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.
Monday, February 17, 2014
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
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.
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.
Monday, January 20, 2014
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.
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.
Sunday, January 5, 2014
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).
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).
Saturday, December 21, 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
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.
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.
Monday, December 9, 2013
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.
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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)