Chinny-Chin-Chin

     Last month I took a week long vacation. And in order for me to call it a "vacation" I left my son at home. So while I was in California, Tanner was growing a beard. As I sat at the beach, Tanner sprouted random whiskers and a scrawny fu-manchu mustache. I knew there was something different about his face when I got home. It looked kind of smudgy and shady at the corners of his mouth. I got closer and realized that my little guy had grown sideburns and had a dozen or so long hairs on his chinny-chin-chin.  Since the random hairs will never develop into a respectable beard I must somehow keep Tanner from looking like a dweeb.
     Recently while Tanner was in the tub I sneaked one of Hailey's dull razors and took a swipe at the back of his neck. The boy barely moved as I cut a nice clean swath across his forested upper neck. As I moved to his muttonchops he waited patiently. I guess shaving my autistic kid isn't going to be all that bad....for now.

Who Am I?

     Typically people have opinions about themselves. We know our strengths and weaknesses. We think about our pasts and our futures. I wonder, however, what my sixteen year old autistic son feels about himself. In the past I haven't thought too much about his self-esteem due to the severity of his cognitive deficits. I know that the boy still thinks he's little. I have watched him try to squeeze his teenage body into a plastic baby pool. Sometimes he tries to sit on my lap as if he's still a toddler. He even reaches his arms up to me when he wants to stand (as if I can pull a 120 lb sack of meat off the floor).. He loves for me to whisper in his ear and tell him how much I love him. He puts all his weight on me when he hugs me and he gives me open mouthed , slobbery kisses. So half the time Tanner thinks he's a baby.
    The other half of the time Tanner thinks he has power. Sometimes, when he hasn't had enough love and affection, he starts acting like a teenager. To establish his power he starts tossing pillows around. Next he casually chucks small stuff like pens and scissors and tape measures, constantly testing my reaction. If he still feels like he isn't given the attention he deserves, he continues his path of destruction until I stop everything  and give him some momma time (which is really just acknowledgement).
    Mostly the boy is a baby in a teenage body. He would rather be naked. He would rather watch TV. And he wants constant entertainment.. I know that he's more often a baby though because he is always smiling. Real teenagers don't like to smile. Real teenagers like to mope and complain but Tanner doesn't know anything about drama, thank goodness.

Hey That's Not Your Shirt

It seems that my autistic son never comes home with the clothes I sent him with. I will scoot him off to school with a nicely matched shorts and shirt outfit (with socks that compliment the color scheme), but when he returns home he is wearing somebody else's blue plaid shorts and a red striped shirt and only one strange sock. Over the last year I have "lost" five pair of custom hemmed pants and three homemade "onesies", not to mention seven socks (each of a different color). I have gained a pair of blue plaid shorts which I return but keep getting back even though they have the name "Robert" on the waistband.

At school there are eight boys. All are non verbal and all don't care what they wear. So when there is a spill or a messy eater or any other reason to change clothes, the boys will put on whatever shirt or pants are available. And since the staff have to deal with eight crazy guys they probably grab the nearest pants possible and stick them on the guy who needs pants the most. Unfortunately, the clothes I love the most and have spent an hour cutting and hemming, never return. And I have so many mismatched socks I don't know how to cope with the pairing issue.

With the new season I have purchased several trendy shorts and shirts for the boy. I have also written his name in Sharpie all over these clothes. There is a chance I may see them again, but maybe not. This is why I shop the clearance rack. Now if I can just decide how to pair up those socks... is it ok to pair a red sock with an orange sock or is that totally uncool?

My Closed Door Policy

     Young children require constant supervision, if not for their own protection but for your piece of mind. And so it is with raising my autistic 16 year old son. As with all children, if things get quiet then something is wrong. When I am with Tanner I rely on certain types of noises. His "sounds" assure me that he is safe. So if I hear the same scene of The Simpsons playing over and over I am confident that the boy is within remote control distance of the TV (which is good). If it is silent there is a guarantee that the boy is looking for trouble (which is bad). That trouble usually shows itself as an open door. Open doors of any kind are bad news. An open freezer means that Tanner has taken the ice cream and is presently scooping it out with his fingers and painting the couch with it. An open bathroom door and the sound of water running means that the boy is intent on overflowing the bathtub as he gets in fully clothed. If a bedroom door is open I can count on Tanner sitting in the middle of my bed, throwing my pillows around, messing with my blinds and dumping out my antacid tablets. The sphincter clenching moment is when I discover an open door to the outside world. In this case it's not only an inconvenience it's a jolt to my nerves. Most often I catch him fast walking down the sidewalk in hot pursuit of a neighbor's unlocked/open garage door. Any open door might as well have a sign which says "Come on in, Tanner!" Because that is just what he does.  Nothing pleases the boy more than to find what is on the other side of a door.
    So if you come over to my house don't be surprised if it takes me a while to let you in. I will be untying and unhooking and unbolting the door, and I might even say "welcome to my prison".Also remember to bring a toothpick in case you need the restroom. A toothpick will get you into all the special rooms in the house. If you need a drink of water you'll need to untie the ribbon around the faucet, if you want a snack count on unlatching the cupboard. Everybody is welcome to come over just lock the door behind you. 

The Big Dipper

    There is a good reason why my Autistic son drinks from a sippy cup. It's not that he is incapable of drinking from a "big boy" cup, it's just that an open cup with fluid in it becomes a big temptation to cause huge messes.Of course there is the uncontrollable draw towards dumping the drink into his dinner, or the delight in methodically pouring the drink onto the floor. Another reason for a closed cup is that Tanner is a dipper. If at all possible, he will dip whatever he is eating into something liquid. A sandwich will be dipped into a cup of milk or water, the same goes for a taco or meatloaf or scrambled eggs. It's gross! Imagine dipping your salad in your Diet Coke before you eat it. I try to provide a side of dipping sauce, like ranch dressing or ketchup, with his meals but inevitably he grabs MY drink and dunks his spaghetti into it.
    At times I question why the boy likes mushy bread or soaked fish sticks or dunked pizza. By all means he will eat anything, including non-edibles like candles, chalk and dirt clods, so why does he have to make good food so gross? I don't know....But I DO know that if I leave scraps in the sink, like crusts, tomato butts, potato peelings, Tanner will scoop them up and chow down.
    So for lunch today I will prepare whatever he picks out and I won't forget the ketchup...so he can dip his grapes.

The Newest Invention

     You may recall how I have been struggling to keep my skin on my bones. It"s not that I have a cannibal in the house, it's just that I live with a kid who can rake my face like Freddie Krueger in "Nightmare on Elm Street". After the dart gun suggestion failed, me and a buddy came up with a humane solution to help protect me from the cub when he is at his worst.
     What I needed was a barrier between me and my sweet, little savage. After much talk we came up with a brilliant plan. Why not make a shield, a barrier of sorts, that I can put between me and the boy as I try to direct him to his room. It would have to be equipped with handles, it would have to be light in weight, it would have to have an unbreakable surface. As I figured the dimensions my buddy talked about the materials needed to make a portable, uncomplicated barrier which can be easily accessible in times of crisis. I suggested clear plexi-glass, he suggested a a welded metal frame with handles for strength, stablility and maneuverability. The result was a brilliant hand made shield weighing in at 12 lbs. 30inX30in with foam on the edges, taped down by duct tape. It is a thing of beauty!
    And it works! The other day I was able to remain almost unscathed after Tanner flipped out unexpectantly. Not to say that I have things totally under control (there is a huge learning curve regarding this new device). Still, I avoided some face shots but fell victim to a couple of injuries due to inadequate counter measures. I will learn!..... If the shield is ineffective then the next step may be....cannabis?

If You Can't Buy It, Invent It

     As my autistic son grows up I find that what he needs doesn't exist. For example, when he was a youngster he wore a "onesie" like all other babies. This little body suit kept his diaper from sagging and also covered his little belly when his shirt rode up. Well, by the time he was five years old he had grown out of the XL size. I had this giant baby learning how to walk. And as a giant baby he also had a big heavy diaper and wandering hands. For another year I squeezed the boy into a toddler's onesie and found that the body suit kept his diaper in the place where diapers are supposed to be, around his bum and not his knees. Soon came the time when he was popping the crotch snaps of the largest size. There was no such thing as a onesie for big boys so I decided to experiment; afterall, isn't a onsie just a combination of a t-shirt and a tighty-whitey with an opening at the bottom? I bought a big-boy undershirt and some briefs and sewed them together. Then I cut out the crotch and used a bra "hook and eye" to secure the bottom. It worked liked a charm! So as he grows I just buy bigger t-shirts and underwear. There are so many advantages to this little invention. Mainly it keeps the boy's diaper up, but also, it keeps him decent when he takes his clothes off in public!
     Another nifty idea involves a belt and a chair. Invariably the cub feels the need to walk around while he eats. If allowed, he will carry his dinner plate throughout the house dropping food here and there. He  touches everything and soon there is Ranch dressing where it shouldn't be. Just trying to keep him at the table during mealtime ensures that I don't get to eat at all. After getting fed up with constant interruptions I got a nice wide "man-belt" and tied the kid to his chair. I lace the belt in between the slats of the chair and buckle it in the back. The boy can't get off his chair until I allow it. Now that he stays put I can casually eat without having to chase him down before he smears all the light switches.

An Ethical Dilemma

      Over the past few months I have wracked by brain for solutions to handling the boy's sudden mega-rages. Since I am no spring chicken (heck, I'm even too old to be a laying hen) I recognize that before long my skin will become like tissue paper and my strength will dwindle to a spark. In the course of many discussions, friends of mine have tried to help me solve the impossible question. How am I going to manage Tanner's tectonic tantrums and still keep us safe? My male friends are quick with solutions. " How about a tazer or a shock collar or a cattle prod or a stun gun or a paint ball gun or a tranquilizer gun or an electric fly swatter or karate or an awesome WWF hold!"  My brother suggested that I purchace a dart gun that they use on wild animals: I bet you can buy one off Amazon, he said. My response is, hey great advice! All I need to do is buy some tranquilizer darts and when I am in a death roll with Tanner I can just shout to my daughter, " Hailey!! get the gun and shoot your brother!" The comical part is picturing Hailey trying to aim at a moving mass of arms and legs and shooting ME instead of her wild brother. Now that would be priceless comedy.

     Still, I recently had a very expensive meeting with Tanner's autism specialists. I casually inquired into the use of the aforementioned methods and was met with serious frowns. Apparently even in jest, the very mention of a tranquilizer dart is strongly a taboo subject.  The one and only solution brought to my attention was the use of our local police department. I can see it now.....red and blue flashing lights in my driveway, two nice men escorting a curious Tanner to a shiny, exciting vehicle, going for a ride to a new place. It would be the most funnest day ever!!!

    Don't worry. I still have reasonable solutions to try out on the boy. These gentler methods come from my female friends. Women tend to be more realistic and less sensational. So when a female friend suggests that I put gym mats on Tanner's walls (reasonable) and when a male friend suggests a tazer set on low (sadistic), I think I will listen to the gal.

Manscaping

    I know that I am super good at yardwork; pulling weeds, planting flowers and trimming bushes. But when it comes to MAN-scaping I am a bit insecure. I have this 16 year old Autistic "man" who seems to get "overgrown" every two months. And since this teen shows absolutely no interest in self-care it is up to me to make him presentable to the world, which means I've got to make him look good and smell good.
    When the boy was younger I kept his hair short and his body scrubbed. It was an easy job. He was smaller than the usual pre-teen and had skin like a baby. Now that he has "come of age" I find him to be kind of ..uh... hairy! And since he is not toilet trained you can imagine the conundrum. I know that most guys do a little trimming of their furry parts. I know co-workers that manscape ALL their fuzzy areas including legs and arms. So I think it only polite to try to manscape my son as well, if only for the benefit of those who care for him at school. I am very considerate to those who are grossed out by overgrowth.
    So every two months I get out the shaver. Tanner knows that this is going to be a full body experience and he is not very cooperative. First I strip him, then I shear him like a sheep. His head gets pinned between my knees and I go at him with the shaver as he tries to break free. I start at the back of his head and peel off tufts of brown hair which fall into his lap like masses of feathers. Tanner looks at these clumps of hair and quickly pushes them away as if they are disgusting bits of rotting leaves. Both of us struggle for balance as I maneover and shift him into the right position in order to sculpt his hair into an acceptable shape. Around the ears is hard, the upper neck is worse. But there is more....
    The next step brings nervous giggles and uncertain eyes. I pin him so he is fully exposed. I carefully shave his nether regions, but not to closely. Tanner gets a bit nervous. I think the shaver pulls the hair ever so slightly enough to make him flinch. I don't try to be precise, only a quick trim of the hedge to keep it under control. Quickly I move on to his legs and armpits which requires only a slight passing of the shaver.
    When it is all done Tanner is rewarded with a long luxurious bath, followed by a full nail clipping and a manly smelling lotion rub down. He is such a high maintenence customer and leaves no gratuity! If I didn't love him so much I definitely would ban him from my Day Spa.

The Safe Room

    Don't you think it strange that whenever you commit something to writing it is no longer true? In the past I wrote that I had provided a safe place for my Autistic son to excorcise his demons, a room where he is allowed to go bat-guano crazy until he calms himself. So whenever the boy has a rage episode I lock him in his room where he can bang his head and throw things until he is satiated. I bragged that he never hurts himself seriously. I boasted that I just let him do his "thing" and everything turns out fine.

    Well my plan worked fine until it didn't. Last month, during a particularly lethal meltdown, I managed to get Tanner into his room and lock the door before he could tear the flesh from my bones. Then I proceeded to go about my business while waiting for the head banging and book flinging to stop. Once it was quiet I peeked in on the boy to make sure he was still conscious. What I found was an unusually bloody situation. Of course there is always some blood but this time he was covered in it (but still casually thumbing through a picture book). He had managed to split the side of his head open. I really wanted to ignore his injury, clean him up and then go to the Symphony as was planned beforehand. But there was this flap of scalp that needed an emergency room visit.
     Thus we visited the ER for the first time in Tanner's life. Talk about a craptacular experience! I wasted three hours of my life while the boy happily sat on a stretcher and thumbed through channels on his personal TV. Just when I thought that nobody in the world had been so thoroughly ignored as much as Tanner and I, a gaggle of staff came into the room, burrito wrapped Tanner and put six staples in his head. Ta da!!! Since the experience was so underwhelming I vowed to steal a staple gun and do the job myself next time.
     Then three weeks after I removed the staples I continued to feel a lump in his scalp where he split his head. After picking at the poor boy's scab for a few days I pulled out a piece of chunky plastic the size of my fingernail. Then I began to get a good idea as to  what happened the night of the injury...In his rage, Tanner threw a toy at the ceiling just to have it come back down and leave a gash in his head as well as a broken piece. Of course he banged his head on the door with great and enthusiastic force but the deep wound was due to a toy landing on his head.
     In reality there is nowhere absolutely safe where the boy can blow off some steam. I can't protect him from himself. So instead I am learning to ensure my own safety. In essence, the "safe room" isn't just a secure place for Tanner to wreck havoc. It is also a place that can "contain" him in those moments of dangerous behaviors. It is safer for ME to keep him in his room when he blows his top. I accept that there will be blood but it is time to let it be Tanner's blood and not my own.

The Sameness

     I often look through old photos and videos of my Autistic son's past; way back when he was younger and smaller. There are so many "Tannerisms" that I notice now that I am experienced. Back in the days when I was still guessing at a diagnosis I didn't see the subtle yet classic quirkiness of Tanner's movements and gestures. I have pictures of him as a two year old flapping his hands in the exact fashion that he does today. I find photos which show that he started biting his right hand quite early in his life. There are photos of him pinching the skin of my face between his thumb and forefinger in the exact way he's done for the last 15 yrs. When I notice images of a young Tanner grabbing and "twinging" the tendons behind my knee or "messing" with the sinew in my neck I see how he has always done that. In watching videos of a seven year old Tanner I notice the ritualized routine of turning on and off lights, patting a certain part of a certain wall .

     Besides body growth and voice pitch, the boy hasn't changed at all in eleven years. His movements are identical, his thinking patterns and his interests have remained downright fixed. It is a curious thing really. As Tanner's body changes his mind remains forever the same. The little pinches of a two year old are damaging as a sixteen year old. Light hugs from a spindly four year old are manageable but bear hugs from a sixteen year old sometimes knock me off my feet. When a six year old takes your hand to show you something it is a pleasant thing. But when a sixteen year old has a death grip on your finger and won't let go it can be a bit disconcerting.

     One thing is for certain; I really know my boy! I know the meaning of each sound he makes, I know what he wants just by his facial expression. I know his likes and dislikes more surely than I know my own. And the best thing is that I get to live with a teenage boy who still loves his mommy and is not ashamed to show it (although the heavy hugs and slobbery kisses do get a bit tedious at times).
    

   

The Hazards of Holidays

     Big holiday gatherings are an absolute nightmare for Autistic kids. My son can really put a damper on things if allowed to escalate into his evil tyrant mode. Still, he is an important and integral part of our family and thus far has been involved in the joyous events of our lives. Over the years I have learned that Tanner needs a little pharmalogical help to take the edge off his anxious and violent behaviors. But no matter how much I beg him to sit calmly and quietly, no matter how much I want him to politely join us for dinner, no matter how much I wish he would keep his hands to himself, he ends up being who he is. Tanner is a phenomenon. We all know him well. Family members have grown to expect certain occurances, such as: When food is involved we all know that we have to guard our plate. The boy is notorious for sneaking up from behind and putting his finger in your pot roast. Also people have learned to never leave a drink unattended because Tanner consideres all drinks to be his. Once he gets your drink you never want it back, aka. backwash. Also the family has gotten used to the fact that there will be absolutely no after dinner football on the TV unless you want a smack-down from Tanner the TV tyrant. My brothers soon learn that they are missing some skin if they try to wrestle the remote from the boy. Small-talk becomes Loud-talk as the family raise their voices to be heard over Tanner's vocalizations. All the while I am highly aware of his body language so that I can avert a sudden aggression. This is our reality and for the most part everybody pitches in to help. A little later, after dinner and when the little kids go off to play, I give the boy a second dose of  "don't be psychotic" drugs and he starts to shut it all down. Calmly he will doze on my lap and then we are free to have boring, mostly civilized adult conversation.
     So what I have learned is that typical family chaos, noise and activity brings out the worse in Tanner and that medication isn't really effective. But when dinner and dishes are done and people are just sitting around then, and only then, is the boy calm enough to let the drugs work. In essence, everyone wants to "experience" Tanner for a short while but we are relieved when he goes off into dreamland.

Risky Behavior

     Some teenagers are big risk takers. They tend to engage in dangerous activities  like longboarding, fast driving and ladder climbing. These kids aren't afraid of accidents. I have an Autistic son who likes to live on the edge as well. Even though he is constantly supervised he seems to get into a lot of trouble. The other day I started a small fire in the fireplace for warmth and comfort as the snow piled up outside. The boy is a fire lover as well. Momentarily, I walked away to fold some laundry and when I returned he had piled every piece of firewood we had into the fireplace. My little pyromaniac watched as the fire grew and when there was nothing else to feed it he threw in a kitchen towel. As I watched to see what the fire bug would do next he looked eagerly at the throw pillows. There is no limit to what the boy will throw into a fire, even his sipper cup.
     Water also draws the boy under it's spell. Swimming pools are Tanner's nirvana. Although he can't swim he tends to inch his way deeper and deeper...the water creeps over his shoulders, then around his chin, then washes over his mouth and this is when his eyes go wide because he realizes he can't breath anymore.I watch him carefully to see if he can solve his own problems. Over the years he becomes more cautious.
     Another danger, or embarrassment, is when the cub decides he wants to take off his clothes. The other day after getting off the school bus the little streaker stripped off his coat, then his shirt and had his pants way below the butt crack before he got to the front door. It was 17 degrees outside. I got a good natured honk from the bus driver and quickly ushered my exhibitionist sixteen year old into the house. In the driveway was a scattering of clothing tossed aside as if I ran a nudest colony. The next morning there were still footprints of barefeet in the snow.
    Tanner also runs with scissors, walks on broken glass, opens the washer when it's on spin cycle, turns up music really loud and runs away from home. I threaten him time and time again that I will haul him off to Juvie but he just laughs at me.

A Few Of My Favorite Things

     I will be shallow here and make it known what is really important to me. #1  becoming warm when I am cold, ie. (hot bath, warm blanket, fireplace, soup)...#2 becoming cool when I am hot, ie. (cold drink, air conditining, cool sheets, snow cone)...#3 scratching an itch ie. (preferably a human scratcher)....#4 a good book, ie.(wow! that is sooo true and penned sooo beautifully)....#5 a clean car, ie (this car looks so good on me!). If I am comfortable then I am more apt to be grateful. So when these initial needs are met then I can go on and notice the other great stuff in my life.
    The single thing which has saved me from self pity and martyrdom is the gift of having a paying job. I have a skill other than being the awesome mom of an Autistic son. My occupation has empowered me enough that I have never become resentful towards the constant demands and sacrifices I make caring for my cub. Working away from home and being at the top of my game has instilled confidence and importance in who I am. And as a bonus, dad is a very involved and integral part of the family. Together, we have it covered.
    The other thing which has saved me from heartache and despair is that I have a son who is truly clueless. Yes, I am grateful that my boy is on the severe end of the Autistic Spectrum. He will be a perpetual, carefree two year old for the rest of his life, his needs will be met and he will never have the awareness that he is different. When I look into his eyes there will be an innocent child unconcerned about his lost potential. This boy will never know cruelty or disappointment or shame. For this I am grateful.
    Another thing which has saved me from feeling hopeless and overwhelmed is my teenage daughter. She was born into quite a pickle. From her earliest days she has endured the craziness of her brother. But the thing is, she never let him win. She never lost herself. I guess my daughter could have become a compulsive caretaker, hingeing on Tanner's every need, or she could have become bitter, hating her brother and her life as his sibling. Instead, she is a typical sister, sometimes a bully, other times a helper. But she is always a protector and I rely on her greatly.
    There are so many other things which make my life so full. Alot of these things hurt. The things which hurt the most are those which end up being the most beneficial for the growth of my soul. When I feel like I am doing difficult things I feel more fullfilled. Still, I would be lying if I gave the impression that my life is just one Zen moment after another. I experience the whole gamut of emotions in a single day. Some days I don't even want to wake up, some days I am so full of resentment that I just want to disappear. Most days I am content. The best days are when I am filled with a love so intense that I can't help but squeeze the kids until they can't stand it anymore. I am grateful for the best days the most.

What Do You Do For Yourself?

     Sometimes it seems as if there is never a spare moment in day to day life. I mean there are messes to clean up, meals to make, laundry to fold and all the other stuff that comes with being a responsible and conscientious mother. Having an Autistic child just quadruples the effort to maintain a stable environment for the family as a whole. And as much as I like to stay busy there are other aspects of my life that I really need to keep track of. For instance, it is important for me to know how I am feeling about my situation. It is important that I don't become an autometron, just going through the motions of a difficult  existence.
    There was a decade of my life when I did everything right. I pretended that I could make my family normal by becoming extra involved in school volunteerism and by cooking time consuming meals and by not wearing tank tops in public. I even attended a local church in hopes of becoming part of my community. Still, I believe, at this time, I was never so unhappy. By becoming involved in "normal" activities I had the hopes of fitting into the perfect mold of contentment like everyone around me. But really nothing changed except for added dissapointment on top of living with a severe Autistic son. Much later I discovered why I was an outsider and it wasn't because of Tanner.
    I wasn't being true to myself. I was taking my life to seriously. I wasn't enjoying the disaster which was my life. First of all, I had a big talk with myself and stopped all that "appearances" crap. Next, I started watching my crazy boy in a whole new way. I found that his "abby-normal" brain makes him a very interesting and funny person. I let go of my control, I stopped telling him no, I stopped covering his mouth when he got to loud. I just let it roll. When he threw his food, broke something, put his head through a wall, I stopped reacting. Afterall, these are just material things which can be fixed at leisure.
   And Most Importantly....the boy WILL fall asleep by 8:00 pm which leaves me MY TIME to do what I please. This part of the evening is crucial to my well being. I plan my alone time like I plan a vacation ie. it does not go wrong. First I make sure the children are put away and can't bother me, then I lock my bedroom door.
    What happens next is purely magical. I put on soft yoga music, light about twenty candles, draw a hot bath with lavender scented bubbles and soak until I am ready. Then I talk to myself. I ask about my day and how I am feeling and I congratulate myself for making it through. Then I think about all the good things in life which make me smile. Then I think about a single thing which I want to do better next time. Finally I try to blank out all thought and I ask with my thoughts "What is your will?", "Please help me!". I try to communicate with the presence I feel, the presence I talk to when I use my inner voice. Next I feel peaceful..... This is my indulgence, the thing I do for myself. This is what saves me from myself.

Autism And Empathy

    Studies show that those with Autism have trouble picking up on other people's emotions. It is said that Autistic individuals lack the tenderheartedness to notice people's wants and needs.With my son I find this to be true most times but not always. I have glimpsed moments of intense warmth in his soul. I have watched as he wept with unpretentious melancholy while listening to Dvorak's New World Symphony, where the music itself touched his heart and his eyes leaked warm tears. I have been with him as he sobbed with happiness when Snow White and her Prince rode off into the sunset on the white steed. I have comforted him post-tantrum, when the fury is gone and the sorrow sets in because he knows he has caused me pain. In these moments of emotion I ask him where he hurts, and he pats his chest where his heart is. I believe Tanner has the most purest of feelings.
    There are moments when I am sad as well. I remember being listless and distant one day. I sat at the computer, staring, murmuring for him to just leave me alone. But Tanner didn't leave me alone. He sat on the floor next to me and just watched. He occasionally touched me gently, a soft hug, the easy press of his mouth on my cheek. The boy examined my eyes and my face and he stayed until I smiled at him.
    I have found that Tanner can guage other people's emotional status just by looking at them. However his reactions are often misplaced. If dad is irritable and tense then Tanner counteracts by being naughty and needy. If sister is pushy and intolerant then Tanner becomes aggitated and violent. If mom is impatient and harried then Tanner becomes destructive and loud. Negative in US equals Negative in HIM.
    Perhaps those with Autism have a sense of empathy way beyond our understanding. All I know is that the boy knows my moods in the same way that he knows my eyes. If I side look at him with rage eyes he backs away. If I raise my voice but my eyes are smiling he laughs and if I have desperate wide eyes he takes advantage of me. When I have kind eyes he wants affection. When I wink he tries to wink as well.
I think he likes my happy eyes the best because when I'm happy, he's happy.
   

Non-Verbal Is A Language

    When I began researching and trying to understand the characteristics of Autism I continually came across the word "non-verbal". At the time I jumped to the conclusion that not only could my son never speak but that he could be silent as well. However, by the time he reached four years old he was making a lot of sound, he was loud. The boy's vocal chords produced a nice healthy squeal or a scream but his brain wouldn't let him form words, thus his vocalizations formed no language but they had meaning. Depending on the pitch and urgency of his sounds I have figured out what he was saying. I learned a foreign language. 

    Tanner's "voice" is something that people have to get used to. Not only is it a meaningless sound to most people it is also very loud. I take him to big family dinners often and the reactions of family members is always interesting. Last week after dinner the ten of us were sitting around talking and the boy was vocalizing loudly as well. My sister asked me what he was saying and I told her that his sound at that moment meant that he was relaxed and content. His body language let me know that I didn't have to watch him closely or worry about a sudden change in mood. So we all talked OVER Tanner's loud vocalizations and the house was merry with conversation. I happily observed that all kinds of sounds were accepted by everyone. At one point the little kids started mimicking Tanner's sound and soon we had a house full of racket. Some time during the evening Tanner's sound started to change in pitch and tone. His body language became a little restless and a little rigid. Instinctively we all noticed the slight change in atmosphere and I declared that the boy wanted to go home. I asked him if he was ready to go and he pointed to the door. Within five minutes we were in the car.

   By being in tune with Tanner's body language and his sound I avoided a potentially explosive screaming fit which would have put a damper on a lovely night. The less he is able to stew in his needs and wants the better. The boy will always give clues and indicators of his desires and if I pay attention to him I can almost always avoid a core meltdown. The language I have learned isn't taught in a class, it is honed by experience. And over the years I have noticed that all kinds of kids communicate in this way. Too often verbal expression doen't always convey true moods and feelings yet body language never lies. So try learning the language of Autism as a foreign language.

The Best Invention Ever

    I like electricity and indoor plumbing and automobiles and cell phones, but they are just conveniences. There is only one thing in this modern world that I cannot do without and that is...Disposable Diapers!! FYI everybody poops. MY poops smell like roses of course, and I can flush it all away. All Gone, No Problem. I know where to do it and I know how to get rid of it.
    Still, I am acutely aware of poop and all it's properties. In fact, I think about it (strategically) every day. Poop is an important part of my life and I have to be a proactive part of the process. But it is not MY process that I am talking about.... I have this autistic son who knows about poop and where it comes from but has no interest in depositing it where it ought to go. In other words, my cub is totally dependent on diapers. I have tried to sit him on the Potty. I have asked him where his poop and pee come from and he points to the right parts, then he gags and flushes a clean toilet. To be candid, the boy simply doesn't mind sitting in his own crap. It doesn't cause HIM discomfort, it just causes ME discomfort because I know I have to wipe a 15 year old's butt. And it is not like I am gathering up pebbles of poop or a nice clean log of poop either, I am dealing with mud. Think about the properties of mud for a moment. Think how thick and clingy mud might be. Think how slick and gooey and.....ok, I will stop.
    I judge Tanner's diapers upon how many wipes I use. A ten wipe diaper is standard...A twenty wipe diaper means means too much laxative... a two wipe diaper means not enough laxative. This is how I determine the boy's intestinal health. Unfortunately or fortunately, I am in control of his bowels. Since the boy doesn't have enough gut muscle tone he relies on the right combination of laxative to keep things moving. So if I want him to have a complete blow out when he is with his dad then I can make it so...Just Kidding!
    I am just saying that disposable diapers are a really nifty invention because they are extremely effective and I can just wrap the unmentionable item up in a plastic bag and throw it away. ***note: all you environmentalists are welcome to live in my shoes for one week...***. Anywho, I am grateful that the boy is an "all or nothing" kind of kid. I have never had to deal with potty training accidents because he simply is not trainable and never will be. I have accepted that and therefore there is no poop on my carpet and no poop in my car and no poop on the couch because the glorious diaper contains it all.

The Tantrum

    The Autistic Tantrum is a very strange and powerful animal. It is absolutely frightening when you see one for the first time and it continues to be disquieting for many years. Some people think the tantrum should be controlled, I think otherwise.
    Right now I am enjoying Tanner's post-tantrum status. Presently, he is like a lion after a kill; exhausted but satiated. One hour ago he was in full blown rage, for a reason that none of us quite understand. Over the years I have  identified many tantrum triggers: country music featuring women singers, being told "No", anyone reading out loud, going the "wrong" direction in the car, being ignored, having to leave, not leaving soon enough.... But thesedays his triggers are more puzzling. There IS NO rational reason. One moment the boy is content and the next moment something disturbs him. Once the beast inside my son is awakened all hell breaks loose. He finds a human target, the closest warm blooded person in the room, and then he just loses it....grabbing, scratching, pinching, pulling hair. He usually chooses his 14 year old sister as the object of his dissatisfaction. She knows just what to do and I love her for it! She defends herself with smart maneuvering, staying just beyond his grasp. He chases after her banging his head on every wall that they pass until they reach his bedroom.Then with an adroit shove she pushes him into his room and locks the door behind him. Thus ensues the cacophony of head banging, book throwing and screaming. Meanwhile she gets a wet washcloth and wipes the fresh blood from the hallway walls leading to his room where his scalp was opened up. She waits for calm and quiet, opens Tanner's door and finds him calmly turning pages of a book he has thrown. She tells him that he can come out whenever he wishes and leaves the door open. Soon the boy emerges from his den, sits on the couch and resumes his routine of watching his favorite scenes from The Simpsons. My daughter, swiftly returns to her routine of listening to music while doing homework or writing her "book". All is Well.
    I know it sounds horrific and terrifying. It is something we are used to. We have adapted. We have survived. We will continue and thrive. Understand that I didn't jump suddenly into the pool of Autism. I have been learning this occupation for 15 years now. The duties started small, progressed slowly and allowed me to change as my son changed. ***note: I change tactics when as he gets stronger***. In other words, what worked five years ago does not work now. Before, when he was small, I thought that I could control his angst by holding him down, preventing his self abuse. Later I wrestled with him, trying to pin him down so he couldn't hurt me or himself.  I thought I was helping him.
    As he got stronger I started to lose the battle. He was kicking my can. My son and I were in mortal combat, me trying to disable him so he couldn't shred my skin with his death claws, and him desperately needing to feel relief through self injury. My learning moment came when I lost control of the boy and became genuinely afraid for my safety. The more I tried to control him the more determined he became. After we were both sweaty, bruised and exhausted I vowed never to hold him back again. I would protect myself and let him do what his brain demanded of him. Sometimes the boy, mentally and physically needs to "feel" something very profound and for me to prevent these events is wrong.
   I provide a relatively safe environment where he can hurt himself to the point that his demons are satisfied but not to the point where he becomes critically injured. The result is a little scalp abrasion, a little blood and a satiated autistic boy. Fifteen years of experience has taught me that he NEEDS this!

The Art Of Constant Motion

    My house is immaculate almost all the time. Most people who know my autistic son ask me how I keep things in order. The simple answer is that everything that is important to me has a place, a very particular place where it can be found when I need it. When I do the dishes I need the scrub brush to be in the sink, when I need the scotch tape it had better be in the drawer. I find that the boy takes a fancy to ordinary items which are crucial to my function as a mom. He takes stuff, plays with it for 2 seconds and then goes on to other stuff. Before I know it the scissors are buried under the cushions, his toothbrush is in the fireplace, his DS card is in the heat vent, and my scrub brush is in the basement.So while Tanner is in constant motion with his ritualistic circling of the kitchen, I too, am gathering the debris and putting it back in it's usual place. I don't do this all day long though. I only do reconnaissance when I am missing something. In my attempt to find what is lost I happen to straighten the house and find all the things which I didn't know were missing. Sometimes I may find a piece of pizza under the couch while I am looking for a remote control or I notice a sipper cup in a drawer while I am looking for scissors. It all works out as long as I keep busy. What always surprises me though is to find jelly beans in my bed. I usually don't look there.