up, get dressed, and pull it all out.  

Day Two

"If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything"- The Six Fingered Man from The Princess Bride

Ain't it the truth?  This is Day 2 of the Flu that Crept Up from the Sulphurous Depths of Hades.  And if I thought I was out of it yesterday, today tops that like a cherry on the Empire State.  (Which makes absolutely NO sense.  But it sounded good in my head.)

I actually got some school-related work done.  (It sounds so old fashioned to say "schoolwork".  Like I'm five, or something).  But I did.  I still haven't heard back about that APA paper I wrote, and I don't want to hear.  For a long time.

The truth is, I could happily go to bed and sleep for almost fifty hours.  But I can't because too many things are going on, and I have to stay up until certain people go to bed.  (Certain little  people).  All in all I feel mostly dead.  (Did you catch that second Princess Bride reference?  Didya? Huh?)

It also makes me wonder how much of this is actual cold and how much of it is the medicine I'm taking.  The fuzzy, cotton-headed feeling might actually go away if I stopped taking things for this mess, but then I wouldn't be able to breathe. It's a trade-off.  Think clearly, or live.

I choose life, people.

And with that, dear friends, I'm out of here.  The couch is calling my name.  So are my kids.