Good Old Days?

I'm trying to declutter the house.  We have accumulated an enormous amount of stuff & things.  My basement looks like an overstocked daycare center and it's time to do something about it.  My kids, being 9 and 12, probably don't need their exersaucer anymore.  Or their Duplos.  Or their changing table.

Okay, so I like to hold onto things.  I had become attached to their babyhood items and it's hard to let go because it's like letting go of their younger childhoods.  I'm not really good at goodbyes. 

But seriously, you should see my basement.  So I've been making myself go through things and thin out the toy graveyard in hopes of actually having usable space again.  Enter Craigslist.

I've used it before and always with good results.  I rather prefer eBay but to get rid of larger items that I wouldn't be able to ship, it's Craigslist.  So I recently put up an ad to sell the Little Tikes table and chair set that have been collecting dust for a couple years.  A woman answered the ad and came to pick up the set yesterday.  While perusing the overwhelming junk heap, she spotted an old toy mailbox and said she'd like that as well so she can "send" her little girl letters.  Very cute.  I told her, I used to do the same thing with my son.  I'd write him love letters and draw him pictures so that when he'd open his mailbox, he'd have some mail.  I still do have the letters.
"Oh that makes me want to cry," she said.  Another Mom who laments the growing-up of her children.

But then I remembered again, how, in the words of Billy Joel, "the good old days weren't always good and tomorrow ain't as bad as it seems."  While it's so easy to remember the baby days so fondly, conjuring up vivid memories of snuggly babies and Johnson's-scented hair, little onesies, and the awkward gait of a toddler, it's also easy to forget how intensely stressful those days were.

My sweet Aspie boy kept us hopping 24-7, almost literally.  Requiring very little sleep, he rejected bedtimes and spent long hours awake and keeping us awake as well.  Then rising extremely early.  With his multitude of sensory aversions and preferences, things had to be "just so" which often had me exasperated and confused.  Going anywhere was a challenge, as we didn't know how he'd cope, react, or accept a new situation.  We had to be prepared for anything, which meant packing as if we were going to the moon, even for something as simple as a trip to the store or lunch at a restaurant.  Throw in the extremes of emotion, the demanding demeanor, and the massive meltdowns, and you've got a day-in-the-life of Bub, circa 1998-2008ish.

Don't get me wrong, I adore my boy.  It was just difficult.  We did have plenty of loving, peaceful, and dare I say "normal" times as well.  They were just kind of rare.  It was an intense time.  He required a lot and there were times when I wasn't sure I had anything left to give.  There were times when I thought, "He'd be better off with a different mother.  I can't do this."

But the little toys and the tiny clothes in my basement don't come with all those memories, they just evoke "baby."  And baby is sooo sweet. 

Guess what's even sweeter...
Happy boy.  Emotionally stable boy.  12 year old with a smile on his face and the ability to sleep well every night, get his homework done with no help, deal with his sensory issues in a rational manner.  A boy who has learned to share enjoyment, give affection, compliment others, establish friendships.

The good old baby days are gone, but today is even better.  I can only imagine how great his future is going to be!

Rant for the Day

I don't like to complain but sometimes you just gotta.  Maybe it's good for the soul.  A type of catharsis.

Here's my complaint topic for the day. Or moment.  "Kids' museums."

If you're going to be a museum for kids and you're charging people their hard-earned money to take their children there, keep up with the maintenance for Pete's sake so that things are actually in proper working order when kids go there.  Is that too much to ask?

Yesterday, I accompanied my daughter and her class to a trip to the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia.  While it's not a "children's" museum per se, it definitely caters to the younger population and giant throngs of school children on field trips.  It's a very cool place, don't get me wrong - but it's frustrating and disappointing when my little group of 9-year-old girls are pulling each other along, giggling and squealing about the next thing they want to try, only to find that despite pushing all the buttons, nothing happens.

Cases in point:

There's a little "show" area where you go inside a curtain and are supposed to see something, apparently.  They came out the other side befuddled and saying "nothing's happening in there."  One of the other chaperones went through as as well and said, "I have no idea."

There's a hands-on activity that's a like a scale and the object of it is to go down a list of lifestyle things that could lead to heart attack and if you do them or have them, you put a black block on one side of the scale and if you do not, you put a white block on the other side and when you're done with the list, you see how much you are at risk.  My daughter was doing the activity (one black block for family history of heart disease) and the rest white blocks (thank you, Lord), but alas, there were not enough white blocks to complete the list.  What up?

"Make a paper airplane or use one from the table" - (in an activity that shoots your paper airplane across the room for you.  There were none on the table.

Being a softball family, we were psyched to see the sports area where they had a pitching mound that would clock your throw.  However the baseball they provided was ripped and the "softball" was more like an oversized tennis ball that a dog had chewed.   Come on, museum people!  That's our sport!  (I still managed to throw a 51 MPH pitch with the flappy baseball and sweet Matilda (or J-bomb, or Moopy Girl, or whatever you want to call her) threw a 33 MPH windmill pitch with the flying fuzz that was the softball.

This museum is very cool, seriously - these were just a few little bumps in the road but we had a great time. It just reminded me so much of Port Discovery at the Inner Harbor in Baltimore, where we've taken the kids a couple times.  This *is* a children's museum, 100%.  There were so many broken and missing items in this place, I was thoroughly disgusted at how much we paid to get in vs. the quality of the displays, from missing decorations (there were supposed to be alligators on the floor, which made it fun to try to get across the "river" but some alligators were missing and in their place were just splotches of paint - not quite as fun) to duct taped padding on the climbing structure, to dirty handles and stuff that looked like it hadn't been cleaned or replaced since 1950.  Again, a very cool place but when they charge you that much to enter, it should be in excellent, if not perfect, working order.

Okay, so that's my beef.  Now, on to more important things, like getting J-bird off to school.

Adventure on the High Seas

Well, we did it.  We survived another family vacation!  I'm pleased to say that as the kids get older, vacations become so much easier.  I'm reminded of the early years when we had to lug along all kinds of equipment, such as strollers, sippy cups, Cheerios, Pull-Ups, wipes, portable cribs...

I do sometimes miss those baby-sweet years but it's easier to kiss them goodbye when I remind myself how much more difficult having an Asperger's child is in the early years.  Bub was a ... challenge... from birth to about age 10.  Now that he's 12, we have seen a huge smoothing-out of his emotions and his ability to adapt has grown profoundly.  We used to have to plan everything out very strategically - from attending family reunions to birthday parties to going out to lunch.  What will we do if he melts down?  What is our exit plan? What if there's nothing that he likes to eat there?  What if he gets too cold?  What will we do, oh Lord, what will we do!?

Bleh!  Those days were rough!

We definitely still have our challenges, but it's nothing like it was.  On this recent family vacation, I didn't have to pack Goldfish crackers in case he wouldn't eat anything (on a cruise!), I didn't worry that our whole trip would be ruined by his inflexibility or demands.  We just...went.  :)

Being that Bub is Bub and will always be Bub, he imposed his own routines on himself and they were fine (though a little exasperating) with us.  I mean, you know cruises are famous for amazing amounts and varieties of foods, right?  Well, this is what Bub ate for lunch.every.day.

But hey... at least he found something he likes.  You notice his DSi in the background?  I'd say that 75% of the time, he walked around with that in front of his face.  I resisted the urge to nag him to put it down - it was a piece of familiarity that he needed.  And when I did nag him about eating something other than white rice, he responded, "Why? I'm perfectly happy eating this."

And that's when I was reminded that just because *I* wouldn't be happy eating nothing but white rice, doesn't mean he's not happy with it.  Sometimes we have to stop projecting our emotions onto our kids.  They aren't us.  They're themselves.  If he wanted to eat something else, he would have.  He was perfectly happy.

More about this awesome vacation is to come!

Don't Mention It!

My family will be going on vacation soon.  We've been planning a rather big trip for over a year now and my DH (dear husband, for those of you not up on your blog lingo) is like a little kid when it comes to vacations.  For a solid year he has been leafing through travel brochures, pouring over details, pulling up websites with photographs of our destinations, and starting each morning with "Guess how many more days!?"  I recall the answers being "285."
Then "157!"
Then "83!"
and now... we're at "4!" 

This is awesome.  We're all excited.  Excitement can manifest itself in many ways, and this is even more so with an Asperger's kid.  (Everything is MORE SO with an AS kid.)

So Bubba has been absorbing the excitement for over a year now and since we're in the homestretch, he's starting to feel it more.  This has happened before.  Right before Christmas break, or spring break, or summer break.  He gets revved up, as we all do.  However, because Bub has such a deep loathing for school, it becomes harder for him to tolerate it the week before something special occurs.  This week has been no exception.

Bub's Educational Diagnostician, Mrs. H, called.  He was very upset in first period (science) because he completed a worksheet and then was told by the Spec. Ed. teacher (Mr. F) that he completed it incorrectly and would have to redo it.  Oh no, no, no.  Bub will buck like a bronco if told to do the same assignment twice. Once was enough for him, thanks very much.  He will flat out tell you, "I'm not doing it again."  Which he did say.

So he went down to see Mrs. H for a reprieve and in doing that he was missing his 2nd period class (AgScience).  She was trying to get him pulled back together so he could go back to class and was telling him he was now missing his work in AgScience and would have to take both classes classwork home for homework now.  Oh dear. Poke poke poke!  Now we're provoking the raging bronco.

Bub's way of dealing with this was to melt down and enter into perseverative and cyclical thinking.  He got stuck on the fact that it would be illogical to do his AgScience work when he hasn't gotten his science work done yet and could not stop perseverating on that idea.  Mrs. H. had to cut off her phone conversation with me because we weren't getting anywhere in working with his thinking so I wished her luck and waited for the inevitable phone call back.

Later that day, the phone call did come and Mrs. H. explained that she allowed Bub to have time to get himself together, put water on his face, and then return to class and everything was okay after that. 

I am always sure to thank people profusely when they take the time to kindly and patiently work with Bub.  I thanked her for her patience and understanding and she replied, "He's a joy.  And I want to thank YOU because he gives me opportunities every day to practice my skills."

Wow.  Well... you're welcome, I guess!  :)

Aren't We All a Little Aspie?

I never knew what Asperger's was until I started researching online to find something that could explain my son, who was then about 5 years old.  When I read about it, things made sense - his need for routine, his extreme difficulties with socialization, his emotional outbursts, obsessive interests, sensory sensitivities, and amazing intellect.  He fit the bill and I was relieved to find that there was a name for his collection of characteristics and that all signs pointed to him being able to overcome most of them.

And as I continued reading and researching and my knowledge of the nuances of AS increased, I began to be able to perceive its presence in varying degrees in other people.  It's kind of like "gaydar" - LOL - I can pick up the subtle and sometimes not-so-subtle signs of Aspergers in others.  Aspie-dar. 

This has led me to the understanding that a lot of us have a lot of Aspie qualities, especially in families where AS is already diagnosed.  I mean, this kid came from somewhere right?  The apple doesn't fall from the tree...?  Well neither does the Aspie. 

I do not believe I have Aspergers or that I'd be diagnosed with it, either as a child or an adult.  I was a very social kid, had plenty of friends, adjusted well to different situations, and didn't necessarily obsess over anything - okay, wait... maybe Ricky Schroder.  *sigh*

Anyway...although I wouldn't be diagnosed myself, I definitely see AS qualities in both me and my husband.  I'm guessing that Him + Me = Bubba.  Well, obviously, but I mean in the Asperger's way.  My quirks plus hubby's quirk melded into a super-quirky kid, diagnosable with AS. 

Most of my quirks are sensory oriented - though I've grown out of some as I've gotten older, such as foods touching.  That was a big no-no for me in my younger years, though that's pretty commonplace.  In high school I had a bit of a handwriting OCD thing going on where, if I made a letter imperfectly, I would have to try desperately to resist erasing and remaking it.  It made me feel a little crazy. 

I still have some problems with certain clothing items. I don't like button-down blouses because they feel confining when I move my arms forward.  I don't like any shoes that have smooth bottoms because I feel like I will slip and fall, therefore I almost never wear any kind of heels.

I don't like sharing certain things like toothbrushes or even my toothpaste - I need my own. 

When I go to bed, I need tight-fitting pants on, like thermal underwear, otherwise my legs feel crawly against the sheets. 

Sensory stuff.  I have a million of them.

As far as social stuff, I have some of it, but not a ton.  When I was a teen and into my early twenties I was petrified of going anywhere by myself.  Even the store. I wouldn't even get gas in my car unless someone was in the car with me.  I have overcome much of that, but that's not to say I don't get any anxiety about certain situations today.  I definitely do.

Hubby has more of the social stuff.  He is a loner, perfectly happy entertaining himself doing his own thing - mainly sports related games, internet surfing, cooking, etc.  He doesn't have much need for friends or social outlet.  When he's around people, he's very outgoing though, and has a sense of humor that he's well known for. 

But I can see how A + B = C and how it has trickled down in our families as well.  But I'm fine with that.  I think Bubs is really cool the way he is, challenges and all.  And while he feels different from other kids now, I think those differences will fall by the wayside as he gets older and realizes we are all weird in our own ways. 

When Teasing Isn't Teasing

At our last appointment with Dr. A, this past Tuesday, Bub didn't even bring up "the fight."  Instead, what he & Dr. A ended up talking about was teasing, and perception of teasing.  Such an interesting, yet frustrating conversation.  I stayed mostly out of it, just sat and listened.

Bubba has told Dr. A in the past that the gets teased and bullied a lot at school.  She requested that he write down each time something like that happens so she can go over it with him.  Over the past couple weeks, he's written down about 4 instances to share with her.

At the meeting, he shared that as he was running down the hall at school, a group of three 8th grade boys was standing there and one said, "Run, little bastard, run!"  This was extremely upsetting to Bub who takes any profanity as extremely insulting and shocking.  Bub internalized this incident and interpreted it as being bullied.  Dr. A. explained that these boys didn't know him, so he really wasn't being bullied or teased, he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and they would have said that to anyone.  She said, "It doesn't matter if you were a squirrel or a dog running by.  It wasn't about you."  Bub had a very hard time understanding that this wasn't personal.  The Aspergers mind has a hard time taking other people's points of view.

Dr. A. explained that if someone else had witnessed the incident occur, who would they have judged? The other boy.  She also did a really good job trying to explain to him that he is not the only one who feels he doesn't fit in.  She said that all kids his age feel that way, and the boy who said "run..." was simply showing that he was trying to fit in with his friends.  It was his own insecurity showing and had nothing to do with Bub personally.

Bub has a lot of work ahead of him.  He has to learn not to take everything so personally and to stop assuming that anything someone says to him is hostile.  Dr. A. tried to explain that "it's the story you tell yourself about what they said that hurts you, not what they said."  For example, if someone says, "I don't like that video game that you like", Bub would take that to mean "I don't like you.  You like stupid things. You aren't cool."  What we need to help him understand is that he could choose that thinking or he could choose to think "Oh, they don't like that video game."

This is going to be difficult, as he is so emotionally rigid about this.  We will have to chip away at this thinking a bit at a time.  I don't want Bub growing up in the role of victim, especially when there is no victimization occurring.

Song: I'll Stand By You

A Fight

Bub's school called earlier today.  It was the ED (Educational Diagnostician) who is pretty much our go-to-girl for all things Bub-related.  She had him in her office and the school psychologist was with them too.  They were on speaker phone and wanted to tell me that Bub's best friend got in a fist fight in their first period class today. 

To give a little background info, Bub is very non-social.  Not ANTI-social, just non-social.  He doesn't connect well or easily to people and has had no lasting friendships until he met Sam.  Sam and Bub hit it off in about 4th grade and then really connected in 5th.  Them both being in the same inclusion classes helped this friendship manifest itself.  I had met Sam a few times in brief forays into their classroom for various things.  He's a quirky kid with a big smile.  Because Bub & Sam became such good friends, I spoke to Sam's mother on occasion and found that Sam also has Asperger's.  This is interesting because I remember reading that kids with Asperger's tend to seek each other out without knowing it. 

Well Sam & Bub have been super tight ever since.  They share a deep, nerdy enjoyment of video games and video game heroes, like Sonic, Pokemon, and the like.  They talk on the phone about their games, listening to each other play their games, sometimes teaming up online to play Little Big Planet or whatever else they cooperatively play via the internet.  It's nice that Bub has made such a good friend.  He has some other acquaintances but no one like Sam. 

So when the school called this morning and told me that Bub was in the office and was "processing what had happened this morning", I was concerned.  Apparently, in science class, Sam had been told to move by another kid and when Sam told the kid to be polite about it, the other kid pushed him.  Sam pushed back and a brawl began.  Bub witnessed Sam and the other kid going at it pretty violently for a few seconds until it was broken up.  Sam had a few minor injuries and was sent home.  Both Sam and the other kid were suspended.  Bub was angry and told me that he wished he had chased the other kid out in the hall and beat him up.  He was upset with himself for not jumping in, but we all informed him that he made the right choice by not getting involved in a physical problem. 

Bub was very upset mostly that Sam was hurt and that this happened to Sam at all.  Bub felt like a bad friend for freezing and not coming to Sam's defense.  I can understand how he'd feel like that.  It was a tough situation.  It was the first time Bub has encountered physical violence and it was against his best friend. :(

We're heading to Dr. A's tonight for our regular session so we'll be going over this.  And for those who think AS kids "don't have empathy", let me be the first to assure you that's a myth.

Don't Help So Much

One of the hardest and most painful lessons for me, as a semi-control-freak Mom, to learn was to back off.  I really like doing things for my kids because to me, it means I love them and I want them to feel mothered.  Because my parents both worked a lot when I was younger, I did most things for myself and didn't always feel the nurturing I longed for.  I probably overcompensate for that a little bit when it comes to my own kids.

I like picking out their clothes every night and putting them on the couch for the next morning.

I like packing their lunches (sometimes.  Bub is NOTORIOUSLY picky and there are days I can hardly think of anything to feed him).

I like straightening up their rooms.

I like buying them little things.

I like setting out their pajamas after their shower/bath.

I like going through their bookbags and setting out their homework. 

Those kinds of things. 

And while all of that is probably no big deal, there does come a time when you have to back off.  The time that Dr. A told me to back off was painful.  I hated her for a few days afterwards.  I'm used to doing things for my kids and going to battle for them when necessary, but when Dr. A explained that I had to let them do more for themselves, I was overcome with  a deep sense of loss.

I could hear it, understand it, and know it was true, but that didn't make it any easier to accept.  Being a "glommy mommy" is hard to give up, in essence because it means they're outgrowing me.  No, I'm not getting all melo-dramatic and I understand that at ages 9 and 12 they still need me (a lot), but in order to set them up for responsible and confident adulthood, I had to start with the little things and that meant allowing them to take over some aspects of their care.

Dr. A explained that life is like a very complicated machine that has lots and lots of parts that have to be learned in order to run it.  There are some buttons and controls that kids can't reach yet on the machine and so you still have to be in charge of those, but the ones they can reach, they should be taught how to work.  If you're training a new employee to run a machine, but you always control certain parts of it, then you leave and expect them to understand how to run all the parts, you've set them up for failure. The goal is to have them running the entire machine on their own as they're able to reach the buttons.

She mentioned this analogy during a time when Bub was really struggling with organization at school and was having trouble managing himself in the classroom.  Because he was floundering so much, I was stepping in and taking control - making sure he was doing his work, making sure it was getting turned in, checking his grades online, emailing teachers to see if there was any missing work - it was becoming a full-time job for me. Dr. A wanted me to back out and not help so much.  In a panic I said, "You think I should just let him FAIL?" and she said, "YES!  You finally get it!'

Mortifying.

But true.  Bub is more than capable of doing any classwork/homework that is asked of him.  But with me rushing in to rescue him, he didn't have a need to stand on his own.  I was enabling his floundering.  It wasn't my job to make sure he does well in school, it's his job.  I can help set up a structure for him that will encourage success, which we have done:

Homework time is 5-6pm and during that hour there is no TV.  (I don't lay out his homework or check it afterwards.)
Any zeros that show up on the online grades site must be rectified before there will be any video games.
Any classwork that is refused at school (Bub sometimes decides not to do certain assignments), will come  home as homework and must be completed before he can play.

With that simple system in place, Bub has been doing fine on his own.  He's not anywhere close to failing.  He has learned to be responsible for his assignments and is becoming better organized.  I don't have to nag him about homework or try to run the show.

He has become responsible for running that part of the machine.

I still lay his clothes out, though.

Answered Prayer

One of the greatest blessings and answer to prayer our family has ever received came in the form of a small but mighty psychologist named Dr. A.  When life was at its most difficult (about 6-7 yrs ago) and Bub was a whirlwind of emotion, frustration, intolerance, and anxiety, I was at wit's end.  In desperate prayer I asked God for the wisdom to know how to deal with Bub in an effective and loving way.  I fully admitted to having no skills to deal with any of this, to being ignorant and poorly-equipped to handle such a force, that was my little six-year-old hurricane.

It wasn't long after that tearful prayer that a woman at church, who had a teen with Asperger's, mentioned to me that her son benefited greatly from seeing this doctor, and she gave me her phone number.  I called at my first opportunity only to be told there was a waiting list for Dr. A and it could be years.  It was a closed door.  I put Bub's name on the list and asked for another referral, of which they had none.  My hope was again shattered.

Then a phone call came a few days later.  The receptionist from Dr. A's office told me that Dr. A was training a new professional and was looking for a child with Aspergers to work with.  Bub had jumped the entire list and now had an appointment, not only with Dr. A but with a new therapist as well.  We were elated.

Bub had been to see several other therapists over the years but none of them seemed to have a good grasp of what made him tick.  When we got to see Dr. A, all that changed.  Here was a woman who seemed to not only understand Bub's mind, but into ours as parents as well.  She challenged us to look at our own "filters" through which we were seeing the world.  The projections we put on situations based on our own experiences, often from childhood.  She pointed out areas in which we didn't even realize we were weak, and never failed to cheer for us in the smallest moments of triumph.

Dr. A. changed everything.  She was the firefighter who put out our burning family.  We have been so blessed to work with this quirky, tell-it-like-it-is, insightful and amazing doctor. There have been times when her words have injured me because of their soul-baring truth, but I have been made stronger because of it.  And most importantly, through changes we've made, Bub has learned to handle life better.  We've learned to clean up our own messes as parents and by doing that, we parent more effectively. 

We still have our challenges, almost daily, but we don't feel different than any other family anymore.  Our problems may not be as typical as most families', but they aren't usually anymore disruptive either. 

Dr. A. was absolutely brought into our lives through prayer.  We've seen numerous answered prayers in our family lives, and because of that I want to encourage anyone and everyone to turn to God and never underestimate what he can do for you.

The Blessings of a Broken TV

As mentioned in a previous post, we are a family of computer nerds.  We all like our games as well as internet surfing. 

The kids have all kinds of systems and gadgets to play with, but mainly they use the big-screen TV for playing their favorite video games, which happen to be (currently), Little Big Planet and anything Sonic.  When Bubs comes home from school, his unwinding activity of choice is to stand in front of the TV and get lost in video game land.

The other evening, however, during a ferocious battle of Sports Champions (gladiator style fighting), the TV went *snap* and then emitted a high-pitched tone which probably sent all the neighborhood dogs running for cover.

Hubby tried inserting a new lamp but the old one seemed fine. Then he looked to the internet for answers and concluded that it must be the "color wheel."  It would be a few days before the TV repairman could get that part and fix it.

So we've been without the TV in the family room for a couple of days, and I have to say - it's nice!  The kids aren't bickering over whose turn it is and they're both finding other ways to occupy their time.  Now granted, they do have other gadgets, but the gaming systems are really the big draw, so without them, they are pushed a little harder to find alternate activities. 

I'm thinking it might be a good idea, after it's up and running again, for the TV to "break" again once in a while.

A "Cool Mom" Moment

So Bub was telling me about his best friend's Christmas gift, a Wii. 

Bub: "Yeah, he finally got a Wii for Christmas."
Me: "Oh, that's good!"
Bub: "It's red."
Me: "So he has a red Wii, huh?"
Bub: "Yes."
Me: "He should see a doctor about that."
Bub looks at me kinda funny then laughs his head off and throws his arms around me.
"You are the coolest mom.  Seriously."

=)

A Place for Us

Today we had a meeting at Bubba's school because he was given a detention notice that I didn't agree with.  Now, before I sound like the mom who will rush in and defend her child no matter the circumstances, Bubs has served a detention before because it was warranted. I believe in the power of consequences and making your own bed.  That being said, though, there are times when situations are stacked unfairly against a kid like Bub.

He likes to do his own thing in class, sometimes while listening to the teacher and sometimes while refusing to do what's required of him.   In the beginning of the year, we met with all the teachers and said that rather than get into a big squabble with him, if he refuses an assignment, send it home and we will be sure he completes it for homework.  He will not get away with refusing to do his work.

In math class the other day, he was drawing. The teacher says she approached him three different times and asked him to put it away and start on his classwork.  Bubba pushed the drawing aside but in a matter of seconds went back to drawing and neglected to do his assignment.  The teacher, now annoyed, took the drawing from him and he said he didn't care because he didn't want it anyway (Defensive due to embarrassment and frustration).  Teacher said "good then I'll just throw it away" (provoking).  After that exchange, he was expected to get down to business and finish his assignment.

Anyone who understands Aspergers would know that it won't work that way.

When she demanded that he get busy, he (already flooded with negative emotion and in pre-meltdown-mode) crossed his arms and said, "If you treat me like dirt, I'll treat you like dirt."

Okay, I fully admit it was wrong for him to say that, however --- he had been provoked and an Asperger mind doesn't effectively filter what comes out of the mouth when in a state of heightened emotion.  I am definitely in favor of discussing that with him, explaining (again) the boundaries of student/teacher relationships and the respect that should be given to authority figures.  The teacher wrote him up for "disturbing the class" and they wanted him to spend two hours after school in detention.

I was not board with that.  To me, it would be like punishing a hard-of-hearing student for not listening.  What Bub needs is TEACHING, not punishment.  He needs full explanation and detailed role playing and a complete investigation into what should have happened and where things went wrong.  He is able to learn and will learn, but right now this is not something he understands or is capable of.  Will sitting for two hours after school - after spending his entire day there already, putting up with all the over-stimulation and demands and social pressure - help him in some way?  Lumping him in with the students who committed more serious offenses like cursing a teacher out or smoking in the bathroom will be ... helpful?

I called the meeting.  I refused to sign the detention form.  All of the teachers on his 6th grade team were in attendance, with their various complaints about his behavior, from singing in class to refusing work to fiddling with objects.  We know.  We have heard it all before.  Now, to be fair, they do work with him and they don't come down on him for everything, but sometimes I don't understand why he isn't being more creatively redirected or worked with by the special ed teachers in the room.  Didn't they go to school for kids like Bub?

Is he such an anomaly that not one of them can come up with an effective method of working with him?  If he's dancing and singing and popping his head in and out of the classroom door and doing other attention-seeking behaviors, shouldn't someone know how to handle that and get him to produce some work?  Where is the classroom management skills and the teaching expertise?  Why not incorporate a little creative problem solving, some reward systems, some psychology, a deal, an ultimatum...something!?

"Well he has three zeros in my class because he was reading his own book while we were working."

Really!?? And who was allowing to him to sit there and read and get zeros?

I know that some people will say it's all Bubba's fault for not doing what he's supposed to, and to some extent he is responsible, but there are special ed supports in place for a REASON.  Figure him out for Pete's sake!

So anyway, I declined the detention and we all decided he could write a letter of apology and that next time his mouth runs before his brain stops it, he may serve detention.  Okay, well at least he has fair warning and we can work on this ad nauseum before he steps in it again.

None of the teachers have had Asperger's training.

The vice principal, also in attendance at the meeting, commented on how "in 7th grade, things will be even tougher because they won't treat him with kid gloves."  Oh good.  Not that he should be treated with kid gloves, but what are they going to do - not CARE that he has Aspergers and isn't always going to do the right thing or say the right thing?  Give him detention every day because he's not jumping when they say jump?

I picture a school where teachers understand Aspergers and see my son for the talented, intriguing, and creative kid he is.  Where they know how to motivate him and allow him to be himself.   Where he can be excited about learning and know it's safe to make mistakes and to learn from them in a supportive rather than punitive environment.  It's such a shame that he has to go through his education feeling like he's in a meat grinder every day. 

Sometimes it's just so exasperating that our boy is such a square peg being forced into a round hole.  It's not fair to him as an individual, as his own human being.  There are definitely important lessons he has to learn, and we will tackle them as we always have, but to be so vastly and grossly misunderstood... to be told he's "defiant and rude", it's just shining a light on what's already obvious, that this is not the place for him. But I don't know that a place for him yet exists.

Song: A Place for Us

After the Storm

Asperger's kids can have emotional outbursts known commonly as "meltdowns." We experienced them in great number when Bubs was much younger and thankfully now that he's 12, they've become rare.  However, when the storms are raging, life is not pretty.

It starts out slowly, like the rumbling of thunder.  Then before you know it, you're up to your knees in a storm-surge and wondering how in the world you stepped into this one.  For Bubba, it's always much, much worse if he's hungry.  Something about hunger sets his whole world on edge.  He can get moody, sullen, irritable, - and while it's obvious to observe, we don't always put it together with food until he's eaten and is suddenly his sweet self again.  Then we're like "Oh yeah!  It was the hunger moodiness!"  Oh, if only it were always that simple.

What sets him off more than anything else?  Well, there are two things.  One: school.  Two: sibling rivalry.

School is a bad word in our house.  He actually prefers you not even use the word.  Yes, he despises it that badly and he always has.  He's never been the kid who skips to the bus stop and can't wait to see his classmates.  He has rejected school since the early days.  In Kindergarten he remarked that he felt like he was inside of a monster all day.  Things have not changed.  Middle School brings new challenges, almost of all of which are in direct contrast to what an Asperger kid prefers.  More socialization, more organizational needs, more sensory stimulation, more demands, more homework, more noise. 

It has been a very bumpy road for Bub. And for us.  But the meltdowns really occur when the homework demands become too much.  He is easily overwhelmed by pages of math problems.  It's as if he views it as a neverending sea of demand.  He rejects it wholeheartedly, with such disdain - you'd think it had been a venomous page that sunk its fangs into him.  Sometimes he refuses to even try even though we know he's capable.  It's frustrating for all of us to try to get through certain assignments.

When a meltdown occurs, all rationality goes out the window.  You can not reason with a flooded mind.  We still try sometimes, out of habit, out of our own need for trying to resume control.  We are still learning when to back off and just let the storm pass instead of trying to stop the howling wind.  We are so thick-headed sometimes, we repeat our behaviors even though they've been proven ineffective for years. 

But we continue to try.  We're learning to let him spout what he needs to spout, to validate that his feelings about math and homework are real to him.  Not to try to talk him out of feeling that way, or tell him how important this work is, or that his future depends on it.  When the storm is raging, you can't reason.  It's like asking the thunder to keep it down because you're trying to sleep.  Thunder is going to be thunder whether you like it or not. 

So sometimes you just have to sit through it with him.  Understand where he's coming from, agree when you can.  Empathize and sigh and nod.  And the storm starts to pass.  It can't go on forever, though sometimes it feels like it.  But the good part comes after. 

For Bubs, when he's done with the meltdown, he's ultra-receptive to our advice.  He becomes refreshed, renewed, just like a tree after the rain.  He's ready to receive the sunshine.  And he grows from it.  We can actually sit and talk, figure out what we can do to help him through the decimals and lowest common denominators. 

After last night's math meltdown, when the skies had cleared and the sun was shining again, Bubba was found in his bed with his math packet, working on it on his own.  He was in his pajamas without prompting, he was working without being pushed.  And it never fails that he feels amazing when he has completed a difficult task.  His smile is a ray of light.  His confidence shines.  When he pushes through the storm, he is a little stronger, a little bigger, a little brighter than ever before.

And that makes weathering it with him worth every second.