Keep Calm and Carry On

One of the recommended survival tools to deal with a meltdown/misbehavior is to keep your cool. For a person with my outside-of-the-home stress level coupled with my type A personality, staying calm during these moments is often one of the most difficult things to do. You are expected, in the heat of things, to overcome your frustration, embarrassment, anger and behave rationally. Be the adult. Sometimes I manage to do this successfully and other times not so much. 

My most recent example of this occurred Christmas day. My dad and his wife came over to our house Christmas morning. We see them only a few times a year. My mom and stepdad had come and gone from our house already that morning, and my dad and Sandy arrived around 10am.

I forecasted their arrival, "Pawpaw and Sandy will be here later this morning." "Pawpaw and Sandy will be here in an hour..." "...in 30 mins" "...in 5 mins." I had warned my dad ahead of time of the risks, but I really naively thought it would go smoothly. After all, we were in our own environment, with only the 6 of us present. I thought that from a sensory perspective Austin shouldn't be seeking or overloaded-with input because there was nothing new to generate that response.

My dad arrived, we had a loving exchange and we sat down to chat and catch up. True to his Aspie nature, Austin never directly looked at or spoke to his grandparents. There was a lot of frenzied running from toy to toy, high speed mumbling about this toy or that one, run-on sentences explaining every intricacy. Then, he started building a tower between my Dad and Sandy on the couch, and attempting to climb it.

In fairness to Austin, the tower WAS made of blankets and stuffed animals, so when he tried climbing it the "blocks" he sent hurling at their heads didn't do a whole lot of damage. But it sure did hurt my pride and put quite a damper on conversation.

I tried the calm approach. "Austin,  you may not build a tower on the couch." "Austin, that is such bad manners. Stop." "Austin, those blankets are for decoration, please do NOT STACK them." "Austin, you CANNOT climb a tower of blankets. You will fall over." "Austin you are knocking those over onto Pawpaw and Sandy. STOP."  I apologized, got up to move the tower myself, put the blankets away. The tower reappeared, one blanket at a time.

By now my stress level had elevated to the highest. I was ticked and ready to explode. I understand that there are issues, but how much of this behavior is SPD/Aspergers, and how much of it is just plain bad behavior? We were in the middle of an all out power struggle and everyone in the room knew it. WE ARE THE PARENTS. You do what we say. There is nothing more maddening to me than just flat out disregard for my requests. I was ready to throttle this kid. If my dad hadn't been present, I would not have kept my cool, and a meltdown would have ensued.  But is that SPD? I don't think so...
From what I've been told by therapists the need to control is more along the lines of Aspergers, and manifests with my child in Oppositional Defiance Disorder (ODD.) Normally we try to prevent the outburst/misbehavior. When it occurs anyway you have to be ready. Our Christmas gathering in my mind was a fail. I'd like to believe that any time spent with my parents will be beneficial for my children, and that my own expectations aren't inhibiting the experience. I hope Austin looks back on these gatherings fondly, but we need more practice.
Signing off with a sigh...

Austin, Dory and God

Last Sunday we went to church. Although my husband and I both were raised in the Christian faith and grew up in church we haven’t been much since we have been married. Last Sunday, however, off we went. To a new church, nonetheless.


The same familiar dialogue ran through my head as we pulled into the unfamiliar parking lot. I held my breath as we weaved our way through the painted lines and medians. I know that forecasting is a valuable tool for all kids, prepping them in advance for what is about to transpire, but I never really know how to do that in a new situation. I don’t know anymore than Austin does what it will be like inside.


I opened up the conversation, “Austin, this is a new church. Let’s talk about some rules.” Immediately he launched into his standard spiel, a run-on litany of the behaviors he believes make up a “good” child. “I won’t run away from you. I will listen. I will not scream or yell.”
Yes, yes, yes. We piled out and headed, hand-in-hand, inside.


Just inside the vestibule we saw Andy’s friend, Rodney. He’d invited us. “Heeey, Austin! What’s going on, buddy?” Yikes. Fail. I had neglected to forecast this part. For my tiny Asperger’s child, being the center of attention in a crowded room is the last thing he wants. He buried his head into Andy’s knees and squealed the long mournful cry of a child trying desperately to disappear. Instead, it had the exact opposite effect. All eyes turned to us. Ugh. Then, I wanted to disappear. I shuffled us along. That’s one of the best parental coping skills I've learned. Just keep moving, just keep moving. Not unlike Dory, of Nemo fame.

We moved along to the registration table and completed the forms. Under the category, “Other Conditions” I hesitated, as I always do. Do I bring it up or don’t I? Will they notice if I don’t? Will they understand if I do? Most people have never heard of Asperger's or Sensory Processing Disorder. Or, if they have, they think that my son is Autistic, because Aspergers is ‘on the spectrum.’
In the spirit of Dory, I just kept swimming, and left the entire section blank, instantly second guessing myself and agonizing over it the whole way to the four-year-old room.


Drop off was incredibly easy. There was a terrarium in the room and both boys were mesmerized by the turtles. Just keep swimming (shuffled my husband out, as he tends to linger) dropped Raleigh in the two-year-old room and aaaahhhh. We were out.


We headed into the service and I didn’t even turn on my cell ringer. The childcare team had instructed me that if necessary, that’s how they would reach me, but at that point I allowed my faith to kick in and trusted that God would hold both of my children tightly until we were able to pick them up. Surely He would allow us an hour to worship Him uninterrupted. He did. Plus, I figured they could just do some good old fashioned gumshoe detective work to find us in the adjoining sanctuary if they really needed to.


Picking up the kids the teacher said only, “He didn’t know what to make of us at first, but he came around.” Hmm. Cryptic. I nodded furiously with a vapid, yet pleased expression. I didn't want to imagine what that meant or deal with it then and there, so I faked like she had just said, "He had a great time and we'll see you next week." Nod, nod, nod.


Later, in the car, I asked Austin, “How was it? Were you nice to the teachers?”
His reply was honest and characteristic, “Well, at first I told them just to get away from me. But then they were nice and I got to use the markers.” With a glance at one another across the center console, my husband and I wordlessly chose to call the outing a victory and we just kept swimming all the way home.  

Good Parenting

I have been a parent for 4 years. Intellectually I knew it would be difficult. Lack of sleep, diapers, lack of sleep, perpetual messes, oh, and lack of sleep.

I hadn't counted on the misbehavior though. "Good" kids are a product of "good" parenting, right? I had never considered the possibility that I would be anything but a "good" parent. My parents are exceptional parents after all: teetotallers, churchgoers, consistent voters, and compassionate, understanding listeners who'd accepted every rogue-boyfriend and random-wardrobe choice I'd ever made. I'd had the model of parental perfection and saw no reason why those same edicts wouldn't work on my own kids.

Eerrr (insert annoying Family Feud "X" sound, ca. Richard Dawson era.)




Raleigh



Austin



 



I know the dangers of comparing siblings to one another, but it wasn't until Raleigh (our second child) was born that I began to understand that the way we parent didn't determine our children's natures. Raleigh was/is easy. He listens when you ask him to do something. He smiles, meets the gaze of and says hello to people we meet. He eats any- and everything. Behaviorally he is Austin's total opposite. 

After multiple doctors, therapists and diagnoses, I have a much better understanding of why Austin behaves the way he does, and we have all learned coping skills to get us through the more difficult moments.  It is a work in progress, but I feel like we have a strategy...and hopefully that earns us at least a few "good" parent points.

In the Beginning

The purpose of this blog is selfish. I need an outlet. If I could scream it I would. I NEED AN OUTLET!

There. I feel better already.

My child has Sensory Processing Disorder and Asperger's Syndrome.

This blog is to chronicle his path in this world and how I join him along the way.

The title is a nod to my effort to be entirely transparent, and map out the compelling and engaging story of my precious 4-year-old, Austin.

I look forward to the journey.