The summer so far

 Janey started summer school today.  I'd like to tell you how it went, but I really have no idea.  She went off on the bus happily, and came home in a fairly good mood, but the time in-between is one of those black holes we as parents of kids like Janey face.  There was no note in her backpack.  I don't know who her teacher is.  I know where the school is (it's not her regular school, as all high school students with special needs go to summer school in one place) but that's about all.  If I don't find out more tomorrow, we will make some calls, but it's a tribute to my general faith in the Boston Public Schools that we are sending her at all, I think.  Of course, we asked Janey about her day, but that has not once in her 13 years going to school yielded any information.

The summer up to this point?  Average, I'd say---not that each day was an average day, but it hasn't been an especially good or bad summer.  We've had some very hot days and some weirdly cool days---the 4th of July featured the same high temperature as last Christmas did---and we've had a good deal of rain.  We've taken Janey for a lot of car rides, but as so often happens in the summer, I don't feel like we've done enough else.  We've played in the driveway a good deal, which mostly means Janey runs around holding her iPhone and listening to YouTube videos.  She has watched "Toy Store 4" probably 100 times.  She's eaten lots and lots of food, luckily, mostly very healthy food, which is why she is able to eat from dawn until dusk and beyond without severe weight gain.

Sleep has been a problem.  As Janey gets older, it's one area that is more of a problem than it used to be.  Just tonight, she's been awake, asleep, awake, asleep and now awake, all since 7 pm, and it's 11:30 now.  There have been lots of nights without any sleep at all, on a couple occasions, two nights in a row.  To us, it seems impossible.  I truly just don't know how she can do it, without napping during the days.  Other times, less commonly, she'll sleep most of the day and most of the night.  Her sleep just doesn't seem to have the pattern that most everyone else's sleep has.  And that would be fine, except we really can't sleep when she isn't sleeping.  We can catnap, but she wakes us up often and we never sleep deeply, as we really need to keep an eye on her.  We are thankful she's isn't in any way an eloper.  Our house has a front and a back hall with doors, so kind of an airlock, but I'd say in all her years she's only ever gone into the halls even without us once or twice.  So we don't worry about her escaping, but more about her dumping food around or having toileting issues or tossing bowls onto the ground for fun (a recent new hobby)

Janey did have a filling done under general anesthesia last week, which went very well.  She was happy and cheerful even going to the dentist, which to me spoke to how bored I worry she is at home.  I feel guilty over this boredom, but it is so very hard to get her interested in anything new.  I think I'd go out of my mind watching the same movie over and over, or taking car rides to nowhere for hours, or listening to the same music over and over while running up and down a driveway.  But when I try very hard to introduce a new move, or when we try to take her for walks around the neighborhood, or to play some new driveway game, or just to shake things up a bit, she is not at all interested.  Maybe it's us, because she certainly seemed to enjoy going to the dentist and to school.  But still, I feel a huge amount of guilt over her limited range of entertainment.  I know I've written about this before, but it's on my mind so much.

Janey will be 17 next month.  That shakes me up.  When I was 17, I left for college.  17 was the start of my adult life.  For Janey, 17 will probably be much like 16, or 15, or 5.  Does that matter to her?  Is there any way I can find out?  Is Janey happy with her life?  Does she think about what her life is, what she wishes it was, what it can or can't be?  Is it enough that most of the time now, Janey is fairly content, or is there more that we should do?  Does she long for more?  There are so many things I don't know about Janey, although our lives are intertwined so closely.  How I wish I could ask her so many things---starting with the little things, like how school was today, and leading to the big things.  Until I can, if I ever can, I feel a huge weight of obligation to make the right decisions, to provide the right enrichment, to protect her when needed, give her freedom in the little ways I can, to make her life meaningful.  I hope I can do even in a small part what she deserves.

The Bison, The Scorpion and The Mystery

Janey watches certain videos on YouTube over and over and over and over. She has become very attached to my old decommissioned iPhone, and like many teenagers, has it by her side almost all the time. Her favorite video right now is a Cocomelon one, and if you don't know what Cocomelon is, you are lucky. Their videos feature a too good to be true family, especially the youngest, a strange looking toddler called JJ. JJ goes to an extremely fancy preschool---they go skiing, get tap dance in a studio, go on a submarine and learn to surf. In the video we hear all day every day, it's the Winter Show and Tell time, told about to a tune that is sort of like The Twelve Days of Christmas, but not exactly. JJ has forgotten his project, and his mother is going to bring it later. I wish I didn't know any of that. I am tortured by the video from start to finish. But I also generally believe in letting Janey pick on her own what she watches, and I've read much from others with autism saying that watching the same thing over and over can be very comforting. So...most of the time I just try to ignore it.

 One afternoon, however, I was at my wit's end. I took the iPhone and insisted on a break, and quickly, to try to keep Janey occupied, grabbed my laptop and looked for something she might like. I found for some reason an animal quiz, showing pictures of various animals to identify. The first one was a bison. I didn't think Janey would know what a bison was, and I was right. But what she called it was what really blew my mind. She looked at it for a minute and said "That's a scorpion" The bison in question had horns that folded back on themselves. Looked at close up, the horns looked exactly like the tail of a scorpion. 

 So many questions raced into my mind. How in the world did Janey know what a scorpion was? Why did she focus in on that part of the picture and make the connection? And how did she come up with the word "scorpion", when often she has a very hard time giving the correct name to the correct one of her two brothers, when her talking is so very limited, when she watches a mind-numbingly dull video hour after hour? How the heck does her mind work? What does it feel like to be her?

 I've wondered these things for many years, of course, but lately, it's hitting me more. A lot of it is the fear that Janey is bored out of her mind a lot of the time. It's not like we don't try to expand what she does. The house is full of books and toys, and I try very hard to engage her with them. We take her for multiple rides a day (the only other activity besides the videos she asked for much). We would jump on absolutely any interest she showed and go with it as far as we could. But she is hugely resistant to anything but the videos and car rides.

 It would almost be easier to think that her mind isn't full of knowledge. It truly bothers me to think of all she knows that never gets shown or used. I think about how I'd feel watching the same thing over and over, and I think I'd truly feel like I couldn't take it. I want Janey's life to be full and interesting. So what do I do? And why does it take what almost feels like a party trick to get Janey to let us know what she knows? We've figured out when she really wants a car ride, and we aren't ready to go, she'll answer almost anything we ask, somehow hoping that it's part of the routine to get us going. We don't say that, and we would never force her to answer questions to get to do something she wanted, but still, it can be interesting. Today, in that situation, she gave her phone number, her address, her full name, and when we asked "What planet do we live on?" she confidently answered "Jupiter!" How does she know that's a planet? How is she able to easily recite a 10 digit phone number but not always her name? How can I help her use her intelligence and knowledge to have a life with more variety? What can I do? What does she WANT me to do?

 I'm mostly ignoring Autism Awareness or Acceptance or whatever month. I am as aware of autism as I can be, and I fully accept Janey's autism, and I can't do much about anyone else but myself. But what I really want is to UNDERSTAND Janey. What is her mind like? I wish that there were more studies of kids like Janey, not just those kids with autism that can speak for themselves. I think it's vitally important that Janey and her peers, those with severe autism, with non-verbal or low verbal autism, be understood, that we know how they think so we can help them live their best lives. It means more than anything to me to be able to give Janey the best life possible, but in so many ways, after all these years, she's still a mystery to me.

"Frustrated, Angry, Bored"

Janey has had a tough week.  After almost two months handling the quarentine like a champ, I think she's had enough.  She's been screaming and acting out much of the day, every day, staying up most of the night and sleeping during the days, tossing things around---just not happy.  Last night she had been yelling for hours. Out of desperation, I turned to her iPad's talking programs.  Using the one program she seems to like, Proloquo2Go, I went to the feelings page and asked her to please tell me what she was feeling.  Without hesitation, she picked "hate".  And pushed it over and over and over.  Fair enough.  Then I went to the body parts page to ask her if anything hurt.  She picked "feet", which is something she often picks.  I asked her if she needed a foot rub and she said yes, so we did that, and then she went to the program and picked "legs" and "arms", so I gave her a leg and arm rub too.  Then she exited the program and told me to go away.  The rest of the night was far better---she slept well and didn't scream at all.

So...why don't we use the "talker", as we call it, more?  Because Janey won't.  We've tried and tried.  I've read whatever I could on using it.  I've tried modeling, tried having it open near her as much as we can, tried programming words she might want into it, tried all I can think of.  Most of the time, she strongly rejects it.  She's several times used her limited speech to say "I CAN TALK" when I try to get her to use it, when I've said how it can help her talk.  I don't know why she doesn't like it more.  But I have respected her wishes, partly because trying to force her to do anything is a losing game.  So for quite a while, we haven't even tried it much.

I realized last night that part of why I don't try it more is that I was a little obsessed with using it "right".  I wanted to have her learn to use it for sentences, to move between screens, to try new words with it.  But the times it worked best was when I first went to a screen with a theme, like I did last night, feelings or body parts, or foods or colors or things like that.  She readily chooses when I do that.  I think she can read the words some, and uses them more than the pictures, but I have no way to prove that.  But I am going to try to more often just open a screen for her and let her pick.

This morning, I pulled up the feelings screen again.  Instantly, Janey picked "Frustrated, Angry, Bored" in rapid succession.  Well, that about says it all about life being stuck at home.  I told her I felt the same way, and I wish there was more we could do to help.  The biggest problem right now is masks.  Janey will not wear a mask, and it's the law here in Massachusetts that masks must be worn in public.  There is an exception for people with special needs, and I know we could use that, but the other part of it is that we believe in the masks, and are very scared of getting sick.  Aside from the disaster that Janey getting COVID-19 would be, if she gave it to Tony or me, we could get very, very sick.  So, while the virus is still badly raging in this area, we are stuck.  We can go for car rides to nowhere or play in the driveway, but that's about it.  And who wouldn't be frustrated, angry and bored----especially if you were 15?

This whole virus life is hard on everyone, but especially hard on kids like Janey.  She doesn't have friends to text or FaceTime with.  She doesn't read books.  She can't take walks even right now...if she would wear a mask, there's still the problem of her touching everything in sight.  She is stuck in an endless dull day.  And we are trying, but it's hard to break up the boredom.  I'm surprised it took her as long as it did to get angry.

Jealousy, Anger, Boredom, Fear....

In my own mind, there is a list of acceptable emotions to have as a parent, especially the parent of a child with autism. Happiness, pride, love, determination, hope, curiosity, amusement, empathy---you'll notice the list is full of positive or encouraging feelings. But there's also a list of feelings I classify as, if not forbidden, at least not to be spoken of much. I'm going to try hard here to be honest about some of those.


Jealousy


In my ideal version of myself, I'm never jealous of other parents or kids. I delight in what Janey can do, and never think about what other kids are doing. In reality, sometimes I am so jealous it's hard to describe. I see other girls her age on Facebook, doing all the regular 13 year old girl things, and I can barely stand it. I look at other mother/daughter relationships, with all their ups and down, and I long for that kind of relationship in my own life. Every child with autism that functions at a higher level than Janey can make the green-eyed monster come out in me. The jealousy isn't all the time, but when it shows up, it's powerful.


Anger


We got a new couch recently. For the few of you that have seen our furniture, you know it was highly, highly overdue. It's nothing fancy, but I had this dream of it looking fairly good for maybe, say, a month. This Sunday, as Tony drove Freddy back to school and I stayed with Janey, against my better judgement, I went to the bathroom while Janey was watching TV. In the few minutes that took, Janey got a bottle of salad dressing out of the refrigarator and, for reasons known only to herself, poured the whole bottle on the new couch. I don't get angry that easily, but I made an exception there. I was furious. Life with Janey presents a lot of moments like the Couch Incident. In some ways, it makes no sense to be angry at Janey. It does no good, I don't think she usually gets why I'm angry, it doesn't do anything but get us both worked up. But having a child who does inexplicable and destructive things on a fairly regular basis---yes, I get angry sometimes.


Boredom


For some reason, this feels like one of the most taboo emotions to have when dealing with your autistic child. I feel like I'm supposed to consider every moment an exciting learning opportunity, a chance to teach and help. However, the truth is, sometimes life with Janey can get boring. Her favorite thing to do with me is what she calls “Snuggle on Mama's bed”. In reality, it's her bed, and it's not usually really snuggling, it's lying there next to each other. My role in this game is to sing little songs and recite nursery rhymes and otherwise carry on a monologue. Sometimes this time feels wonderful, a time of connection between us. Other times, though, I am just plain bored of it. Janey doesn't want me to sing or recite or talk about anything new. She is open to new music in the car, but not when we are snuggling and I'm singing. She doesn't want to talk herself, or be asked questions, or listen to any books except a few nursery rhyme ones and occasionally “Go Dog Go”. I'd say we spend a couple hours a day in this mode. And it gets boring. Very, very boring, at times.


Fear


Recently, there's been attention in the news to the hideously high rate of abuse of those with special needs. I can't read through these articles, but I've read enough. When I think about that kind of thing...well, often I just can't. The fear would overwhelm me. And in the background, there is a fear that never ever goes away, the fear of what will happen to Janey when Tony and I are gone. When I think about her in any kind of situation where she is scared or confused or being hurt or not cared for---the fear is horrible. Add to that the fear that was planted, planted deep, when she lived with a burst appendix for three days without us knowing, the fear of the harm that can come from her lack of ability to communicate well...the fear is always, always there.



There you have it---the emotions that often get left out of what is openly discussed when talking about this special needs parenting gig. It's not an easy job. It's the job I'm committed to for life, and my love of Janey is my pay. But like any job, no matter how well paid, there are days you just want to gripe, to speak openly about the sometimes tough work conditions with others on the work site. Thanks for listening.

On admitting it's ME who is overwhelmed and frustrated...

We are at Friday of spring vacation week.  Tony is taking today off, which is a huge, huge, HUGE relief.  It's been a long week.  Mostly for me, more than Janey, and that is what I'm thinking about.

Last summer when I talked about how Janey's life had little variety, I was very taken with the insight a lot of you gave me---that Janey might not mind the lack of variety, and in fact might like it.  I think you were right.  Janey takes enjoyment in simple things, and she loves having her days follow a pretty predictable script.  She is able to handle changes more than some kids with autism, but she likes it if the changes are within the framework of a general sameness.  With that in mine, I decided this week I would follow Janey's lead, let her set a routine and go with it.

Janey set a routine the first day and without me reminding her or prompting her, she requested it be followed for the next three days.  This is how it went....First, she woke up about six.  I snuggled with her a bit, we had some breakfast, she watched a little bit of TV.  Then she said "Go to the ice cream store?", which, as you've probably heard, is the convenience store near us.  We did the routine of getting dressed for the day, and walked to the store.  Janey loves this.  I got coffee and she looked for a long time at the chips and picked a bag, we payed and walked home.  Then she ate the chips outside while I had my coffee.  

Next, we went back inside for a little more videos time.  Then, Janey asked for a shower.  I set it up and she had one---washing her hair or not depending on if she needed it.  I let her take as long a shower as she felt like.  We got dressed again, a little more videos and then Janey asked for a car ride.  I suggested a place, which didn't really matter, as she wanted simply to be in the car.  We drove, got out wherever I had said, Janey put up with wherever we were for about five minutes, then asked to go home.  

The huge hug when Daddy gets home

When we got home, Janey screamed because the car ride was over.  That's where the routine still was routine, but not a very fun one.  For the rest of the day, until Tony came home early about 2 (he went into work very early so he could come home early), the routine was to scream and ask for Daddy.  As early as I could do it without it being too long, we went outside to wait for Daddy.  When he got home, Janey acted like she was seeing a returning soldier after many long years.  The smiles and hugs were incredible.  Then they went for the kind of car ride she really likes, long and without destination.

By last night, I was in a mood and a half, and I realized something.  As much as I want to be the perfect autism mother, as much as I feel like my own wants shouldn't matter, they do.  And I was bored, frustrated, hurt, tired.  

The ride yesterday was the last straw.  For the ride, I said we could go to Panda Express.  None of us but Janey like this fast food Chinese food, but she loves it.  However, I didn't realize that she had a routine in mind.  There was a line when we got there, as it was lunchtime.  I don't think Janey had ever experienced a line there before (it's not the most popular place, and is right next to a Five Guys and a Chipotle that get most of the customers) and she started freaking out and pushing people.  I got her to wait, we got our food, we sat down and she quickly ate the beef dish she likes, in about three minutes, and she was ready to go.  I had barely had a bite.  She grabbed the tray and wanted to throw it out.  She was rapidly becoming frantic and hysterical.  I gulped down a few bites on the way to the trash and threw out the rest, as the few other customers stared.

Then, Janey wanted to go in the Chipotle.  I realized that probably every other time she'd gone to Panda Express, it was because the boys wanted Chipotle, and Tony took her to Panda Express instead.  Then, they came over to see us at the Chipotle.  The fact that the boys are away at college and Tony was at work didn't matter.  We were supposed to go in the Chipotle and see them.  I got her into the car, screaming and highly upset, and she spent the rest of the afternoon highly angry.

When Tony got home, I started ranting.  I had done everything I could for four days to make it a week that would work for Janey.  Although I fully understand that she has a need for routine, although I know as well as anyone can that she is easily triggered by changes, I was just tired of it.  I was tired of trying so hard to keep her happy.  I was tired of dealing day and night with screaming.  I was tired of....well, all of it.  

And that's the thing of it.  All of us autism mothers and fathers are human beings.  We do our solid best.  But sometimes, it gets to us.  And that is where it gets hard.  Because what do I do?  There is no break from this.  There is no end to it.  There is no day that Janey's needs won't be overwhelming.  This is my life.

Last week I talked about the lack of programs or activities for those like Janey, with high needs autism.  The truth is, Janey doesn't much want outside activities, I don't think.  I do.  I want the break they would give me.  But the few activities that do exist---classes and therapies and so on---require I be there with her.  And that is just harder than no activity at all, and not worth it for something that in my heart I know she doesn't really enjoy anyway.  It's me that needs variety, and a break, not Janey.  

I got over my rant last night.  I am lucky in so many ways, and one of the top pieces of luck is one heck of a wonderful husband, who is taking over with Janey today.  But I keep being struck by that one thought---parents of kids like Janey are people too.  Sometimes it seems like we are supposed to not be. But we are, and sometimes, we are overwhelmed.

At the Autism Whatever time of year, challenges, hopes, dreams and love

Over the years, writing this blog, my goals have been a few things.  One is to be honest---to write about how I really feel and how my life with Janey really is---to try my hardest to stay clear of any particular philosophy or approach that will limit how I feel I can express myself.  Another is to be respectful of Janey, to do my level best to represent her in a way she would want to be represent herself, if she were able to write.  And third, to give support and encouragement to others---to let them know that it's possible for things to get better even when they seem impossibly hard, to give them a virtual hand to hold when times are tough and to celebrate along with them when our girls surprise and delight us with their triumphs.

It's that time of year again---the time that goes by various names---Autism Awareness or Acceptance or no name at all because it shouldn't be a day, it should be all the time, or whatever.  It always makes me think I should write some kind of summing up post, some kind of meaningful conclusion post.  I had some things in mind, but today turned out to be a tough day.  Janey is not happy.  There's a lot of screaming, a lot of crying.  I am feeling discouraged, and that always makes it hard to stay positive...it makes it feel very fake to stay positive and upbeat, at least in the short run.

Where are we today? Overall, in a fairly good place, despite today's mood.  We had Janey's three year re-evaluation IEP meeting on Wednesday, and it was a good one.  She is making progress in ways she hadn't been for a long time---with talking, with learning skills, with expressing her needs.  Tony and I were very happy, as we almost always are, with the level of caring and understanding those working with Janey showed.  It's an example of this that one area she'd regressed a little in was "attention seeking", and her teacher remarked that is probably because she is almost always getting attention without having to seek it---that she knows more people in the school than most the teachers, and they all want to interact with her---that she draws people in.  That made me very happy, and it's something Janey really does do.  She's got an engaging personality, and we are seeing more and more of who she is as she gets older.

The biggest challenge I see for the next three years, if we look at Janey's life in three year blocks, is providing her with an interesting life.  At one point today, while crying, Janey said "I'm so bored!"  We've never heard that before, and I think it was a quote, but as so many of her quotes, it was used in context.  I asked her "Do you wish it was a school day?" and she said "WISH IT WAS A SCHOOL DAY!" very firmly.  Sometimes it can make me cry to think how limited Janey's life is.  She is nearing thirteen.  When I was thirteen, I started high school.  I had friends and crushes and homework and activities and hobbies.  I worked, babysitting and helping in my mother's store.  I wrote letters and diaries and read hundreds of books.  I walked for hours on the shore.  What does Janey do?  She goes to school and she comes home.  She watches videos.  She eats.  I need to expand her life.  We need to find activities for her, not busywork but activities she will really enjoy and be able to participate in.

Longer term, we need to start thinking about what Janey's life will look like as she becomes an adult.  How do you plan a life for someone like Janey?  At the IEP meeting, it was mentioned that sorting things was good training for sheltered workshop type work.  I have to say---that's not a goal of mine.  If you measure Janey's intelligence with any standard method, I know it would look like it should be a goal, even probably a rather ambitious goal.  But I don't think you can measure Janey with standard measuring tools.

I used to believe that people who said things like "There are many kinds of intelligence" and "IQ is just a meaningless number" were, well, I don't know...not correct.  But my thinking on that has changed radically.  Janey is very, very smart, in ways those tests can't measure.  She is smart in her own ways.  I can honestly say she has intelligence that can't be measured with tests.  She shows it with the song connections she makes, with the quotes that perfectly match situations, with her sense of humor, with her dancing and organizing and sophisticated palate.  I don't look at her, ever, and see a person with limited intelligence.

So---what do I hope for Janey?  I hope she has joy.  I hope she finds a way to pursue her interests and use her talents.  I hope she is able to find the care that she needs for the areas that she needs help with.  I hope she is always surrounded by people who love her and find her interesting.  I hope that she can rid herself of some of her demons, of whatever it is that makes her so unhappy often.  I hope she never encounters cruelty.

And what do I hope for myself?  I am realizing that's fair to ask, also.  I hope I can balance Janey's needs with my own.  I hope I value myself enough to do what I need to do to be healthy, for Janey and for myself.  I hope I am able to pursue my own interests and dreams without that hurting Janey.  I hope for a balanced life, one where of course my most important role is mother---to Janey and her brothers, but that I also am able to enjoy my own passions---that I can garden and read and travel and laugh with friends and have a life that is happy without that taking away from Janey's happiness.

I don't know what to call this time of year.  But whatever you choose to call it, I wish those with lives touched by autism happiness and love.

The Sticker Book

Recently, after being amazed by seeing Janey be tested as part of a research study, and after some surprising, great talking she's done, several thoughts are in my mind constantly.  One is how bored she might be.  Because her talking is limited, I think we often limit what we talk to her about.  Quite frankly, it can be hard to think of conversational topics when your conversation partner rarely talks back or brings up anything new.  So I've also been thinking about ways to expand her knowledge, to give her new ideas and facts and interests.

Puffy stickers

Janey is absolutely an auditory learner.  That seems to be rarer in autism than being a visual learner.  So much of what I read as advice for teaching kids like Janey assumes they are visual learners---picture schedules, communication devices that use pictures, choice boards with pictures---all that.  Janey prefers words.  She's made this quite plain, as plain as she is able.  I am the one that needs to figure out how to help her learn in an auditory way.

So---my inspiration for making a sticker book seems strange.  What are stickers if not little pictures? But when I had the idea of the book, I had a feeling I'd hit on something.  The trick is---the stickers are for ME.  I'm the one that loves them, I'm the one that learns well visually.  I'm the one that needs new ideas for talking.

And I love stickers.  There, I've admitted it---I'm a middle aged woman who adores stickers.  I always have.  So the idea of making a huge sticker book for Janey appealed to me very much.

Some Kawaii stickers!

I got started by ordering a sketch pad and a couple lots of stickers from Amazon.  I ordered a big pack of puffy stickers---sheet after sheet of different kinds, and a pack of stickers of the kind you put on cars, all assorted.  Then on Etsy I discovered something called Kawaii stickers.  I thought at first Kawaii was a brand, but it's actually Japanese for a concept much like "cute".  There are a HUGE amount of kinds of Kawaii stickers---I've since found a few online stores that sell them very cheaply, and I don't think I could ever run out of different types.

An animal themed page

I had a lot of fun sticking all the stickers I had so far in the book.  And then I gave it a try...I showed the book to Janey, picked a page at random and then a sticker at random, and showed it to her, and talked about it.  Talked about it in the way we've come to figure out she likes best---in a silly and highly enthusiastic way.  Several of her breakthrough sentences lately have been ones asking us to play various verbal games with her---pretending to sneeze, making high squeaky "monkey" noises, things like that.  The sticker I first hit on was a ghost.  I said something like "There's a ghost!  It goes WHOOOO HOOOO in such a creepy way!  See that silly ghost?"

A little bit edgy and weird for my near teen

Janey loved it.  We played with ghost noises for quite a while.  Then I switched pages and asked her to touch the sticker she wanted to talk about.  We were in a page of Shopkins stickers, and she found a picture of corn with eyes.  I talked that up a lot "That's so silly!  Corn never has eyes!  We eat corn!  It comes in cobs.  You like corn.  Let's find some more corn pictures!"  We found some more on that page, and some on other pages, and that led to other topics---one of the corn pictures featured a rainbow, and I started talking about colors, one had corn next to some other food, holding hands, and I talked about how they were friends...things like that.  Before I knew it, half an hour had gone by---a full and fun half hour.

Camping, cooking and Frozen

Since then, I've pulled out the sticker book every day, and Janey seems to be looking forward to it.  She finds her favorite stickers quickly, but is also open to new stickers.  I feel like I've increased how interesting and varied our talking time together is by a huge amount.  And...I have an excuse to look for stickers to add!

In the broader picture, the whole sticker book idea brings up a couple lessons I've learned along the way.  One is that Janey knows if we are enjoying what we are doing and are engaged in it.  I'm going to stick to a way of teaching that I like much more than one I don't, and with Janey's extreme ability to read tones of voice, she picks up on the fact I'm having fun, and she joins in.  Another lesson goes along with that well-used phrase "You've met one kid  with autism, you've met one kid with autism" All the visual schedules and picture-based AAC programs in the world don't change the fact that Janey learns by hearing.  And that I don't, and that I need to figure out how to bridge that gap, how to respect what she is learning every day a little more how to tell us.  If that allows me to indulge in a long-buried sticker passion---well, all the better.

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.

Treading Water

This week, and last week and I project this next week, feel like treading water, like running in place.  Janey and I are getting by, but not going forward, not doing much of anything useful or even that fun.  I feel like I'm somehow just not figuring something out, like I'm wasting time that shouldn't be wasted, but I'm not able to do what it takes to change things.

School starts a week from today.  I must say every year the first day of school feels like a holiday right up there with the big ones. I always liked the first day of school, no matter how I felt about the rest of the year.  It felt like the start of it all, the beginning of something new and big.  I remember how it felt to have my new 5 subject notebooks, each section carefully labeled, to have a clean desk and locker, to see who was in my classes and what new faces there were.  Within a few weeks, always, my desk or locker was a horrible mess, no matter how hard I tried, and the notebook was doodled on and torn up.  But the first day---it felt wide open.

Janey and Goofy, at ToysRUs

Janey will be starting 6th grade.  In a lot of ways, every school year feels the same with Janey.  But 6th grade---that's a big one.  That's middle school.  I have a memory so vivid it's like a movie clip of the first moment of 6th grade.  We moved to what in our town was called The Annex.  It was a school built in 1900, and by the time I went there, in 1976, it had been condemned for at least 10 years.  No-one could go on the 3rd floor at all, and only teachers could use the 2nd floor.  We were on the first floor, 3 classrooms.  There were 3 other classrooms you had to go down a hill outside to get to, a shop and a home ec room and a room called "the community room" which was a standalone classroom.  It was a small town, obviously.  But that moment I walked into The Annex for the first time felt like a huge deal.  Mr. Berry was there, one of the six teachers, and he was pointing and saying "That room for 6th grade, that room for 7th, that for 8th!" and it felt like the start of something getting close to adulthood.

I write about that moment partly to contrast it with Janey's life.  6th grade will be a lot like any other grade for her.  The years don't change much, in terms of what she is working on learning.  She'll go to school until she's 22, and then, probably I would guess to some day program.

Janey at the park, before loose dogs scared her away

I feel more and more like it's up to me to make Janey's life interesting and meaningful, and I feel like I'm not doing a good job.   And as much as I tend to take all blame on myself, I know in this case my job is very, very tough.  If Janey were a typical 12 year old, there would be literally thousands of programs, lessons, camps, enrichments---all open to her and all within the Boston area.  In addition, she would have friends.  She would perhaps be riding the subway to school on her own, if she were going to a school like Freddy did.  I would be part of her life, but it would not all be up to me.  When I think about it much, I can get furious.  Giving Janey a meaningful life is as important as it is to any child, but where in heck does all the money donated to autism organizations go?  Why is there basically NO programs Janey can access?  There are a few programs for autism here and there, but when I look into them, they are for the highest end of the spectrum---not for a child like Janey.

Janey finding the Elmo crayon toy, one she loves so much we've bought it twice

So---I do what I can.  It's not enough.  This week, we did a lot of walks to the corner store.  We went to a big open park, Millennium Park, early in the day so there weren't too many free roaming dogs or little kids.  We left when more dogs arrived.  We went to ToysRUs, and Janey enjoyed looking at toys (it's one of the few stores where touching the merchandise is not a problem) but then she got upset and started toward a little girl with a look I know as "about to lunge" and I grabbed her and left.  We watched TV and took showers.  It was not a week that was interesting and meaningful.

I will stop for now, as I feel like I'm entering the ranting and rambling stage of writing.  I'll stop and try to think of something to do today, try to figure out something that is safe for Janey and those around her, something interesting and meaningful.  Good luck to me.

The Weeks Inbetween

Janey starts school in a week and a half, on the Thursday after Labor Day.  Boston starts later than almost any school I know, but then of course they also stay in school much later, into late June.  Of all the weeks in the year, I'd say these weeks in between summer school and regular school are the longest feeling.  Especially this year---we had the early summer excitement of our trip to Ohio, and the later summer excitement of the big wedding, and now...nothing.  It's very, very hard to keep Janey happy during weeks like these.  Tony is at work, William is back at college and although Freddy is helping a good deal, he also is spending a lot of time with friends before he and they also go back to college.  So it's mostly Janey and me.

How do I fill the days?  I'll be honest, they have mostly been filled with TV and videos.  I don't know what I'd do without them.  It's not that I don't want to do other things.  But taking Janey anywhere on my own is so tough.  Yesterday, we did a trip to the grocery store, and that wasn't even just me---Freddy went too.  Lucky that he did, because Janey decided to fling a jar of salsa she wanted into the cart.  It might have been okay, but it hit a jar of spaghetti sauce and WHAM.  The cart and floor and all the food we'd already gotten was covered with salsa and sauce and glass.  And Janey was very excited by it all.  Freddy stayed with the cart as we waited for cleanup, and I took off with Janey to another section of the store.  We had planned to buy a lot more, but we grabbed a few things, salvaged what we could that was covered with sauce, paid for the lot and the broken stuff, and took off while the getting was good.

Early in the week, another big exciting trip, to the Rite-Aid drug store.  Janey was enjoying herself and being good until something upset her, who knows what, and she started to scream the ear-piercing scream.  It took all the calm I had to get her in shape to quickly buy my stuff and again, get out of there.

We've done some walks.  That's tricky too, as Janey will suddenly decide she's had enough, and that means she doesn't want to walk back.  I live in fear she'll get upset enough to jolt away from me and get hurt.  So we have to keep the walks extremely short, within sight of the house.

At home, I mostly serve as a show changer.  Some of Janey's shows are on Netflix, some on Hulu and some on Amazon.  Switching between them is a bit more than she can do.  She always knows exactly what she wants to watch, but the hard part is telling me.  We scroll through lists of episodes, and use a modified kind of sign language, where she points to the right or left to tell me which way to scroll, and then to herself when she finds the show she wants.  Then, because she often watches parts of shows, we have to figure out if she wants the show back at the beginning or where she left off.  It's about 50-50, but it's also 50-50 whether she'll say what she really wants.  "From the beginning" can mean "where I left off" and if I get it wrong, it's an automatic scream.

I don't mean to sound like a complainer here, although of course that's partly what I'm doing.  But what bothers me more than anything is that I feel like Janey deserves more.  I think it's a boring life for her at times like this.  I wish she was doing the kind of things I did when I was 12 at the end of the summer---spending nights at friend's houses, going for walks in the woods, reading and reading, playing cards with my sister, even working babysitting and in my mother's store.  By the time I was 12, my world was fairly open, as open as a pre-driver's world can be in the country.  Janey's world is very closed.  She has school and home.  I do feel good we went a few places this summer, but I still feel very sad at times that her world is so closed in.

I'll close with a picture of Janey doing her favorite thing during times like this, picking out a treat at the "ice cream store".  That's the highlight of her day, I think.  It's not enough, but it's something, and it makes her happy, and sometimes that is all we can do.

Groundhog Day

It's Groundhog Day, a day that has perhaps become more associated with the movie of the same name than the actual big rodent seeing his shadow or not.  I love the Bill Murray movie.  I've watched it many times, and today was reading a lot about it---theories as to what it means, how many days it actually covered, things like that.  And it struck me suddenly---life with Janey is a lot like life in Groundhog Day.

Day to day, things don't change a lot with Janey.  There are tough periods and easier periods, but they swing back and forth.  There are little bits of progress, but they are often pared with little bits of regression.  She gradually switches interest from one set of videos or playlist of songs to another, but often switches back after a year or two.  In general, life with Janey over the years stays in most big ways the same.

My first reaction, thinking of that today, was that it brings up one of the topics I haven't addressed much here, because I feel a little ashamed of it.  It's boredom.  Sometimes, raising Janey can be boring.  As a parent, we are used to the rush of changes in our children.  They go by almost too fast sometimes---learning to read, making friends on their own, going out places by themselves, starting high school, graduating, going to college...I've been through it, and it is quite a whirl.  It's not boring, you can say that for sure.  But sometimes, I wish that there was more of that with Janey.  It's not HER that bores me, it's the routines.  I think about her coming home from school.  We do the same thing, every day.  She goes to find food, I help her with it, she wants to snuggle, I lie down with her, she gets up and watches some TV, we start waiting for Daddy, he comes home, he cooks for her...We don't talk about her day.  We don't discuss new things she learned.  I try, sometimes, to sneak in something new---yesterday I suggested a walk.  She went from happy to meltdown quickly.  Sometimes, I try hard to read her a book or play toys with her.  She either pushes them aside, ignores me completely or freaks out.  I realize she's tired from her day at school,and that there is comfort in routines.  But forgive me for saying so---sometimes it gets boring.

However, that's not the message of "Groundhog Day", I don't think.  The message is that with a day that is the same every time, we have time to perfect it.  We are able to look at each variable and make it better.  And with Janey, we can do that.  I can say that life now is easier than it was two or three years ago.  It's partly Janey, but it's partly us, I think.  Take that afternoon.  I make sure there is always food she can find.  She doesn't want it handed to her.  She wants to look for it.  So I get something ready and put it in the fridge or on the counter.  When she wants to snuggle, I set aside everything else.  I know it's essential that I spend that time next to her---not asking questions, not trying to do workbooks, not pushing play on her, just being with her.  Then, when she wants TV, I've figured out through many, many Groundhog-like Days that she will never stay with her first choice.  She watches it for a second, and then wants to switch.  Now, I put on the first show and stay right there, and say "Tell me if you want to change shows"  That averts a meltdown, as does the snuggling, as does the food available but not handed to her.  I've figured those rules out over time, and by using them, most afternoons are fairly smooth.  I know too that she will break down a little each day before Tony gets home.  She seems to need it, and I just ride it out, not trying to figure it out or calm her down, just letting her have her small time of crying.

Life many parents, I am sure, I think about raising my older kids, my boys, and wish I could go back and savor a lot of the moments.  They were moving targets.  One day, the boys didn't want to leave my side, the next, it seemed, I have to rely on text messages to know where in the world they are.  One minute, they are keeping you up all night as a baby, the next moment, they are keeping you up all night waiting for them to get home.  Nothing lasts.  But I've been given a gift, if I accept it, of a child that grows very, very slowly.  I have many, many days to get it right, and I will keep trying to do so, Groundhog Day after Groundhog Day.

Not Defined by Autism

There's a saying about autism that is very true---"If you've met one person with autism, you've met one person with autism"  I've been thinking lately how the word "autism" can mean very little, even when modified by the sometimes politically incorrect low or high functioning labels.  This fact was brought home to me strongly when I tried taking Janey to a vacation event run by the local autism agency.  It was an animal show---or I think it was, as we couldn't actually stay for it.  After a half hour free play time, which Janey tolerated because Tony came with me and stayed with her every second, all the kids were supposed to sit on the floor near the man showing the animals.  I was amazed that most of them did.  Janey, however, did not want to be there any longer, and showed that vividly by kicking me in the face.  I got the message and we left.  I felt extremely low for that ride home.  If Janey couldn't fit in in a crowd of kids with autism, where in heck would she EVER fit in?

After lots of thinking, I realized that was a harsh conclusion for me to come to.  Janey has a unique personality.  ALL kids have unique personalities.  But in picking "autism" as the word to describe Janey, only a little part of who she is gets highlighted.  She IS autistic---she's been evaluated at least three times and meets the criteria for that diagnoses.  But she's more....

Janey is VERY easily bored.  That fact came alive this vacation week.  Neither of her brothers were around, and Tony worked half days.  Although I did my damnest to keep her entertained, Janey hated this week.  Janey likes activity, movement, noise, excitement.  She doesn't need a lot of down time.

Janey has next to no patience.  If she asks to do something, and I don't do it immediately, she freaks out.  If she wants to snuggle, she wants to snuggle RIGHT NOW.  If she craves a walk to the ice cream store, it has to happen IMMEDIATELY.

Janey has a hair trigger.  This relates to the first two.  If Janey is bored, and if she wants to do something to relieve that boredom, and I don't do it immediately, she lashes out.  I was hit over and over and over during this vacation week, almost always because I wasn't doing what Janey wanted to do.

Those are three mostly negative facts of Janey's personality.  Here's some positive ones...

Janey enjoys being out and about.  She doesn't have a real craving for routine.  This is where the standard view of autism doesn't much serve Janey.  Her happiest day this vacation was when Tony and I took her for a long drive to parts of the state we hadn't seen before.  Just seeing the scenery, stopping here and there for a bite to eat or a run at a scenic turnout, resulted in a super day.  She did get mad at one point when she wanted her shoes off and that didn't happen immediately, but overall, the day was a dream compared to the other vacation days.

Janey is passionate and enthusiastic about things she likes.  If you have a view of kids with autism being self-contained, you aren't picturing Janey.  When music comes on that she likes, her excitement and joy are completely infectious.  She goes into a state of total happiness.  Last night, she discovered "The Pink Panther" on YouTube, and her hysteria over the antics she was seeing was something else again.  She can get excited beyond belief at pesto, at Chinese food, at TV shows, at seeing someone she loves.  She loves things hard.

Janey has a wonderful sense of humor.  She likes nothing better than the whole family being together laughing at something.  One way to get her out of a bad mood is to put on a funny show or movie we all like and laugh loudly at it.  She says things that I think are designed to crack people up, and she loves it when people laugh.  The other day, at the ice cream store, she got chocolate milk instead of her usual ice cream.  The clerk commented on that, and Janey said "I totally need a drink!"  The whole place fell apart laughing.  I swear Janey knew what she was doing.

I imagine that every parent of a child with autism could write something like I have just written---aspects of their child that define them, outside of the ones that autism dictates.  It's why what works for one child with autism might very much not work for another one.  It's why I have a hard time sometimes with advice that is general, advice about "what works for kids with autism" Janey's particular blend of attributes makes her who she is, not her autism.  She's a challenging kid----there's no question about that.  But I don't think it's her autism that makes her challenging, any more than it's her autism that makes her such a firecracker.  She's Janey.