Oh Mother...

I was driving home from the market yesterday, blessedly alone...When the song "Y.M.C.A." by the Village People came on the radio. It made me think of my mother. I had always found it funny that she, a devout catholic had liked that song. I think that she actually believed it was a catchy tune about the benefits of staying at the "Y"-which it was-though not quite in the way she thought....I find it odd, my mom has been dead for almost half of my life-and yet I am still so aware of her influence on me.. Mothers are powerful people. As I look at my herd, I wonder, how much of what I say and do will affect them. I wonder, what it is about me, that they will carry forward with them into adulthood? I hope it's my sense of humor.




Lately, two of my herd have been overly interested in death. Oscar in particular. He is having trouble understanding the concept-and as it was mothers day, he wanted to know what had happened to mine.



Oscar-"Where's your mom?"



Me-"She died a long time ago"



Oscar-"Where did she die?"



Me-"Where? do you mean how?"



Oscar-"Did she leave?"



Me-"her body didn't work anymore-it was very sick...so it stopped"



Oscar-"SICK??? will she get better"



Me-"No honey, she's done with her body"



Oscar-"DONE!!! Where did she go?"



Me-"...I don't know...are you worried about me leaving?"



Oscar-"No, your mom is dead... can I have a snack?"



Me-"Are you sure you're not worried?"



Oscar-"NO!"




I'm not going to stress myself out too much about it. Death IS a hard concept to explain. I am though, quite amused by all of the "death scenes" that both Oscar and Zoe have been staging. I'll just happen to be walking through the living room, and there will be Oscar, lying on his back-hands folded over his chest and his eyes closed. "What are you doing bud?... "just being dead""O.K. have fun-dinner is in fifteen minutes"...O.K. mama." With Zoe, it's a little bit different. "Zoe, I need for you to go find your juice cup" She will then throw herself on the floor and say "Zoe isn't here-she's dead"..."O.K., when you are done being dead, go and find your juice cup please."




It would be so much easier if kids came with there own instruction books. There are days when I think that I am doing a decent job raising my herd-and then there are days where I doubt everything. If there were such thing as a "mother report card", I think that I would do o.k.- a couple of "A's",mostly "B's". Although, I know that in the comment section it would state "doesn't play well with the other mothers" I don't know what it is-my methods, my ideas...my humor-it just seems to put some mothers off. Especially, when I talk about autism.




Autism is a big part of our lives, but it is not our whole life. Yes, there are certain things that we have to do in order for our boys to feel safe and comfortable . There are routines that we follow-steps that we take to create the best possible atmosphere for them to learn and grow. The rest of the time...I just let them be. I don't worry that they only eat about five different things-because for the most part, those five things are healthy. I don't structure their play time-I don't fill every moment of their day with activities. They may be on the spectrum-but they are kids first and foremost. They need to play, ride their bikes, dig holes in the dirt, invent their own games-and if they need to flap and stim at the same time-so be it! They are learning what is and what is not appropriate through that freedom.. The world is always changing, and they have to figure out how to bend with it-or at least wiggle a little. I am not always going to be around to guide them. Part of my job is teaching them how to guide themselves. My methods might be different, but it doesn't make them wrong. ( my goodness! the reactions I got when I told some parents that I had (with permission) flapped and eeeed alongside my son-I wanted to know what it felt like-to better understand.)




I have four very unique and amazing children. I am so proud of all of them. I look at my boys and see such growth-especially in the wake of the grim prognosis we had been given for them. I have such joy...and much hope. My wish is for them to look back one day and recognize that they have always been cherished and loved-thoroughly and unconditionally. Having a sense of humor wouldn't be bad either.

flying boy

The breakfast table in my house on most mornings is noisy and chaotic. Three of my four kids are simultaneously eating, getting dressed, packing back packs and fighting over who is going to sit where...everything you would expect a herd of kids to be doing on a typical school day. All except Oscar. Oh he may argue on occasion about where he wants to sit, but for the most part breakfast is one of the two quiet times of the day for him. Bedtime being the other.
Oscar is my wild boy. He is constant movement, a ball of endless energy. He moves because he must. To me it is almost like his movement is his way of staying here, being grounded, as if stopping would cause him to fly away.On the other hand, there are days when he beats his arms so hard and so fast, I am afraid he is going to take off. He likes to make noise on these days. A constant EEEEEEEEEE sound-likening him to a plane reving its engine. I asked him once why he does this. He told me that"I have to- it feels wonderful!" So I tried it. I started slowly at first, just a little arm movement a small eee sound...until I really let myself go. Soon I was so lost in the movement and sound, I did not realize that the rest of the family had joined in. We looked like a scene straight out of an anthropologists journal-or a mental institution for insane dancers. This went on for a few minutes until Oscar asked us to stop. It was brilliant, and it DID feel wonderful. I don't know that I received the same benefit that Oscar does, but in that short moment, I could understand his need to do this. If only others could.
Oscar had his first experience with how other people view him at school the other day. Two of his classmates told him that his brain was broken and needed to be fixed. He was upset when he told me this. Although his response of "I'm not a robot, I am not missing parts" was very cool. He was hurt.The interesting thing is that Oscar was not upset at the girls. He was upset at how they percieved him. It was the first time that Oscar expressed awareness of his impact on the people around him. He realized that he was part of the group and not an entity unto himself. For that I was happy-the other part of me wanted to yell at those girls.(I can't help it-I'm a mother!)
We use the word different a lot at home. We teach our kids that different is good-something to be celebrated. If you opened a box of crayons and they were all blue, it would be boring. At school a similar message is taught. We are all different, some people learn differently than others, etc.etc. I think that we need to take it further. Oscars classmates comments are proof of that. I do not think that those girls were intending to be mean. Oscar certainly did not see it that way. Oscar IS different-his words, his actions, his movement is unlike any of his classmates-they are going to notice. They are going to have questions. Unfortunately in our quest to teach acceptance we don't allow questions. It is almost as if we are saying-"you can be different, we just won't talk about it" Is that acceptance? I don't think so. I think that we are missing an incredible teaching opportunity. Autism is nothing to be ashamed of. But, how can you say that-if you are not allowed to explain it.
For now I have to live with the limits that the word "different" seems encumbered with. There is so very much that we can learn from each other. Just looking at my curly headed flying boy, all that he is, all that he is becoming, how can we afford not to.