Hazy Shade Of Winter

Last Sunday, I finally broke.

It was about 8:45am and I was leaving for work.  Gerry was in the car with me.

We only had a couple of inches of snow fall the night before which in the grand scheme of all things winter wasn’t a lot. Tim had shoveled the driveway at midnight so it was clear.

The plows, however, had come through early that morning and created a crusty, slushy pile about three inches tall right along the edge of the driveway.

Just the perfect consistency for me to get my car stuck.

I haven’t been stuck in snow in my car in years.  I grew up in Vermont.  I got my driver’s license in the dead of winter and have been in every possible bad weather driving environment.  The last time I was stuck was high school maybe?  College?

I rocked the car back and forth to get it free, shifting to reverse and first gear like I was taught.  Still stuck.  I got out and shoveled around the tires and tried again.  My tires sank deeper into the muck of sand, snow and ice.

I got out of the car and went into the house. I was choking back tears at this point.

“I’m stuck,” I said to Tim.  “I need your help.”

Tim came out and shoveled around the car.  He did the shifting gears thing to rock the car and shoveled some more.  The wheels spun and finally broke through. I hopped back into the car and with Tim out in the road giving me the all clear, I pulled out from between the seven foot snowbanks that line our driveway and sped off to work.

“Are you okay, Mom?” Gerry asked.

“Yes,” my voice breaking a bit.  “I’m just running late now.”

“You know this is the first winter when I’m really tired of it,” Gerry said. “This is a lot to deal with.”

“It sure is, kiddo.  I’m done too.”

I’ve lived in New England my whole life and I have never experienced a winter like this.  I’ve spent the last four weeks watching my mailbox disappear.  My view of our road out our bay window is now obstructed by snowbank taller than Rob Gronkowski. My usual “hey it’s winter we will make it through” attitude has been replaced with anxiety, claustrophobia and complete weariness over what will come next.

At first it was ok.  Fun even.  A blizzard!  How exciting.  We watched the weather forecasts and marveled over the drops in pressure.  My human barometer ran laps inside the house as I watched the snow maps for our area change color to show a potential two feet of snow coming our way.  We stuck a yardstick in the snow to see how much we would get.  I baked cinnamon rolls for breakfast.  We watched movies and did crafts.

And then one snow day turned into two.  Back to back and one week after the next. The forecast showed no break.  Every storm was hitting us and we were in the target snow zone. The storms came one right after the other.  The storms had non-threatening names like “Juno” and “Linus” but they came charged with high winds, snow, and freezing temperatures.  Jim Cantore came to visit.

With each forecast, my winter spirit broke.

Anxiety kicked in for my kids.  They would sit by the window and ask if school would be cancelled. Will we have a delay?  Will they close? Is it safe for Dad to go to work?  Will we lose power?  If we lose power, will the fish die? When will they make the call?

The questions would come in rapid fire.  Until every phone would ring and the texts would come in that yes, school was closed for the day.  Again.

Before it sounds like I’m a parent who doesn’t enjoy being with my kids, these school closings aren’t just about the kids not being in school.  We’ve had delayed, rescheduled, and delayed again IEP meetings.  When Howie and Lewis aren’t in school, they are missing those services that we’ve so carefully crafted and fought for in those IEPs.  If my kid happens to have lunch bunch or his social skills group on a Monday, he’s missed it four times. Their curriculum and routine is broken.  Lesson plans are thrown out the window. Our home services have been cancelled. I rely on those plans to help my kids navigate their world and help me at home to work with my kids.

Is this life and death?  Not for us specifically but for so many it could be.  The worry and fear is real.  Tim spent seven hours clearing our roofs from snow to prevent a roof collapse.  I have friends with buckets in their kitchens, bathrooms, and playrooms as ice dams have created leaks all through their house.  At night, the house “pops” from frost quakes.  There are power outages and dangerous driving conditions.  My tiny small nonprofit business has had to close five times because of the weather.  We are dependent on that revenue from families visiting our sensory gym to stay open.

I haven’t slept through the night since the Patriots won the Super Bowl.  Between the wind and the noises inside and outside the house and the “how am I going to make it through another snow day” anxiety inside my brain, there’s little calm to be had in my head. This is the first year I have actively researched schools and programs and real estate in Arizona.

Yesterday, a friend texted me after we had lunch together.  “You seemed glum today, winter got you down?”

I responded with “Just tired.  February has worn me out.”

People say to me you’re from Vermont, this should be normal for you. And it’s true that the cold and the snow is what winter is here.

But this isn’t “normal”.  It’s not called a historic winter for no reason.  And I am done.

As I write this, it’s snowing again.  Lightly.  But it’s snowing.

I know spring will come and there will be much joy in Mudville when the snow melts. But it will take a long time for us to recover – both outside our house and in our heads.

“Seasons change with the scenery;
Weaving time in a tapestry.
Won’t you stop and remember me
At any convenient time?
Funny how my memory skips
Looking over manuscripts
Of unpublished rhyme.

Drinking my vodka and lime,
I look around,
Leaves are brown,
And the sky is a hazy shade of winter.” – Hazy Shade of Winter by Paul Simon

 

Superstition

When I was a kid, I used to have these semi-religious, existential conversations with my dad about fate, free will, superstition and destiny. I would say I believed in fate, that some things were just meant to happen and meant to be.
He would use his “frog in the pond” story on me, asking me if he told me that there was a frog in the pond who controlled everything in the world, would I believe it. I would always answer “of course not”. Which led to discussions of science versus fate, proof versus belief.

Tonight, as the bases were loaded and I went back upstairs to my spot and put on my 2004 series winning pants and the inning ended, I would like the thank the frog in the pond for helping the Red Sox out of a jam.

– My personal Facebook status during last year’s Red Sox World Series run

 

I’ve always been a superstitious person.  I grew up believing in many of Jewish superstitions shared by my grandmothers. I remember how adamant they were that my mother not attend my grandfather’s funeral when she was pregnant with my sister.  I remember a lot of “pooh-poohing” and spitting from my older relatives when I was a child. Even now, I have a small “Raggedy Ann” doll in the back of my car that has been in the storage compartment of every single car I’ve owned because I believe it keeps me safe.  I have certain “lucky socks”, pants that I pull out for Red Sox World Series games, and I never drive on long trips wearing anything other than sneakers.

When I was pregnant with my boys, I never had a baby shower and I dutifully tied a red ribbon on the leg of the crib for all of my children, whether they actually slept there or not.  And I never, ever opened an umbrella in the house. Ever. Rationally I know that these superstitions aren’t based in any fact or science.  However, why tempt the evil eye?

When I became a parent, my belief in the need to “do things in this order or else something bad could happen” continued.  If Gerry would fall asleep in the car wearing a certain coat, I would make sure he had that coat on each time I needed him to sleep in the car until it was no longer appropriate seasonally. I would cook his oatmeal for the same exact amount of time each morning before daycare.   I would follow things in certain patterns to make sure the same result would happen.  Most of this was probably sleep deprived induced behavior and not true superstitions, but I believed that I had to do some things in a certain way to make sure I got the same end result.

Then came Howie and my superstitions kicked into high gear. Almost from day one.

He had certain clothes that he would be happy in and if he wore anything else, he would squirm and scream and cry.

I had to mix his formula a particular way or he wouldn’t drink it.  And he had to nurse from side to side in a certain pattern or he wouldn’t fall asleep.

He could only fall asleep on me, no one else.  If anyone else tried, he wouldn’t sleep for the rest of the day.

He had to be touching my skin to fall asleep.

He had to sit in a certain place at the table or he wouldn’t eat.

I had to give him a green plate.

We had to watch one episode of “The Backyardigans” before bed. And then he would sleep in my bed so when he woke up every 45 minutes, he had me there to help him get back to sleep.

I had to put socks on him at night or else he wouldn’t sleep.  Until that “wore off” and we went without socks. Or he needed to wear certain pajama pants to bed.  And then we moved to no pajama pants at all.

He couldn’t wear any other pants but cotton ones with no buttons to school or else he wouldn’t have a “good” day.

I had to give him his melatonin right before the shower, not sooner or later.  Brush his teeth after the shower, not before.

We had to snuggle in a certain way before bed or else he would be up all night.

I had to warm up his yogurt smoothie in the morning for exactly 30 seconds in the microwave or he wouldn’t drink it.

Then came the autism diagnosis for him.

And for me a better understanding of the comforts of routines and the unsettling nature of triggers.

These superstitions were my own creation based on his responses to his sensory needs – the patterns of “we must do this or else” were a reaction to what I didn’t understand.

Superstitions are “a belief or practice resulting from ignorance, fear of the unknown, trust in magic or chance, or a false conception of causation.”

I didn’t know or understand why he needed socks worn a certain way, or why he could only drink a warm smoothie, or wear pants that were so tight they made a mark on his skin.  I feared changing up the color of plates because I feared the meltdown that would come.  I believed there was “some magic” in giving him the melatonin at a certain time and I thought that if we didn’t snuggle in “just this way”, all hell would break loose and we’d never sleep again.

But I get it now.

I know that he needs to feel comfortable in his clothes in order to get through the day at school or sleep at night.  I know now that the warm yogurt is a sensory aversion to anything too cold to drink.  I understand the comfort in sitting in the same seat at the table for dinner.

These aren’t superstitions.  These are genuine responses to known sensory triggers.

With that knowledge also comes the ability to move from the rigidity of the patterns.  After years of practice and tiny changes, we can serve food on different colored plates.  “The Backyardigans” is no longer the show of choice before bed.  He’s falling asleep in his own bed with me at the end of the bed, not tangled up snuggling in it.

We no longer practice from a place of ignorance or fear, but one of understanding, acceptance, and the belief that these sensory issues are real and the routines are necessary for comfort and calm.

There are times when I still catch myself falling into the superstition pattern.  Last night, Howie put his pajamas in a different order than usual, with his tight bike shorts on over the tight compression pants that he wears to bed.

I panicked for a moment, almost telling him that he will never sleep if his clothes are out of order because he has slept so well three nights in a row so changing it up would be disastrous.

Instead, I reminded him that with the smaller bike shorts underneath the compression pants, he will feel a tighter “hug” on his legs which will help him sleep better.

He smiled, changed his clothes, and climbed back under the covers.

I’m working really hard to recognize the appropriate cause and effect to help my kids understand these their triggers and needs.

However don’t expect to see me opening any umbrellas inside anytime soon.  And my “Raggedy Ann” doll will always be with me.

Chilling out in the compression pants and the Yogibo.

“Very superstitious, writings on the wall,
Very superstitious, ladders bout’ to fall,
Thirteen month old baby, broke the lookin’ glass
Seven years of bad luck, the good things in your past

When you believe in things that you don’t understand,
Then you suffer,
Superstition ain’t the way ” – Superstition by Stevie Wonder

 

The Wheels On The Bus For The Third Time

It’s May, 2014.

We are sitting in Lewis’ kindergarten transition IEP meeting.  As a team we are reviewing every service and service delivery to make sure it fits right for Lewis as he leaves preschool.  It’s not my first rodeo and I have plenty of anxiety over the whole transition process based on past experience.  Lewis’ incredible preschool teacher and team know this – and know Lewis – and we discuss every detail to make sure we are all on board and understand how kindergarten will look for him for the new school year.

We discuss his social skills programming, his need for visual and written cues when transitioning, his extended school year plan, and all the supports he will need for success.

“So now let’s talk transportation,” says his teacher.

I sit up straight in my chair, stiffening a little.

“I know this is something that we’ve talked about in the past.  But we don’t really feel like he needs specialized transportation.  I really think he will be okay on the big bus.”  His teacher stops talking for a moment.  “Um, you don’t agree?”

Tim elbows me.

“You’re pulling on your sleeves,” he says. 

That’s my “tell”.  My sign that I’m having an anxiety attack.

“It’s not that I don’t think he can’t be on the big bus.  It’s just that…” I take a breath.

“It’s just that I don’t know how I’m going to manage all three kids getting to school at different times with different modes of transportation.”

************

This morning I sent a message to my friend Jess.

“I’ve officially lost my ability to write,” I texted.  “I’m trying to write about how Lewis taking the bus and me driving Howie is an example of not just our acceptance of what each kid needs but an understanding of those needs….None of the kids asked why one was going to school one way and one another…we’ve taught them that everyone is different with no stigmas attached.  But the words aren’t coming without sounding stupid…”

And she gave me brilliant advice like she always does: “Start in the middle.  Where the feelings are.  Don’t try to start at the beginning.”

Where the feelings are.

So here goes.

A long time ago, that meeting would have made me sad.

The big bus would have seemed like “The Holy Grail” of transportation.  Going to school the way most kids do.  Getting that big “first day of school” bus picture.  I would have looked at it as one of my kids can ride the bus and one of them…can’t. My anxiety in that meeting would have  focused on their disabilities in the negative, the kind of deficit model of looking at challenges and accommodations as a something bad and temporary with the hopes that maybe someday things will get better. I would have focused on the fact that I had one kid whose challenges kept him off the big bus, while both his big brother and little brother were able to ride it.

But here’s the thing.  I’m not that me anymore.

Last school year, we took Howie off of the mini bus. He had been riding the mini-bus since kindergarten to and from school and it’s written into his IEP that he needs specialized transportation. But for second grade,  I started driving him to school and he would taking the mini bus home.  He needed a “sensory overload free” way to enter school in order to start his day off right.  He didn’t want to talk to anyone or have anyone talk to him.  About halfway through the year, that need for a sensory overload free trip became evident for the ride home as well.  He would be able to use his calming tools to get through the school day, but have a very difficult time with that on the way home.

Once I began driving him both ways, his stress level leaving the house and coming home lessened greatly, spilling over to a better day at school and at home in the afternoon.

It wasn’t that he couldn’t take the mini bus.  Or even the big bus.

It was that both of those choices weren’t right for him.  For his success – academically and emotionally – he needed me to drive.  This accommodation was no different than any of the other supports listed in his IEP.

Two kids – two brothers – with the same autism diagnosis.  Needing two completely different accommodations.

Perhaps it’s semantics again.

But changing the question from “Can my kids do something”  to asking  “what is appropriate for them” – it made all the difference.

 

**********

May 2014

“So what do you think?  Do you think Lewis can take the bus to kindergarten?”

All eyes of the team are on me.

“I know that with a lot of prep he can.  I think we should give it a try,” I say.

“Are you worried that Howie will be upset or jealous that Lewis is on the big bus?”

I smile. “No, actually, I’m more worried that Lewis will wonder why he doesn’t ride with Mom to school.” I say.  “But he will know that’s just how he gets to kindergarten.  And Howie will know that too.”

I sigh.

“It’s the logistics that make me nervous.  Gerry’s bus to the junior high comes at one time, the elementary school bus at another.  And somewhere in there I need to drive  Howie to the elementary school too.  But we will figure it out.  We always do.”

I shift in my seat, pulling at my sleeves.

“Can we talk again about the fact that my last kid is leaving this amazing preschool for kindergarten?  I’m not so sure how I feel about that…”

**********

We talk a lot in our house about fair not meaning equal.  My kids have seen the cartoon of three characters of all different heights looking over a fence.  They each have different sized boxes to stand on so they can see over the fence line.  They aren’t equal sized boxes.  Each character needed something different to get them to the same place.

We’ve never said “I hope someday you can take the big bus to school.”

In our town, some kids walk.  Some arrive in cars.  Some take the big bus.  Some take the mini bus.

There’s no better or worse way to get to school.  For my boys, there’s no stigma attached to any mode of transportation.

My three kids need something different to get them to school.

For one, it’s mom’s car.

For the other two, it’s the wheels on the bus.

All through the town.

On the bus yesterday for kindergarten orientation. He did just fine.

 

 

 

 

Diamond Road

Howie was on the floor of his room. He was wrapped up in a towel, drying off from the shower.

“Mom. Do I look in sorts?”

“I don’t know. Not really I guess. Maybe a little? Are you?”

“No,” he responded. “I’m a little out of sorts.”

“I could tell. You think it’s because you’re not feeling well?” He had been battling a mystery fever for the past two days. No other symptoms, just a low grade fever.

“No. Not that.” He was looking up – not at my face but just passed me.

I stood over him as he stayed cocooned up on the floor.

“Why do you think you’re out of sorts?”

“Sensory overload,” he replied. His eyes shifted and immediately connected with mine.

“Really. What overloaded you?”

He sighed.

“Life.”

Howie paused for a moment.

“Sometimes that just happens,” he said.  “I need a fidget. Like something rubber. Or a ball.”

He said it in a very quiet, almost nasally voice. It’s the voice I recognize when he’s uncomfortable.

I looked around quickly in his room.

“I found a small Minecraft Creeper figure. Will this do?”

“Yeah.”

He took it from me and smiled.

I took a quick picture of him on the floor with the creeper and showed him his happy face. He stayed on the floor for a few minutes, rubbing his hands over the figure and squeezing it.

I left the room to help Lewis into the shower. When I returned, he was dressed in his pajamas and in bed.

“Can I share the picture I took of you with the creeper to show people how you look when you’re back in sorts?”

He snuggled under the covers and grabbed his weighted stuffed animal.

“No,” he said. “Don’t share it. Can I have a Mom squish?”

I leaned over and squished him tight. Part of his self-advocacy has to be the right of refusal of what I share and what I don’t.

“I won’t share it. I promise. I love you.”

I took my position at the end of his bed. He slid his legs under mine and fell asleep.

**********

I could write about the sheer enormity of that conversation and what it means for him, for me, and for the people in his world. About how much hard work he has done with his teachers and therapists to get here – to not only understand his body but express it in a way that we could understand. I could write about all the signs I missed during the day today that could have told me what he so eloquently did tonight and even though I preach “behavior is communication”, I ignored it all.

I could write that.

But right now I am just listening to him sleep. Soft, even breaths.

The ones that I now recognize come when he’s back “in sorts”.

And I’m just going to stay here a while.

A photo from a different wrapped in a towel day. One that I’ve had permission to share in the past.

“ Walk with me the diamond road
Tell me every story told
Give me something of your soul
That I can hold onto
I want to wake up to the sound of waves
Crashing on a brand new day
Keep the memory of your face
But wipe the pain away” – Diamond Road by Sheryl Crow

 

Time In A Bottle

The boys made a memory jar for Tim for Father’s Day.

I just knew there was no way they could create a piece of artwork or something homemade – the pressure would be too great and we’d end up where we were last year.

So I stole this gift idea from my friend Jess.

I asked the boys some questions and recorded each answer on a slip of paper.

And because the answers were so perfect, I had to share them here.

What’s your favorite thing you did with Dad this year?

G: Learning how to play guitar and going to all the concerts

H: Going on the water slides at Great Wolf Lodge

L: Playing Hot Wheels

What is something that dad did that made you laugh?

G: All his funny jokes

H: When he said the slide at Great Wolf was like a toilet

L: When he calls things bathroom words

What is your favorite thing that Dad cooks?

G: Homemade pizza

H: Pork chops, chicken skewers and hamburgers

L: Macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese and quesadillas

What do you like to do with Dad?

G: Go to Guitar Center

H: Go on water slides

L: Watch the Palladia channel on TV

What would you like Dad to teach you this year?

G: How to mow the lawn

H: How to armpit fart since I’m not very good at it.

L: How to ride a bike with two wheels.

Now my answers.

My favorite thing we did this year? We were a team – through school meetings and sports activities and everything in between.  You didn’t miss one baseball game or concert or IEP meeting.  You arranged your schedule to be there for the boys and for me.  We took “divide and conquer” to a new level to make sure each kid had alone time and quiet time.

At the meet and greet with Joe Bonamassa

Something that made me laugh? I have many specific private moments when I laughed until I cried.  And then there were the times when I wanted to cry, you made me laugh instead.  Holding my hand through it all.

My favorite thing you cook? Everything.  Duh.

That’s right. That’s bacon wrapped meatloaf.

What do I like to do with you? Again, everything.

What would I like you to teach me this year?  I want to find my “fun” again.  I see how the boys turn to you for the games, the laughs, the “let’s do this” together.  You understand the boys in ways I can’t.

I want to learn all that from you.

Happy Father’s Day

“If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I’d like to do
Is to save every day till eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I’d save every day like a treasure and then
Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do, once you find them
I’ve looked around enough to know
That you’re the one I want to go through time with.” – Time In A Bottle by Jim Croce (which also happens to be the song from our wedding)

 

Vacation

note: I was given complementary passes for food, accommodations and other activities to attend the grand opening event at Great Wolf Lodge in Fitchburg, MA.  But all opinions are my own.

We had seen the commercials for a long time: Great Wolf Lodge was coming to the New England area!  My kids – avid water park fans but haters of bugs and heat – were so intrigued by the idea of an indoor water park that when we were offered the chance to be there on opening day, we couldn’t say no.  Even though it was on a school night.

We prepped for the trip the way we do with most new places.  I spent a lot of time with the boys on The Great Wolf Lodge website so not only did we know what would be there, we knew what rides and activities were going to be appropriate for their skill level and height.  They had pictures of the rooms online as well and we “walked” through the park, learning about each of the rides and requirements.  We created our own social story so there would be no surprises.

We arrived in the evening around dinner time and it was a little late for us to use the water park that night. There was no disappointment, however, since there was still plenty to do:

getting our wolf ears

In the Howlin’ Timbers part of the park, there is a nine hole indoor golf course.  It was perfect for Howie and Lewis.  They had a blast playing the course.

Mini Golf

There is also a giant arcade area near the restaurants and lobby.  Not surprisingly, this is where my kids wanted to stay the longest.  Like many arcades these days, the games are paid for on a pre-paid card so there’s no fumbling with money or tokens for each game.  I was amazed at how quiet the arcade was.  Usually arcades are not only my kids’ sensory overload nightmare, but mine as well.  The Great Wolf Arcade was quiet and calm. So we were able to stay and play for a long time.

skee ball anyone?

Alongside the arcade is a pizza place and ice cream shop.  We opted for pizza to go and brought it back up to our room.  I have to tell you – I have incredibly picky pizza eaters.  The “Hungry As A Wolf” pizza passed the test from all three of them. That’s almost unheard of in our house.

mmmmm…pepperoni

We were given a KidCabin Suite in the newest part of the resort, overlooking the Howlin’ Timbers play area.  The room was one queen bed plus a fold out couch and then a separate area with a bunk bed and day bed.  My kids settled into their own special area, which also has its own TV.  They were in heaven.

Bottom bunk man. And yes, wifi is included free at the resort. We asked ahead of time.

Oldest kid gets the top bunk

At the risk of TMI, this was the first time in our vacations as a family that Tim and I shared a bed at a hotel.  And the kids actually stayed in their beds.  That doesn’t even happen at home.

The kids had the buffet breakfast at the Lodge Wood Fire Grill restaurant in the morning.  Here’s where they were annoyed at me for taking a picture before they could eat:

ok…maybe only two were annoyed with me…

There’s also a Dunkin Donuts on the premises for breakfast, lunch, dinner and whenever you need it.  Because this is Massachusetts and there needs to be one on every corner.  Thank goodness.

We hurried back to the hotel room to change into our swim clothes.  And off we went.

The water park area of the resort is split into two sides.  Great Wolf took over an existing water park area so one side is where the original park had their waterslides and the other side is all new.  It seem to cut down on the crowds and confusion and it wasn’t so overwhelming.  It also made it easier to find each other as Tim and I played “divide and conquer” with the kids.  He did the bigger slides with Gerry and Howie and I spent most of my time with Lewis in the Tadpole Pond area.

obstacle course on Big Foot Pass

The best way ever for my kids to fight each other

lazy river riders

In all, my family tried out every ride at the water park.  Gerry’s favorite was the Howlin’ Tornado:

The Howlin’ Tornado.

That was the view of the Howlin’ Tornado from our hotel room.  Through the rain.  That’s right – it poured the whole day we were there.  Did we care?  Nope.

Howie’s favorite was Alberta Falls – the dark tunnel side.  It may or may not be because Tim told him it was like they were getting flushed down a toilet.

Alberta Falls

And Lewis was incredibly happy to stay at the little kid area.  And I was incredibly happy to have him stay here.  I actually sat down.  At a water park.  It was a miracle.

Life jackets are provided for all ages and all sizes at the park but we opted to bring our own.  Considering the fact that I brought three suits for each kid because I didn’t know what would fit or feel right for them in the moment, the more familiar we are with something, the better it is.  Our own life jackets bring that sensory comfort level.

Speaking of sensory issues, I kept checking in with Howie about how he was doing and feeling along the way.  The water park was not crowded but it was very echoey and I was worried that he would be on noise overload.  He kept telling me he was fine.  The only thing that seemed to bother him were the smells in the area near our hotel room.  Everything was new : paint, carpet, beds.  Those smells were slightly overpowering.  But there was no heavy chlorine smell in the park and no overly bright lights.  Every half hour or so, there was an alarm that went off at the wave pool.  But that was it. All of the places where I expected that he would have a hard time, he did great.  All of the kids did great.  I was amazed.

We had a late check out of 2pm, so we stayed at the water park area until about 1:30.  We changed quickly in the hotel room and checked out.

Our water park passes were good though until the park closed that night.  There are lockers and changing rooms if we wanted to stay.  We chose to check out the other parts of the Howlin’ Timbers Play Park instead.

The ropes course is included with the water park passes.  So we had to try that.  And by”we” I mean everyone else in my family that is not me:

getting strapped in

Who is this crazy kid up so high?

The lower ropes course was more their speed.

I was super impressed by the staff at Great Wolf and how attentive they were.  When the line to go on the ropes course got long, two other staff members appeared out of nowhere to assist on the course.  The staff all seemed to be local as well, as indicated by their town on their name tags.  I love the boost to the local Worcester County economy with that.

After the kids were off the ropes course, they played two games of bowling each.  No rental shoes needed.  And bumpers for the kids so no gutter balls.  This was a big hit with my guys.  It was also not noisy at all like many bowling alleys.  Again that made it so much easier to stay and play.

 

Strike!

There were several things that we didn’t get too because we just ran out of time and energy.  There’s a whole MagiQuest game and movie theater that we didn’t even attempt.  It looked like fun but we had to save something for next time.  There’s also a kid spa and a story time that we skipped.  My kids aren’t fans of people in costumes so we stayed away from those areas.

Because I am always looking through my special needs parenting glasses, there are a few things that stood out to me at the park.  First – it was very quiet.  Many areas were carpeted so there wasn’t a lot of noise bouncing off the floor and walls.  The lighting was also natural light in many places in the park.  The arcade was calm and quieter than most arcades I’ve been in.  There was also a variety of food choices on the menus for the restaurants so there seemed to be something for everyone.  We did bring a lot of our own food but every room has a decent sized fridge and microwave so that wasn’t an issue at all.

Now we were there for the grand opening and it wasn’t very crowded.  We’ll have to go back to see if all these things stay the same when the resort is full.

I also liked that everything was on their website so we could preview it ahead of time, even the room layouts. That was huge in making sure my kids knew everything before we left.  We aren’t the “surprise!  Here we are!” kind of family.

There are definitely some things to know before you go.  You can’t purchase day passes only to the resort so you have to stay overnight. The water park passes are included as part of the hotel room, as is the ropes course.  While there, I was thinking how wonderful it would be to have our kids’ home therapists with us to help with turn taking, peer interactions, and meals, yet I didn’t actually want to pay for a hotel room for them. Considering the number of special needs families who may need to bring a babysitter/therapist/teacher along to help out, I did ask if you can purchase additional day passes though for people joining your party who are not staying over.  The answer was yes to that. Definitely ask when you make the reservation to see how many day passes you are allowed to have.

Your room key is a chip in the water park bracelet so there’s no possibility of losing your keys (or having them stolen) while swimming and you can choose whose bracelets are activated as keys.  We did have to warn the kids that they would need to wear the bracelets all the time as this is usually a sensory issues for all of my kids.

When we got home. the kids were asking when we were going to go again.

This mini-vacation came exactly at the right time for our family.  We needed a stress free time away from the house where we could just relax and be ourselves.

We got that at Great Wolf Lodge.

I know we will be back very soon.

“Vacation
All I ever wanted
Vacation
Had to get away…” – Vacation by The Go-Gos

 

 

 

 

On Top Of The World

On Thursday, I may have accidentally peeked at my Mother’s Day present from Howie.

Not on purpose.  I was going through his backpack for his homework and found this:

the cover

(he calls me Momabom)

and cue the tears…

After I wiped the tears away, I sent his teacher an email:

Hi!

I just took a peek at the People magazine Mother’s Day project and I’m in tears. I’m curious – How much help did he need with that?

That’s a special gift. Thank you.

I don’t know why I needed to know how much help he needed.  Maybe because I knew how hard these past few weeks have been.  How putting pen to paper has been so challenging. I knew these were his words and our stories. But I just…I just had to ask.

She wrote back:

It was a process and very much a team effort, but I have to tell you…never have I seen him quite as motivated to write as when I mentioned it was for Mom-to thank her for all of the special things she does.  🙂  You can definitely see the bond the two of you have.  Glad you enjoyed it, but you shouldn’t have PEEKED! 😉

And I started to cry again.

Happy tears.

I’ll admit that in the past I might have been a little discouraged that he needed help with this.  In the beginning, complete independence was the goal in my head.  No supports.  All on his own.

But on this special needs journey that I’ve been on, I’ve realized that this – this People Magazine Mother of the Year story – this is the Holy Grail.

Everything we – and he – has worked so hard on is wrapped up in this amazing Mother’s Day gift.

Teachers who will wait and work with him in his way with what he needs.  Knowing that he can do the work but he needs the supports to succeed.

Presuming competence all the way.

His smile when he gave it to me this morning said it all.

“I love you, Momabom”, he told me this morning.

“I love you too, little man.”

I love all three of these incredible little men. Happy Mother’s Day to me.

“If you love somebody
Better tell them while they’re here ’cause
They just may run away from you

You’ll never know quite when, well
Then again it just depends on
How long of time is left for you

I’ve had the highest mountains
I’ve had the deepest rivers
You can have it all but life keeps moving

I take it in but don’t look down

‘Cause I’m on top of the world, ‘ay
I’m on top of the world, ‘ay
Waiting on this for a while now
Paying my dues to the dirt
I’ve been waiting to smile, ‘ay
Been holding it in for a while, ‘ay
Take you with me if I can
Been dreaming of this since a child
I’m on top of the world.” – On Top Of The World by Imagine Dragons

 

Father And Son

Just a boy and his dad, reading a book about boats and engines.

No big deal.

I took this picture last night right after dinner.  I hid around the corner so I didn’t disturb them (hence the really grainy photo and the everything out on the table and the lampshade in the way).

Monday was library day and Howie renewed his book about boats.

Tim picked it up last night and called Howie over to the table. “Show me the part in the book you like.”

Howie turned to the page with a cut away of a rowboat.  “I didn’t know you could sleep in a rowboat!” he exclaimed.

And what followed was THIRTY minutes of discussion at the table.  Of boats and cutaway drawings.  Of engines and pistons.  Of cars and trucks and things that go.

Questions were asked.  On both sides.

I took this picture and heading upstairs hearing “Could a really BIG crew fit on that boat?”

Now you know the autism parent in me wants to tell you all things autism that I see.

The joint attention.

The pragmatic language.

The shared interests.

The sitting and listening for 30 minutes (just hours after I filled out the Vineland saying he couldn’t do this).

The actual reading of a library book.

But not today.

Today I see a dad who found a common bond with his son.

I see a son who is soaking up every word from his dad.

And I see smiles from them both.

Just a boy and his dad, reading a book about boats and engines.

No big deal.

“It’s not time to make a change,
Just relax, take it easy.
You’re still young, that’s your fault,
There’s so much you have to know.
Find a girl, settle down,
If you want you can marry.
Look at me, I am old, but I’m happy.

I was once like you are now, and I know that it’s not easy,
To be calm when you’ve found something going on.
But take your time, think a lot,
Why, think of everything you’ve got.
For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not. ” – Father and Son by Cat Stevens

 

The Rainbow Connection

Connection

“Friendship is born at that moment when one man says to another: “What! You too? I thought that no one but myself . . .”” – C.S. Lewis

**********

Note in Howie’s log book last week from one of his 1:1 aides: “After social group Howie insisted on flapping his arms.  The group was not at all overly stimulating or excitable.  When I talked to (him) about this he said ‘sometimes autistic people have to do that thing.’ I said ‘stimming’? And he said ‘yes I need to stim and flap my arms’…he said sometimes he needs to flap if he’s excited.”

**********

Howie had his eighth birthday party two weeks ago.  We invited his whole class because, well, because.  I could give you some reason like making sure to include everyone but truthfully there wasn’t anyone he thought he couldn’t invite. He’s been with most of the kids for two years and he really wanted them all at his party. We did one of those indoor trampoline places parties because where else can you go with 28 2nd graders and contain them all?

I was nervous of course.  I don’t get to see how kids interact with Howie except for a few moments here and there.  I get the log book notes and information from teacher meetings, but I never see it with my own eyes.  I watched these kids interact with him – seek him out – not just because it was his birthday but because they care about him.  They told inside jokes on the bench as they waited for their jump turn.  They checked in on him when they were jumping. They jostled for position around him for cake.

When we got home and settled in, Howie opened his presents.  Some cards were on green construction paper (his favorite color).  Some cards had his special “Hero Howie” symbol on them.  All of the cards had special note, poem, story, or picture drawn just for him about him.  Every present was something he wanted that he didn’t already have.  I asked Howie how the kids knew.  “They asked me in school and I told them.” he said matter-of-factly.  Well of course.

That night I sent his teacher some pictures from the party with the note: “All those kids are quite incredible and so so good to Howie. They knew what he liked and how to interact with him.  That is all because of you. Thank you for creating a classroom and a space that allowed my kid to have his real big first friend party. You sure I can’t convince you to teach third grade? :)”

His fabulous teacher wrote back: “They absolutely adore him and are really cheering for him each and every day.  I’m so glad to hear that the party went well!”

**********

Note in Howie’s log book three weeks ago from his other 1:1 aide (paraphrasing): “Howie seemed to be having a hard time with his shirt.  It was making him uncomfortable all day and he couldn’t focus.  We sat and talked about the things that I am bothered by and he was able to work through it.  It really seems to help him when others connect with him about sensory issues.”

**********

From my blog post “Born This Way part two“:

I have spent the days since that moment we got Howie’s autism diagnosis in December 2009 wondering how I would talk to Howie about his autism.  I rehearsed it in my head many times.  Bought books.  Read blog posts.  Wanted to make sure I did it “right”.

We stopped at a light.

“So…” I said.  “That ability is a gift.”

“It is?”

“Yes.  You know what I mean by ‘gift’, right?  Not like a birthday party gift but more like a talent.  Something special you have.”

“I know! What is it? What’s it called?”

“It’s called autism.”

“So I have autism?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmmm.”

I decided to push it a little bit more.

“Hey, you know who else has a gift for seeing stuff like that?”

“Who?” he asked.

“Your friend Brooke.”

“Brooke has autism?”

AND THE BIGGEST SMILE FILLED UP MY REAR VIEW MIRROR.

**********

For some April is about Autism Awareness.  And that’s fine and good and it’s what works for them.

In our house, though, this month (and every month) is about autism connection.

According to the experts, that’s supposed to be something that my boys can’t do, right? Connect with others.

How wrong could they be?

I see connection every day with my kids – between teacher and student, between classmates and friends, brother to brother, and parent to child.

I see it in the children who come to our sensory gym. When families are given the safe space (physically and emotionally) for their kids to play, relationships and playdates and connections blossom.

For us- for my boys, for me as their parent, this month is about connecting  to find that piece – that tie that binds – to make one feel less alone.  To make one feel part of a community.

And for helping the world understand that community, one conversation at a time.

**********

From my personal Facebook status on March 31st:

“When Howie is feeling “out of sorts”, he often asks for a “mom squish”. Probably because I am the squishiest of the bunch.

Tonight, I was complaining that my back hurt as I sat down crooked on the couch. He came over to me, looked me right in the eye, and said “do you need a Howie squish?”

It’s the eve of Autism Awareness Month and every day my kids smash and crash their way through every stereotype and every myth. But in our house it’s not about awareness. I want them to know that they are accepted, understood, and loved for who they are.

And those Howie squishes? They make all the aches and pains go away.”

Happy Autism Connection Month.

 

“Why are there so many songs about rainbows
and what’s on the other side?
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,
and rainbows have nothing to hide.
So we’ve been told and some choose to believe it.
I know they’re wrong, wait and see.
Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.

Who said that every wish would be heard
and answered when wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of that and someone believed it.
Look what it’s done so far.
What’s so amazing that keeps us star gazing
and what do we think we might see?
Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me.

All of us under its spell. We know that it’s probably magic.

Have you been half asleep and have you heard voices?
I’ve heard them calling my name.
Is this the sweet sound that called the young sailors.
The voice might be one and the same.
I’ve heard it too many times to ignore it.
It’s something that I’m supposed to be.
Someday we’ll find it, the rainbow connection.
The lovers, the dreamers and me. ” – The Rainbow Connection by Kermit the Frog

A great way to be part of the conversation is to purchase one of these #wearthechange shirts created by my friend Jess.  Through the month of April, the net proceeds from these shirts will be split three ways with the Doug Flutie Jr. Foundation for Autism, The Autistic Self Advocacy Network, and my nonprofit SenseAbility Gym.

Here is Gerry modeling his new shirt (he wanted to remain headless).  Click on the caption to go to the Zazzle Store.

http://www.zazzle.com/togs2gobydiaryofamom

 

Born This Way (part three)

Note: As I wrote in part one and in part two, I asked Howie if I could share this story here.  I told him that I had a blog and that I liked to write about things that happen in our lives on it.  His response?  “Sure.  You can share this with the blogosphere.”  Well, okay then.  And this time, I asked all three boys if it was okay to share the story.

Chronologically, part three came after part two but before part one.  But this is how it all came out here.

Over the past few weeks since the “big” conversation that wasn’t so big, Howie and I have been talking a lot about autism.  It’s not hard to bring it up – at the sensory gym we have a community bulletin board with information from our local autism resource center, the Doug Flutie Jr. Foundation for Autism, and Birdhouse for Autism (an app and web based application for tracking therapies, medications, sleep and anything and everything related to a child’s well being). So the word comes up whenever we’re there.

But it had always remained between us.

We’ve also had some discussions about other kids we knew who were autistic.  Friends who had given us permission to share that information.  Each time, it was met with a smile.

Yet for some reason, I never mentioned the fact that his younger brother was autistic too.  Again, this is on me.  In my head I still thought there had to be the right time and place to talk about it.  That Lewis should know first.  Or there had to be some specific chain of events to make it “the right way”.

Apparently, I don’t learn my own lessons.

Two weekends ago, all three kids were sitting at the kitchen table.  We were listening to music and the boys were talking about whether or not they had good hearing.  Gerry said that our whole family had bad hearing.  Before I could step in and protest with my expert hearing skills, Howie said “No, I have super hearing.  I can hear and see things that others can’t. I have what’s that word again?”

He paused.

“Oh yeah.  I have au-TIS-m.”

(so yes, the accent is on the wrong syl-LA-ble.  But still.)

Gerry looked over at me and didn’t say a word.  Neither did I.

“I have autism,” said Lewis matter-of-factly.  “I just have clogged ears.”

Howie looked at him and said, “You have autism too?  Well, you do have a super memory.  You know the whole grid of the Marvel Super Heroes characters on the Playstation game.”

“Yup,” I said.  “Lewis has autism just like you, Howie.”

“Does our whole family have autism?” Howie asked.

“No. ” I said.

Gerry looked at me and quietly asked, “Do I have autism?”

I shook my head no.

And that is how Lewis found out that he was autistic too. No big reveal. No grand plan. Just “yup, you’re autistic.”

Gerry got up from the table to get some more milk.  I pulled him aside for a moment.

I thought back to a conversation that Gerry and I had almost two years ago to the day:

“Don’t you think he should know about his autism?  So he understands?  I know most of his friends are from his school and are like him, so that’s really good.  But at some point, shouldn’t he know?  Because really?  Sometimes it’s very stressful for me that I know but he doesn’t.”  His eyes teared up a little.

I knew I had to choose my words very carefully here.  This…was important.

“Yes, of course he needs to know.  Dad and I just have to figure out the right time.  He’s only five.”

“Do you have friends who have kids with special needs?  Kids who are older?  Can’t you ask them when they told their kids?”

And then my kid wows me.  Again.

“You know, it’s not fair.  All his timeouts.  At first I thought they were good.  Teaching him.  But if he can’t help it, then the timeouts aren’t fair, are they? It’s like if you’re driving and your car’s wheels lock up.  And you hit something and cause a lot of damage.  It’s not your fault that the car didn’t work the way it should.  Right?”

I’m in awe of this kid.  Of how much he loves his brother.  Of how much he gets it.

“Mom.  Shouldn’t he know so he understands?”

I touched Gerry’s arm and brought him into the other room.

“You remember you wanted me to tell Howie that he was autistic?  Well, I did.”

He looked right at me.

“Thank you,” he said.

**********

Since then, the topic has come up quite a bit.  My boys – all three of them – are attempting to understand what autism means to them and for them.  There have been attempts at one upping each other with “well, my autism means I can hear the grass grow!” and it makes for a good discussion about how brains work and no, you can’t really hear the grass grow. In quizzing Howie if he washed his hands, he told me that only someone with autism could have good enough smelling to smell how clean his hands are.

Then there was Howie’s question to me one morning at 5am: if everyone in the world had autism, does that mean no one in the world has autism?

For which I had absolutely no answer.

Just this afternoon came “Is autism sensory?”

And of course there was the moment when he told me his gift was part of his soul. When he realized he was born this way.

But my favorite comment came from Gerry last week.  We were talking about how all of us in the family have brains that work differently. It’s important to know that and understand why so instead of getting frustrated and struggling with the things that are hard for us, we can acknowledge the challenges and use our strengths to cope with them. We talked about what I wrote in part two:

“At some point I know we’ll have to talk about the challenges that autism brings.  Because that is as important as knowing the strengths. Part of understanding his differences is knowing that the sensory issues, the difficult time sitting still, the frustration over school projects and social interactions, and the perseverations – these are not because he’s not smart or incapable. “

I told him that this was why right now we’re focusing on positives that come with autism for Howie.

“I like that,” Gerry said. “I like that he looks it like it’s his superpower.”

Me too.  Me too.

my three superheroes

“My mama told me when I was young
We are all born superstars
She rolled my hair and put my lipstick on
In the glass of her boudoir

“There’s nothing wrong with loving who you are
She said, “‘Cause He made you perfect, babe”
“So hold your head up girl and you’ll go far,
Listen to me when I say”

I’m beautiful in my way
‘Cause God makes no mistakes
I’m on the right track, baby
I was born this way
Don’t hide yourself in regret
Just love yourself and you’re set
I’m on the right track, baby
I was born this way” – Born This Way by Lady Gaga

For a great way to talk about autism with your child (or to learn more yourself), check out this great booklet from The Autism NOW Center and The Autistic Self Advocacy Network at http://autismnow.org/wp-content/uploads/2013/11/Welcome-to-the-Autistic-Community-Adolescent.pdf