Archive for November, 2011

Mom interactive

     Not that I would ever be a “typical” mother, but I am most definitely not one given this child of mine. While the days of being the only mother at the playground actually up on the equipment with the kids are long gone, I still do some version of this now. Often on these lovely fall days, while the neighborhood moms are hanging out in someone’s front yard, I am facilitating C’s interactions. “He’s doing fine,” I hear on many occasions. “They’ll work things out.”

     And there it is: the grand difference between us – the idea that the kids will work it out. Actually, mine won’t. Yours will – they’ll bicker and fight and be best friends again five minutes later. C, however, will often alienate kids because his negotiating, problem-solving, and compromising skills are significantly less developed than the kids around him. An argument over a ball can have life-altering consequences for C because your child won’t want to be friends with him after it’s over. Or C will lose it and start crying, and the other children will stare and snicker at his socially “inappropriate” behavior. And they don’t forget. No matter how many times you tell me that all kids do that, you simply don’t understand that my kid does it times ten. And the all kids you are talking about are generally half C’s age.

     This is where I get angry. Because if C lived his life in a wheelchair, you would do everything you could to make sure he is fairly included in every activity. But because his disability – and yes, in this area I have now painfully come to conclude that for C it is a disability in many ways – is invisible, no matter how much you talk to your kids about accepting his differences, they still don’t want to be around him a lot of the time. Friends who couldn’t get enough of him months ago can now hardly be civil to him. And he doesn’t understand why.

     Then I feel guilty for being angry. Because you have in fact talked to your children about accepting C’s differences. You have talked to them about being kind to him no matter what. Your kids are nice kids. What I’m asking of your kids is often more than I can do myself; I get just as annoyed with C as your kids do. He doesn’t back down, he won’t drop an argument, and he won’t give you your space when you ask for it. I, like no one else, understand how frustrating it can be to be friends with C, despite his endless kindness, thoughtfulness, and genuine fondness for simply everyone he encounters. You have to work really, really hard to be friends with C, and most kids just aren’t capable of that level of effort.

     Then I get angry all over again, because C is a kid who will play with anyone and include everyone. The same can’t be said for the rest of the world, and definitely not for the rest of the neighborhood. So I soldier on, facilitating interactions and trying my best to help the other kids relate to my own while at the same time trying to teach C how to navigate the social waters of life.

     One Mom summed it up by saying that we are trying to teach our kids tolerance. And while I agree with that sentiment, I’m not sure that I agree that any of us are having any real success.

November 16, 2011 at 4:01 pm 8 comments

He knows if you’ve been bad or good

     It’s about that time of year. I’ve been listening to Christmas carols for a couple of weeks now, which is far better than my usual late September starting date (with apologies to my college roommate, who teases me about it to this day), and C’s Christmas list is long and wide and full of things there’s no chance anyone will get him.

     C has been asking for a couple of months now if he should check his name on santaclaus.net to see how good he’s been. But he hasn’t done it, and last night I found out why. While he soaked in the tub, we talked about our plans for the holidays. “I’ll bet Santa won’t bring me much this year because of my behavior,” he said, his head hung dejectedly.

     My heart broke more than a little bit in that moment. I couldn’t lie and tell him his behavior has been fine. It’s been a challenging year for sure: C’s behavior has rocked our family to its core, and I’ve read more books on defiant children than any parent should even know exists. I’ve collapsed on the floor in sobs too many times to count. And Husband and I have locked ourselves in our bedroom far too frequently in order to escape the wrath of C. Still, there’s nothing more heart wrenching than a child whose self-defeat is written all over his face, and all I could do was give him a big kiss on the forehead and tell him that Santa knows he’s been trying his best.

     Once again I was thrown into both the joys and sorrows of parenting this particular child. In the same moment, I was both impressed C recognizes his own challenges and sad that he feels his challenges are having such a profound effect on his life. It’s times like these when I remember that C carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and there’s little I can do to help him shoulder the load.

November 8, 2011 at 8:16 pm 8 comments


It’s all autism, all the time.

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