My Autism Insights

image by Erik Drooker

This time of year, with snowstorms and vacations and being cooped up together, kids are bound to get under each other’s skin.  Gus and MM are no different.  We’ve been home together since last Friday and I’ve lost count already of all the petty arguments that are so inane and incoherent I can’t even tell what they’re about.  Last night was yet another of those lovely shouting matches, this one brought on by MM playing some repetitive made up game (loudly) and Gus being tired and belligerent.

Usually, I’d just separate them and get Gus to bed as quickly as possible because I know exactly what is bothering him - the constant sound of MM’s high pitched talking/singing.  But last night - it must have been the extra dose of St. John’s Wort - I was calm enough to push Gus a little further.

I separated them as usual, but then I went to Gus, sat him down (once he stopped tossing around insults about his sister being a ’shampoo mouth’ and a ‘pine toe’) and asked him what was upsetting him.  I got the typical, irrelevant, incoherent, off-topic response.  I persisted and insisted that he stop the jabbering because he is better than that.  He thought for a moment and, with some help, explained that he wanted her to play a different game and that he wanted quiet.  This was a HUGE step for him.  We were even able to talk a little about a better way he could have handled the situation - asking nicely that she play a different game.

Since the situation had 2 sides, I then talked with MM and reminded her that her brother often gets upset when he’s tired and that at night he needs a little more quiet.  We spoke about having consideration for people at different times of the day - early morning and evening when they are likely to want to sleep.  Then we discussed how she could have handled the situation differently: play a quieter game or close the door to her room.

Unprompted, they apologized to each other before bed and everyone is friendly again.  So it just goes to show me that I can’t always fall back on what I know Gus is trying to communicate, sometimes I have to push him a step further and make him use the pragmatic language skills that has developed.  It was a good lesson.

Everyone, have a wonderful holiday whatever you celebrate, and if you don’t celebrate anything, just have a great week!  I may or may not post over the next couple of days.  If I don’t, I’m still sending good wishes!  Thanks so much for  visiting and/or following!

Prompt by Mo at Manic Monday .

The bite of cold air pierced my spine as I stood at the bathroom doorway watching a silent child staring back at me.  He took a drink of water and then waited.  I knew the look on his face, calculating, looking around me toward my bedroom.

Oh no you don’t, mister, I thought.  I wrapped an arm around his shoulder to lead him back to his own room, but he tried to dodge.  But I’d anticipated the reaction, so I got a grip on him and got him back into his room.  He promptly curled into a ball on the floor, not wanting to get back into his own bed.  It was 1:30.

Got him back to bed, still freezing without my robe on, and he didn’t want the light off.  I learned that the stupid CFC bulb we put in his ceiling light doesn’t work on a dimmer, so I plugged in an extra night light, told Gus to go back to sleep, and got back into my own cooling bed.

I should have been glad - he woke me from a nightmare about water mains all over New York City breaking and causing massive flooding. If I’d stayed asleep any longer, there would have been a tidal wave for sure.  That’s what happens when your downstairs bathroom springs a leak just before dinner.

I lay in bed, listening to the thumping of my own heartbeat, not soothing, just loud, and eventually drifted back to something resembling sleep.  And wouldn’t you know it?  I wouldn’t have expected inspiration to bite me in the brain stem at that hour, but it did.  It was a weird stream of consciousness thing going on, but I came to the conclusion that Gus’s sleep problems started about 6 months ago - when I changed his room around!  Duh!  Of course that would have disturbed him!  If this sounds like middle-of-the-night brilliance, also consider that I started thinking that I’d arranged the furniture in a way that didn’t work with feng shui.  It was 2 a.m.; cut me some slack.  So, I decided that if I am ever going to get a full night’s sleep again, I will have to put the room back to its original state.  Then I went back to sleep.

For half an hour.

I heard a door open then slam shut again.

Damn.

The light was on and he was huddled back in the corner on the floor.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

“Yes.”  Talking was good; now we could get somewhere.  “It was about a man with a sting ray tail for a face.”

Uh huh.  I’ve often heard that Aspies don’t lie.  Someone should tell Gus this.  It’s not that he doesn’t lie, he just really stinks at it.  I knew he was making up Sting Ray Face by the little half smirk at the right side of his mouth.

I coaxed him back to bed and then asked, “Would you feel better if we moved your room back the way it was?”

His face was a sun rising over the mountaintops.  “Yes,” he breathed in relief.  Who knew?  I promised to do it today.  And then I was graced with three hours of unbroken rest.

To an Aspie, change is not always good, even 6 months later.

Today I’ve got one big thing to be thankful for: I finally feel like I’m on the same page, or at least in the same chapter, as Gus’s school staff.  We had a long chat last night at open school night, and the question of medication is not an issue for the time being and I think I can stop feeling so pressured about there being an agenda.  If there is, I don’t think it’s the one I was worrying about.  Everyone’s really thinking out of the box and they’re trying everything possible to help him achieve his considerable potential.  And that’s not to say he’s doing poorly at all.  Aside from having such a busy brain, he’s holding his own with much older kids.  Yes, we need to find ways to help him focus at least long enough to finish a task - so that’s the goal.  If anyone has any tricks for building focus (aside from martial arts and yoga) ideas are welcome.

So far we’ve tried: special cushions, a balance stool, bouncy ball chair, rewards, separate space to minimize distractions, and periods of movement throughout the day.

We’re going to try music, and I may suggest trying to use resistance bands in some way.

So, feel free to comment with your thankfulness and any thoughts you might have!  Have a great day!

It seems like it should be second nature for a big brother to come to his little sister’s defense, especially when someone of his peer group is the offender.  Except in the case of a child who normally does not take notice of said peers, it’s pretty extraordinary to see him stick up for his sister.  Even if the attempt was unsuccessful.

Gus had just woken from a nap when we arrived at the playground, and the oppressive heat and humidity only served to make him a big ball of mush.  He slumped over the steering wheel of a toy tractor and just lazed around watching the other kids play.  Meanwhile, M. decided she wanted to play with one of the puzzle toys under the canopy part of the jungle gym.  The six year old who had staked his claim to the territory ruled differently.

“You have to be six to play in here,” he said.  M. tried to stand her ground, she’s a tough little cookie, but he wouldn’t cow to her demands or her tears.  She came running to me.  Before I could finish giving her the appropriate words to use, I heard Gus over at the jungle gym interrogating the little bully.

“What did you say to M?” he demanded.  Wow!  Great going! I thought.  I listened closer.

“Did you tell her you were going to eat her up?”  Okay, that’s a little tangential, but he’s seven; they do that.  “Did you tell her to do the laundry?” 

Er…

Yeah, that wasn’t remotely an effective intimidation tactic.  When he started perseverating on the laundry question, the little bully pretty much just ignored Gus.  M. had calmed down by then, confronted the boy very politely (with a couple of nudges from me) and the boy’s father stepped in.  She got to play with the puzzles.  Gus, had long since gotten distracted by something else.

But he noticed, and he tried.  He’s getting it!  HOO-rah!  Now that’s what I call progress.  I better watch what I ask her to do around here from now on, or I may find myself on his bad side.

I should have known better. When the note came home that Gus had pushed another student, I should have known that he was having an ‘off’ day. He has never in his life done that (not until the 25 mg of Strattera, but that’s for another day). He was kind of grumpy and snappish from the time he got home; even when we took him bike riding, he wasn’t his usual happy self. Don’t ask what we were thinking when we asked the kids if they wanted to go to their favorite diner for dinner. Yes, say it, that was just dumb.

To make matters worse, my daughter wasn’t having an exactly stellar afternoon - not bad, but getting to her edge. I had Mount St. Helens before my eyes and didn’t see it. I shouldn’t even have to give the details: everything was taking too long, why did we have to wait or the waiter? the order wasn’t what they wanted, the food was terrible…the mountain was ready to erupt.

So how did we escape only slightly charred? For a change, we let go.

Instead of trying to make the kids stay put, we recognized that they needed to get up, but we did it in an orderly way so as to not disturb other diners. My husband took Gus for a stroll first - he was closest to melting down - and then later, after he ate, he took M.

Gus hasn’t been eating normally and was peeved about his meal. “I didn’t ask for grilled chicken!” I know better than to let him just have fries for a meal - I’d pay my penance for that at 3 am when he would wake up ready to party. So he had to eat the chicken. So I doused it with as much ketchup as I could and negotiated eating a piece of chicken with a fry. It worked for a few minutes and I got two whole mouthfuls of my meal. M flatly refused to eat anything - she didn’t like the sauce on the pasta.

We got the check, hubby took M for her walk to pay the bill and I packed up everyone’s meal - we’d eat at home. Usually, we’d just eat as quickly as possible, ignoring stares and scowls; stay until we were ready to beat our heads into a wall; this was the first time we just let go of our own ideas and followed the flow. We need to do that more often.

We got home, and the kids were still in their state. M was furious that she had to eat at least some of her meal because we don’t just waste food. Gus was on sensory overload from his sister’s crying - his best trigger. So, I took him up to his room, with his dinner (with his permission of course) and he ate some more chicken away from the drama. Within a few moments he had settled down. M ate some of her dinner and was allowed to make herself a sandwich.

Not the evening we had in mind, but when I think of all the ways it could have been worse, I’m okay with the outcome.

Edit:  Gus was up at 3:30 anyway, but I’d bet my left arm that it’s the Strattera and not the fries.