More talking, less sleeping

Last week was winter vacation week here in Boston, the most dreaded vacation of all, at least for our family.  It comes a time of year when there is nothing you can do outside, when the weather is dreary, when Facebook is full of posts from people going away for vacation and if you are not one of those people, and you are dealing with a teenage autistic girl who doesn't care for a change in routine....it's no vacation.

An odd thing we have noticed over the years is that by the end of most any vacation week, when Janey is home with us completely, she talks more. I don't know why this is.  I know she's exposed to more language at school than at home, and she gets a lot of one on one attention there.  But maybe it's having two or more adults around her at all times, trying to keep her happy, or maybe she relaxes away from school like we all do a little, or who knows what.  But this vacation was no exception.

Over the course of a few days toward the end of vacation week, Janey said all kinds of things that surprised and delighted us.  One example---she was looking at my collection of postcards on the fridge.  I pointed to one she was looking at and said "What's on that one?" and she correctly said "a fox".  I then pointed to a cat and a horse, which she also named.  I stopped, as to not quiz her for too long, but she kept going, pointing to another and saying "That is a bear!" (correctly) and then to one with two cats, saying "Those are some cats!"  Perfect grammar, and spontaneous talking!

Later that day, her brother Freddy called.  Usually a perfect way to have Janey be totally silent is to have someone on the other end of the phone that would like to hear her talk.  But this time, she was actually answering Freddy's questions!  She recited her address and phone number, she responded to him singing a song she likes, and then, when I asked her "Do you know where Freddy is?" she said "Freddy is at college!"  Freddy and I were both taken aback.  We've told her that, many many times, but I think that's the first time she's ever said it.  It made me really happy, partly because I always worry that she just thinks her brothers sometimes disappear into no-where.  It was good knowing she knows where he is.

The next day, William called.  Janey wasn't quite as chatty that day, but late in the call, just for fun, I said "Where is William right now? and Janey said, right away, "William is in Chicago!"  We were on Facetime, and I tell you, William's face reflected my own in showing huge shock at that answer.  I KNOW she's never said Chicago before, and I truly didn't think she had any idea where William was.  We were all so happy.

In the middle of those two days of talking, there was, as there always is, a night. I think I'm starting to be able to sense as soon as bedtime comes on nights like that one that something is up.  Janey was just not tired.  We followed our bedtime routine, but she kept jumping up, asking for things, turning on the TV, getting food from the fridge...long past her usual bedtime of 7 or so.  At 10, she was still awake.  At midnight, she was still awake.  At 4 in the morning, she was still awake.  You get the picture.  She slept not a wink all night.

You would think that she'd be tired the next day.  But she wasn't.  She was peppy and lively and wide awake all day.  I figured at least she'd go to sleep early, or at the very least at her regular time.  But no.  She finally went to bed that next night at 9 pm.  She had woken the day before at 6 am.  So she was up for 39 hours straight.

I've written before how Janey once in a while just skips a night's sleep like that.  I think this time was the record time awake, but it's not that uncommon that she's cheery the day after a night without sleep.  It's like her body and mind simply don't need sleep some (thankfully fairly rare) nights.  However, Tony and I do.  We spelled each other, but still, people in their mid-50s don't function with that kind of fractured sleep too well.

I do think there's a connection between the increased talking and the lack of sleep.  Janey's brain is a fascinating thing.  It seems like it sometimes goes into overdrive, into a mode where all the knowledge she has stored is far more accessible than usual.  I can see why you wouldn't want to sleep, if that didn't happen to you that often.  You'd want to stay awake, and maybe your mind would keep you awake.

Sometimes it seems like a huge part of Janey's autism is a brain that shifts between levels of alertness, levels of operating speed and ease, more drastically than most brains.  Any report ever written about Janey mentions that what she can do depends very much on the day.  Some days, she is barely responsive.  Other days, she is so engaged that it's startling.

If Janey ever got to the point where we could both sleep while she's awake...well, that would be great.  I don't think the occasional sleepless nights are going away, and I accept that.  But boy, I don't think even a week later now, Tony and I are much recovered.  Now for some more coffee...

Every Morning is a Triumph

I just got Janey on the bus, at 6:15 am.  As I walked in the house, I was beating myself up a bit.  Her hair wasn't as I'd like it, she had sneaked some onion and garlic chips and her breath betrayed that, she had on two different gloves, her hastily picked clothes were not the greatest look for her...it was not my finest early morning parenting day.  But then I defiantly told myself---NO.  Getting her on that bus at that hour was a triumph.  It was the kind of triumph all you parents of other kids like Janey have every day.

It was a triumph Janey got a full night's sleep, and woke up without protest.  Sleep is not something any of us take for granted.

It was a triumph that I got Janey dressed.  I felt guilty thinking how I should be insisting on her dressing herself more in the mornings.  But doing so would necessitate getting up about an hour earlier.  We are on a very tight schedule every morning, and I'll take her cooperation over her independence when it comes to quick dressing any day.

It was a triumph I did her hair at all.  I know there are a few tangles.  I hate that.  But as I worked to brush them out, Janey screamed and had the look in her eyes that let me know that if I kept going, there was no way on earth we'd be getting on that bus.  So I resolved to brush them out before bed tonight, and I did my unskillful braid hairdo, and we called it good enough.

It was a triumph I brushed Janey's teeth well---twice.  She allows a thorough brushing without complaining.  The second thorough brushing came after she found the chips while I rushed to get dressed myself.  I think she might still have a little onion and garlic breath, but so be it. I am glad Janey eats breakfast at school, but a little chip appetizer isn't a huge deal.

It was a triumph that Janey left the house with a coat, a hat, a scarf and gloves.  The gloves were two totally different gloves, both right hand ones.  They are approximately the 30th pair of gloves she's had this winter.  She doesn't keep track of things like gloves or scarves.  If I were to buy her a matching set every time an old set disappeared, our entire budget would be spent on gloves and scarves.  So finding two to put on is a win, a triumph.

It was a triumph we were on the sidewalk two minutes before the bus arrived, and Janey was happy.  I had to grab my phone at the last minute so I could put on the SpongeBob songs she currently needs while waiting.  If the connection had been down or if I hadn't been able to immediately locate my phone, we would have had a problem, to say the least.

It was a triumph she got on the bus on her own, and sat in a different seat than usual, as I saw the aide tell her to.  She is like Sheldon on "The Big Bang Theory"---she doesn't care for being made to sit in the wrong place.  But she did, without protest.

It is a triumph that she is off to school.

I think those who teach kids with autism understand the triumphs that every successful morning include.  To anyone else out there who might not, when you see Janey, hair not looking perfect, gloves unmatched, hint of chips on her face, when you see that, keep in mind the triumphs it took to get through the morning.  To the other parents like myself---here's a coffee toast to you. May you have many, many small triumphs today.

The Long, Cold Days

Growing up in Maine, at a certain age, people seemed to have a brain subroutine that suddenly clicked into action.  When it did, they started going to Florida for the winter.  There are whole towns in Florida that are mostly populated by people from Maine.  I never really understood the urge.  I liked winter just fine.  But that subroutine must start at around age 51, because this year, it kicked in hard for me.

It's been unusually cold here.  Today is the first day above freezing since Christmas---a very long stretch for Boston.  Night after night has been below zero.  It's been windy a lot, and last Thursday we got a pretty good snowfall.  Janey went back to school after winter vacation last Wednesday, but then Thursday and Friday were snow days.  Today was a school day again, finally.

As you can guess, Janey has been having a hard time.  It's been hard for everyone, but I dare say even harder on her than most.  Janey doesn't ask a lot to be content, but she does want her days to contain certain elements---a car ride, a walk to the store, a bus ride to school in the morning on school days, predictable arrivals and departures of the people she cares about.  The cold and snow and vacation have thrown that all out the window, and it's tough.

Last Thursday night, as the storm still raged, Janey decided she needed a car ride.  She asked, over and over and over, politely and then more insistently.  In case we didn't get what she was saying, she asked other ways "Put on shoes?  Put on coat?  Music in the car?"  We tried very hard to explain that even if we had wanted to venture out in the heavy snow, our driveway was completely blocked off by the huge pile of snow the plow had left.  At one point I even took her outside after bundling her up hugely, and showed her the snow covered car.  It made no difference.  She pretty much cried herself to sleep.

On Friday, in the horribly bitter cold following the snow, Janey wanted to go to the "ice cream store", where she gets, despite the name, chips.  I tried to tell her temperatures were in the single digits, that the wind was whipping hard, that it would not be a fun walk.  I finally did give in and wrapped her up and we did the short walk---probably ill-advised, but she wore me down.

One of the toughest things has been the sudden unreliability of the school bus in the morning.  All year until now, the bus has been arriving very, very promptly at 6:15 am.  Early, but it works.  The afternoon bus is still exceptionally on time, and has a wonderful driver and aide, but the morning bus seems to have completely fallen apart.  The last 4 days there was actually school, it has just not shown up.  There is a radar app for seeing where it is, and one day, it just skipped Janey---went to all the other stops, but skipped her.  When I called the transportation number, they said the bus didn't have an aide, so it couldn't pick up Janey.  We drove her to school, found the bus, and saw the aide was on it, just fine.  Another day, the aide waited in his car by our house for the bus which again didn't show up.  He drove Tony and Janey to the school, which he probably isn't supposed to do, but we were glad he did.  Today, the bus seemed by the radar app to just completely skip all the stops except the ones right near the school.

I am not a confident driver, and driving to Janey's school is not an easy ride, especially when the streets are half filled with snow.  So Tony drove us (except the day the aide did) and he winds up going in late to work.  We have let the appropriate people know about the bus problems, but the truth is, at 6 in the morning, if the bus just doesn't come, there's not a lot that can be done that day about it. I wonder if the powers that be or the driver get how hard it is with a child like Janey.  She's outside, waiting for a bus that never comes, desperately wanting to do what she feels she is supposed to do, just get on that bus.  We wait and wait and wait, and maybe it comes or maybe it doesn't.  Luckily, Tony is still home at that hour, because keeping her from freaking out while waiting is a two person job.

I go into this in such detail because it illustrates how even fairly little things become big things when you have a child that simply doesn't understand changes in routine.  I feel like crying for Janey when I think about it.  I think the world is a very confusing place for her, and she holds onto the touchstones of the routine very closely.  She can be stoic about much of the whirling confusion, but by golly, she needs her car ride or bus ride or store walk.  It is beyond her to understand bad roads or aide requirements or buses running late that might skip kids to catch up or frigid temperatures keeping us from store walks.  Her sadness and confusion when things can't be as usual are very real and very strong feelings.

I hope it's an early spring.

Winter

When I was little, I used to feel upset when people would say February was their least favorite month, because my birthday was in February, and it somehow felt like a personal insult.  Well, I'm finally forced to admit I'm not too big on February myself.  I haven't written for a while.  I've been feeling blue, and winter feels long.

I am sure it's not politically correct to say so, that it's one of those things I'm not supposed to admit, but sometimes, the unchanging nature of life with Janey gets to me.  Her progress lately, if there is any, is very, very slow.  Sometimes it halts altogether, or moves backwards for a while.  With typically developing kids, the changes in their interests or hobbies or friends or activities can move at a pace so fast it's hard to keep up with.  With Janey, that isn't the case.  She watches the same videos, over and over and over, that she did five years ago.  She doesn't have friends.  She doesn't partake in any outside the home activities.  Every day feels a lot like the day before. And of course, much of that is on me.  I should somehow make her life more varied.  But I am not sure how.  It's not like there is a huge list of possible classes or lessons or clubs waiting for her to join, or friends calling to get together with her.  She goes to school and she comes home.

As people have said to me often, it's very possible Janey doesn't crave variety in her life the way others might.  She might be very content with things staying the same, and indeed I think that might be the case. But as this winter wears on, I'm feeling---I'm not sure.  Restless.  Worried.

In the background of all this is the tense feeling political news, the uneasy national mood.  It used to be that the internet provided much of what I needed to keep feeling connected to the outside world.  But lately, it's hard to get online without feeling bombarded with strident differing views of every topic.  I rethink every comment I might have---is this going to set someone off?  I think of myself as mainly apolitical.  What bothers me is not so much any actual players or issues in the political scene, but the tone of the whole debate.  It feels like a "gotcha" kind of game, like an argument that can only be won by being fierce, or angry, or hyper-alert.  And where does that leave someone like Janey?  Where is the caring for those not armed for such a battle?  I had a strange dream the other night, a dream we were somehow at war and Janey had been drafted to fight. I screamed out to whoever was in charge "What kind of world is it when you expect someone like Janey to be part of warfare?"  And that is it.  It feels like there is little place for those who are dependent on others, who can't get out and fight for their rights.

So...we keep on.  We do our best, all of us out there living this life, to give our kids the best life we can.  Janey will come home from school.  I'll ask her about her day, as I have so many hundreds of times.  She won't answer.  I'll try to get her to use the bathroom.  She won't.  I'll end up changing her clothes and her bedding.  She will ask for cheese, for chips, for salami.  I will have them or I won't, she will eat them or she will scream.  She will want a shower, and she will ask to get out of it when she really means she wants the water adjusted.  She will ask to watch Kipper, and then I'll put on the wrong episode and she'll scream.  She will ask for a car ride.  I'll tell her Daddy will be home soon and maybe they will take a ride. I will hug her and tell her I love her.  She will laugh and hug me back, and we will get through another day.  And that is how the years will go on.

Back from the end of my rope

Last week was school vacation week here in New England.  It couldn't have come at a worse time.  Janey had been in a mood for a few days when it started.  She was on edge, screaming much of the time, not happy at all.  Then, the first weekend of vacation, it got extremely cold, the coldest it's been in Boston since 1957.  It wasn't the kind of weather we could get Janey outside in.  She was displeased.  She spent a few days switching hysterically from one video to another, screaming when we didn't immediately understand her, biting her arm and generally being very, very unhappy.

I had planned for quite a while to get away for a few days during the vacation week.  Tony had taken the week off work, as it's been a traditionally very hard week for years.  I was planning to go up to Maine and visit my parents on Wednesday, and then Friday have a long-awaited special treat getaway weekend at an inn as a early birthday gift from a dear friend (thank you, Julie!)  I was (and am) looking down the barrel of, let's just say, a milestone birthday, which would have been stressing me without any tough Janey times.  And I kept thinking---I can't go.  I can't leave Janey here with Tony alone.  But on the other hand, I kept thinking---I have to go.  I NEED to go.  I felt at the end of my rope, hanging on by a single thread.  Each time Janey screamed, I tensed and felt waves of stress and despair wash over me.  I felt like I couldn't take one more second.  But I kept telling myself "I can't go.  I can't leave Tony to deal with this"  Tony, who I will right now nominate for husband and father of the year, kept telling me I should go, that he would be okay, that he'd manage somehow.  It's hard to even explain my state of mind as I tried to decide.  It wasn't sane.  But finally, after getting Tony to promise that if it was too hard, he'd call and I'd come back, I did go.

And Janey was fine.  Not perfect, but fine.  She often seems to do a little better when it's just one of us with her, because all the attention is focused on her, we think.  Tony took her for lots of rides, changed her videos as demanded, and slept when she slept.

Janey views the sunrise

It took me a little while to calm down once I left.  I took a bus to Portland to meet my parents, and the bus ride helped.  I sat and decompressed, and played word games.  By the time I reached their house, I was much, much better, and by the next day, I felt great (although I woke with a horrible headache, probably from all the days of stress)  It was great to have a few days with my parents, and then a few days at an amazing inn with my friend and her fiancee.

Crescent Beach, Cape Elizabeth, Maine

Tony and Janey came up to the inn on Saturday night.  Tony got a chance to relax hanging out with the friends, and I took care of Janey, and by the time she got there, I was looking forward to seeing her very much.  I felt able to cope again, to think of ways to keep her distracted and happy.  We had several showers in the room's huge shower, baths in the big bathtub, we walked to the empty beach at sunrise, we spent time at the bonfire outside in the evening.  We had fun, because I was able to relax enough to have fun with her.

I learned a lesson, one I've tried to learn before, but I think this time it really will stick.  Sometimes, I really do need to take care of myself to be able to care for Janey.  I don't need to be a martyr to care for Janey, to love her.  We don't have a lot of respite, but Tony and I can switch off at times and allow the other party to get a breath.  And Janey will manage.  The toughest times don't last forever.  They come and go.  And I am much better able to to be a creative, patient mother if I am not at the edge of the cliff.

Now, to face tomorrow's birthday and the start of being AARP eligible.....

Why, why, why, why, why?

That is what I have been asking myself about Janey's crying and screaming, constantly.  There is supposed to be a reason for this kind of extreme sadness and anger, something I should be able to figure out.  But with Janey, the best I can do is guesses.  I reckon to say it's probably the best anyone could do.  Here are some of my guesses...

Guess One--- Janey is bothered by the holiday change of routines.  She is especially bothered by an inconsistent schedule.  She knows, at some level, that we go to school for five days and are home for two, and that on the school days, Daddy goes to work, while he's home on the weekend.  During vacation, that is thrown to pieces---there is no school, and Daddy seems to appear randomly---he took off Christmas week, but then had to go back to work, but then it was New Years' Day, now another work day.  School was supposed to be tomorrow, but it's already been cancelled due to the coming storm.  There is no explaining all that to Janey.  On top of that, William is home, for winter break from college.  I am pretty sure Janey had no real idea where he suddenly disappeared to last September, although we have taken her to see his college and room several times.  And now he's back, but in her eyes, who knows for how long?  I even was gone one night, for my semi-annual night out with friends, not coming home until after midnight, which I am sure in Janey's eyes was another scary disappearance.  Of course, we explain all these things to her as best we can, but her level of understanding is very limited (and visual calendars and aides beyond her).  

Guess Two---  Janey hurts in some way she can't explain to us.  I don't think that is the case, but it's possible.  When the screaming is terrible, sometimes we give her Tylenol in case she has a headache or some other pain she can't explain, but it usually has no effect.  She has no fever, no signs of illness, and when I ask her to "point to the hurty place", which is something she seems to understand, she points to nothing.  She can sometimes stop the crying suddenly for an hour or two, and show no signs of any pain.  She gets sick less than anyone I know---almost never.  I don't think it's pain.

Guess Three---  Bad dreams.  Janey is not sleeping well at all.  She seems to be resisting sleep, and not sleeping deeply at all.  I wonder if she is having bad dreams, which are making her scared to sleep.  I am a vivid dreamer, as are her brothers.  I can't imagine how scary it would be to have a bad dream and not understand it's just a dream.  I've had dreams as young as Janey and younger that still scare me to think about.  I've tried talking to Janey about this, about "videos in your head when you sleep" and asking her if she "saw a scary video in her head" and telling her that was a dream and not real.  But I have no idea how much of that she understands, and if she does, there isn't a whole lot I can do about it.

Guess Four--- Winter.  Janey loves to be outside.  But it's been bitterly cold, and snowing a lot, and she just can't spend the afternoon in the back yard as she does in the summer.  Exercise is very important for her, but like a lot of things for children with special needs, not easy to come back.  We are going to look at special swimming lessons, but even that will only be something like an hour a week at most.  The house closes in on all of us in the winter, and I am sure that affects Janey.

Guess Five--- Frustration with her limitations.  I have no way of knowing how much Janey understands about herself.  I wonder if she is able to think far beyond what she can express, and if she is just plain fed up with that.  She showed recently that she can read at least some, and I do truly feel she has untapped potential.  That would be incredibly frustrating, and maybe she is just showing us that the only way she can figure out how to.

Guess Six--- No Reason.  That is sometimes my leading guess.  I don't know if there is any reason at all for Janey's screaming and crying.  Or I should say, any reason that is controllable.  Her bad spells, and indeed her good spells, seem pretty random sometimes.  They come in, last from two to six weeks or so, and go away.  I don't know enough about what cyclical mood disorders would look like in an autistic child to say for sure, and I am not convinced anyone else does, either.  This is in a lot of ways the scariest possible reason, because it means there isn't a lot we can do.  Maybe there is a change of medication, but I have come to realize medication is a guessing game in a child like Janey---a guessing game with pretty high stakes.  If I felt sure she would be helped by a new or higher dose of medication, I would be very open to it, but that is always sometimes to be taken very seriously.  And there are no guarantees it would help.

And so we are left with guessing, and hoping.  There isn't anything else we can do.  I think sometimes people outside the world of special needs think there is some number you can call when it just all becomes unbearable---that I can say "Okay, this is just too much.  I give in" and I can call that number and all kinds of wonderful help I've been for whatever reason resisting taking advantage of will kick in.  The truth is---that help doesn't exist, not in any coordinated or accessible or affordable way.  So we just keep on keeping on.  We don't have a choice, frankly.  And the love we feel for Janey, for all our Janeys, is every bit as strong as the love anyone has for their children.  That is how we do it, when people ask how we do it.

Out of the blue rage

Janey had a pretty good day today.  It was the first day of vacation week, and we have been cooped up a bit due to more snow.  Today, she got out a little, just to go to the store with Tony, and we gave her a lot of attention, and she seemed pretty cheerful.  Then, around bedtime, all hell broke loose.

I don't know what set Janey off---I rarely know.  I was knitting and she was right near me, watching some YouTube videos.  Suddenly, she started to scream, and came rushing at me in anger or fury or who knows what.  I held her and tried to calm her down, speaking softly and slowly and trying to comfort her, but it was no use.  Tony was in the bathroom shaving to go to a wake, and lately she has gotten very upset any time Daddy is not around, so I took her in to see him.  Something set her off again there, after her briefly calming down, and she banged her head against my cheek bone over and over and over as I tried to move her away.  She was screaming a loud and intense scream.  Tony picked her up and tried hard also to calm her down, but nothing was working.  Finally she settled enough so I could get her into bed and lie down next to her.  She was still mad, biting the blankets and pillow and yelling now and then.  I talked quietly and rubbed her back and after maybe 15 minutes, she went to sleep.

I try hard to figure out what brings on these episodes of rage.  They are rarer than the crying, but they happen now and then, and they are scary---scary for her, I am sure, and scary for us.  I think she was tired, and perhaps saw something in the video she was watching that upset her (it was a Baby Einstein video, so it's hard to picture what that could be).  It can be a small thing that sets her off, but then the screaming and rage and our attempts to calm her all feed on themselves and it is like what I've heard about a tornado forming---the rage itself creates the condition for more rage, stronger rage.

Winter is hard for Janey.  She needs time outside.  Vacations are hard too, and snow days, and days with everyone at home.  Being tired is hard for her.  A lot of things are hard for her.  I try hard to understand her. But sometimes, when I'm being smashed in the face, I just wish she would not be that way.  I feel like I'm doing everything I can, and she is not.  That's an unfair thing to think.  She is a child, she is autistic, she has learning challenges, she is not able to understand the world around her or her feelings or how to control them.  But being her mother is tough.  Tougher some days than others, and today is one of those days.

Tired

Lately I've been very, very tired. There could be a lot of reasons---my thyroid medication might need upping, I might be anemic, I might be getting sick---but I think the real reason is I'm constantly on guard. I am always tense to some extent, waiting to see what Janey does next. Things can seem perfectly calm, she can be in the next room singing away to herself and happy as can be, and I can look at her and see she's covered with what she found in her pullup, or tearing all the stuffing out of the couch, or pouring out a bottle of shampoo or lotion, or eating some paper, or taking off all her clothes, or opening the fridge and trying to eat ketchup or mayonaisse or crushed tomatoes or whole garlic cloves, or using my permanent marker to write on things, or sometime, just staring into space. You never know. And I am, if I do say so myself, a very attentive parent. I used to have people comment about the boys that they never got even scraped knees, as I didn't let them loose enough for that to happen. But the most attentive mother on earth cannot keep her eyes every single second on one child. And I am getting worn down by trying. Even when Janey is at school, I am on edge---not that they call me or that I worry she isn't being cared for, as they love her and care for her as well as I do if not better---still, I worry about how she is doing---is she having a tough day? Is she crying? Is she trying to bite people (which she hasn't done in a while, but I worry she will start again) Has she wet herself and is resisting being changed? Is she OKAY?

And all this Janey watching and worrying has to happen along with the rest of my life. I need to be there for two teenage boys---to listen to them, make sure they have clean clothes to wear, make sure they have good food to eat, keep the house in a minimal state of cleanliness, do dishes, pay bills, drive people places, work at my business when I can to get the little extra bit of money we so much need....and I'm tired. I take five medications---my health isn't perfect, but I don't even have time to think about that. What I do, whether I have time for it or not, is fall asleep almost every day during the day. When Janey is at school, whether I have slept well at night or not, I put the phone right next to me and nap. I try not to, as it uses up the little bit of time I have to myself, but I have to. I literally can't resist.

This is a very whiny post. I don't want to sound like a complainer. I am luckier than many parents of autistic children---I have a supportive husband and my other children are old enough to help out. So why am I writing this? I guess because I want to support others with autistic kids---you are not alone. It's very, very, very, very hard. Take care of yourself. Make sure you get the rest, the breaks, the fun that you need. It's very hard to do, but I think we all need to try. This winter has driven me to near a breaking point, and I think my body is telling me that. If you know someone with an autistic child, help them out if you can. Offer to watch their child for an hour or two, if you feel you can. Or if you don't feel you can, which is quite understandable, try to get them out of the house while their significant other or another friend watches the child. Let them vent if they need to, but try to also give them a good time that has nothing to do with parenting or autism. If they can't get away, figure out what they can do for fun that keeps them at home. If they are into Facebook, see if they play some game on there you could play with them. If they watch a TV show, maybe come over and watch it with them, or even watch it at home so you can talk to them about it. Or just call them up and listen, and encourage them to just talk about light fun things too---celebrity gossip, the weather, etc---if they want to. But if they just need to vent about their life, listen and sympathize. Even if you can't do a thing to help, it helps in itself just to say you can see how hard it is. Maybe give them a chance to do something for YOU. One of the things that wears at me is how little I feel I can help others. I can't get out to volunteer, I can't make fancy snacks for Janey to take to school, I can't watch other kids much. So when someone asks for a ride, or asks me to write a letter in support of something, or asks me to help in some way I actually can, it's a boost.

Too long, I'm rambled here. But thanks for reading, if you are. That helps too!