All in a Day's Quirks

First day of Summer vacation: summer camps can’t start soon enough!  G has really been affected by our end-of-school change of routine.  Actually, no routine.  I’m trying to keep some routine and need to develop one quickly because he has regressed terribly.  He’s grunting, pointing, screaming and screeching, similar to when he lost his language for awhile at 3.  He’s had potty accidents, been OCD to the point of being well, uber annoying.  He’s melting down, throwing things, (mis)behaving in a 2 year old style.  Oh, pity all the work and struggles to get him beyond all that.  I pray this is a temporary glitch, that he will bounce back once we get a summer routine to balance him. 

The day after he graduated from preschool, he walked around singing and doing the motions to classroom songs.  He headed upstairs for awhile and I heard him in his big brother’s room – he usually plays with his Legos and messes them all up (making N grouchy).  I went up with the laundry basket a few minutes later and saw that he had the door shut (a no-no).  I opened the door to him sitting on the floor singing and doing motions with a very serious expression, full of purpose.  His teachers gave the students a CD of the classroom songs and he had it cranked up.  Awwww.  At the time I thought it was cute - that he was mourning in his own way.  He can’t express that he’ll miss preschool, but he’s bringing it back by listening to his favorite songs.  

After several days of meltdowns, screeching, pointing and grunting – my family is just baffled.  What is going on with him?  We drove to TKD this morning to find it closed – forgetting that they’d changed the schedule for summer.  So, we went on to do other errands since we were out and about.  He was fine until the grocery store – always a gamble anyway.  I tried to keep him happy by sitting him in a spare cart and letting him play itouch games while his patient sister pushed him.  Still, he awoke from his reverie several times to create a dramatic scene.  Notably on the choice of cereal, ice cream and ice cream cones (extremely important choices of course!).  I thought I was going to outsmart the tantrum: I allowed the 3 kids choose their own of each of those items.  The one parameter was it had to be on sale.  He found that one rule and had to fight it.  Screaming like murder and clutching the box he wanted to his chest, he fought.  The kids wrestled and struggled with that box, yanking it free to run it down the aisle to put it back , G whining, whimpering, getting it again.  Tantrum, wrestle, return, retreive, repeat.   Finally G laid on top of the box in the cart.  Why?  Because the store brand of Lucky Charms didn’t have the circle marshmallow like the name brand does.  By gosh, he wanted that circle badly.  I quietly slipped the name brand box aside later.  We’ll empty the turbo-sized economical version in in our cereal containers, he hopefully won’t remember.  We made it through the store.  Barely.  If the other kids weren’t with me, and excited about the special items they picked out, I’d surely have left with him kicking and screaming.

Tonight after several more meltdowns, I was catching up with my husband while the kids were upstairs preparing for their showers.  As usual, G didn’t want to shower, or have anything to do with the process of going to bed.  We heard the typical yelling and commotion.  Suddenly we heard bonk bonk bonk bonk (about 10) down the stairs.  I flew to the steps, already imagining one of them sprawled at the bottom with a broken bone or two.  Instead what I found was N’s bowling ball on the landing, still rolling.  Of course, G was at the top with a grand grin.  The injuries and damage it could have done did not occur to him.  It just seemed like a fun thing to do.  Or he was mad and then enjoyed the loud crashing it made.  We scolded him, lectured a bit on the danger.  He didn’t register that he even heard.  He cried hysterically 15 minutes later about it.   

My epiphany hit me over the head.  G’s been reacting to his lack of routine.  Regressing, acting out because his body, his world is unkempt, disorganized and he doesn’t know what to expect.  What is my problem?????  How could I be surprised that he’s having transition difficulties?  I just spent months upon months prepping, reading, writing, taking seminars and workshops, talking to advocates about how to fight for an aide for G to transition into kindergarten. I above all, know how hard transitions are for G.  I’ve explained/written about it in 100 different ways in my agendas, emails, notes for the meetings.  I of course knew this summer would be difficult – G has been extremely routine-driven this year.  I preplanned, booked most of his summer with summer camps for that very reason.  To give him the structure that he needs. I’ll admit that it’s to wear him out a bit too, for the rest of us.   

But alas, I forgot to preplan for this one week off before his camps begin.  It took a crashing bowling ball to finally bonk some sense into me.  Good thing.  Now I can work with him when he acts out, instead of grueling frustration, anger, helplessness and tears (from both of us).  I feel pretty foolish, and also sad for him that he can’t verbalize his feelings, his needs.  G’s singing school songs was his way of self soothing, a coping mechanism to gain some of his routine.  For him, it wasn’t sentimental as I’d thought, but necessary.  

Off I go to make up some visual schedules.  I’d better hide the bowling ball too…

I found some great resources for social stories:

http://www.autism-pdd.net/forum/forum_posts.asp?TID=14154&PN=1&TPN=2

Here’s one for summer vacation.  While it might be too complicated for G at his stage, I can gain ideas. 

http://www.setbc.org/pictureset/resources/summer_vacation/summer_vacation.pdf

Here are some sources for visual schedules.  If you’re new at this, don’t be overwhelmed.  I bought all the supplies and let it sit for 6 months.  Finally I picked up a notebook and jotted out quick line drawings to make a simple schedule.  As long as the child understands, it doesn’t have to be a masterpiece.  Use whatever system works for you.  It’s mostly individual for home schedules, just create your own with clip art or stick figures.  Or better yet, find a great app.

This site has wonderful links:

http://blog.autismspectrumdirectory.com/2011/01/14/thinking-in-pictures-visual-schedules-for-students-on-the-autism-spectrum/

Happy Summer!  Don’t forget to set up some routines.  Don’t wait for it to bonk you in the head like me! 

Please share any resources you have for visual schedules, social stories, itouch apps, and the like.

Itching away again in darn MosquitoVille 
Searching for my large sprayer of Deet
Some people claim
that there’s the rain to blame
But I know
It’s my scent so sweet

Buzz-buzz-buzz
buzz-SWAT!

Buzz-buzz-buzz
buzz-SWAT

buzzzzzz buzzzzzz
(SWAT!)
buzzzzzz buzzzzzz

C’mon sing along!
It’s  Swarm O’Clock somewhere!

http://www.zazzle.com/hate_mosquitoes_suck_funny_graphic_t_shirt-235388284314296830

Feeling Blue?  It’s all too easy focus on the difficulties, the drama, the failings of autism - the system, the expenses and the exhaustion.  But, in honor of World Autism Awareness Day and Light it Up Blue on April 2 - I’d like to paint a rosier shade of blue, more akin to the purple that I adore.  Besides, that’s how I roll: don’t cry me a river; instead, light up a spectrum.  Light it up Blue!

I live in a state that doesn’t provide autism care; every service must be fought for, burdening our family with financial and emotional struggle.

But…I give thanks that we live in the U.S.*, where the following is true:

My child was born in this time when basic human rights are honored.

He was born at a time when autistic people are not institutionalized.

He may live at home and enjoy our healthy family life, with traditions and love.  We support him, teach him.

He can learn.  He is given the right to FAPE (Free Appropriate Public Education). Parents are an integral player in education plans.

He is given the option for inclusion with typical peers: in school, in sports, in extracurricular activities.

He is cared for by professionals who have years of education, certifications, must continue to re-educate, re-certify, stay current with treatment modalities.

He is taught innovative therapies designed for autism by professionals who specialize in his disorder.

Today’s mental health studies are humane and based on therapeutic progress; not torture or medical experimentation of not-so-distant history. 

Physical restraint and seclusion is no longer the norm, but a last ditch method for compliance in schools. 

He is protected from bullies by laws which get more stringent day by day.

Discriminating, degrading words like the “R” word (Retard), Crazy, Insane, Mental, Wacky are discouraged.

Electronic surveillance with cameras, videos, phones and internet protect him and deters poor treatment, bullying, or abuse.

Criminal and employment background checks are required for staff working with my son.

Safety information, devices and systems are being developed and deployed to save our autistic wanderers, a daily threat to many families.

Story link: wpri.com

Autism information is at our fingertips 24/7 with thousands of books, websites,  Facebook posts, blogs and articles.  

Therapeutic products are widely accessible and fairly affordable.

Parents and siblings can seek support services and respite care.  Public and private organizations strive to help.

Autism is no longer a mysterious “mental illness” to be frightened of or stigmatized, but a disorder with a wide spectrum of abilities and gifts to be discovered.

My child can freely wear his label on a button, t-shirt, bumper sticker. He can author a blog, wave a banner proudly, star in the media.  He can participate in a support group, fundraiser, or association.  So can family, friends, teachers, supporters. 

I’m proud of my Autistic son.

Wear it Loud,

Wear it Proud!!!!

This little light of mine, I’m gonna let him SHINE! 

*Today: President Obama officially proclaims April 2 as World Autism Awareness Day!   http://www.whitehouse.gov/the-press-office/2011/04/01/presidential-proclamation-world-autism-awareness-day

“I have Autism Please have patience” button: http://www.cafepress.com/+helloautism_boy2_225_button,252981895

IEP time.  This has really been quite a week for my nerves.  I had a root canal Monday that still has my nerves shaky.  I’d had big pain for 2 weeks before going in.  They/I couldn’t pinpoint the actual tooth, so I took antibiotics and he ground down a couple of crowns to adjust my bite.  The pain got better, then worse over the course of a week.  I returned to get my teeth cleaned and a recheck.  It got worse with poking around.  He wanted me back pronto to get into the tooth and see what the trouble was.  Turns out they called me with a cancellation time later that day.  Oh goody, the dentist twice in one day!  We found the tooth.  The dentist gave me silly gas, plus 3 shots.  When he drilled it open and started digging around I went through the roof.  He got vial after vial full of anesthetic and kept shooting it straight into the tooth, about 6, really.  I was jumping around until the last one.   My body was so flipped out that I was twitching and shaking – the whole night.  What a rocking great time!  Yikes.  It’s just now calming down 2 days later.  What in the world did people do before modern dentistry?  Those pros are worth every dime they charge.

Yesterday I was still in lots of pain.  My middle schooler got home and said he didn’t have homework.  2 hours later I checked my email and saw from one of his teacher’s classnotes that he had a paper due Friday, in 3 days.  My son claimed he didn’t know it was due this week.  I was upset, but had to move forward regardless, no time for big lectures.  Sometimes we don’t/won’t know if they’re being honest or not: offer it up to the parenting Gods.  I got him going on it and he got the 1st draft done with much tween angst: head in hand, groaning, sighing, slouching, tapping pencils, erasing furiously, slamming papers.  I sat right in front of him working on IEP stuff just to keep him on task.  My daughter sat with us to study for a test, and G and I worked on “homework” which is packets of worksheets from his teacher and workbooks of his.  Later, my darling daughter helped watch G as I stayed with N to do his report.  G had 3 pee accidents in a row - what?  Nary a slip up for months.  Murphy’s Law dictated his timing.  By the time my husband got home from work at 10, we were all agitated and exhausted…more than usual.  Plus I had a bonus load of laundry courtesy of G. 

I’ve spent whatever free time I have lately on prepping for G’s IEP.  I’ve attended several seminars, workshops, and meetings to learn how to prep for this IEP: my rights, the laws, the process, and so on and on.   I have books, notes, folders, reports, assessments, binders organized, checklists and agendas – galore.  As much as all this really helps to organize my thoughts, goals and paperwork; it FEELS like it’s working magic.  While these workshops are incredibly informative, they’re also partly a psychological trick for me, keeping me busy working off the nervous energy which chokes me.  Each year up until now the IEP process and actual meeting has been difficult, draining.  Our district is notorious for denying services, enough said.  This coming year G will be transitioning from a self-contained special-ed preschool classroom to a typical classroom at elementary school.  So many changes and so many worries. 

Today I went to a meeting with the principal at his new elementary school.  She’ll be at his IEP tomorrow, but I wanted to cover my big concerns and brainstorm with her before the crowded legalese-filled meeting.  You know, the one where I’m outnumbered at least 6:1.  I’ve known this principal for many years – my older 2 children have gone to her school.  I adore her and she’s incredibly responsive, cooperative, helpful and pleasant.  I’m thrilled to be working with her now and forward; comfortable that she knows me/my family/our kids/G.  I feel we respect each other – so important.  Today we agreed on everything I had listed as concerns and support ideas.  She suggested a few other strategies and supports to complement mine.  Peachy keen.  But, I talked too fast, I was charged up and felt/saw myself wringing my hands nervously (like G does!), eyes darting around as I talked.  Yikes!  “Calm down, Mama!”  I yelled to myself, inside my head. Finally the meeting was almost over and she walked out of her office to copy a form.  I looked down at my notes and…

I threw up a little in my mouth!

Ewwwwww!  I’d heard this phrase, as well as experienced it a few times.   So funny, and something everyone can relate to, but are too civilized to admit.  I’m not one to put dignity over a good laugh. I never saw this movie, but the clip is cute.  Watch below…

On my way home, I laughed to myself.  Then I gave myself a pep talk and told myself to chill.  I’d gotten through the most important meeting.   Even though I considered this to be a pre-meeting, idea session; this is where G is making his big transition.  His school home for 6 years.  If I have the principal on board, aware and with G’s best interests at heart, I can do tomorrow’s IEP.  All of his supplemental staff will remain the same, so we can discuss his needs and goals with knowledge and caring.  I’m mostly apprehensive for his safety.  This is such a huge move for him: from a class of 13 with 3-4 teachers at once to a classroom with 25-30 students and 1 teacher.  A sensory nightmare.  A bigger school, bigger days, bigger classroom, bigger bus, bigger transitions, bigger potential for “fight or flight”. 

Pressure, meetings, stress.  As an advertising professional, I’ve made a career presenting my ideas, my “other babies” to business owners, execs, clients, bosses and colleagues.  I’ve managed to pull those off with poise and panache, enough to keep working in an extremely competitive field.  Those meetings are emotional, stressful, important to my future – the same elements as today’s meeting.  I wondered, so why was today - with an approachable woman I’ve known for 6 years - the day I threw up in my mouth?  Because it’s personal, not business.  You’ve heard, “ It’s not personal, it’s business.”  Well, this is the ultimate in personal.  Being an advocate for your child, whether for a physical, cognitive, or emotional disability – is PERSONAL. 

If you know anyone who is prepping for IEP, getting a diagnosis, struggling with caregivers, goals, programs…Tell them they can do it.   Give them a boost: a big hug, a high five, a neck/shoulder massage, a really great cup of coffee or a blessed carafe of wine. If you’re not good at listening, don’t want to get involved, or are just not that close - throw chocolate and run! 

I’ve been chuckling all day about this “distasteful” little episode, so much that I decided to/needed to take a breath from my IEP prep crunch for a few moments to look up the video link and post about my nervous shakedown.  You’ve heard that popular phrase from parenting articles, “Put on your own oxygen mask first – you’re no help to your children if you can’t function.”  Humor + laughing at myself + distraction from stress = my “oxygen mask”…or is it a silly gas mask?

Wish me luck tomorrow.

I think I’ll slip a barf bag in my folder…just in case.

To see or purchase button above:  I need one!http://www.unlockingautism.org/site/apps/ka/ec/catalog.asp?c=kiKTL8PMLrF&b=4348065&en=kiLNJVNGKlJQKZNMIcKPKdMMJiJTJYMDJaLTJfMYE&CategoryID=235198

Other Autism products: Some pretty clever designs, AND you can even design your own and put designs on various products

 http://shop.cafepress.com/autism

http://www.zazzle.com/autism+gifts

This girl’s NEVER worn a short skirt.  Oh well, not my gift.  But I do have a mighty talent for:

“uses a machete to cut through red tape”

Just heard this funky Cake song and it sparked my day.  I’ve always loved that brilliant line.  Tell me, is this the definition of Mama Warrior?   Yeah, right? 

A day without fresh obstacles is like a day holed up in a cozy cave denying reality (a luxury not probable).  Luckily, most of us are working so many issues that we can always help make tracks with one if another should encounter a storm.  The great balance of life, survival of the fittest.  Great moments are out there; we must bravely gear up, map our way, seek a guide, cut through the jungle to take a peek, clear a path with our warrior machete, roar when needed and fight for the prize.  Speak firmly and carry a big machete - of knowledge - no violence please.   

Over the next few months, I’ll be working my Mama Warrior moxie to slice through miles and miles of red tape.   IEP, testing, research, therapy, goals, funding plus countless daily adventures.  Sound familiar, Mamas?  

Jungle jam,

jungle jig

plod away

quicksand doubt

jungle terror

dance on out

sunshine beacon

precious nurture

spectrum sparkle

a child’s future.

PerkyQuirks 2011                                                I love the prism of sunlight I caught yesterday in this backyard photo of G.

You are Queen of the Jungle.  Roar, Mama Warriors!

I’m not an avid tv watcher, I’ve never really been into daily/weekly programs.  A friend recommended the show “Parenthood”, saying it had an Asperger’s kid on it.  I started watching in the fall, and now I’m addicted.  The series does a pretty decent job of portraying some of the quirks, realities and needs of spectrum kids, and has done wonders for Autism Awareness.   Max’s character has Asperger’s, the mildest and highest functioning end of the autism spectrum.  The issues and scenes with Max are the brightest snapshot of life on the autism spectrum…the majority of autistic kids are not this verbal, physically capable, or socially interactive.  Of course “mild” makes sense for television, and nonetheless the autism community is grateful for this breakthrough in a mainstream venue to educate and raise public awareness and (hopefully) tolerance and understanding. 

This week’s show was a masterpiece though – totally nailed autism  on several levels.  If you missed it, here’s the episode, spoiler editorial comments after…

Spoiler alert!

Nailed it, right?  Aspie Max has a meltdown when his aide changes his routine.  He ramps up to his meltdown: as I watch, I feel the same knot in my stomach, feel my shoulders tense as if I’m watching the interaction with my G and someone in the family.  I want to say, “Hey, it’s not worth a meltdown!  Give him the silly stickers!”,  or rush in to try to diffuse the situation with Max while still keeping the rules in place. 

Autism parenting is a balancing act, minute-by-minute coping decisions: holding fast to a new lesson or breaking down to save the remainder of the day.  So many factors enter into each decision:  my brain processes with the super sonic speed of a trauma unit worker, assessing the plans for the day and how they may be affected by one simple, often mundane decision which could upset the house of cards…and everyone’s whole day.  As a caretaker to 3 kids, a husband, home, work, homework, sports, laundry, learning, advocacy, etc., these choices – and how they’ll affect everyone’s needs, moods and schedules -are a daily dilemma.   There’s nothing worse than feeling everyone’s disappointment or displeasure because you HAD TO prove your point over a silly, seemingly inconsequential matter.  But, as our experience has shown us, those matters ARE the big things for our spectrum kiddos.  I compare it to parenting a 2 year old: sometimes it’s easier to roll with it than to cause a public scene, hold up the rest of the family, or deal with another drama.  Yet if I give in, will he expect me to cave next time?  Am I teaching him that if he protests too much he can get his way?  It’s hard to know with autistic kids.  How much is in their control vs. out of control.  I don’t think G “works me” like a typical child, or 2 year old.  When he has a meltdown, he legitimately can’t get past it if I don’t diffuse the situation in time.  He spirals out of control and it becomes fight-or-flight for him.

Some experts direct us to hold our spectrum kids to the same high standards as our typical kids. We try.  Still others believe that our kids don’t do these things on purpose, they have no control over their exploding reactions and  confusing emotions - it’s their sensory system working overtime.  The inward struggle goes like this: I can’t let him walk away without putting his game away.  I usually try my whole bag of tricks, rewards, bribery before it reaches meltdown stage.  But sometimes he flies into a full blown rage/tantrum right away for no reason.  Sometimes I’m tired or running late and though I know it won’t help long term, I simply have to let it go.  If I have willing family members, we tag team, and relieve each other when the other team member gets worn out.  I’ve learned to push G to a certain point, take a break and revisit it when he’s chilled a bit.  If time permits, if the situation allows.  Obviously if there’s imminent danger or consequences, it has to happen whether he takes action or I have to.

In this episode, Max flies into a shouting, fight-or-flight rage, sweeping books, toys, and throwing items helter-skelter in his path.  His outburst takes his aide by complete surprise, his abrupt change of demeanor, and she cries in frustration and shock.  As a parent in this situation, you feel an even deeper sense of failure, worry, helplessness, anger, sadness.  We take their disruptive behaviors on as a reflection of ourselves and our parenting ability.  This is true particularly with high functioning kiddo, because they may appear typical in some areas, spoiled or naughty when they erupt.  We live with this child always; at times we feel we’re ultimately responsible for his every mood, every behavior, every impulse.  Whilst the aide closes the door on our child after 30 minutes, 50 minutes, 2 hours (if you’re lucky enough to have an aide or therapist, etc.); we’re left surveying the wreckage and trying to figure out how the rest of our day’s plans will proceed with a freaked out, angry, sour family.  Because also like a 2 year old, the harder we try not to let it bother us, ignore or move away from the situation - the harder G instinctively pushes to keep it in our face.  G increases his volume, pitch, throwing, hitting, screaming, planting himself in one spot and rubber-legging it or stiff bodied if we try to physically pick up/move him.  It takes a conscious, sometimes grueling effort to remember that this is not personal, this is the autism we’re battling with, not the child.  The team approach works best for us, relieving each other when one of us gets too frustrated.  And humor, lots and lots of humor + hugs. 

via http://headovmetal.posterous.com/tantrum-yoga-positions-elephant-journal

Also notable is the episode’s portrayal of an adult Asperger’s man…bravo for opening this can of worry that autism parents fret over!   I knew the man was on the spectrum right from the first moment (as I’m sure writers wanted us to), but Adam and Kristina took awhile to discover that the birthday party entertainer they interviewed was Aspie like Max, thinking the man simply moody or strange for his odd  behaviors (such as taking a shower when he went t use the restroom – love it!).  They struggle with the morality of hiring/not hiring the man who has a lengthy list of rigid rules and compliance issues for his bug performance.  They worry about their own son getting turned down for a job someday because of his Asperger’s – making the decision weighty and personal.  Ultimately Max decides for them, his love for bugs win out over doubt.

http://www.nbc.cm/parenthood/photos/amazing-andy-and-his-wonderful-world-of-bugs

The best scene was when Adam gives the check to Amazing Andy the Bug Man after Max’s party (after last commercial break on video).  Adam looks around at the bugs, gear, studies the Aspie, then awkwardly asks, “Are you happy with your job, your life, what you do?”  After getting no response, continues, “Are you happy?”

“Yes, sometimes,” Amazing Andy shrugs, then turns it around on Adam, “Are you happy?”

Adam pauses, smirks as he realizes the irony of the question, the meaning, “Yes.  Sometimes.” 

That’s all we can hope for.  We strive to make our spectrum kids lives full and perfect; but as multi-faceted, stressed, beat down, worn out adults, we’re all happy (just) “sometimes”.  It’s universal.

Thank you “Parenthood” for raising Autism Awareness: for opening a window for others to view our reality, for shining a mirror to parents of kiddos on the spectrum, for showing us in our isolation that we are not alone, for helping us to come to grips with our challenges, for allowing us see humor, hope and enlightenment in our struggles.  “Parenthood” – the tv series and the privilege – is Ausome! 

OCD.  UGH!  G was never too bad with the routine aspect of autism. He was always too busy to focus.  Recently I’ve taken control of his ADHD: diagnosis, research, doctors, advice, and finally experimenting with meds until we’re at a happy maintenance level.  Strangely, his autistic behaviors are even more pronounced now.  Maybe we’re just able to notice more easily because he isn’t running at 100 MPH all day.  Maybe he’s able to focus better and is stimming on different things like routine instead of motion.  As always, he keeps us guessing and keeps us on our toes.

Last week we were late to catch the school bus one day.  The bus driver explained that someone had cancelled so she was early.  G was frantic and unfortunately, so was I.  I ran after him with his snack that I’d retrieved – always something getting lost in the out-the-door bustle.  The next day we had sub-zero wind chills, so I waited just a few minutes longer than I usually would to avoid freezing.  We’re always out early, and the bus is always late (according to the posted times).   Again, it was there 5 minutes early, so we had to run, over ice, jacket unzipped, me in  shirtsleeves carrying G’s backpack.  I got smart the next day and was there early – in the car - it was 10 minutes late.  Next day, 8 minutes early, we weren’t even watching for it yet.  Yikes!  This rollercoaster had me flummoxed, I can’t imagine how he got through his school days.

G looked out the window all weekend, watching for his big yellow bus.  I kept telling him it was the weekend, and not to worry.  He’d gather his backpack, put on his gear and cry if he couldn’t find gloves or boots, panicked.  I showed him the calendar.  Gave him lots of hugs.  My heart just broke. 

This morning he woke up and got dressed for school immediately, this boy of mine who loves to hang out in his jammies or shirtless all morning.  Every 15 minutes he announced, “I’m going to check for the bus.”  We had 4.5 hours to wait.  It was a reeeeaaaally long morning.  We played games and lots of distracting activities.   So finally we got ready very early and went outside to wait.  It was windy and not so comfortable to wait, but I dared not go in to get the car – we might miss the bus pulling up and send G into a panic state.  So, the bus showed up about 1 minute late…with a DIFFERENT DRIVER!  Eek - another change!  I suppose the only way to control these things is to drive him myself.  I think I’ll have him wear a watch, we’ll use his calendar.  I’ll give him the times on a card to look at showing a 15 minute range of when the bus might come.  Maybe I’ll find a timer app so that he can stim by checking it as often as he likes instead of running to the window and gathering his gear.  I’m thankful for the melting snow and promise of spring when we can play outside comfortably and distractingly until the bus arrives. 

And so we enter a new phase of this journey.  No roadmap, no GPS, no pre-plan.  We can do it, we must.  G’s attention and behavior is so markedly changed that he’s making huge strides in all areas.  Good thing, because he’s needed those huge strides to run to catch the bus lately…  

As an adoptive parent, I spend a copious amount of time worrying and wondering about how to approach my children with the fragile subject of their adoptions.   Adoption’s not a topic that surfaces much, but I like to worry and prepare.  When they were tots, I researched and bought the best preschool books on the topic and began reading and talking to them, hoping that if the words were familiar, the emotional impact would be easier to bear.  Naturally kids reach a point in their lives where they’ll  feel confused, realize that they are not like other kids, and question why their birth parents “gave them away”.   Oh, how I hate that phrase that people like to use.

My children never asked much about the subject, even when I’d read or talk about it with them .  When they “got it” was a heartbreaking moment.  My husband and I tried many years of fertility therapies and methods to no avail, and finally I was told one too many times that I’d never have a baby.  We wanted children and the decision to adopt was easy to make.  So we went about the involved process.  Enter adorable N…we were so happy with our first adoption experience that we drained the entire retirement fund for our daughter, sweet gorgeous M. 

As the saying goes,

“We’ll take 2, they’re small”. 

Finally - we were a  complete package, 1 boy, 1 girl – a happy family.  5 years later, the impossible occurred: I became pregnant.  During my pregnancy, as all prospective moms do, I’d feel a little kick and tell about it.  One day this happened and N looked up at me and asked, “Wow Mom, did I do that when I was in your tummy?” 

Yikes.  My tummy came up to my throat as I fought back tears to explain that he was in another mom’s tummy, his Birth Mom.  I pulled M into the room and explained the adoption process, told them their birth stories, answered any questions and followed up for a couple of days.  Near the end of my pregnancy once again, N asked me if he kicked my ribs like the baby was doing.  I hesitated (quite possibly with a sharp intake of breath), and he corrected himself, “Oh that’s right, I was in another mom’s tummy, not yours, right?”  And once again we had “the adoption talk”.

Every so often over the years the subject comes up, and I respond with frank honest answers, trying to shield as much life reality as I can, and boost their confidence with the sentiment that we are so very lucky to have them in our family.  I stay with a consistent explanation, but I’ve always known that sooner or later it wouldn’t be enough, that I’d have to dig deeper, go into areas beyond my and their comfort zone.  Little did I know today was the day.

Photo Credit: http://www.cafepress.com/+we_support_adoption_thermos_bottle_12_o,481332076

TGIF, such a crazy busy week that I stopped for McDonald’s for the kids after Tae Kwon Do.  My husband was picking up a nice spicy dinner that the kids wouldn’t like, so I waited for him and checked my Facebook while the kids ate their McHappy Meals.  I was in the midst of chatting simultaneously with a friend and my cousin when something perked up my ears and made me pause.  I quickly signed off.  G said to big brother N, “Did you like to eat cheeseburgers when you were in Mom’s tummy?”  I’m amazed that G remembered: a few days ago G randomly told me he liked fruit, so I told him that when he was in my tummy he made me want to eat lots of it too. 

N replied, “No G, I wasn’t in Mom’s tummy.  I was in another mom’s tummy.  I’m from __ and I was adopted.”  This, their discussion over cheeseburgers and shakes, while I Fb-ed.  What?  I casually said, “What are you guys talking about?” closing my laptop. 

“Just that me and M are adopted, and didn’t grow inside your tummy like he did.  Do you know their names?”, N asked.  “Whose names?”  I asked, startled by this new in-depth curiosity.  “Our parents.”  Ouch.

M asked, “Do I have any stepbrothers?” 

Super yikes, the dreaded question.  I said, “Hold on, hold on, come and sit and let’s talk.”  I was never so grateful for a Happy Meal toy as I was for the next 10 minutes as G played while I struggled through this emotional discussion with my precious, vulnerable little souls.  I frankly told them that I didn’t know their birthparent’s names and that I didn’t have much information besides medical information about the birth parents and their births.  I explained that they could try to locate their biological parents when they turn 18, and I completely understand and support that curiosity. 

Next I asked M why she asked if she had stepbrothers.  She shrugged, “I don’t know, I just wondered.  But probably not, because if they got rid of me, they probably don’t want any other kids.”  She said it offhand, but I could see the emotion in her expression. 

These questions and their instantaneous popping up told me that N and M had been thinking about these things, possibly talking them over with each other - wondering, worrying, feeling pain.  My brain was swirling, this was a moment I’d feared.

Red Alert! 

Emergency Mom Power Skills needed!

Don’t fail me now!

I’ve tried to avoid exposing my kids to certain world/life realities.  But now I decided to share a very horrid practice/concept with them so that they could get the full impact of how wonderful Adoption is, how sacred life is.   

I explained Abortion.  In basic terms.   

I started with my standard talk about “the why” of adoption placement – the talk they’ve heard countless times).   I told them that sometimes girls/women get pregnant and can’t keep their babies because they’re poor, too young, or unable to take care of them for some reason, etc.

“But……..sometimes women pay to have their tiny babies killed inside them.”  Their eyes got wide with the horror.  Harsh. 

So I continued quickly,

“Your birth mothers were very strong.  They could have taken a different path and had an abortion and been finished with it.  But instead, they thought about what was best for you, their babies. 

Your birthmother(s):

didn’t ‘get rid of you’, she ‘gave you life’.

She gave you the greatest GIFT: of LIFE. 

She gave us the greatest GIFT: of YOU. 

Your birth mothers felt you inside of them, took care of their growing baby, worried and made the hard decision to give you a better life than they could give you.  They probably cried over the decision, and maybe they still do when they think about their child/you.  But, they wanted you to have a good, happy life.   Daddy and I hope that we’re giving you that happy life.  They gave us a special job of doing that for you, their birth babies.  But from the moment we met you, you were our babies.  We fell in love with you and we’ll love you forever.  We are so blessed to have you in our family.”   

Photo Credit: http://www.cafepress.com/+gift_of_life_journal,46996763

OMG.  I must say I felt pretty relieved and proud of the way I handled a spontaneous panic mama-on-the-spot situation.  I hope that I can continue to proactively meet their questions honestly; to offer enough comfort to meet their growing insecurities, curiosities and difficulties with this complex, emotional issue.  I hope that I’ll catch these little comments and stop their hurt from spinning out of control. I hope that I can continue to keep an objective eye, to understand the natural tendency to “want to know”.  Who wouldn’t?  I wish I knew their birth parent’s stories, for my own knowledge.   God has granted me love and the greatest gifts of these incredible children.  Thanks dear God for showing me the wisdom tonight to comfort my children.

Maybe it’s time to research more books on the subject so I can prepare for the next round.

Photo Credit: http://www.cafepress.com/+not_of_my_flesh_keepsake_box,43033066

Photo Credit: http://www.zazzle.com/adoption_rocks_tshirt-235054498717742952