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Autism: The Good, The Bad And The Ugly

When my firstborn son was first diagnosed with autism five years ago, the force of it all was like a kick in the head. I honestly did not know how I was going to live the rest of my life as an autism parent, especially with the doom-and-gloom picture that was presented to us by the diagnosing doctor.

But life has an uncanny way of continuing, no matter what. We adapt and survive, and sometimes we even manage to see the positives in a situation that is, by most people’s standards, less than ideal.

The Good

* Every moment of accomplishment is a cause for celebration. I have a true appreciation for what most people think are “the little things”.

* My son can problem-solve rings around the rest of us. His thinking is at times very effective while also being wayyyyy out of the box. It offers a whole new perspective on life.

* My two boys have a healthy amount of sibling rivalry going on, but they also have a great deal of love for each other. My younger son’s empathy and kindness toward his brother that has to be seen to be believed. It makes me well up with tears every time.

* Let’s face it, many kids with autism are computer geeks. And it’s very handy having a built-in computer geek.

* I believe that having a child with autism makes me a better and more patient parent.

* Kids with autism can have funny, quirky senses of humour that take you where you least expect to go.

* Hugs from kids with autism can be the absolute best.

The Bad

* When my child is trying with all his might to express something and doesn’t know how to, the look of frustration and desperation in his eyes is heartbreaking.

* Sometimes my younger son tells me that he wishes his brother didn’t have autism. There are no words to describe how that feels.

* Autism is unbelievably, phenomenally exhausting, and that’s just for me. I cannot imagine what it must sometimes be like for my son.

* There is a lot of frustration involved in advocating for my child in the school system. The vast majority of teachers are genuinely good and caring people who mean well, but a lot of them just don’t get it.

* I worry about my son’s future every single day. Will he ever be able to brush his teeth and take a shower independently? Will he ever learn to look both ways before crossing the street? Will he be bullied in high school? Will he be given the same opportunities as other kids? Will he be OK when, someday, I am no longer here?

The Ugly

* There are holes in the drywall from all the headbanging incidents. They are not pretty.

* We are frequently the targets of people who stare and say rude things. They are not pretty either.

* As much as I think that autism has made me a better parent, I am only human, and sometimes I lose it. Big-time. I slam things and scream like a banshee.

* Sometimes, I have to battle my son’s autism and my depression at the same time, and it’s such a battle. I teeter on the edge of these big black pits of despair, and it is absolutely terrifying.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)

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Santa and Autism: A Special Brand of Magic

This morning I was faced with a minor dilemma, brought on by the fact that it was Pajamas and Stuffed Toy day at my son’s school. If it had been my younger son – the one who doesn’t have autism – it wouldn’t have been a problem. But since this is my older son we’re talking about, I had to make a choice. Do I encourage him to take part even though the idea of wearing pajamas instead of clothes to school could make him feel seriously disoriented and possibly distressed? Or do I let him just wear clothes even though that would mean yet another thing that sets him apart from the typical kids in his school?

See? Dilemma.

As an autism parent, I constantly have to make tradeoffs of this nature on behalf of my child. On the one hand, I want him to have as many “typical kid” experiences as possible, but on the other hand, I don’t want to cause him to be upset.

It always come down to the idea of choosing my battles, and by now I know that I should only pick the battles that really matter. And let’s face it – wearing pajamas to school does not exactly count as an essential life skill, especially when he’s part of a class of special ed kids who probably wouldn’t be into the whole pajama thing either.

And so I decided to let him exercise his preference in the only way he knows how. I would dress him in a clean pair of pajamas and then see what happened. And what happened was that he promptly crawled back into bed. It was only when he realized that he was actually going to school that he started to resist the pajamas idea. Within seconds the pajamas were coming off and George was rummaging around for clothes to wear.

Surprisingly, though, he did want to take a stuffed toy. I say “surprisingly” because George has never really been into stuffed toys. This is a kid who sleeps with about a dozen Mr. Potato Heads and a pineapple. But not only did he want a stuffed toy today, he wanted two. In an intriguing fusion of holidays, he selected an Easter bunny and a stuffed Santa.

I was sure he’d lose interest in the whole thing by the time the school bus showed up, but he went off to school with Santa and the bunny, and by all accounts he had a great day.

Friday is always Show & Tell day in George’s classroom, and from time to time we send him in with something and his teacher gets him to “participate”. In a dramatic break with tradition today, he independently – independently! –  joined the Show & Tell circle and proudly showed off his Santa.

This moment of progress proves to me that although Santa is not real, he is capable of producing magic.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)

 

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New Autism Diagnosis? 5 Tips for Parents

It’s a scene that many parents are all too familiar with. You’re sitting in a doctor’s office and you’ve just received news that your child has autism. You did know, of course, that something was wrong – after all, that’s why you had your child assessed – but you’ve been in a weird twilight zone of denial, in which you have managed to convince yourself that this thing that’s wrong with your child is just temporary, that it’s nothing a bit of speech therapy or O.T. won’t cure. And now, here’s this doctor telling you that your child will be living with autism for the rest of his or her life.

You can barely listen as the doctor goes on about how your child’s trajectory through life will be atypical, delayed, and fraught with challenges. You are too stunned to pay attention to anything but the hopes and dreams you had for your family crashing all around you.

How do you cope? How do parents find out that their child has a lifelong developmental disability – one that will in all likelihood necessitate some level of permanent care – and then go on to live some kind of a normal life?

Tip #1 – Remember that the doctor does not have a crystal ball

The doctor can’t just say to you, “Your kid has autism. See ya!” He has to talk to you about therapies, strategies, next steps – and that inevitably involves talk about how he sees your child’s future. But the thing is, many doctors tend to be a bit pessimistic, and they will give you the worst case scenario.

When we were getting my own child’s diagnosis five years ago, the doctor could not have painted a bleaker picture of the future if he had tried. We heard all about the stuff my son would never achieve, experiences he would never have, things he would never be able to do, the intensive level of care he would need for the rest of his life.

The doctor was not trying to be mean. He wasn’t trying to be negative. He was just presenting what he saw to be the reality. He had no way of knowing that in the first year of IBI therapy, this kid would make 23 months worth of gains. He did not know about the mathematical aptitude or unique problem-solving skills, and he could not predict that given the right educational environment, my child would be able to soar.

Anything the doctor tells you about your child’s future is just a guess – an educated guess, but a guess nonetheless. Don’t let bleak predictions make you give up hope.  Your child needs for you to believe in his or her potential, and to be frank, if you have a bit of faith, it will do your own spirit the world of good.

Tip #2 – Watch out for information overload

Human beings are curious by nature, especially when it comes to the wellbeing of their offspring. I would venture to say that most parents, on receiving their child’s autism diagnosis, go home and make a beeline for the computer so they can Google “autism”. I know I did.

The Internet can be pure crap, though. A Google search for “autism” yields over 76 million results. If we very generously assume that 10% of the information on the Internet is completely solid and scientifically proven and not the subject of any debate or controversy, that leaves you with seven million pages of “good” information.

It is a daunting task, trying to filter out the seven million pieces of “good” information from all the junk. It can make the most hardy of souls feel like they’re drowning.

Information is all well and good, but it has to be consumed in manageable doses, especially in the beginning. The diagnosing doctor will give you fact sheets and other information. That is all you need in those initial days while you are trying to adjust to this new reality.

Tip #3 – Get your name onto waiting lists and find out about funding

Your doctor will probably give you the names and phone numbers of local services, like speech therapy, O.T. , and autism intervention services. If he doesn’t, call him back and ask. Then call and enroll for the services. Some areas will have one central place that organizes all of the services; in other places it is more fragmented. No matter which way it works, it is better to start services as early as you can, and unless you live in some kind of Utopia, the places you call are bound to have waiting lists.

At the same time, find out about funding. If you live in a country with socialized health care, as I do, then many of the services for your child could be covered by the government. You may be entitled to disability tax credits and funding for respite care or specialized equipment. Your local autism foundation should have information about the available funding, and they may even have experts who will help you fill in the forms.

Tip #4 – Don’t let autism define your child

This may seem self-evident, but in the wake of receiving the blow of an autism diagnosis, it is hard to think of anything else. Parents of newly diagnosed kids often go through a kind of grieving process as they come to terms with the loss of what they thought their “reality” was. You may find your heart breaking every time you look at your child.

But remember that the diagnosis itself has not changed anything. Your child is still the same person he or she was yesterday, or last week, or last month. Your kid may have autism, but he or she is first and foremost a little kid, with those little quirks and personality traits that guarantee uniqueness.

Autism will always be a part of who your child is, but it is far from being the full picture.

Tip #5 – Take care of yourself and your relationships

When I saw my family doctor shortly after my son’s diagnosis, he gave me a startling statistic: about 80% of couples who are parents of kids with special needs or chronic illnesses split up within two years of diagnosis. It is easy to be on the outside looking in, and say that parents should draw strength from one another, but the truth is that something like this puts a huge strain on many relationships.

The thing is, each parent is thinking about autism, and how they can help their child. This becomes the singular focus consuming both of them, so much so that neither of them has room for anything else. And so they neglect themselves, and they neglect each other. It’s not their fault – they are just putting their child’s needs ahead of their own.

Do we not deserve to be happy, though? Yes, parenting our kids is the most important job we’ll ever have, but we are also individuals in our own right, and if we neglect ourselves and the relationships with the people we care about, we will drown.

So make sure you take time to be with your partner, just because. Spend time with your other children. Nurture your friendships, and most of all, take time out for yourself.

And don’t feel guilty about taking care of yourself. You deserve it.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)

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Time to Jump in Puddles

From time to time, people who think they could raise my kids better than I do criticise me for not enrolling them in weekend activities, and from time to time, I wonder about that myself. I get this guilty feeling that I’m not exposing my kids to enough opportunities. From a logistical standpoint, it is so difficult, though. Even if you assume that I’m up to my neck in free time during weekends, which I so totally am not, my husband and I only have one car between the two of us. My husband usually goes to work on Saturdays, leaving me at home with the boys and a public transit system that is sporadic over weekends.

The real question is whether this is even an issue. Does it matter that the boys are home with me on Saturdays instead of being whisked off to baseball practice and karate class? It’s not like I get a lot of time with them during the week, and even when I am busy working on invoicing or household admin or laundry, I love having the boys around me. I listen to them play together, which they are doing more and more, and I let them watch movies like Ice Age and Cars 2. I break up their sibling rivalry spats, eat lunch with them, and occasionally bully them into picking up their toys. Sometimes we make “cake in a mug” or s’mores, or play intriguing variations of Scrabble. When I am doing my own thing, the kids will rush up to me at random times just to launch themselves at me and give me a hug.

If they were in weekend activities, none of that would happen. Someday, I know it will all change, and the boys will be off doing their own thing with their friends. But for now, I enjoy having that time with them.

And for the kids, it might not be a bad thing to have a bit of downtime. Their weeks are so busy, with school and homework and time with the respite worker and all the rest of it. I worry that overscheduling them would leave them no time to be kids.

After all, kids should always have the time to run around in the rain and jump in puddles.

Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle

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Teen Series Part 3: Don’t Make Empty Promises

Last week I introduced you to Vicky Rinfreschi, a South African teenager with wise words. She has a close and open relationship with her parents, and her love and respect from them can be clearly seen in her words. Last week she gave advice that can help parents attain that kind of relationship with their teenage kids, and today she is back with more. Without further ado, here are the rest of Vicky’s words, uncut and unedited.

DON’T MAKE EMPTY PROMISES! This is just as bad as lying. My parents aren’t perfect but they are pretty close. Even so this was an area when we used to butt heads quite a lot. Now that I’m older I do understand – but at the time it caused me hours of misery. You have to be aware that a child’s memory is loads better than that of an older person. They remember EVERYTHING! You will say a mindless comment like, “Not now honey just a bit later and I PROMISE I will play that game with you.” Or “Next weekend I PROMISE we will go to that shop and find it”. Everyone has said something along those lines just so you could get a moments rest. But then did you do it? My parents had a track record of 6 out of 10 when it came to doing that thing later (if it wasn’t a priority – such as a board game etc.). I understand that to an adult your child’s little requests aren’t such a high priority, like Kirsten said, worrying about feeding your kids is higher on the list than going to the beach; but to your child , even your teenager (though you might find it hard to believe), nothing could be more important. It’s a cry for quality time. It may even be (as it was for me) that your child wants to distract YOU from your worries and make you smile for a period of time no matter how small. So before you make that statement make sure you can back it up with action and before you blow off that action think about how nice it would be to connect with your child before you’re no longer the centre of their life. That period of time when your child idolises you won’t last long. Enjoy it now and maybe, just maybe they will never stop idolising you. I haven’t. Everyday I strive to be as wise and loving as my mom and as smart, strong and as caring as my dad. Be the parent you wished your parents were, and trust me you won’t go wrong.

Another big issue is MONEY. Be honest about your finances. I remember when I was little I had no concept about money; I just knew what I wanted, when I wanted it and that was often right then and there. Most parents make the mistake of saying no to their kids without giving them a reason – leading that child to believe that “my mommy/daddy don’t love me because they wouldn’t get me that toy/chocolate.”  Don’t make that mistake. My family have been through ups and downs when it comes to finances. Some years money was abundant and birthdays, weekends and Christmases were filled with all sorts of goodies. But some years money was tight (really tight) and we couldn’t afford the little goodies that make children feel loved, but my parents where HONEST about it. Yes I would be disappointed for about 5 seconds but I got over it because IT WASN’T THAT MAY PARENTS DIDN’T LOVE ME – they would have bought me the earth if I so desired it. Don’t think that just because we are young we won’t understand. We perceive a lot more than most adults. Show your kids that they don’t need little gifts for you to prove your love – good old fashioned quality time at home with a soccer ball or board game does the trick ten times over. So give up a little television or facebook time and play a game with your child. Trust me. That’s a foundation that you should nurture from the beginning.

The biggest thing and maybe the main reason why I consider my mother one of my best friends and my father my advisor, is because they never let me forget, not for 1 second, how much they loved and supported me. IN EVERYTHING, NO MATTER WHAT! It may seem frivolous; but to randomly go up to your child and tell them that you love them and that you are proud of them actually makes a huge difference. Especially (even though most won’t admit it) to a teenager. He/she might have had a typical downer teenager day at school and you, with no hidden agendas, telling them how much you love and them, could turn the dark cloud they have been nurturing with self-loathing thoughts, into a fluffy pink one filled with love and confidence. You don’t need a reason to express your love for them. And make sure they know that no action could change how you feel;  yes you might get mad or be disappointed for a bit but that’s because your love runs so deep and so strong that you wish you could take away all the problems and hurt. Let them know that you are a safe place for secrets and advice. DON’T BREAK THAT CONFIDENCE EVER!!!!

In short; treat your children as you would want to be treated, because they will do as you do and not what you say. Trust your kids and they will trust you as long as you show them that they can. And most importantly earn their respect by showing them respect and your relationship will evolve into a beautiful friendship that will last for the rest of your lives.

(Photo credit: Vagawi. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.)

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Teen Series Part 2: “You Don’t Learn Respect, You Earn It”

Last week, I was honoured to have a wonderful guest post on my blog from South African teenager Alex. The post was a candid and honest view of the world from the eyes of a sixteen-year-old. Today, we hear from Alex’ best friend, Victoria Rinfreschi. Vicky is the daughter of a dear friend of mine who seems to have been getting it right when it comes to raising teenagers.

Vicky sent me plenty of words, too many to fit into one post. But I did not want to edit or cut a single word, so Vicky’s post will run in two parts. Here is the first half – uncut and unedited.

My name is Victoria – but I prefer to go by Vicky.

I currently live in Cape Town South Africa, with my parents and my older brother. I’m 16 years old. I’m currently training to be a waitress at my local spur (a South Africa food franchise based on American cuisine). I take maths lit (aka maths for stupid people – no really it’s a waste of life), English, Afrikaans, Tourism, and 2 practical subjects namely Visual Art and Design. I take 2 extra subjects; Sport Science, Italian and an extracurricular; Animation (learning graphic programs and how to animate anything you want).  I’m a qualified level 3 first aider and I write little news articles and draw cartoons for my school’s media portfolio. My parents say I do too much – sometimes I feel I don’t do enough.

When I get out of high school my goal is to study at a graphic collage. I don’t quite yet know what I want to do – but I know my field. The only thing that interests me (and the only reason I go to school) is to draw or express myself creatively in a medium of my choice – be it clay or charcoal/graphite, paint or mixed media, or even just on 3D max, my life revolves around Art.

Okay, so now you know a bit about me. I’m an “artsy-fartys” person, who works too hard, sucks at maths, and takes subjects she finds useless. Good, now that we have that out of the way, it’s time to get down to business. I’m going to write about my personal experience and what l have learnt and know. I’ve had these conversations with my friends on many occasions and I remember the thoughts behind the words. I will touch on what I feel are some of the key mistakes most make – and maybe reading this will help you have that better relationship with your child now , before those adolescent years.

Something that I didn’t mention above is that I’m possibly one of the luckiest teenagers out there. My parents got it right from the start, the Lord knows how they did it – but I certainly don’t.  Working at a family restaurant I constantly see things that shake me. Such as parents leaving their children (ages varied form 3-4 to 7-8) unattended at the restaurant for hours only to return and be upset that they can’t find their kids. Or cursing at their 5 year old telling them that they should go and die because of some arb little reason. You don’t realise it now, but the foundation you lay with your kids from the beginning determines how they will be as teenagers. It infuriates me when parents complain about how their teens are “rebellious” or need to learn respect. Well let me tell you something. YOU DONT LEARN RESPECT- YOU EARN IT! You determine how your children are going to turn out! Every word, every look, every action, imbeds itself in your child for eternity! They might not consciously remember it and you might not either but it’s there, burrowing away at their subconscious and eating away at the relationship you are trying to forge many years later.

I always knew where I stood with my parents. This is key. Everybody craves certainty. We can’t function or grow properly without it! It’s a basic need. It was my certainty that no matter what I said or did – they would ALWAYS love me, they would never take their frustrations out on me and they would ALWAYS (I shall repeat for emphasis) ALWAYS be honest with me. It was this that made it so easy to form such a great bond with my parents and make it what it is today (at the “height” of rebellious actions and puberty). If your child asks a question – no matter what it is, answer it honestly. Believe it or not, we can all tell a lie from a fact and we will question your integrity if you can so easily lie straight to our face. We aren’t going to listen to a hypocrite. Why should we be open and honest with you if you can’t lend us the same curtsy? Besides we won’t be able to trust you – you’re liar. At the end of the day it’s not what’s wrong with your teenagers; it’s what’s wrong with you. As babies we have no say about how you treat us or act around us. But as a young adult we can choose not to take it anymore.

Yes I admit when I grew up I asked some pretty difficult questions; and to be honest I mostly did to test my parents – often I already knew the answer, I just wanted to see if they would tell me the truth. And they never failed me in that respect. Don’t underestimate your child. We know a lot more than adults give us credit for. They always answered me honestly, but they always gave me just enough information that was appropriate for my age at the time.

(Photo credit: Woodley Wonder Works. This picture has a creative commons attribution license.)

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There Are No Words

There are no words to describe the anxiety of enduring a pregnancy right after a second-trimester loss. What if it happens again? What if I lose this baby too? Will I ever experience the joy of motherhood?

Every little twitch and twinge was a cause for concern. The baby isn’t moving enough. The baby is moving too much. What does that look on the ultrasound tech’s face mean? Is it concern or detached professionalism?

There are no words to describe the gut-wrenching agony of labour, and the bone-chilling fear of seeing your soon-to-be-born child’s heart rate take a momentary nosedive. You’re so close, baby. You’ve made it so far, baby. You can do it. Find your way into this world.

There are no words to describe the welling-up of emotion as you lie spent on the delivery table, hearing your baby cry for the first time as the doctor congratulates you on your brand new son. He’s here. He’s alive. I am a mother.

There are no words to describe how it feels to hold your newborn baby in your arms for the first time. He’s beautiful. He’s fragile. I have been entrusted with the most precious gift anyone could ever have.

There are no words to describe the joy and pride of watching your baby become a toddler, and then a child, and then a taller child. Adventure. Laughter. Bittersweet. Love. Exploding-heart happiness.

Maybe there are some words. But not nearly enough.

Happy ninth birthday to George. Thank you for being here. Thank you for being you. I will love you forever, all the way past the stars and the moon and the universe.

(Photo credit. Kirsten Doyle)

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Dear George

For the last week, I have been participating in the WEGO Health “Advocating for Another” challenge. Life got in the way of blogging over the last few days, so I am a day behind.

Yesterday’s prompt: When I was your age… – Write a letter to your child/ren starting off the with the phrase “When I was your age…” share a story of your own with them.

Dearest George,

When I was your age, I was very much like you. I had the same shyness, the same difficulty with speech, the same awkwardness around people I didn’t know. Learning was difficult for me until someone realized that I was smart but couldn’t learn in the same way as other people.

The world was a different place then, when I was an eight-year-old girl. In the late 1970’s, there was no Internet, so my parents couldn’t Google my symptoms. While diagnoses like autism existed, they were not very common, and not easy to come by unless the doctors knew exactly what they were looking for.

Throughout my childhood, I was sent for tests and assessments, but the most my parents were ever told was that I had “learning disabilities”. No-one was really sure what that even meant.

Like you, I loved books. I remember the summer I learned how to read. It was as if a door to a whole new world had opened to me. My newfound love of reading was both a relief and a source of worry to my parents. On the one hand, I could read, and this is something that everyone wants for their children. But on the other hand, the more I delved into the world of books, the more I withdrew from the world I lived in.

In spite of my rough beginnings, I turned out OK. I graduated high school, got myself a university degree and some post-graduate qualifications. I have a reasonable career, and most important of all, I have my family. You, your dad, and your brother.

You see, even though teachers and doctors didn’t really know what to do with kids like me, I was lucky enough to be part of a loving, supportive family.

My dad was always there for me to talk to, anytime I needed. He was my kindred spirit in many ways, sharing my love of reading, and later, my enthusiasm for running. He was like my rock of support, something that would never waver in the harshest of storms.

My brother and I fought like cat and dog, but in the end, we would have moved the earth for each other. God help anyone who hurt my brother’s little sister.

And my mom, your granny – she was a pillar of strength and support for me. She never doubted that I was capable of succeeding in life, and she helped steer me in the right direction. She worked tirelessly with me, making sure I was doing my homework, reading with me, being my advocate at school.

I often had conflicts with all of the members of my family. There were times when I wanted to run far, far away.

But there was never a time when I doubted that my family loved me and were there for me. When things got stormy, I always knew that the storm would pass and everything would be OK.

This is what my hope is for you. Parents and kids argue. Brothers fight. All of that is part of life. But I hope you know that no matter what, you are loved more than you could possibly know.

Please know that we are here for you, and always will be. I hope that can be at least half the mother to you that my mother was to me.

I love you always,

Mommy

(Photo from Kirsten Doyle’s archive of childhood pictures)

 

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Once Upon A Time

This week I am participating in the WEGO Health “Advocating for Another” carnival, in which I write posts in response to prompts. I am having a lot of fun with this!

Today’s prompt: Once upon a time – It’s storytelling day! Write a story about yourself, your loved one, and others as though you’re a children’s book author. Be sure to include a beginning, middle, and end. Extra points for illustrations!

Once upon a time, there was a little girl who didn’t really like dolls, except for the rag doll her granny made her and the child-size walking doll she once got for Christmas. She didn’t really play with dolls, though. She preferred to play “Cops and Robbers” with her brother and his friends, even though her brother always made her be the bad guy who was shot dead.

The little girl thought her brother was bossy and annoying.

Many people thought the little girl would never be a mommy. She didn’t know how to take care of dolls, and she couldn’t sew or cook. Everyone thought that you had to be able to sew and cook in order to be a mommy. The little girl didn’t really care. She wanted to be an astronaut.

The little girl became a teenager and stopped being little. She still couldn’t sew or cook, and she was painfully shy around people she didn’t know. Apart from a couple of short-lived attempts at relationships, she didn’t have boyfriends. People still didn’t think she would ever become a mother. The girl still didn’t care about that, but she was starting to wonder if she would be alone for her whole life.

When she went away to university, the girl – now a young woman – met a man who flattered her and made her feel special. But then he hurt her and made her feel worthless. Now the young woman didn’t want to be a mother. She didn’t want to be a wife. She wanted to be alone, and for a long time, she was.

The woman grew older and moved to another country. One day, when she was sitting in a park, a man sat down beside her and told her she had beautiful eyes. When she looked at him, she felt as if she was looking at her future.

The man and woman moved into a house together. They had a baby, and two years later, they had another one. The woman had become a mother! She loved her children more than anything, and her children loved her.

The woman no longer thought her brother was bossy and annoying. He walked her down the aisle when she got married.

When a doctor told the woman that her older son had autism, she cried. But after a few years, she knew that even though there would be hard times, her child would be OK, because he had a family who loved him.

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)

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He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother

When I tell people that I have a child with autism, their immediate focus tends to be on what that must be like for me as a parent. Very few people have expressed any kind of compassion for my younger son – the neurotypical sibling. It’s not that people don’t care, they just don’t think about the challenges of the autism sibling until I bring up the subject. The truth is that the siblings can so easily be overlooked when, in a sense, they are special needs children themselves because of the roles they find themselves in.

I am calling this “James Week” on my blog. All of the posts that I publish here for the next seven days are dedicated to James, in honour of how utterly fantastic he is. I am so proud to be his mom.

Yesterday afternoon, George was crying. He was crying because he’d gotten into trouble – actual, real trouble that involved serious consequences. This is a big deal because it happens so rarely. We scold him, of course, and we don’t let him get away with stuff like headbutting his little brother. But thereal trouble – the kind that results in timeouts and the removal of computer privileges – we save for times when he has done something that could seriously compromise his safety or someone else’s.

Like the time he climbed a ladder onto the roof a few weeks ago. Or the time he hit his brother on the head with the business end of a garden hoe.

Yesterday’s transgression happened after we had all been sitting on the front steps of the house, drinking tea and enjoying the lovely weather. James was kicking a soccer ball around on the driveway, and George was tossing plastic ball into the air and then hitting it with a baseball bat, in a surprisingly coordinated way. When it was time to go in and start thinking about dinner, George got upset because he wanted to continue playing. We know that transitions can be rough for him, so we patiently spoke to him and tried to get him to yield the baseball bat.

In the end, he yelled, “FINE!”, threw the baseball bat down on the ground, stormed into the house and slammed the front door. In other words, he acted like a typical almost-nine-year-old bratty kid who wasn’t getting his own way.

Which is great, and normally something that would have me jumping for joy.

The problem was that he flipped the lock on the front door, so none of the rest of us could get in.

Oh dear. My autistic son – my upset autistic son – was unattended in a locked house. That is a frightening prospect: we were more worried about his safety than anything else. We did eventually talk George into unlocking the door, and then, to use common parenting parlance, we read him the riot act. He was given a timeout, which he hates, and then he had to wait for an hour before he was allowed to use his computer.

He cried as if the world was about to end. Tears of absolute desolation flowed from him as he lay on the couch. He looked utterly heartbroken.

Well, this was no good. We had wanted to discipline him, not make him miserable. I lay down on the couch beside him and told him I loved him. I tried to comfort him, but he would not be comforted. I started thinking that this might be one of those times where you just have to let the kid cry it out of his system.  But it turned out that he simply needed something else.

He got off the couch and ran into James’ room, where James was lying quietly on his bed waiting for the storm to pass. George got onto the bed beside James and gently tugged at James’ arm. James responded by looping his arm over George, and the boys lay there hugging each other.

And just like that, George was calm, as if someone had flicked a switch. Which in some way, James clearly had.

I instinctively knew that I needed to back away and let the brothers have some time alone.

As I quietly left the room, I heard James softly say to George, “I would do anything for you, George.”

(Photo credit: Kirsten Doyle)