Independence and Puberty (7)
The Importance of Language
2.20.19
This post is a hard one to write, but it explains why we have been so protective and attentive to Jake's needs lately. We are not being over-protective, given the events listed below, we are pretty focused on keeping him alive.
Dealing with the combination of Autism, anxiety and puberty has caused most notably the hardest days we've ever experienced. Every child struggles through the teenage years, yes, I know. It is not the same for every child. It is not the same for every child on the spectrum, either. In our case, stereotypical moodiness and unpredictably are not the problem, the CONSTANT FEAR, IS! Jake is so riddled with anxiety, anything that sounds like a potential change (even a compliment), a new word, different tone of voice, eye roll, or shoulder shrug, can (and does) trigger a full-fledged panic attack. A shortness of breath, pounding heart, darting eyes, panic attack.
We've learned, that fear comes from many sources. In our case, loss of control of a situation, not understanding what is said to him, adoption fears, not knowing what is going to happen next and fear of getting in trouble. While he is quite verbal and able to explain his feelings, he gets so upset by surprises and changes he not only loses his words, he loses his breath.
His way of alleviating those fears is to set his eyes on the future, becoming president and just changing all the rules. His detailed path to this goal has been our window into his brain. We hope it will help others too.
He says, "when I am the president, I will get rid of all rules!" = there must be something, a restriction, he is not understanding.
"when I am the president, we will get rid of jails and prisons for people with disabilities!" = his intense fear of ending up in jail. This could be a topic in his next advocacy trainings, but it bloomed out of his own paralyzing anxiety.
"when I am the president, we must get rid of Facebook, IG, Twitter and social media!" = he is afraid he would see posts of certain people that have hurt him and become upset. When he's upset, he loses control. Loss of control is terrifying.
He wants the school all stress-free and happy. No requirements, no consequences, no problem, right?? Yeah, right.
When he's listing his ideas about basically changing the U.S. Constitution, we know we just said something that he wasn't expecting, something new or that he feels "out of control" about. He is desperate for control of scary situations, what better way to alleviate anxiety, than make your own new laws about them.
He is to the point now, where he's even designing an entire school for kids like him who "are smart and have challenges getting past girls and puberty .... by fixing their brains with drugs, exercise and special medicine." Ha!
His behaviors when he hears something surprising, restricting or new, range from biting his finger, chewing his nails, screaming, thrashing his body around, pounding holes in the wall, to elopement or trying to "suicize himself". He knows he will see many loved ones in heaven, he will have a perfect heavenly body, and his brain will be "uncloudy".
Not only do these big behaviors draw attention away from any pending punishment, they change our mood from anger to protective. He gets to feel that safety, again.
He has become afraid of himself because his large size and inability to control his body when he is upset. He knows he could hurt someone if he is thrashing around near others and to him, that means jail. If he bumps into a person where they have underwear (think passing someone and your arm brushes against them unknowingly), in his mind that's an unwanted sexual contact and he's going to jail.
Black vs. White. All or Nothing.
We've learned to keep him mostly stabilized by changing our tone of voice, choice of words, level of reinforcement and reassurance, lots of "processing" scary thoughts and tons of PATIENCE! While we are monitoring every move, literally, and happily reinforcing often, this is not preparing him for real life. A boss or authority figure will not speak to him with careful words and a sweet tone, if he just messed up something at work, for instance. If we need to actually deliver a critique or observation of his behavior, or even during conversation, we preface it with, "Are you prepared to hear feedback about this, now?" This way he can prepare himself to possibly be surprised or learn something new.
Jake writes and writes and writes down everything that scares him. Even in the middle of a conversation with him, you know you stepped in it, if he pulls out his phone to jot something down. On his phone, he has nearly 1400 multiple-page brain dumps. He comes home with pockets crammed full of crumpled up notes that he writes during break times. Coloring mandalas or drawing help too.
It works like this; once he physically removes the thought from his brain and onto the phone or paper, there is a calm and relief that comes over him. His breathing deepens and slows and his gorgeous smile returns, as do his calm eyes. I've also been successful with, "taking scary thoughts out of his head before bed". He reaches to his forehead, grabs a handful of scary thoughts and hands them to me. I cup my hands, as if I'm gingerly carrying a butterfly, and remove the scary thoughts from his room. We've also had success with Confession at church.
Careful conversations are constructed before we even open our mouths. Heaven forbid we respond impulsively or without thinking first, because that could spark a 3 hour meltdown rooted in fear.
I asked Jake if I could write this beforehand, and I have his full approval, "if it helps other kids like me" and/or "makes people better parents". All of this information details our last year and some is from his actual writings.
We are so proud of him for sharing his very personal thoughts in hopes of helping others suffer less.
2.20.19
This post is a hard one to write, but it explains why we have been so protective and attentive to Jake's needs lately. We are not being over-protective, given the events listed below, we are pretty focused on keeping him alive.
Dealing with the combination of Autism, anxiety and puberty has caused most notably the hardest days we've ever experienced. Every child struggles through the teenage years, yes, I know. It is not the same for every child. It is not the same for every child on the spectrum, either. In our case, stereotypical moodiness and unpredictably are not the problem, the CONSTANT FEAR, IS! Jake is so riddled with anxiety, anything that sounds like a potential change (even a compliment), a new word, different tone of voice, eye roll, or shoulder shrug, can (and does) trigger a full-fledged panic attack. A shortness of breath, pounding heart, darting eyes, panic attack.
We've learned, that fear comes from many sources. In our case, loss of control of a situation, not understanding what is said to him, adoption fears, not knowing what is going to happen next and fear of getting in trouble. While he is quite verbal and able to explain his feelings, he gets so upset by surprises and changes he not only loses his words, he loses his breath.
His way of alleviating those fears is to set his eyes on the future, becoming president and just changing all the rules. His detailed path to this goal has been our window into his brain. We hope it will help others too.
He says, "when I am the president, I will get rid of all rules!" = there must be something, a restriction, he is not understanding.
"when I am the president, we will get rid of jails and prisons for people with disabilities!" = his intense fear of ending up in jail. This could be a topic in his next advocacy trainings, but it bloomed out of his own paralyzing anxiety.
"when I am the president, we must get rid of Facebook, IG, Twitter and social media!" = he is afraid he would see posts of certain people that have hurt him and become upset. When he's upset, he loses control. Loss of control is terrifying.
He wants the school all stress-free and happy. No requirements, no consequences, no problem, right?? Yeah, right.
When he's listing his ideas about basically changing the U.S. Constitution, we know we just said something that he wasn't expecting, something new or that he feels "out of control" about. He is desperate for control of scary situations, what better way to alleviate anxiety, than make your own new laws about them.
He is to the point now, where he's even designing an entire school for kids like him who "are smart and have challenges getting past girls and puberty .... by fixing their brains with drugs, exercise and special medicine." Ha!
His behaviors when he hears something surprising, restricting or new, range from biting his finger, chewing his nails, screaming, thrashing his body around, pounding holes in the wall, to elopement or trying to "suicize himself". He knows he will see many loved ones in heaven, he will have a perfect heavenly body, and his brain will be "uncloudy".
Not only do these big behaviors draw attention away from any pending punishment, they change our mood from anger to protective. He gets to feel that safety, again.
He has become afraid of himself because his large size and inability to control his body when he is upset. He knows he could hurt someone if he is thrashing around near others and to him, that means jail. If he bumps into a person where they have underwear (think passing someone and your arm brushes against them unknowingly), in his mind that's an unwanted sexual contact and he's going to jail.
Black vs. White. All or Nothing.
We've learned to keep him mostly stabilized by changing our tone of voice, choice of words, level of reinforcement and reassurance, lots of "processing" scary thoughts and tons of PATIENCE! While we are monitoring every move, literally, and happily reinforcing often, this is not preparing him for real life. A boss or authority figure will not speak to him with careful words and a sweet tone, if he just messed up something at work, for instance. If we need to actually deliver a critique or observation of his behavior, or even during conversation, we preface it with, "Are you prepared to hear feedback about this, now?" This way he can prepare himself to possibly be surprised or learn something new.
Jake writes and writes and writes down everything that scares him. Even in the middle of a conversation with him, you know you stepped in it, if he pulls out his phone to jot something down. On his phone, he has nearly 1400 multiple-page brain dumps. He comes home with pockets crammed full of crumpled up notes that he writes during break times. Coloring mandalas or drawing help too.
It works like this; once he physically removes the thought from his brain and onto the phone or paper, there is a calm and relief that comes over him. His breathing deepens and slows and his gorgeous smile returns, as do his calm eyes. I've also been successful with, "taking scary thoughts out of his head before bed". He reaches to his forehead, grabs a handful of scary thoughts and hands them to me. I cup my hands, as if I'm gingerly carrying a butterfly, and remove the scary thoughts from his room. We've also had success with Confession at church.
Careful conversations are constructed before we even open our mouths. Heaven forbid we respond impulsively or without thinking first, because that could spark a 3 hour meltdown rooted in fear.
I asked Jake if I could write this beforehand, and I have his full approval, "if it helps other kids like me" and/or "makes people better parents". All of this information details our last year and some is from his actual writings.
We are so proud of him for sharing his very personal thoughts in hopes of helping others suffer less.
Flirting, Dating and Babies, Oh My!
6/27/15
There's a saying... life imitating art or art imitating life... but how 'bout life imitating technology?
Jake is back hooked on the Sims games (Last writing about sims was in 2013) after it sort of went away for a while. But now, Mr. Puberty is so interested in how families are made, when best friends become dating, and what age he can get married, I'm afraid, he's living vicariously through the Sims game. Now that he's making friends with kids at school, he's curious about when he will become best friends, be dating, "get babies" and yes they happen in that order and that fast in his mind... He's just picked it up again and he has two Sims becoming very good friends.
I was trying to cook dinner, but he kept running into the kitchen asking me a litany of questions about the pretend people he is controlling. From what I can tell, the stages of family-building are something like; be funny, be friends, become best friends, flirting, become romantic, along those lines.
Bellowed from the family room I first hear, "So do you have to be romantic over and over again to get a baby?"
I answered, I guess so.
Giggle. Giggle. Giggle.
Over the pot of boiling water I hear, "Look! Look! They are being romantic (two people standing talking with little girl giggle noises happening) we are gonna get a baby! I'll have a mommy and a daddy!"
I reminded him here that it was just a game and things aren't quite as easy as they appear. Now, I'm struggling to follow my recipe as I try to imagine what the next question could possibly be.
"Mumma, Muuuuummmmaaaaa!," screaming over the hood fan now, "what is F---L---I---R---T---I---N---G?"
I could barely hear him much less explain this one. All I could come up with is, it's somewhere between best friends and becoming romantic and girls giggle alot! (was I close?)
Breathe.
Stir.
Drain the noodles....
"Whaaaat's a DAY--TING re-lat-shun-ship?"
Wow! He's moving fast!!
Gulp. Do I stop him? How much do I explain to this giant 12-y-o who thinks he's 25 and in love?
"Is kissing a hand a dating relationship?"
Yes. Whew an easy one.
Sitting down now at the table and he lowers his glance, almost afraid to ask and says, "Mommy. after I am best friends with X (his current crush), will I come to a dating relationship with her?"
Well, I would guess so bud, but remember you are only 12, honey, there will be many, many more pretty girls.
"What does a dating relationship do?"
Sigh.
Eat your food hon.
"So after becoming all the way romatic do you get a baby?"
According to Sims, yes honey... but it's much more complicated in real life. You have to be married to be romantic.
"So I can't get a baby until I'm married. The Sims will get a baby before they are married!"
Well right. It's breaking God's rules to be romantic before you are married.
"Will God not like that baby then? or be mad at it?"
Shit. (I thought I was home free)
I got nothing.
Long silence. I think God loves all babies honey, but let's do this in the right order. You are only 12!
"Heeeyyyy, look I have 2 and a half sims!"
The end... and a beginning.
Voila'!
6/27/15
There's a saying... life imitating art or art imitating life... but how 'bout life imitating technology?
Jake is back hooked on the Sims games (Last writing about sims was in 2013) after it sort of went away for a while. But now, Mr. Puberty is so interested in how families are made, when best friends become dating, and what age he can get married, I'm afraid, he's living vicariously through the Sims game. Now that he's making friends with kids at school, he's curious about when he will become best friends, be dating, "get babies" and yes they happen in that order and that fast in his mind... He's just picked it up again and he has two Sims becoming very good friends.
I was trying to cook dinner, but he kept running into the kitchen asking me a litany of questions about the pretend people he is controlling. From what I can tell, the stages of family-building are something like; be funny, be friends, become best friends, flirting, become romantic, along those lines.
Bellowed from the family room I first hear, "So do you have to be romantic over and over again to get a baby?"
I answered, I guess so.
Giggle. Giggle. Giggle.
Over the pot of boiling water I hear, "Look! Look! They are being romantic (two people standing talking with little girl giggle noises happening) we are gonna get a baby! I'll have a mommy and a daddy!"
I reminded him here that it was just a game and things aren't quite as easy as they appear. Now, I'm struggling to follow my recipe as I try to imagine what the next question could possibly be.
"Mumma, Muuuuummmmaaaaa!," screaming over the hood fan now, "what is F---L---I---R---T---I---N---G?"
I could barely hear him much less explain this one. All I could come up with is, it's somewhere between best friends and becoming romantic and girls giggle alot! (was I close?)
Breathe.
Stir.
Drain the noodles....
"Whaaaat's a DAY--TING re-lat-shun-ship?"
Wow! He's moving fast!!
Gulp. Do I stop him? How much do I explain to this giant 12-y-o who thinks he's 25 and in love?
"Is kissing a hand a dating relationship?"
Yes. Whew an easy one.
Sitting down now at the table and he lowers his glance, almost afraid to ask and says, "Mommy. after I am best friends with X (his current crush), will I come to a dating relationship with her?"
Well, I would guess so bud, but remember you are only 12, honey, there will be many, many more pretty girls.
"What does a dating relationship do?"
Sigh.
Eat your food hon.
"So after becoming all the way romatic do you get a baby?"
According to Sims, yes honey... but it's much more complicated in real life. You have to be married to be romantic.
"So I can't get a baby until I'm married. The Sims will get a baby before they are married!"
Well right. It's breaking God's rules to be romantic before you are married.
"Will God not like that baby then? or be mad at it?"
Shit. (I thought I was home free)
I got nothing.
Long silence. I think God loves all babies honey, but let's do this in the right order. You are only 12!
"Heeeyyyy, look I have 2 and a half sims!"
The end... and a beginning.
Voila'!
Land of the Lost
Know how frustrating it is when you misplace your keys?
You look everywhere, methodically retrace your steps, and eventually you find them.
For Jake, my absent minded super hero, he cannot remember where he puts anything nor can he find anything if it’s lost.
The second I hear, “Mom, Where’s my ……?” the fur on the back of my neck stands up. Partly because I know that he did not follow directions when I told him (preemptively) to put it back where it belongs to begin with and partly because I know the next 30 minutes will be a snot-flying, tears-flowing, full-blown meltdown!
Jake gets so upset when something is misplaced, there is no way he can even calm down enough to look for whatever it is. The spiral downhill is fast and furious.
He's now running around the house, slamming into walls, tripping on his slippers and wanting to kick anything in his way.
This weekend, it happened three times, and every time full-out devastation. There’s no calming him down, no deep breaths, not even massage will do anything to help.
As if this isn't bad enough, he punishes himself with phrases like, “I am frustrated, embarrassed and disgraced by my body not remembering stuff!”
I can’t stand to watch him so upset, this puberty roller coaster is such so emotional. I’ve got to remember to hold on, stay cool and don’t scream!
Growing up is such hard work!
You look everywhere, methodically retrace your steps, and eventually you find them.
For Jake, my absent minded super hero, he cannot remember where he puts anything nor can he find anything if it’s lost.
The second I hear, “Mom, Where’s my ……?” the fur on the back of my neck stands up. Partly because I know that he did not follow directions when I told him (preemptively) to put it back where it belongs to begin with and partly because I know the next 30 minutes will be a snot-flying, tears-flowing, full-blown meltdown!
Jake gets so upset when something is misplaced, there is no way he can even calm down enough to look for whatever it is. The spiral downhill is fast and furious.
He's now running around the house, slamming into walls, tripping on his slippers and wanting to kick anything in his way.
This weekend, it happened three times, and every time full-out devastation. There’s no calming him down, no deep breaths, not even massage will do anything to help.
As if this isn't bad enough, he punishes himself with phrases like, “I am frustrated, embarrassed and disgraced by my body not remembering stuff!”
I can’t stand to watch him so upset, this puberty roller coaster is such so emotional. I’ve got to remember to hold on, stay cool and don’t scream!
Growing up is such hard work!
Wheels to the Future
Sept. 24, 2013
It happens every morning.
Hood up.
Helmet on top.
Speedometer set.
My heart starts to race.
Jake takes off down the street alone on his bike. It’s taken this long (he's 11) for me to trust that he can ride down the street and back (about a mile total) without me.
While I know he can put one pedal in front of the other, squeeze the brakes with his hands, shift gears as needed, my heart thinks otherwise.
Why didn’t I have him take his phone?
So I start pretending I have very important business to do outside so I can listen, smell and crane my neck to see if he’s coming back. I can pull weeds, collect garbage, and pick up dog poop in the pitch dark of early morning!
I know how many minutes it takes for this brave and newly confident Super Hero to go down the street and back, how many heart beats to feel in my neck and eyeballs before I panic.
This morning he was off in 39 degree weather. I, still dressed in my ripped t-shirt and underwear, suddenly had very important things to do outside. Sam (dog) was still sound asleep in his crate when Jake departed, (6:45am) but not for long.
I don’t want Jake to think I’m chasing him down the road or checking up on him. He needs to build that independence, so there I am dragging a half-awake Bichon down the road while I’m shivering. (For the record, I have pants on now)
Damn, why didn’t I have him grab his phone?
Why didn’t I take mine, just in case something happens?
Trust.
I made it all the way to the playground with Sam, who stopped to sniff every tree, mark every bump in the road, slow to lick each new spot on the sidewalk. Still no sign of Jake riding in either direction.
Heart beating in throat.
Still trust.
I see a jogger coming towards me and consider stopping her to ask if she saw a kid riding like a bat-out-of-hell on wheels. No don't do it. She'll think I'm nuts and he'll think I don't trust him.
Shortness of breath.
Sam is pulling me in the other direction to make our usual turn at the playground, but fear is gripping me and I must stay on the course.
Near the road.
I can see around most trees.
Still no wheels.
No gears shifting.
Finally around the curve he comes. He’s staring at his speedometer so intensely, a tree branch hits his face, he looks the other way and zooms right past me standing there with my hood up and trembling knees.
Not a word is spoken.
Fleeting eyes lock.
Heart sinks.
Sam chases.
Jake is pulling away even more.
I wonder if one day he’ll be able to ride his bike to a job.
Chris and I have joked he could be a rickshaw driver in DC since we’ve driven every street, ridden every metro train to every stop and eaten everywhere in between. He knows the city, adores the monuments and can pedal a damn bike.
Map in his head.
Will I ever get over this feeling?
How do I let him go outside of the neighborhood?
Do I let him go outside our familiar streets?
Please, don’t ever want to leave me I don’t know if my heart can take it.
Bus coming.
Hand brakes squeal in garage.
Bike parked.
Boards bus.
Flashes the ASL sign for “I Love You” out the window.
Heart skips again.
Now I’m crying.
It happens every morning.
Hood up.
Helmet on top.
Speedometer set.
My heart starts to race.
Jake takes off down the street alone on his bike. It’s taken this long (he's 11) for me to trust that he can ride down the street and back (about a mile total) without me.
While I know he can put one pedal in front of the other, squeeze the brakes with his hands, shift gears as needed, my heart thinks otherwise.
Why didn’t I have him take his phone?
So I start pretending I have very important business to do outside so I can listen, smell and crane my neck to see if he’s coming back. I can pull weeds, collect garbage, and pick up dog poop in the pitch dark of early morning!
I know how many minutes it takes for this brave and newly confident Super Hero to go down the street and back, how many heart beats to feel in my neck and eyeballs before I panic.
This morning he was off in 39 degree weather. I, still dressed in my ripped t-shirt and underwear, suddenly had very important things to do outside. Sam (dog) was still sound asleep in his crate when Jake departed, (6:45am) but not for long.
I don’t want Jake to think I’m chasing him down the road or checking up on him. He needs to build that independence, so there I am dragging a half-awake Bichon down the road while I’m shivering. (For the record, I have pants on now)
Damn, why didn’t I have him grab his phone?
Why didn’t I take mine, just in case something happens?
Trust.
I made it all the way to the playground with Sam, who stopped to sniff every tree, mark every bump in the road, slow to lick each new spot on the sidewalk. Still no sign of Jake riding in either direction.
Heart beating in throat.
Still trust.
I see a jogger coming towards me and consider stopping her to ask if she saw a kid riding like a bat-out-of-hell on wheels. No don't do it. She'll think I'm nuts and he'll think I don't trust him.
Shortness of breath.
Sam is pulling me in the other direction to make our usual turn at the playground, but fear is gripping me and I must stay on the course.
Near the road.
I can see around most trees.
Still no wheels.
No gears shifting.
Finally around the curve he comes. He’s staring at his speedometer so intensely, a tree branch hits his face, he looks the other way and zooms right past me standing there with my hood up and trembling knees.
Not a word is spoken.
Fleeting eyes lock.
Heart sinks.
Sam chases.
Jake is pulling away even more.
I wonder if one day he’ll be able to ride his bike to a job.
Chris and I have joked he could be a rickshaw driver in DC since we’ve driven every street, ridden every metro train to every stop and eaten everywhere in between. He knows the city, adores the monuments and can pedal a damn bike.
Map in his head.
Will I ever get over this feeling?
How do I let him go outside of the neighborhood?
Do I let him go outside our familiar streets?
Please, don’t ever want to leave me I don’t know if my heart can take it.
Bus coming.
Hand brakes squeal in garage.
Bike parked.
Boards bus.
Flashes the ASL sign for “I Love You” out the window.
Heart skips again.
Now I’m crying.
Manhood Matters
Aug. 7, 2013
I knew the moment would come, well many moments actually, where I would struggle to explain the birds and bees to Super Hero Jake. It’s a delicate subject to start with but he’s so black and white… so literal… so our answers are devoid of details.
Also, for the record, these moments repeatedly happen in the car! So I’m captive, he’s curious and the likelihood of me ditching the car when he ventures into the baby territory is great! Throw in a little early puberty for good measure!
Now, shift gears with me for a minute: Jake recently started horse riding lessons. We go once a week for 30 minutes and he’s usually quite chill afterwards on the car ride home.
So, you also need to know this child has a need for speed. Whether on a bike, horseback or running, he needs to go as fast as he possibly can at all times! Therefore, he wants to trot on the horse and trot as fast as the horse will take him. However, he hasn’t really managed holding his body in the proper position he's only had 6 lessons.
You guessed it, sometimes, if he leans too far forward on a trotting horse, you get it… right… ouch. The manhood, family jewels, whatever you choose to call those private parts get squished by 130 pounds bouncing wildly on the edge of the saddle.
Over and over and over again.
His teacher asked: “Are you okay? You could be getting hurt how you’re leaning?”
“Nope, I’m good,” he answered stoically.
They cooled down the horse with a couple slow laps around the ring, gave him some carrots and we headed home.
In the car.
Conversation coffin!
“My testicles really hurt and I don’t like them hurting, I need them to make babies!” he says rubbing and pulling his privates.
Silence…
Breathe...
Think...
I was navigating a tight curve on a narrow road and was not ready for this fast pitch that felt like a line drive. I do love the fact though that he has dreams of raising a family, having babies, and getting married. Whether they come true or not, I will never take his dreams away.
The rest of the conversation went like this: “Well you don’t need to be making babies until you’re married and 25 bud, but you do need them to grow into a big man.”
“Can I marry George?” (changed name for privacy) "Can boys marry boys and girls marry girls?"
"Yes like Auntie Julie and Auntie Ann are married. You could marry George, but that makes it harder to make a baby. You usually need a girl and a boy to make a baby... or you could adopt like you were adopted.”
“How do my testicles make a baby and how does it get in someone else’s tummy?”
Gulp.
Focus on the road. Focus on the road.
“Well you don’t have to worry about that for a while. That’s a grown up conversation for later. What you can know now is God takes a little bit of a girl and little bit of a boy mixes them together and puts them in the girls tummy.”
“But how?”
“Really dude, later.”
Wait for it!
“So daddy’s testicles are broken.”
Yes. He went there before I did. Actually, I wasn’t even there. But he took the fact that he was adopted and didn’t grow in my tummy to mean daddy has broken testicles. Not bad. Daddy’s thrilled!
“No honey. Daddy’s testicles are fine, by tummy is broken. Don’t bring up the broken testicles thing to daddy either ok?”
“Your tummy is broken?”
“Yep… we get babies in there, but they just fall out.”
He’s surely visualizing me walking down the road and full-sized babies are just falling out and landing on the sidewalk, and he gave me a really funny look. Now I finally caught up with him.
“Do babies come out a girl’s belly button?”
“Nope.”
“Butt?”
“Nope. They come out a special baby hole.”
“Where is it?”
“Between a girls legs.”
“Your pee hole?”
“Nope between the two.”
Now imagine him with his seat pushed as far forward as it can be, his right foot perched up on the dashboard with huge riding boots on, pointing to area between his legs while twisted like a pretzel, “So like right back here?”
Oh Gawd… I’m almost driving in the curb now. This was the funniest conversation ever!
“Yes Jake, right back there, sort of behind your nuts, but girls don’t have those.”
“Oh!”
Thank the Lord we pulled into the driveway.
He saw me let out a huge sigh and asked if I was ok.
“Yea baby, let’s get ready for bed.”
OK.
Pop cork.
Pour wine.
Sit silent.
I knew the moment would come, well many moments actually, where I would struggle to explain the birds and bees to Super Hero Jake. It’s a delicate subject to start with but he’s so black and white… so literal… so our answers are devoid of details.
Also, for the record, these moments repeatedly happen in the car! So I’m captive, he’s curious and the likelihood of me ditching the car when he ventures into the baby territory is great! Throw in a little early puberty for good measure!
Now, shift gears with me for a minute: Jake recently started horse riding lessons. We go once a week for 30 minutes and he’s usually quite chill afterwards on the car ride home.
So, you also need to know this child has a need for speed. Whether on a bike, horseback or running, he needs to go as fast as he possibly can at all times! Therefore, he wants to trot on the horse and trot as fast as the horse will take him. However, he hasn’t really managed holding his body in the proper position he's only had 6 lessons.
You guessed it, sometimes, if he leans too far forward on a trotting horse, you get it… right… ouch. The manhood, family jewels, whatever you choose to call those private parts get squished by 130 pounds bouncing wildly on the edge of the saddle.
Over and over and over again.
His teacher asked: “Are you okay? You could be getting hurt how you’re leaning?”
“Nope, I’m good,” he answered stoically.
They cooled down the horse with a couple slow laps around the ring, gave him some carrots and we headed home.
In the car.
Conversation coffin!
“My testicles really hurt and I don’t like them hurting, I need them to make babies!” he says rubbing and pulling his privates.
Silence…
Breathe...
Think...
I was navigating a tight curve on a narrow road and was not ready for this fast pitch that felt like a line drive. I do love the fact though that he has dreams of raising a family, having babies, and getting married. Whether they come true or not, I will never take his dreams away.
The rest of the conversation went like this: “Well you don’t need to be making babies until you’re married and 25 bud, but you do need them to grow into a big man.”
“Can I marry George?” (changed name for privacy) "Can boys marry boys and girls marry girls?"
"Yes like Auntie Julie and Auntie Ann are married. You could marry George, but that makes it harder to make a baby. You usually need a girl and a boy to make a baby... or you could adopt like you were adopted.”
“How do my testicles make a baby and how does it get in someone else’s tummy?”
Gulp.
Focus on the road. Focus on the road.
“Well you don’t have to worry about that for a while. That’s a grown up conversation for later. What you can know now is God takes a little bit of a girl and little bit of a boy mixes them together and puts them in the girls tummy.”
“But how?”
“Really dude, later.”
Wait for it!
“So daddy’s testicles are broken.”
Yes. He went there before I did. Actually, I wasn’t even there. But he took the fact that he was adopted and didn’t grow in my tummy to mean daddy has broken testicles. Not bad. Daddy’s thrilled!
“No honey. Daddy’s testicles are fine, by tummy is broken. Don’t bring up the broken testicles thing to daddy either ok?”
“Your tummy is broken?”
“Yep… we get babies in there, but they just fall out.”
He’s surely visualizing me walking down the road and full-sized babies are just falling out and landing on the sidewalk, and he gave me a really funny look. Now I finally caught up with him.
“Do babies come out a girl’s belly button?”
“Nope.”
“Butt?”
“Nope. They come out a special baby hole.”
“Where is it?”
“Between a girls legs.”
“Your pee hole?”
“Nope between the two.”
Now imagine him with his seat pushed as far forward as it can be, his right foot perched up on the dashboard with huge riding boots on, pointing to area between his legs while twisted like a pretzel, “So like right back here?”
Oh Gawd… I’m almost driving in the curb now. This was the funniest conversation ever!
“Yes Jake, right back there, sort of behind your nuts, but girls don’t have those.”
“Oh!”
Thank the Lord we pulled into the driveway.
He saw me let out a huge sigh and asked if I was ok.
“Yea baby, let’s get ready for bed.”
OK.
Pop cork.
Pour wine.
Sit silent.
-----------------------------------------
Toddler -- TWEEN -- Teen/Turnabout is Fair Parenting
May 7, 2012
My last 48 hours have illustrated exactly what we’ve feared since Jake became extremely social with no boundaries. Regardless of age, Jake is a ‘tween’ in every meaning of the word. Not autistic enough for social skills classes, but too autistic for public education.
Craving the friendship and acceptance from teenagers and adults but fearing kids his age.
We spent the weekend visiting Thomas the Tank Engine at the train museum. Jake was twice the size of Thomas’ target audience and twice as excited to see the blazing blue engine. He was too big to ride the carnival rides erected in the back lot for the toddlers but had to be first in line to gaze at Thomas slowly steaming towards the depot.
I struggled with my own emotions about our 100lb 9-year-old loving this toddler train, but once I saw how happy he was, my feelings didn’t matter anymore. I shut everyone else out and tried to live the day through his eyes.
The next day we went to a local ice cream store for his favorite treat and he promptly invited the very cute girl behind the counter to come to our house to play. Our Super hero is the physical size of a pre-teen but developmentally about 6! Can you say dichotomy?
Turnabout is Fair Parenting
This morning, I was doing some yard work while we waited for the school bus. Jake promptly asked if he could help. Before I knew it, he was delightfully raking and pulling weeds like a teenager. As the bus pulled up, he grabbed his backpack and headed for the bus. He was way too cool to even wave to me, so I screamed, “I love you baby!” as he boarded the bus.
He came home after school still feeling super confident! He earned enough ‘behavior points money’ to purchase a really cool car he’s been eyeing since he started his new school a month ago. He ate supper, took his meds and did his homework. After our scooter/bike ride he noticed his favorite neighbors outside.
As I talked to the grown-ups in the driveway, Jake headed inside with two teenage boys with hopes of jumping with them on the trampoline. The kids told me they were going to jump and he could play with them so I wasn’t worried. Several minutes passed while I was enjoying adult conversation, but I didn’t hear Jake’s usual over-stim screams that fill the cul-de-sac when he can jump with the big boys.
A few minutes later we headed inside and Jake and the teens were nowhere in sight. My heart instantly floated to my throat and I could feel it beating in my neck. The other two moms weren’t too worried; their kids are teenagers and are fine playing alone in the neighborhood. I ran around the house calling Jake’s name before darting out to the backyard. Some younger siblings told me the big boys went to play basketball at another neighbor’s house, where no one was even home.
I charged through the backyard, heart lodged near my wind-pipe, trying to decide how to handle this. It’s not often he gets to play with the much-adored teenaged neighbors and I don’t want to embarrass him by making him come inside and go to bed for what the big kids think of as a minor offense. Still not sure what I was going to do, I walked around to the front yard and spotted Jake holding his shoes while watching the teens shoot baskets. He saw me round the corner of the house and no words were needed.
“I see mad mommy eyes, I was just playing with R and H….do you still love me?....Is it night night time? Please talk to me mommy,” he pleaded as he followed me back to the house. I was so flooded with emotions, fear, and anger; I couldn’t answer one of his questions. Half-way across the yards I finally uttered, “If you want to play with the big boys, you still need to ask first. I couldn’t see you and I didn’t know where you were. That’s not a good feeling.”
Back inside, as he headed up to bed he stopped on the first step and turned to face me. He was checking my eyes to gauge my mood, and now that we’re looking eye-to-eye and he could see the pain. “Jake you scared me very much today.” He hugged me and went up to get ready for bed without asking for my help.
While he was in the bathroom, I was in the next room folding laundry. I headed into the closet to hang some shirts while he was brushing his teeth and that’s when it hit me. Seize this opportunity.
When he came out of the bathroom, I hit the closet lights. While hiding behind the door of our walk-in closet in the dark, I questioned if this little trick was going to send him over the edge or trigger a meltdown. The next few moments were filled with turmoil in my brain. I decided this was the perfect teaching moment.
I heard Jake running around and checking every room, looking for me.
“Mommy!!!”
“Mommy???”
“Mommy, where are you??”
I let him call for me about 8 times before I heard his voice reach panic pitch and he frantically ran downstairs. At that time, I re-entered the laundry room and continued folding clothes without a peep. He came back up the stairs, tears now staining his cheeks and breathing heavy.
“Mommy, I was so scared I couldn’t see you anywhere!” he said in a scolding way.
“Oh, really? I’m right here Jake. How do you like this feeling?”
“No I don’t like it. It’s scary.”
“That’s what I felt like today when you disappeared without asking me. My heart was racing and I couldn’t breathe either. Now go get ready for bed.”
He charged right down the hall, turned on his glittery nightlights, arranged all his stuffed animals and climbed into his bed.
I know I have to let him play with kids of all developmental stages, NT or ASD, but he needs to at least let me know so I can check on him. The fear, as we saw today, is that he gets so excited to be with the big boys he’ll do whatever they tell him to do. He’ll follow them, imitate them, and beg them to play.
Our tween super hero has about as many social hurdles ahead of him as I do heart attacks. How do I let him go when I know his decision making ability is not that of his perceived size.
He’ll scooter right in front of a car.
Do whatever anyone tells him.
And walk into anyone’s house at any time.
It thrills me to see him with typical kids but scares me to death as well.
While we struggle to fit in with the typical society, we’re looking forward to a summer vacation at Sesame Place, lunch with Elmo and our giant 9 year old is over the moon.
See what I mean?
Toddler -- TWEEN -- Teen/Turnabout is Fair Parenting
May 7, 2012
My last 48 hours have illustrated exactly what we’ve feared since Jake became extremely social with no boundaries. Regardless of age, Jake is a ‘tween’ in every meaning of the word. Not autistic enough for social skills classes, but too autistic for public education.
Craving the friendship and acceptance from teenagers and adults but fearing kids his age.
We spent the weekend visiting Thomas the Tank Engine at the train museum. Jake was twice the size of Thomas’ target audience and twice as excited to see the blazing blue engine. He was too big to ride the carnival rides erected in the back lot for the toddlers but had to be first in line to gaze at Thomas slowly steaming towards the depot.
I struggled with my own emotions about our 100lb 9-year-old loving this toddler train, but once I saw how happy he was, my feelings didn’t matter anymore. I shut everyone else out and tried to live the day through his eyes.
The next day we went to a local ice cream store for his favorite treat and he promptly invited the very cute girl behind the counter to come to our house to play. Our Super hero is the physical size of a pre-teen but developmentally about 6! Can you say dichotomy?
Turnabout is Fair Parenting
This morning, I was doing some yard work while we waited for the school bus. Jake promptly asked if he could help. Before I knew it, he was delightfully raking and pulling weeds like a teenager. As the bus pulled up, he grabbed his backpack and headed for the bus. He was way too cool to even wave to me, so I screamed, “I love you baby!” as he boarded the bus.
He came home after school still feeling super confident! He earned enough ‘behavior points money’ to purchase a really cool car he’s been eyeing since he started his new school a month ago. He ate supper, took his meds and did his homework. After our scooter/bike ride he noticed his favorite neighbors outside.
As I talked to the grown-ups in the driveway, Jake headed inside with two teenage boys with hopes of jumping with them on the trampoline. The kids told me they were going to jump and he could play with them so I wasn’t worried. Several minutes passed while I was enjoying adult conversation, but I didn’t hear Jake’s usual over-stim screams that fill the cul-de-sac when he can jump with the big boys.
A few minutes later we headed inside and Jake and the teens were nowhere in sight. My heart instantly floated to my throat and I could feel it beating in my neck. The other two moms weren’t too worried; their kids are teenagers and are fine playing alone in the neighborhood. I ran around the house calling Jake’s name before darting out to the backyard. Some younger siblings told me the big boys went to play basketball at another neighbor’s house, where no one was even home.
I charged through the backyard, heart lodged near my wind-pipe, trying to decide how to handle this. It’s not often he gets to play with the much-adored teenaged neighbors and I don’t want to embarrass him by making him come inside and go to bed for what the big kids think of as a minor offense. Still not sure what I was going to do, I walked around to the front yard and spotted Jake holding his shoes while watching the teens shoot baskets. He saw me round the corner of the house and no words were needed.
“I see mad mommy eyes, I was just playing with R and H….do you still love me?....Is it night night time? Please talk to me mommy,” he pleaded as he followed me back to the house. I was so flooded with emotions, fear, and anger; I couldn’t answer one of his questions. Half-way across the yards I finally uttered, “If you want to play with the big boys, you still need to ask first. I couldn’t see you and I didn’t know where you were. That’s not a good feeling.”
Back inside, as he headed up to bed he stopped on the first step and turned to face me. He was checking my eyes to gauge my mood, and now that we’re looking eye-to-eye and he could see the pain. “Jake you scared me very much today.” He hugged me and went up to get ready for bed without asking for my help.
While he was in the bathroom, I was in the next room folding laundry. I headed into the closet to hang some shirts while he was brushing his teeth and that’s when it hit me. Seize this opportunity.
When he came out of the bathroom, I hit the closet lights. While hiding behind the door of our walk-in closet in the dark, I questioned if this little trick was going to send him over the edge or trigger a meltdown. The next few moments were filled with turmoil in my brain. I decided this was the perfect teaching moment.
I heard Jake running around and checking every room, looking for me.
“Mommy!!!”
“Mommy???”
“Mommy, where are you??”
I let him call for me about 8 times before I heard his voice reach panic pitch and he frantically ran downstairs. At that time, I re-entered the laundry room and continued folding clothes without a peep. He came back up the stairs, tears now staining his cheeks and breathing heavy.
“Mommy, I was so scared I couldn’t see you anywhere!” he said in a scolding way.
“Oh, really? I’m right here Jake. How do you like this feeling?”
“No I don’t like it. It’s scary.”
“That’s what I felt like today when you disappeared without asking me. My heart was racing and I couldn’t breathe either. Now go get ready for bed.”
He charged right down the hall, turned on his glittery nightlights, arranged all his stuffed animals and climbed into his bed.
I know I have to let him play with kids of all developmental stages, NT or ASD, but he needs to at least let me know so I can check on him. The fear, as we saw today, is that he gets so excited to be with the big boys he’ll do whatever they tell him to do. He’ll follow them, imitate them, and beg them to play.
Our tween super hero has about as many social hurdles ahead of him as I do heart attacks. How do I let him go when I know his decision making ability is not that of his perceived size.
He’ll scooter right in front of a car.
Do whatever anyone tells him.
And walk into anyone’s house at any time.
It thrills me to see him with typical kids but scares me to death as well.
While we struggle to fit in with the typical society, we’re looking forward to a summer vacation at Sesame Place, lunch with Elmo and our giant 9 year old is over the moon.
See what I mean?
---------------------------------
Letting Go Slowly
March 3, 2011
From the first tear-filled day we put Jake on the school bus, Chris and I would stand on the porch or driveway and wave goodbye as we sent Jake to school, 45 minutes away. Chris would stretch up onto hip tiptoes and wave until the bus was literally out of sight around the corner. Since his preschool days, I would give Jake the Sign “I love you” and hopefully watch for him to give it back. My heart hung on the moment he could get those three little fingers up independently and put his hand in the window. The bus aides worked hard to teach him to stretch his arm up there, even when he couldn’t see over the seat in front of him, and wave back. (reciprocity, Yes!)
But now, for the second day in a row now, Jake doesn’t wave back anymore. How cool is it that he has realized one of two things: 1) complete safety and security in the fact that he’ll come back and we’ll be here when he does. 2) That it’s just ‘not cool’ to wave back to mommy and daddy once on the bus in front of your friends. Either way, it’s a BIG deal! It’s a really BIG deal!
I think that letting go from his perspective and ours requires safety, security and strength. So why does it make me sad when he doesn't wave back? I'm chalking it up to the process that every parent goes through. Kids will not be completely dependent on us forever. They mature, grow up and need to let go, venture out on their own and find their place in the world. I continually find myself pushing Jake out there to try things. But there’s a little more fear and hesitation when your kid is blessed “Super powers”.
Will he fall to pieces and be scarred for life? Will some other kid say something to crush his spirit? Or worse… will a parent/grown-up look at him with ‘that look’? (mommy gggrrrrrr)
Our needs and desires to protect Jake from ignorance, mean people and judgments rush through our bodies every time we enter a new situation and meet new people. Gasps, breath holding and 'please God let this work' with each new experience.
We pride ourselves on the fact that we’ve carted Jake across the country on airplanes, ferry boats, trains, subways and cars. We started early and he’s visited 12 states. We strive to expose him to different situations with different stimulations and all types of people. All this will hopefully prepare him for that big wide world out there.
Many of my friends discuss at exactly what age our kids will move out of the house. Will they move on at all. Who will be here for them? Some say, “This child is out as soon as I can find a proper group home or living situation!”. Others accept the fact that their child will just "be here forever"! Close, safe and within protective reach. What’s the right answer? Only time will tell.
I’m not sure where we fall on that spectrum. I’d say somewhere in the middle, for now. We’d love independence for Jake, but just don’t know if he’s capable. Then again, he’s only 8 and has progressed beautifully so far. My standing hope is he just finds a good wife that will remind him to take his meds! My backup for that is, he’ll become a Capuchin priest and live in community with a very loving welcoming and loving set of Monks! (Although, those sandals could be an issue, socks and sandals, hhhmmm watch for future blogs).
We realize we can’t be here forever and pray God will keep him close. We continue to build meaningful, trustworthy relationships with great friends and loving people and trust it will all be OK. Afterall, he’s got Super powers and that’s no accident.
Letting Go Slowly
March 3, 2011
From the first tear-filled day we put Jake on the school bus, Chris and I would stand on the porch or driveway and wave goodbye as we sent Jake to school, 45 minutes away. Chris would stretch up onto hip tiptoes and wave until the bus was literally out of sight around the corner. Since his preschool days, I would give Jake the Sign “I love you” and hopefully watch for him to give it back. My heart hung on the moment he could get those three little fingers up independently and put his hand in the window. The bus aides worked hard to teach him to stretch his arm up there, even when he couldn’t see over the seat in front of him, and wave back. (reciprocity, Yes!)
But now, for the second day in a row now, Jake doesn’t wave back anymore. How cool is it that he has realized one of two things: 1) complete safety and security in the fact that he’ll come back and we’ll be here when he does. 2) That it’s just ‘not cool’ to wave back to mommy and daddy once on the bus in front of your friends. Either way, it’s a BIG deal! It’s a really BIG deal!
I think that letting go from his perspective and ours requires safety, security and strength. So why does it make me sad when he doesn't wave back? I'm chalking it up to the process that every parent goes through. Kids will not be completely dependent on us forever. They mature, grow up and need to let go, venture out on their own and find their place in the world. I continually find myself pushing Jake out there to try things. But there’s a little more fear and hesitation when your kid is blessed “Super powers”.
Will he fall to pieces and be scarred for life? Will some other kid say something to crush his spirit? Or worse… will a parent/grown-up look at him with ‘that look’? (mommy gggrrrrrr)
Our needs and desires to protect Jake from ignorance, mean people and judgments rush through our bodies every time we enter a new situation and meet new people. Gasps, breath holding and 'please God let this work' with each new experience.
We pride ourselves on the fact that we’ve carted Jake across the country on airplanes, ferry boats, trains, subways and cars. We started early and he’s visited 12 states. We strive to expose him to different situations with different stimulations and all types of people. All this will hopefully prepare him for that big wide world out there.
Many of my friends discuss at exactly what age our kids will move out of the house. Will they move on at all. Who will be here for them? Some say, “This child is out as soon as I can find a proper group home or living situation!”. Others accept the fact that their child will just "be here forever"! Close, safe and within protective reach. What’s the right answer? Only time will tell.
I’m not sure where we fall on that spectrum. I’d say somewhere in the middle, for now. We’d love independence for Jake, but just don’t know if he’s capable. Then again, he’s only 8 and has progressed beautifully so far. My standing hope is he just finds a good wife that will remind him to take his meds! My backup for that is, he’ll become a Capuchin priest and live in community with a very loving welcoming and loving set of Monks! (Although, those sandals could be an issue, socks and sandals, hhhmmm watch for future blogs).
We realize we can’t be here forever and pray God will keep him close. We continue to build meaningful, trustworthy relationships with great friends and loving people and trust it will all be OK. Afterall, he’s got Super powers and that’s no accident.
