7 Quick Takes: News and Stuff

--1-- It's a newborn!

We received the call. Tomorrow we get to meet our newest foster baby. We don't know if he is a he or a she yet. His or her blog code name, to maintain his or her privacy, is going to be Wee Baby Eleven!

--2-- Fireworks!

For the first time in five years, Simon and I managed to sit through a fireworks display. Ever since he was two, he's experienced a sensory overload at the noise, the flashes, the excitement of the crowd. This year he happily sat on my lap through it all! He's growing up!

--3-- Camping

We had our first backyard camp out. Though we were fairly certain Simon would do well with the change in sleeping arrangements, we wanted to be close to home just in case he needed to bail. He was a trooper! He snuggled into his sleeping bag and fell right to sleep.

We had a stew with tortillas for dinner and s'mores for dessert. In the morning, quesadillas and hot cocoa were on tap. We sang around the campfire and roasted marshmallows. We played campfire games. We were typical family campers and loved it.

I highly recommend it.

--4-- Taking care

It is wonderful beyond wonder to see your little ones turn into people you could admire. My dad is out doing errands and each of my older and more responsible kids is taking turns sitting quietly with my mom to be at her beck and call. Because of her breathing problems, she can't get up and get a drink of water or fetch a book easily. When alone, when she wants something, she will oftentimes just do without. They are chatting her up, reading, watching a cartoon, fetching her remote, refilling the ice in her glass. Simple stuff, really, but very sweet. Nothing helps you grow in love than serving your beloved. That Nana of theirs is much beloved, indeed.

--5-- Are we experiencing Liberation Fatigue?

If you want a (relatively) concise Theology of the Body or are simply wondering what went wrong in the Sexual Revolution, this article is excellent. Take a gander.

DESIGNED FOR SEX

What We Lose When We Forget What Sex Is For

byJ. Budziszewski

Midnight. Shelly is getting herself drunk so that she can bring herself to go home with the strange man seated next to her at the bar.One o’clock.Steven is busy downloading pornographic images of children from Internet bulletin boards.Two o’clock.Marjorie, who used to spend every Friday night in bed with a different man, has been binging and purging since eleven.Three o’clock.Pablo stares through the darkness at the ceiling, wondering how to convince his girlfriend to have an abortion.Four o’clock.After partying all night, Jesse takes another man home, not mentioning that he tests positive for an incurable STD.Five o’clock.Lisa is in the bathroom, cutting herself delicately with a razor. This isn’t what my generation expected when it invented the sexual revolution. The game isn’t fun anymore. Even some of the diehard proponents of that enslaving liberation have begun to show signs of fatigue and confusion.

Read more:http://www.touchstonemag.com/archives/article.php?id=18-06-022-f#ixzz2YCWuatXf

--6-- Guardasil: If it doesn't do what it claims, what's it for? Profits?

Another article to look at

The Lead Vaccine Developer Comes Clean So She Can “Sleep At Night”: Gardasil And Cervarix Don’t Work, Are Dangerous, And Weren’t Tested

Author: Sarah Cain

LifeWise 

 

Dr. Diane Harper was the lead researcher in the development of the human papilloma virus vaccines, Gardasil and Cervarix. She is the latest to come forward and question the safety and effectiveness of these vaccines.

She made the surprising announcement at the 4th International Public Conference on Vaccination, which took place in Reston, Virginia on Oct. 2nd through 4th, 2009.

Her speech was supposed to promote the Gardasil and Cervarix vaccines, but she instead turned on her corporate bosses in a very public way. When questioned about the presentation, audience members remarked that they came away feeling that the vaccines should not be used.

“I came away from the talk with the perception that the risk of adverse side effects is so much greater than the risk of cervical cancer, I couldn’t help but question why we need the vaccine at all.”  – Joan Robinson

Dr. Harper explained in her presentation that the cervical cancer risk in the U.S. is already extremely low, and that vaccinations are unlikely to have any effect upon the rate of cervical cancer in the United States. In fact, 70% of all H.P.V. infections resolve themselves without treatment in a year, and the number rises to well over 90% in two years. Harper also mentioned the safety angle.

All trials of the vaccines were done on children aged 15 and above, despite them currently being marketed for 9-year-olds. So far, 15,037 girls have reported adverse side effects from Gardasil alone to the Vaccine Adverse Event Reporting System (V.A.E.R.S.), and this number only reflects parents who underwent the hurdles required for reporting adverse reactions.

At the time of writing, 44 girls are officially known to have died from these vaccines. The reported side effects include Guillian Barré Syndrome (paralysis lasting for years, or permanently — sometimes eventually causing suffocation), lupus, seizures, blood clots, and brain inflammation. Parents are usually not made aware of these risks.

Dr. Harper, the vaccine developer, claimed that she was speaking out, so that she might finally be able to sleep at night.

Read more: http://southweb.org/lifewise/the-lead-vaccine-developer-comes-clean-so-she-can-sleep-at-night-gardasil-and-cervarix-dont-work-are-dangerous-and-werent-tested/

--7-- Since you were wondering, here's how they made all those lovely colors in the sky last night...

Pure Chemistry

7 Quick Tips for Special Needs Parenting

My son's consultant teacher cut us loose this Thursday. We are currently expert-free for the first time since we received the diagnosis of Autism. Even before this momentous event, I'd been thinking a lot about the process our family went through to get diagnosed and the process that we went through afterwards. There's a book in there somewhere, I'm certain. Meanwhile, I'll be thinking out loud on the topic here on the blog.

--1--

Don't be scared, he's British!

For those of you new to this ballgame of "Special Needs," I'd like to say one thing: your whole family has changed, but don't panic! Although for the first few months you may react to those changes with the dread of the unknown, your family will change in the most normal way possible. Why? Because children change a family. That's what they do! They change it at every age and milestone, from the second line on the pregnancy test to the  newborn to the middle aged kiddo introducing you to your first great grandchild and beyond. We impact one another, we force adaptations upon all the others, and we make room. That's why we're family, after all.

Just take a moment and a deep breath every once in awhile and remember that change is not dreadful, it is proof positive that everything is going along just fine. If you don't believe me, imagine the horror of a family that doesn't adapt to a new family member or to a family member's newly discovered needs. As a foster mother who has seen the results of that type of family, my imagination doesn't have to go too far. A family that doesn't change with the needs of its members is not a functional family.

Change is normal. Change is hard. Change is mandatory.

If everything is changing on you, congratulations. All family systems are functioning.

And my condolences. I hate change, too. Every once in awhile I like to push the panic button and run around screaming, "What now!? What now?! Whatnowwhatnowwhatnow?!" just to see if I can convince God that I can't handle the situation.

He's not convinced.

--2-- 

Brace Yourself

Although most people are nice, I'm here to warn you: you'll never once spend a night smiling into the dark at how understanding that sweet little old lady was when your kid knocked over two boxes of cereal in the grocery aisle. Her, "Oh, don't worry, honey!" will not replay in your head as you struggle to think of anything else.

Even though most people are amazingly nice (in fact almost everyone is), you are going to need some armament and thick skin to deal with the very, very few who will act like jerks. You may run into one or two in a year, but you will remember each and every one of them in surprising detail.


Yes, your child has special needs and yes part of your calling will be to educate friends and family members and even certain members of your community about the needs and the normals of your child, but it is certainly not your job to educate every busybody who gives you unsolicited advice at the grocery store. Most people are kindly disposed to you and your child. Feel free to educate them all you want. I'm talking about dealing with jerks, people like the lady who said, in front of my son, that she'd rather die than be like him. Don't toss any pearls before the likes of these.

--3--

Why Are They Jerks?

Jerks will say things, knowingly and unknowingly, purposefully or accidentally, that will hurt you, your children, and your peace. Your main job is to shut down the interaction with jerks before any real damage is done. But first, you need to bolster yourself with some compassion for the jerk so you don't have to go to Confession afterwards.

Jerkiness Root Cause #1: Ignorance
Not every person is aware of the ins and outs of your child's special needs, so their response to a situation is merely their first reaction. They are busy trying to cope with what seems inexplicable and are truly trying to make sense of it all within a limited set of experiences. "This child just peed in the dog bowl. What kind of child pees in a doggy bowl? Brats? Oh, okay, this child is just being a brat!" It's the best they can do under pressure. Even though it will infuriate you to hear the little old lady muttering about "Kids today!" as you cope and deal with an embarrassing scene, you are going to have to find it in your heart to forgive her ignorance as you get the situation handled and your child away from her as is (super)humanly possible.

Jerkiness Root Cause #2: Fear
Some people react to disabilities with fear. Just like you and I fear the unknown, most everyone else does, too. Your child's disability looks like a Great Big Scary Possibility. They see you struggling and they fear, "What if I had to deal with a child who peed in my neighbor's doggy dish?" They want to distance themselves from what they fear. Most of the time, they do it verbally, "I would never want to live that way!"

Most jerks don't mean to be jerks. Some even mean well, but the longer they interact with you, the more harm they do you and yours in their blundering. You need to shut them down or get them away from you as quickly as possible.

Here's a bag of tricks...

--4--

Cultivate a Look

This'll freeze water. Cultivate this.

You will need to develop a look that says it all, "You've crossed the line/mind your business/how dare you/I have no idea what you just said to me but I'm sure if I even had the time to listen I wouldn't want to hear it anyway." Think Lady Violet. Practice it in the mirror. You don't even have to shoot it at anyone, just allow it to come across your face before you purposely school your features and grace your children with a smile. Most of the time, that is so impressive it will do all the work for you. They will leave you and your children alone. 

Sometimes, though, you get the stubborn jerks who are so self-esteemed they can't take a hint. For them you need heavier artillery.

--5--

The Verbal Shutdown

"Set phrases to stun."

Think about the worst case scenario for any public outing and then have a handful of responses to answer problem people. You'll likely already be flustered by the time the hissed, "Brat!" or "Freak!" comes flying at you, so it helps to have these responses on automatic. You can joke, "We're using the Spock and McCoy parenting method; all phasers on stun, kids!" You can wield the Politeness of Death (best used with a heavy Southern drawl and a hat), "I don't know what I'd do without your stellar insight into my personal matter! I just can't thank you enough!" Brutal honesty, "I'm at my wits' end at the moment. This chatter is distracting. Please move along." Or the kinder approach, "Please, excuse us. Sorry for your inconvenience." I tend to use that last one the most. It is the go-to phrase that works in almost every circumstance.

You already know what situations are likely to develop when you go out into public. For example, our family just might have to use the bathroom (we do that). When my son was six and potty training I was not about to let my nearly nonverbal Autistic son go into a public men's room alone, so I donned my patent pending Look before I ever set foot in the Ladies Room, and just in case that wasn't enough I was braced and ready to respond with, "If you have any complaints about our using the restroom, ma'am, the manager's office is at the back of the store." 

P.S. He's 7 now. Remember that business of families having to change? Well, by his birthday we had already scoped out those stores with a Family Bathroom and now we make sure to exclusively go there.

--6--

Train Up a Babysitter

You need one. You have to be able to do things. Train up willing family members first, then train a few willing and responsible young people, and if you are really lucky, make friends with other families with the same special needs as yours. At any rate, if you are training family members or paid babysitters, the process is the same and I describe it here. It was expensive to train up my babysitters and it is expensive to use them, especially if you are at the stage of needing two sitters, one for your child with special needs and one to watch the other children in your home. That's part of your family's "normal" and that brings up the final take on special needs parenting...

--7--

Social Settings

When I envision Hell...

Whether it is dealing with gear, packing medications, or potential exposure to allergens, socializing is going to be one of those ways your normal is going to look different from other people's normal. I know that it is a much bigger deal for me to take all my kids out in public than it is for friends with even bigger families than ours. I have an attack plan and backup contingencies and at least twice the time allotted for the job. I have stores and restaurants I can not take my son into (yet) because of the noise levels. Our whole family can not go to a movie (yet). We're working on it. We went to Daily Mass for a year before we were able to finally sit through a Mass en masse.

When I say "we're working on it" I mean that we're still practicing. I highly recommend training yourself and your children how to do something so that you know how to do it. That works for everything, even shopping and going to public restrooms. Practice going to the store just to buy gum. Practice visiting a friend and stay five minutes. Practice makes perfect. Don't tell my kids, but we actually practice going places with no agenda other than making it out alive. Some weekends there's no real reason to pile into the van and hit the pet store other than we want to go someplace, be successful at it, and come home with the reward of a $5 bag of pretty new fish. If it doesn't work out well, we just leave. No big deal. The fish will still be there next week.

Because Autism is in big part a series of deficits in social skills I have to keep a closer eye on my children at any social gathering. Unless my husband is with me and we're tag teaming, while attending a function I'm not talking with anyone for long, and I'm not relaxing. If I look relaxed it's because I'm working very hard to look relaxed. I relax at home, where the variables and potential problems are more familiar.

Feel free to hang out with me there anytime.

Finally

I hope I haven't scared you at all. This is actually fun, this whole parenting thing. I can't imagine what else I'd do with my day and my God-given talents, can you? Life without meaning is meaningless and with your faith and with each child, we have that meaning. With special needs, you have even more.

Here at the end, I'm going to give you my most important piece of advice. This is the one that gives you the perspective on all the joys, trials, tribulations, laughs, and loves of your day to day life as a special needs mom: your job is to ensure each of your children is ready for eternal life. Though you may worry about college, The Future, next week's trip to the Pediatrician, remember Heaven first; everything else is details. This disability your dealing with? It's all part of the package. You, your children, your spouse are all that much closer to Heaven each time you smile and find some humor in your day to day life. You may not know this yet, but as extraordinary as the details might get, every life is ordinary. God loves the ordinary as much as he loves the color blue; He made tons of it. Relax as the "new normal" takes shape around you and remember that it is in the routines of your everyday life that you will find your treasures for Heaven.

Family life was so special, He reserved over 30 years of it to enjoy for Himself. Don't forget to enjoy yours.

Love your kids. Love your life. This is what it is all about. If you've been given a child with special needs, it's only because God wants to turn you into a special parent. Brace yourself. It's about to get awesome.

---------------------------------------------------------------

How does one become involved in Satanism?

And how does God get you out of it again? Tune in to tonight's Podcast and find out as we interview a convert from Satanism. 9 p.m. Eastern (8 p.m. Central)

(click here to listen in tonight)

Our speaker will be featured at the Spiritual Warfare Conference in Ontario, California, May 3, 4, 5. Click here for details.

Chaos and Learning

School is canceled today. What fun! What chaos! Chaos is fun!

Well, not really, but I'm doing my best to tolerate it with good will and patience. We all are. We're replacing our windows today. Every room has been thrown into disorder as we've had to pull furniture away from the walls to make room for the guys doing the work. The winds are up and it is below freezing outside, too. Dust and cold are blowing in every time a window comes out. It's a real mess.

No kid likes to have chaos in his home, kids with Autism especially so. Simon's doing great. They are all doing great. The noise level is awful, what with the banging and clanging and whirring of various tools and the accompaniment of squeals from over-excited siblings.

At first Simon was giving voice to his characteristic Howl, the noise that says, "I've had enough! I'm drowning everything out until somebody fixes everything!" I had my back-up plan ready, bailing on the situation and taking him out of the maelstrom of noise and confusion to the relative peace and quiet of my mothers'. But first we had to get some stuff squared away and during the delay I noticed he was quieting. Soon his curiosity got the better of him and he began to watch the workers.

The distress soon settled into an intermittent pattern. Now, he's pacing and distracted, but he's coping. I'm proud of him. It may seem strange, but I have changed my mind about rescuing him.

Here's why: we all must learn. We learn best at the edge between the known and the unknown, between comfort and discomfort. Since my son has to learn to deal with a world that distresses him, I have for him today a mild distress for him to cut his teeth on.

If or when his tolerance and patience wanes, we'll clear out, but I don't see it happening any time soon. Whatever else happens, he is going to have a big, fat reward waiting for him at the end of it all. I'm thinking spaghetti for dinner, jumping on his trampoline, and a nice long bath are in store. Stress relief and an "atta boy" for my guy who's putting up with more than we can imagine and doing just fine.

7 Quick Takes

--1--

I love history. I love novels. Historical fiction is a joy for me if the writing and the history are done well. Anachronisms drive me batty. I can’t say that they are entirely possible to avoid. Our modern viewpoint is bound to intrude here and there, but blatantly compromising history through ignorance or through marketing considerations causes books to become airborne around here.

Post Sexual Revolution mores stand out like beacons of silliness in the Fourteenth Century. In the real history of the actual people referenced in a book I chanced upon, the consequences for their moral choice was banishment from the kingdom. In the novel that was glossed over as if it were of no consequence. Can you imagine years of your life cut off from your friends and family and homeland as no big deal? Me, neither.

Novel tossed.

(And no, I'm not giving free publicity to it by mentioning it by name.)

--2--

My mother is out of the hospital and felt well enough to come by to see the grandkids Friday. Walking is now a part of her must do list. If you’re wondering why she was in the hospital, she unknowingly had pneumonia. If you’re wondering how she could not know she had pneumonia, she has Cystic Fibrosis. If you’re wondering what Cystic Fibrosis is, click the word. If you’re wondering how she can have that disease and be in her 70s, you’re not the only one. She’s a medical astonishment, but she’s better now.

--3--

First World Announcement

Whoo! Whoo!

Celebrate good times!

We now have bathrooms! (Note: plural s on the direct object!) That’s right, we’re a two potty party over here! The second bathroom is finished except for the painting. I’d say the lines to use the bathroom are reduced at our house, but since all the kids want to exclusively use the new toilet, everyone is still waiting and whining outside one bathroom door. If you come over for a visit, use the bathroom at the back. No lines. No waiting.

--4--

Large Family Announcement

Whoo! Whooer! Whooest!

Celebrate even better times!

At 7:45 February 12, 2013, all the laundry at my house was done. All of it. I had to make a note of that somewhere. The last time this happened my washing machine was broken and I ran all 15 loads simultaneously at the laundry mat.

Please note that the date is actually from last Tuesday. We had a slew of bed wetting that very night and throughout the next week, so I was so busy washing bedding and blankets last Friday that I totally forgot to make this announcement in last week’s Quick Takes. Those of you who have families of 3 or more kids totally understand why the accomplishment bears announcement even when evidence of it did not last a full 24 hours.

I did it. I folded it. I put it away. All of it.

--5--

Speaking of folding laundry, I was calculating how many times I’ve been through the entire Bible the other day. I’m on my fourth time through, not counting Daily Masses. If the first sentence doesn’t make sense to you, folding a pile of laundry bigger than your head is mind-numbingly stimulating: you will think of anything to keep yourself mentally occupied. If the second sentence doesn’t make sense, you have to know that the Catholics hear the entire Bible in Sunday Mass every three years (it only takes one year for Daily Mass attendees), so I figured out how many times I’d heard the Bible since I’d converted. I counted up the years, then divided by three.

How many times have you been through the Bible? Anyone actually sat and read  through the whole thing? If you don’t count the Epistles, the book of Numbers, Leviticus, and Matthew 1, I’ve read it all the way through, too!

--6--

If you haven’t read this yet, read this. It will help you when you are thinking that you’re the only one who feels this way. All my friends who have children reacted to this piece with a “That’s me!” reaction. All of my friends who have children with special needs reacted the exact same way.

Which brings me to this point I’ve made before: parenting children with special needs is not a different kind of parenting, it’s just more intense. We’re doing exactly what good parents do for children, we are just having to do it longer or harder for this child than that one. Parenting is parenting and children are children. We don’t stop being human just because our bodies or our minds work quirky.

Here We Are
by Simcha Fisher

--7--

On a related note, here’s a story poem that someone shared with my husband and me shortly after we received the news that our son likely had Autism. It helped.

Welcome to Holland

by Emily Perl Kingsley

To view this poem, click here...

7 Quick Takes

1 

Worth it

My son has trouble communicating. That's his quirk. We have him so attuned to social interaction that he is able to express and read emotions fairly well now (I'd give him a A+ for expressing emotion, C- for reading them), so we've come a long way. A lOOOOooooong, long, long, long way. If you looked at him, you'd never know he was Autistic. You'd think he was quiet. Abnormally quiet. Now speech is the next big hurdle. I've resisted sign language because it made communication too easy: he stopped trying to talk. I've resisted the picto-card technique, too, because he hated it and I could see his point. We all knew he wanted a cookie; he was communicating that perfectly well; what he communicated even better was, "Why are you making me look stupid by handing you a card for what you already know I want?" We've found a way around the cards: the iPad. We bought an app that does the very same thing as the picture cards. Now, he gets to use the iPad, gets to communicate, and he gets to be cool. Priceless.

2 

Why Write about Autism?

I have to address this because I have been asked by someone genuinely concerned for my boy: "Why do you write about your son's Autism?"

For the record, this is why:
Because it's our "normal." It's what we do. This is a family blog and this is our family. Autism is not a dirty little secret here; it's our day to day. Like I struggle with a temper and procrastination, my son struggles with communication. It's what he works with. It's what he has to overcome. Having a label for his struggle and the enormity of what he would struggle against makes the struggle a little different, but it doesn't make him any different. We all struggle with something. We all have our quirks. This is his.

3

Another explanation

I'm going to offend again by comparing Autism to something as trivial as temper. Here's my explanation: my son will overcome this in his way and in his time with diligence and hard work. It will always be there to work around, to strive against. This is his challenge, like my daily battles with a bad temper is mine. His is more heroic than mine, for certain, but he is no different than any of us in having a quirk. It is a matter of degree. It is in the struggle that he will be made a man, just as you and I were made into who we are by ours. In all truth, my character couldn't have battled what he has already won. He's just made of better stuff than I, so he was matched with a stronger foe. Get it?

4

Like Lightning

I was reluctant to "do school" with my Simon yesterday. He was doing so well on his iPad assignments and was in such a good mood that wrestling over the paper and pencil variety of work seemed above my pay grade when I was still feeling bad with this bug. I cornered him with it at breakfast this morning instead.

"Point out all the upper case Qs," I demanded in the most conciliatory and hopeful tone imaginable.

Simon barely glanced at the page, then BAM! His hand hit the page. He's done this sort of thing before, and I always thought it was a dismissive gesture, a "get this work away from me" type of thing, but today he'd been eating blueberries. On the page, next to only capital Qs, were four little purple fingerprints.

"Uh," I said, thinking impossible thoughts. "Point out all the lower case Qs, please?"

BAM! Four more fingerprints in all the right places.

He met my eyes for a split second and smirked at me. His look saying, "Bring it on, Momma."

In less than 10 seconds his work was done. He was back to his blueberries, his brother and sisters were impressed, and his mother was rethinking all those battles over papers. He'd been answering my questions all along, and I'd missed it.

Time to move on to things bigger and better. Oh, I'm bringing it, kiddo. This time, I'm bringing an ink pad!

5

Are We There Yet?

I've noticed that most of the time, I find myself at a loss for number 5 in my Quick Takes. It seems to be my  transition number. It's like getting to the halfway point in a grueling job, where the end is not quite in sight and the idea of the effort it will take to finish the work is almost enough to finish you off. That's the point that this number 5 leaves me. I'm always hoping to be done right about here.

6 

It's All About Trust

If I ever would make up a list of my spiritual deficits, a lack of trust in God would be at the very top. I am a worrier. I fret over decisions and outcomes as if my life depended on getting every detail right. I behave as if I am in control and I know best, but I know full well that I am not and do not. Hence all the worrying. At any rate, now that this has been brought repeatedly to my attention, I have been making a concerted effort lately to trust that God knows what He is doing, that He will provide the skills and stamina for whatever the daily trials shall be. You'd think this would be easy by now. "Trust Him," has been my mantra of late.

7

Finally, A Holy Spirit Moment

One of the many benefits of the retreat is coming away with a spiritual director. One of the priests who came to the retreat sendoff had been my regular confessor for several months before his being assigned to a larger and more distant parish. He was the one person I thought of whenever the wistful hope of having a spiritual director crossed my mind. "He's too busy" or "He's too far away" and "I'm too shy to ask for such a thing" were the thoughts that followed quickly on the heels of that hope. But this time the surprise at seeing him gave me the audacity to ask, all the while verbally hand feeding him the excuses he'd need to refuse politely; I prefaced my request with phrases such as, "I know you're too busy for such a thing" and "You are so far away now, it would be very difficult to manage." His response? "I can only answer as directed by the Holy Spirit," he said as he accepted. He then gave me a prayer to discipline myself to, exhorting me to pray it regularly and completely...

As you may have guessed, inspired by the Holy Spirit as he was, this was the prayer he gave me (minus the prayer card)...

_____________

Thanks to Jennifer Fulwiler, a fellow Texan, for hosting

7 Quick Takes Friday 

over at Conversion Diary.com

7 Quick Takes

1 Bribery: Because It Works!
The only good thing I have to say about being sick for three days is that I come to fully understand how much the family needs me. Today I had to dig out from under. My kids were so good about getting their rooms back under control, I rewarded them with a bribe. That's to ensure it happens again. Some families don't like bribes for good behavior. I believe in them only on a rare, sporadic, and whimsical basis. Life itself acts like that. I don't get a reward, nor do I expect a reward every time I behave the way I'm supposed to, but every once in awhile and for no good reason, something happens that makes me happier to be of service. It may be a stranger at a store walking up to tell me my children are well behaved or even my husband washing the evening dishes just because. A piece of candy acts in much the same way for my little guys. It's not because I want them trained like Pavlov's dogs, it's because every once in awhile I want them to know how much I appreciate their efforts overall. The candy is my way of saying, "I notice. You do good!" just like the random remarks from strangers are candy to me.

2 Blowing It
We had such a great morning that, being human, I blew it by midafternoon. Problem was, I was too ambitious with my time. My youngest son had been naughty and needed a time out, but he was smart enough to read the situation and was sneaking out of his time out when I became distracted in lunch dishes, dinner prep, yogurt culturing, and mozzarella curdling. By the end of this critical half hour, my son and I were both yelling. I recognized my error, admitted I blew it, called myself a few choice names in my head and then shut myself down. I gave my son my entire attention for the entire timeout and that solved that. Then I turned my attention to the various other curdling processes. One thing at a time worked out much better. Nothing was ruined, including the day. Fretting over cheese and yogurt doesn't make it turn out any better or worse. Yelling, however, can ruin things quick.

3 Ora et Labora. Prayer at work.
Before I moved on with the afternoon I determined I had to get some ora into my labora (I'm such a Benedictine). I was so distracted however that trying to pray on my own wasn't working out, so I went here and recited the Rosary along with 124 other people in the world. By the time the first decade of contemplating Jesus' Baptism was completed, I had the mozzarella draining in the sink and the culture introduced to the yogurt. By the end of the second decade of contemplating the miracle at the wedding at Cana, I had a daughter praying with me and the kitchen was slowing emerging from under my pots and pans. By the end of the entire prayer all of my children had wandered in to join us and I was able to start working on supper. It was a truly beautiful moment. Much more peaceful than the whole yelling business. Sometimes God gives us candy, too.

4 The Fancy Transition
I love the tangents these 7 Quick Takes take. I'm about ready to launch into something totally different. If this were an essay, I'd need some fancy transition right about here.

5 The Light!
With the advent of the idea of raising "resilient children" I can see an end to the self-esteem tyranny. The focus is finally shifting from the self-centered belly button gazing foolishness of "Oh, Myself, how do I esteem Thee? Let me count the ways!" to a more realistic approach of raising children so that they have actual life skills to bring to bear in life's actual adversity. Nothing is worse than raising a human person unable to function in a human world and we may have raised an entire generation that way.

6 It *bleeping* Does, Too!
Speaking of nonsense, my oldest boy was born smack in the middle of the era of all that Self-Esteeming. In the toddler room of our church, nearly nine years ago, I was changing a particularly ripe diaper. Speaking baby talk on the topic at hand (or on my hand, rather) I made the baby laugh by saying such witticisms as, "Oh you're a stinky boy! Oh yes you are! Just a smelly welly bunny!" and "What's your momma feeding you, huh? She should know better! Oh yes, indeed, little mister!" Just the typical nonsense of the sleep deprived. I wasn't alert enough to come up with a better topic to discuss with my 3 month old, but he wasn't smart enough yet to figure that out, so we were good. Except we weren't. We were overheard. I immediately got a polite dressing down from a well informed proponent of Self Esteem. She simply had to help me and my son, you see. I was damaging his ego and may not have been aware enough to understand that by implying that his poop wasn't a delight to the senses, I was stifling his creativity.

Oh yes, indeed.

I was tired enough to hear her out but I was also tired enough to respond.

"So...I'm supposed to raise him to believe his $#!% doesn't stink?" 

End of conversation. No need to pull out my credentials or compare philosophies. We were done.

My mother still delights in this story. She told it until my son was old enough to laugh about it with us. She cleaned it up a bit, and I must say, the story is much funnier when she bleeps herself.

7 I Will Share It, But Quietly and at the End
It's too big for a blog post, too much for comment. I have savored it for weeks. Words can not ever tell. My son who so rarely crafts in words, the one who told me in every other way first, stated simply and without fanfare, "I love you."

Sometimes, if God makes you wait, it is because
He is growing the treasures He wants to give.

Thanks to Jennifer Fulwiler, a fellow Texan, for hosting

7 Quick Takes Friday 

over at Conversion Diary.com

Autism Awareness Month: Discipline

There's a saying in the Autism Community that goes like this, "When you meet one child with Autism, you've met one child with Autism." Each child with Autism is as different from each other child with Autism as any child is different from any other. Autism is a weird thing. Nobody really can define it more than the amorphous "deficits in social interaction and communication" which could mean a whole lot of things.

And does, actually.

That said, I am still introducing you to my son with Autism and our family's various strategies for dealing with it. You won't be any closer to understanding any other child or family working under this burden, but my son and my family have made me look at certain aspects of life and parenting in such a way that I sometimes kick out a gem or two.

There's nothing quite like struggling with an issue to give you new insights on it, is all I'm saying here.

That's all I'm saying all month, too. I'm no expert on Autism, but I am an expert on my son with Autism. And figuring out what worked with him sometimes helps me figure out how we all work, you know?

Discipline: Why Bother?

When my son was three, we started to see the beginnings of outright naughtiness and decided we'd better begin addressing them. Now, we're not talking about behaviors like the sensory stuff of unrolling the entire roll of toilet paper because he liked to see things spin, or the innocent misbehavior of an immature child like eating the entire contents of the jelly jar left on the counter. What we were beginning to see were the birth pangs of the more dubious of social skills: revenge and orneriness.

Because he wouldn't complain, tattling being a language skill he couldn't muster at that age beyond howling in outrage, his siblings sometimes took self-centered and childish advantage of the situation, akin to Enron and their investors. We had to be smart enough to figure out any given situation via discussions among devious preschoolers, a toddler or two, and one outraged little fella with social deficits. I have to admit that sometimes they outsmarted us adults and Simon literally learned to take matters into his own hands--by pinching. His memory proved better than the average preschooler. He'd pinch at seemingly random intervals, but his justification was sometimes days old. (We knew this by various means and subtleties too intricate to express in this post.)

Other times, he'd act up for no good reason. He's human, after all, not angelic, and he occasionally asserts his prerogative to be a little stinker. (If you don't think this is perfectly human, you don't know enough humans, please allow me to introduce myself.) I guess you could chalk up some of this kind of behavior to "testing his boundaries," which is a more noble way of labeling orneriness, but this is my blog and I like the word stinker better. It makes my boy giggle.

 Whatever you want to call it, these new behaviors were greeted with mixed emotions. We were guiltily thrilled to acknowledge that another stage in social development had been reached while at the same time plotting feverishly to stop it. Prior to this development he'd whine or cry and then simply extricate himself from stressful situations. Now he was showing some spunk that could both ward off trouble and bring it on. Something had to be done.

At first we were stymied by the thought, "What if he doesn't understand?" It can be hard to communicate with a person with communication deficits. What if we couldn't get him to buy into the disciplining process? As silly as this sounds, we consulted a discipline expert: this guy. We read his discipline books and then we stalked sought him out at a conference. He put it into terms that permanently solved that:

"Do you expect your dog to obey you?"

My husband and I nodded blankly.

"Do you need your dog to understand why you don't want him on the couch or do you just insist he stay off?"

I think I blinked a few times.

"You don't need understanding or buy in. Just set the rules, set age appropriate consequences and rewards, and teach your son how people behave."

Then he moved in his seat, pointed at us both, and lowered his voice. Everything about him said, Listen up! "Don't handicap him by allowing him to be a brat. He has enough of a handicap to deal with already. Teach him!"

It was the first time we'd ever considered that growing up to be an undisciplined person was an additional handicap we could inflict upon our son! Now what were we going to do!

Dr. Ray Guarendi
Psychologist, Author, Speaker,
and Father of 10
Wait...did you just call my kid a dog?!

Next week...what we did!

Autism Awareness: A Special Needs App to Consider

Dexteria from www.A4CWSN.com on Vimeo.

Fine motor skills are lagging in my Autistic son. When holding a pencil or crayon most of his concentration and effort is spent taming the instrument. We made an end run around this temporary physical limitation (he is gaining skills daily) by purchasing an iPad to facilitate his use of our preschool and Kindergarten curriculum.

Since he is a few years behind in dexterity but a smart little cookie in so many other ways, we thought it best to invest in a "pencil and paper" that he could use now. He continues working with the pens, pencils, crayons and paintbrushes, of course, but in order to learn new skills we ease the struggle so he can wrestle with his academics instead of his own body.

Here's a company I think you should be aware of if you have or are working with special needs.

The gift of remorse

February is Autism Awareness Month so you'll be seeing a lot more posts about working with and around it at our house. I'm jumping the gun by posting this, but I was too happy to wait.

Monday, my 6 year old son showed remorse. It was the first unmistakable, undeniable, and unself-centered sign of remorse ever. He had broken his brother's beloved pop gun. With his brother crying in the background, I showed my Autistic son the broken pieces of the toy and said, "You broke this pop gun. John is crying because you broke his pop gun." He'd been smiling nervously, responding to the tension of the moment, but then his face changed. Tears welled up and his eyes darted to the room his brother was in. He touched the pop gun and then looked away. I seized the moment, drinking in the fact that here and now he was sorry. "Simon, you can fix this. Go hug John to say sorry."

My son John was surprised by both the tears in Simon's eyes and the hug. He stopped crying instantly. He's well versed in Autism and knows that the self-centeredness of his brother is not intentional, even if it can be hard to live with at times. Even though his all-time-favorite toy of the moment was gone, in moments he was smiling and proud of his brother being sorry for it. Of course it helped that I promised to replace the toy the first chance I got. The problem wasn't as large, the hurt wasn't as powerful now that Simon had showed he suffered over it, too.

Autism always gets me thinking. Forgiveness does not require remorse on the part of the forgiven, but it sure does help. When the wrong doer doesn't take up his own cross of remorse, we have to bear it with the thought that the person who should be sorry isn't. That makes the hurt a little bigger, sometimes a whole lot bigger.

I know that this is obvious. I know that you already know this, but some insights into ordinary things are bigger in real life. We get used to remorse in those who wrong us. We forget that it is a gift, that it is, in fact, optional. I am going to try to remember this the next time someone is sorry at me. I want to be thankful for it and not just expecting it.

Like my sons, I can learn.

Accept an apology like a gift...thankfully and politely

My Son Has a Super Power

You simply have to read this post by the Attack of the Redneck Mommy blogger. Her son has a super power: invisibility. He is disabled. His disability is visible, so he is unseen.

I want to drag into the glare of honest criticism as a mom of a special gift like my son a few points.

1- You can use any excuse to laugh or rail at the disabled. The more shallow of you use the fact that the child's looks or sounds or drools makes you exempt from being decent. The more subtle of you use the fact that mommy is an annoying Republican as your excuse. When you laugh at the Trig jokes, mothers like me hold our children a little closer. We are protecting them from the likes of you because we know how easy it is to delete the word "Republican" from your excuse and insert any other word--for me it might be "Catholic" or "blogger" or even just "annoying." Once you cross the line of decency, it's crossed. It isn't funny. Not even when the mommy is.

(You may want to brace yourself for this one, folks. It's a hard truth.)
2 - It has always been a capital crime in our societies to be disabled in some way. We used to expose our special children. Our more modern and enlightened evolutionary impulses insist we abort them before they are born. We who have given our special children a stay of execution for various reasons (for some, yes, it was a mere matter of timing) know, deep inside, that the world is appalled at us. Your laughter stirs a fear in us mothers that is directly related to this unacknowledged knowledge.

3 - My son is singing the Kyrie in this moment. In this very moment when I am very near tears at the heartlessness of the world toward him, he sings in Latin, "Christ have mercy. Lord have mercy." It is one of many reasons he is such an incredible gift to me and to you, ugly world. My son who will always struggle, who is the ultimate outsider, who is such a gift, he gives me hope for you and yours.

From The Attack of the Redneck Mommy (go thou hence and read)

My son has a superpower.

He is invisible.

Most disabled people are, you know

They are born with it, alongside twisted limbs or broken minds.

My son, he can’t walk, or talk, or eat

He can’t hear and he will never fly. But

He is invisible.

You may not have seen him. But he saw you

He smiled at you. A smile

Bright as a ray of light shining through a cracked window.

He looked at you.

Hoping you would see past the invisibility tattooed on his skin, cloaked around his wheelchair.

He stood beside his siblings

His cousin and he smiled. For you.

You didn’t see him.

Or you wouldn’t see him.

Was it the drool on the side of his mouth which

scared you off?

Was it the twisted way he held his hands?

Or the way his head flops slightly to the left?

He smiled still

As you overlooked him, tossing pieces of candy into the bags

Other children held out.

His bag, empty

Invisible.

He smiled still as his aunt explained why he sat at the bottom of your stairs.

“His legs don’t work.”

He smiled when you refused eye contact with him and handed a piece of candy to me to give to him.

Refusing to touch him.

Refusing to come out of your warm bright homes to see him.

My invisible monkey boy, he smiled for you.

I stood beside him, willing you to see him

Wanting my pride, my love for him to be a beacon for your eyes.

Wishing for your eyes to land on him and see his value.

To see him.

For him not to be invisible.

House after house

We tried.

Door after door, princesses, vampires, Spidermans

 they all wished they had super powers as they begged for treats

My boy,

he tricked them all.

He still smiled

even when you didn’t see him,

couldn’t see him,

wouldn’t see him.

Everybody should have a superpower.

Nobody should be invisible.

If I could pick a power

I’d use it to shine the light on every person with disabilities,

I’d make you see.

My son. He is NOT

Invisible.

I see you, kid.

You might also like:

A Life Worth Living

Mommy

Into the Silence

Autism Awareness Month--What We Know

When you have a special needs child, all of the normal temptations and fears of parenting aren't any different, they are simply exaggerated. I think that may be why those of you without a special needs child find a resonance when you read about parenting a child with them. You can put yourself in my shoes because you are in them. The feelings you experience may be more fleeting than mine, but the same tasks face us both--we're both in the business of helping people become people. My child is not so different than yours, he's just...well...different.

In short, my son may not make me a better parent, but he does make me a better observer of my parenting. So let me share with you an on-going insight:

Celebrate your victories!
Don't complicate them.

Just be happy.

What matters is that a developmental goal has been met, not that it is late, not that it has fallen short of the stellar level you expected. It matters that the skill is now your child's to own, not that it is complicated by your longing for more. In fact, the struggle to attain this victory or even to recognize it has made a stronger person of you both.


So, try to remember the wonder of it all as you wander along. Each child has a path to travel, marked by milestones along the way. Some are reached after a long and determined slogging.  Some are swept past effortlessly. At any rate you travel, it's the traveling itself that makes the change.

Feel free to dance on the journey. 

How to train your babysitter...special needs edition...

The Amazing Martinis!

At one point in my mommy career I had children aged like a countdown: 5, 4, 3, 2, 1. It only lasted for a month, but during that month I often thought, "Blast off!" when I looked at the lot of them. Imagine how a babysitter might feel: five children, five and under, one with autism (cue Springsteen's "Baby I Was Born to Run"). When even The Mommy can get overwhelmed, just imagine the horrors an imaginative teen could concoct at first sight of them. "Uh, Mrs. Martin, I was like, '$5 an hour,' right? But that was, like, per child, okay?"

I've never daunted a babysitter. Instead, I've trained them. Since my family needed more from the average sitter, I trained above-average sitters. I've done it over a period of 5 years now, and I thought I'd better share the process because it evolved hit and miss with the help of great sitters and good friends. The ideas came from necessity and we happened on what works. I know that it's going to sound like I'm made of money. I'm not. We're on one income, remember. We just have made this a significant part of budgeting for events. I don't go out much, but whenever I do, I know I'm covered on the homefront. That's priceless!

First step: CPR/First Aid Certification

Whenever we have foster children, our babysitters are required to have CPR and First Aid Certification. This is such a good idea that we Martins have required it even during the few months in the last six years that we've not been fostering.

I made this an easy requirement by calling the American Heart Association and finding an instructor who could come to us, then advertising by word of mouth that it was being offered. The kids who want to babysit for us on a regular basis invest in their skills as a sitter before they even step foot in the door. At the very least, this requirement will weed out the sitters who are more interested in your money than in doing their job.

Second step: On the Job Training

This actually evolved out of necessity: I had some projects that needed doing that I couldn't do well without a little help watching the kids. It turned out so well, I've been doing it ever since.

I have the babysitter come over to babysit when I am home. I pay the sitter half wages for On the Job Training (OJT). The sitter comes over, learns the routines that are vital to the good behavior of my son with autism and my other children, too, and I am there to coach, tweak, and guide the process. If I envision an evening event, the OJT takes place late enough to include the bedtime routine. If I've got to leave on a Tuesday, I have the sitter come learn how to "do Tuesday." It may seem strange to pay a sitter when you are home, but I consider it an investment. I can not tell you how vital this step is. Not only does the sitter learns where you keep everything and how the kids are expected to behave, all the kids benefit from the smooth continuation of their routine. The babysitters are more competent and more confident when the time comes to solo. Plus, the money is good! There's the reward of the money of babysitting without the trials and confusion that babysitting alone can bring!

Third Step: Sometimes, It Takes Two

During certain developmental phases (the quietly-disappearing phase, the I'm-going-to-the-park-alone phase, the meltdown-at-random-intervals phase), I have hired one sitter for my son with autism and then another sitter for the rest of the children. It costs double, but we build it into the budget and if it means a peanut butter and jelly sandwich main course on Friday (or on several Fridays), so be it.

Fourth Step: Back up!

When we confer our Parental Authority Badge, it is conferred. We do not undo it when we get home. If the babysitter has given a time-out, we don't let our children complain about it. We back up the babysitter with statements like, "Did you tell Hannah you were sorry for not obeying her?" or "Oh no! Weren't you embarrassed to be naughty in front of Clara?" Our kids know that if the babysitter has sentenced anyone to a time out or restricted the use of a toy or removed  popsicle privileges, mommy and daddy are following through when we get home. So far we've not run into much in the way of overzealousness or other authority problems on the babysitter's part, and any tweaking that needs to be done is handled privately with the sitter, out of earshot of the kids.


Well, then...
That's about it. Four steps and a couple of months of training and you have yourself a few babysitters who are ready for just about anything your family can dish out. Start with quality kids--I prefer the children of large families because of the experience they bring--and help them learn the ropes. Two of my best sitters have gone one to volunteer at an equestrian center for special needs kids because they've learned that kids are kids, no matter what the labels say.

Victory from the jaws of judgement

When I went into town the other day, only two kids wanted to go: Simon and Anna. "Great," thought I, "a quick trip to the library and then Adoration!" How convenient to only have two to tango with, and it'll give me some time to treat them both super special.

 The next thing I know, I'm staring a meltdown in the squinty, tearfilled eye. I'm also staring up at a counter of disapproving librarians. It looked, remarkably, a bit like this...


Except there were three of them.



Can I tell you it was awful? How about if I share that I looked up at them and then broke out into a sweat of shame and guilt. I knew I had done everything right. I had set clear limits. I had rewarded the bits of good behavior he had displayed. I had put him in time out even. Despite my best efforts, everything had suddenly and completely failed. I had failed. Worse still, I had failed him. They were staring that way at my son.

In that instant, I wished for a T-shirt that said, "Don't look now...it's Autism!" I was willing for them to dismiss and excuse my son with a handy label. Anything to get us out from under such hostility and the glare of their judgemental eyes! I wished for a brief second of silence so I could squeeze the words, "He's really never like this" into that space between the howls. (Really, he isn't.) I wanted so desperately to shield him from what I read on their faces. If only I could have left the library at the first sign of trouble! Shortly, he did quiet enough to stand up again, at my urging, and make his way out to the sanctuary of our van.

Later that evening, on my mind's instant replay, I would realize that he had responded to their glares. He went from blind howling to desperate sobbing at about the same instant that I broke out in my cold sweat. He actually felt the social pressure to conform and quieted a bit. Granted there was a ton of that pressure and also granted there is no way of knowing if he was responding to the librarians or to my reaction to the librarians. Either way, that was "good" news. It shed a light of victory over the incident. In fact, I wouldn't have had it happen any other way, and yes, I will return to that exact library again. If only to show them that we DO know how to act in public.

The bad news is that he was sick. Later the next day he started throwing up and the next day, the doctor diagnosed a strep infection. So I'm writing this in his defence, just in case anybody who witnessed his meltdown is listening. He wasn't being a bad boy. He wasn't even being Autistic. He was sick, feeling horrible, and had no other way to express it.

And like a miracle, he saw his actions were causing a reaction, so he modified his behavior. Good job, son!