Two resolutions

M and C, twin brothers, playing electronic devices next to each other

M and C enjoy a little screen time

I don’t generally believe in New Year’s resolutions, but this year I have two.

1: Be more patient with M

C’s non-autistic twin, M, is what you’d call a Big Personality Kid—he can take over a room with his presence. And yet, through all the tumult of our lives, all the health and developmental issues, I’ve expected this little boy to toe the line, to make life easy—to avoid adding to the chaos. That’s unfair to any kid, let alone one who’s gone through as much as he has.

2: Take care of my health

I haven’t had a physical in four years. I haven’t had a real feet-up vacation in about a decade. That’s nonsense. It’s not good for me, and it’s not good for my family. First, I’m going to make an appointment with my GP. Second, I’m making a three-year plan: there will be a Real Vacation by 2019 come hell or high water. Or both.

So, what are your resolutions?

Progress happens

C with one of his teachers post-concert

C shares a post-performance moment of glee with one of his amazing teachers

Two years ago, my son’s previous school held a holiday concert. C had to be supported on stage by a teacher’s assistant because he was so overwhelmed. The concert was loud and chaotic, all the more surprising since his school served children who often have major sensory issues. But his reticence to be part of the event went deeper than that: he was struggling.

Fast forward: C’s current school had a holiday concert this week, and he was beaming with pride and joy, so confident and happy to be part of the show. In fact, when it was his turn to sing, he put on this deep voice and belted out his lyrics, silly as he was earnest. He even had to be pulled away from the mic, he was so excited. He danced and sang with glee.

So what happened in the intervening two years?

The concert was better planned than the one at the old school, it’s true—not so overwhelming from a sensory perspective. But his ability to participate was due to much more than that. For one thing, the staff and teachers at his new school deserve a ton of credit for helping him to become so confident.

But on top of that is this: progress happens. Naturally, of its own accord, with support and love.

It’s easy to forget that our kids, just like all kids, make progress. Sure, regression happens, but progress happens, too. It might look different for autistic kids vs. their non-autistic peers, but it’s still progress.

Progress happens.

Thanksgiving?

If you’ve read this blog at all, you know I generally try to keep things positive. The reasons for this are many, but for one thing I have no interest in complaining about my son in particular, or autism in general.

But there are tough times, and in the interest of keeping it real, I wanted to discuss this last holiday break for Thanksgiving. There were some wonderful moments and memories, to be sure, but it would be disingenuous to say it was all puppy dogs and lollipops.

This break in schedule — any break in schedule — really messes C up. Routine is his friend, and even a short break really drives him bonkers. This resulted in five days of complete hyperactivity. He was up early — 4 am or thereabouts — and going going going. This means no rest for us. At all. He has to be watched every moment.

Why? These five days were filled with jumping on furniture; writing on furniture; chewing furniture. Putting things in the oven — including an iPod. Flushing foreign objects down the toilet (plumber’s on his way today). Stomping on the floor (thankfully our neighbors are very tolerant. Or hearing impaired). Hooting and yodeling at the top of his lungs. Putting gooey things found on the sidewalk in his mouth. Unable to sit and focus for almost any quiet activity. Perseverating on times and dates to the exclusion of nearly anything else. Running into the middle of a busy street for the fun of it. Just going going going. Continue Reading →