‘I am be…..’ - Career Choices for autistic people

This is a little phrase I hear every so often. To be honest, it’s not a phrase that I ever thought I would hear because pretend play didn’t find us for a very long time.

I don’t know your priorities but I would highly recommend the following – keep a list [yes another one] . Stick your piece of paper in the kitchen. Where else [?] and add to it regularly. It makes for a delightful easy splot of nostalgia; ‘what will you be when you grow up?’

[We apply this to all family members on the theory that some day we adults may have different jobs!]

Oh how it changes.

Oh how it doesn’t resemble anything that the typical kids come up with.

All the usual fire fighter, super hero, artist options never see the light of day. Instead we have an eclectic collection of options, phases that they grow through. Do not allow your older children to destroy it as evidence they now find embarrassingly babyish.

Now I suspect that some people are a little skeptical. Maybe a child is not able to speak or is currently learning to use PECs. Sometimes we parents are apt to be a bit pessimistic about the future. Some of us aim at independence but are shaky on the details of how to achieve that goal. It can be difficult to focus on the future when so many of us are buried the daily minutiae. All I can say, is that we have done this for several years now. Initially it was merely a initial exercise in extracting speech and engaging joint attention, one of the tiny steps in the equivalent of Floortime. It had the advantage of being a neutral subject that did not trigger meltdowns, namely, boring. It served so many different functions such as taking turns, listening skills and oddly enough, being in the here and now, together.

As is so often the case, all this time later, they now volunteer information. They tell me things because they want me to know these things. For some, this point is of no consequence, bewildering, why even mention it, but for others, the true significance of such a development is almost to tantalizing to think about. If you had told me 7 years ago that this would be so, I would probably have told you to go and boil your head, because I was even grumpier then than I am now. Now, it’s your turn to tell me to go and boil my head and I’ll see you back here in seven years to compare notes.

Disclaimer:- Dear google searcher ……….. asking this question will not make autism go away.

Tide marks of handprints? Another new first!

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Not so long back my children were earth bound with feet of clay, never to venture from my side they clung like limpets. Less than 18[?] months ago, they wouldn't even venture upstairs during daylight hours. The whole second story was a place of trepidation.





And I'm passing the cleaning duties to the twit that let them watch Spiderman.

A first time for Everything

If you live for years with bolters and escape artists, along with a slew of dead bolts, padlocks and safety chains, it can be difficult to break the panic habit.

I hear the click of the front door and make a dash for it. I miss him by a second and scramble out into the garden, dressing gown aflap. He shuts the garden gate on me as I arrive and takes two steps out into the road as I yell and slip through the white picket. He turns to blink at me as my hands travel around his shoulders suddenly very close to his throat, “wot?” I search for my calm tone as the fabric gapes at my neckline, exposed.
“I need you to come back inside ……where you’ll be safe.”
“I am safe. I’m waitin for the bus.”
“Oh…….well wait with me…….inside.”
“It’s o.k. mom.” I can almost see his halo of innocence, his sincerity, “I wasn’t gonna run away or anything…….why would I?”

I recall a thousand different reasons and even more occasions, the millions of metres that I have chased my children all over San Jose but for now I’ll just focus on this one.

Out of the act

With Nonna’s birthday approaching I decide that teamwork is the only way. My daughter and her partner agree to mind the smalls whilst I barricade myself in her bedroom to complete Nonna’s new housecoat. Secrets are a difficult concept to grasp at the best of times but I try anyway.


“So listen guys!”
“Wot?”
“My job is to sew. Your job is to keep Nonna out of the bedroom.”
“Why?”
“Because I want it to be a secret. I don’t want her to see what I’m sewing.”
“Why?”
“So it will be a surprise.”
“Surprise is badly.”
“Some people like surprises. Nonna likes surprises. Do you think you could help keep her out……..distract her……something like that?”

I note the blank stares as their sister lures them out into the garden with the far more interesting option of lizard hunting.

After nearly an hour of battling with my ancient sewing machine I am all ready to emerge, triumphant with task completion.


Other people have also achieved task completion or something like that I suppose.







I do not like surprises. Message received, fully understood and executed.

What's your sleep number?

Some people can sleep anywhere.









If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

Resin casting

You will need:-
Bottle of resin
Catalyst
Mould Release spray
A piece of felt the same size as the bottom of your mould
Interesting thingummy bob
Disposable bowl for stirring
Popiscle stick for stirring
Disposable mould or something you already have but don’t mind sacrificing to art
Waste paper / drop cloth to protect surfaces

1.Read the instructions carefully and conduct the whole exercise is an open air space due to the fumes unless you wish to get high whilst supervising a children’s activity?

2.Check that the interesting thingy fits in your mould without touching the edges or bottom or poking out the top. [this is a great exercise in spatial awareness in and of itself as you have to imagine the thingummy bob in 3D floating in your chosen mould]

3.Spray the mould with mould release and leave to dry. Repeat.

4.Make up a small quantity of resin according to the manufacturer’s instructions in a disposable mixing bowl and add the catalyst. This will make the first layer so that the thingummy doesn’t poke through. Remember that you are actually making the cast upside down whereby the first layer you pour, is really the top.
5.Stir thoroughly without creating bubbles.
6.Pour into the mould and leave to harden.
7.Cover with a cloth so that foreign objects, dust or the occasional fly doesn’t accidentally become embedded.
8.Once dry place your object on the now hardened first layer.
9.Repeat the layers until the object is completely covered.
10.Leave to harden preferably overnight.
11.Cut a piece of felt to fit the bottom of the ‘paper weight’ and glue on securely.

Warning:- take care to explain to the children…… whatever they want to commit to a cast is for a life sentence, non-returnable nor returnable.

I'm in heaven!

Hosted by "Tracy" at "Mother May I," but the photo-picture below will whizz you right there with one click.

Just call me snap happy.

He was asked to list and draw his favourite things:- chocolate pudding, goldfish crackers, peppermints and candy.



Then he flipped the paper over to draw this with the title above:-



Just look at that facial expression!

Animal planet and the general menagerie

Television has a lot to answer for, or rather, unsupervised television viewing by the youth of today. I find the youth of the day spitting into the air and watching the spittle land at his toe nails. I admonish the youth today, although I am secretly pleased at his incredible display of such fine lip closure, “and just what exactly do you think you are doing Sunny Jim!”
“I am being dah Archer Fish.”
Of course he is!
“Well I don’t want to see that again thank you,” I lie in a truthful manner. I watch him tip toe out into the garden in exaggerated sneak mode.

Friends for the next century

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On another tack, there's this little woman whom I have never met, called Vicki. She lives just a hop skip and a jump up the road from me and blogs at "Speak Softly." She's a busy little bug what with her "Literary Mama" column. I expect you know her too. What you may have missed, what with it being summer and all, is that her book "This Lovely Life" which is featured over here on this "Web page," although my copy is winging it way from "Amazon," probably via some unfortunate carrier pigeon knowing my luck. I'm pretty confident that it'll prove a great read as she's one of those eternal optimists but I'll keep you posted.

Night time interlopers

I climb the ladder to say my goodnights to my youngest child. Each has their own particular ritual, of no real significance as such, but developed and morphed over the years to meet a lengthy list of preferential treatment. Each version is private. Each version is whispered. No-one ever hears the entire details that another enjoys. “Ti voglio bene” I coo as my opening attention grabbing phrase, in the gloom to a mop of chlorine soaked hair. It’s my only Italian phrase, culled from a lullaby several light years ago.
“Huh!”
“Ti voglio bene……”
I am unused to repeating my opening gambit more than three times, but I suspect that our respective response times are dulled by jetlag.
“Huh!”
“Ti voglio bene.”
“You………are you mother?”
“Oh dear!”
“You are speak foreign?”
“What are you doing up here in the top bunk? Why aren’t you down there in the bottom bunk?”

Rhinotillexomania - nose picking

I am busy picking my nose in a precious moment of privacy, when he bursts into the bathroom to use the facilities, “ooo what you are do?”
I put down the tweezers to explain myself, “well I’m pulling off all the dead sunburnt skin from the tip of my nose.”
“Rudolph!”
“Yes……thank you. It’s very sore actually.”
“Why it burn?”
“The sun……when we were in England.”
“It is being polite?”
“Polite?”
“Er…….English style nose pickin.”
“!”

Hyper-vigilance

It masks itself as peaceful slumber:-



The reality is quite different:-







If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.

Lost Leader

It's summer time and the living is tricky, so I only have a whizzy quicky fix this week.

The problem?

How to rid my household of the less than perfect. We have quite a lot of "less than perfect" around here, a thoroughly disgraceful ratio of good to bad. But what to do with all the "rejects?"

Simple.

Photograph the perfect next to the imperfect. Mark with a tick and a cross to help some people see the fault that is all to obvious to my family. Figure out the right price for the "perfect" deduct 25cents and then offer one perfect and one imperfect at 25 cents to the clientele with one rule:-

if you buy the "perfect" then please also buy the imperfect, buy both.







It's a gimmick but ever so gradually we are whittling down the reserves of imperfect stacked in the garage.



And yes you're right. Whilst we were away in England my daughter whisked away the tables and replaced them with a market stall! Home made! All from recycled materials. What a little star she is!

Give us this day, our daily baby

Hosted by "Tracy" at "Mother May I," but the photo-picture below will whizz you right there with one click.

Just call me snap happy.

As the mother of two autistic children I have far more to moan about than many. One of the many things that I most enjoy moaning about is the wide variety of unco-operative domestic appliances skulling around the house. The top moaning slot is usually allotted to the cooker. The cooker is a huge great ugly thing that came with the house. It’s a commercial, if not industrial lump of steel, capable of catering to the needs of the average restaurant. However, during the summer months I am forced to ignore it even more than usual. This is due to the existence of constant cognitive dissonance on my part which roughly translates as follows:-

Mother nature already hates me for using the air conditioning during a heat wave but she’ll throw me off the planet if I turn the oven on at the same time.

The trouble with the oven, apart from it’s hugeness, is that once lit, it is happy to warm the entire house to 425 degrees centigrade as it belches out heat for several hours post switch off. It is truly the creation of the devil.

That said, my family’s need for sustenance, especially bread, averaging 3 loaves a day, is quite insatiable.

Hence I discuss my latest cunning plan with "Nonna," cook extraordinaire back in the day, as I trip over multifarious swift moving children.

“So……..what about dis den?”
“I’m going to make bread, pasties and muffins all day long and then cook them all in one go late in the afternoon.”
“It is good to fill dah ting sometimes.”
“Yes……in theory……but easier said than done.”
“You’re doing pretty well so far I tink,” she adds as she prods the latest batch of rolls on the rise.
“It’s all in the timing……I hope.”
“You know I tink you could roast a "whole baby" in dat ting!”

Two differing viewpoints

When faced with fresh, lightly chilled, extremely juicy and sweet, seedless watermelon:- one of my sons, the "former neophobic," has very low facial muscle tone which makes eating a strenuous business, my other son, who eats more or less anything [except bananas] displays a remarkable dislike for this most innocent of fruits.

“I am called it an ‘aqua jaw breaker’ coz of dah watery and hard to biting.”





Or........how to eat watermelon without using your hands.

On the other hand......his brother:-

“IZ DISGUSTIN LIKE EATIN A SPONGE!”

For yet another alternative view of watermelons, zip over to my pal "Melody" for a quick "slurp" and spit out the pips.

A snip of peace and quiet on Brownsea Island

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But it only lasted a nano second!

Notable quotes

From stuttered speech delay to fluidity:-

“Mom!”
“Yes dear?”
“I….....…am…....."
"Yes dear?"
"Er.........…hun……gry.”
“Here, have a banana, you want to be healthy don’t you?”

Silence.

“After healthy…….what am I being?”
“Would you like some Goldfish crackers for a treat?”
“Now you’re...... my kinda woman.”
“!”

I swear I don’t know where he got that one from although the "Boris Karloff" intonation was a little disconcerting.

The survival of the fittest

One of the many advantages of having an excessively large family is that it provides ample opportunity for me to exercise my powers of delegation.

I leave my daughter and her partner to mind Nonna and the three siblings, a two to one ratio, whilst I rush off to the supermarket to feed the hungry hoards. Within 30 minutes I’m back, fully and efficiently re-stocked for possibly another 24 hour period. Predictably enough, the house is in chaos but that does not deflect me from my mission.
“Right! I want every one of you out on the drive way to carry in a bag into the kitchen…..except you Nonna, you’re excused.” Three small people blink in disbelief, “you want to eat, right?” I add encouragingly.
“I am not liking yur disgustin foods.”
“Never mind that, it’s your new job.”
“Jobs is for adults.”
“Nope, not around here. This is how it works. I shop for the food. Daddy pays for the food, you do your work by carrying the food inside the house.”
“I cannot be doing dah working chores today.”
“Really. And why would that be then?”
“Because I am dah weakest one.”
“Rubbish! You’re as strong as a cat.”
“But my cat body is being too empty of the good foods for the giving of the energy.”
“Fair enough. I’ll just have to eat the three catering cartons of Goldfish crackers on my own then.”

England 2, America Infinity

My son snuggles up close to purr with contentment as our holiday draws to a close. He is still at the ‘part cat’ stage of development but there is no harm in checking whether England has grown in attractiveness after an additional annual exposure.
“So………is there anything else you like about England now?”
“Else?”
“Um……additional…….extra. You like afternoon tea time but is there a number two, a second thing that you like?”
“Well……..”
“Yes?”
“I think maybe I am liking all dah alley’s.”
“Alley’s?”
“Yes…….alley’s is being dah little wiggly roads dat are being too small for proper cars.”
“Ah! Yes indeedy. All those little cobbled streets are rather quaint.”
“Dey are perfect.”
“Really! You surprise me. I thought you liked large, straight and neat.”
“Yes but my cat part like’s alley’s betterer.”

Everything is Bigger and Better in America

Our daily route in our huge hire car on the tiny little roads in England on holiday.






Ooo the excitement!







If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to"DJ Kirkby" over at "Chez Aspie" and test your brain power.