Unapologetic

"Never make a defense or an apology until you are accused."
~ King Charles I


I feel like I've entered a new stage in accepting/understanding Ben's Autism. Or maybe it's just because I am 40 and am stubborn. But I am becoming more and more unapologetic about it.

Now--lemme 'splain a little. When I say I am unapologetic, this does NOT mean I don't apologize to people when Ben, oh, I don't know, hits their kid with a limp T-Rex silly slap or screams "Oh, the CARNAGE!!" directly into their ear at 80 decibels. And it does NOT mean that I haven't taught Ben to say "I'm sorry" to people when he is rude or hurts them in some way (even if it is a bit rote at this point, like me telling my bartender that I like my martini DRY). You catch more flies with honey, The Golden Rule, yada yada yada.

This is not the type of apology I mean. That’s just manners. I am referring to definition #2:

apology (n.) -- a defense, excuse, or justification in speech or writing, as for a cause or doctrine.

I became quite familiar with this version of apologetic in college--since I was studying religion, and it seemed I was reading one apologetic treatise after another. It took me a while to realize each religious expert was not saying "I'm sorry" (although I still think a few of them should), but was actually being their religion's cheerleader in saying "This is why we're AWESOME!"


It is the nature of humans to be defensively apologetic--to defend oneself or one's cause, even if you are not being attacked. It can be witnessing at its best and worst.

For example:

"We've found that removing dyes and preservatives from his diet have greatly improved his behavior. That doesn't work for everyone, but it sure seems to help Ben."

OR

"What? You let them eat THAT? WE only use (insert product here) because it is the best and here are 5 articles to prove my point, and have I mentioned my child is more awesome than yours? Mostly because he's dye-free, and because I'm his mother instead of you, tramp."

I hope you know me by now kind reader, that I *try* my best to lean toward the first example. Alcohol permitting.

And as much as parenting tends to lend itself to a certain apologetic stance, parenting a child with Autism does also--maybe a little more-so.

When Ben was younger, and soon after his diagnosis, I found myself "explaining" him all the time. "Oh, that's just this thing he does." Or "Oh, he won't eat that because of this", or "Yeah, I don't know why he does that, really. But here's information I just gleaned from the five millionth book on Autism I've read."

And in doing so, I was just putting him deeper and deeper into that box checked "different."

And I refuse to do that anymore.

So, here it is. This is my kid. He does stuff. I think he's awesome. That's the most apologetic I'm gonna get.

And I'm sorry if his screaming hurts your ears. We're working on that. I find earplugs help.

Or a stiff drink.

Or both.

And he IS more awesome than your kid. And it's not because he's dye-free...it's because he has a mommy who loves him so unconditionally that she no longer feels any need to apologize.

Tickle

Ben, luckily, likes touch.  He craves it.  Quite often he is pushing against us, cuddling, wanting to be squished or get a good back-scratch.  But mostly, he likes this(especially from his Savta):

(note the ham moment in the middle where he stops to say "cheese!" for the camera...

Scripting

"I KNOW who MAKES it!" 

(one of his current scripts)

Ben is a scripter.  And in hindsight it makes sense.  I memorized TONS of words as a kid--Green Eggs and Ham, Jabberwocky,  song after song after song.  I have to say this is where Ben strays from exhibiting some of Daddy's little quirks to displaying some of mine.

in fact this little skill of mine--this memorizing--was a skill that convinced me maybe I should study medicine.  Lucky for you folks, I sucked at chemistry and anything involving math, so my…um…interesting bedside manner was not inflicted upon the general public.  Just my poor poor family.

[My idea of medical intervention:  What?  you're sick?  well that's just GREAT. *harumph* There's Advil in the bathroom.  Help yourself. and try not to puke on me.]

Ben will memorize the dialogue from any movie he likes to watch (repeatedly), and book that suits his fancy and a few songs--mostly from school as he cannot seem to tolerate anyone of US singing. (the Old Man and I CAN carry a tune--rather well, thank you.  Ben just isn't a fan)  So throughout my day, I'm always hearing snippets that may or may not make much sense:

"monkey tried to be a vegetable, but it was too corny"

"No!  No!  My son!  I've lost my son!"

"They make a great team."

"does he mope?  does he moan?  does he sulk? does he sigh?"

"Oh, the carnage!"

That last one is interesting.  One of the DVDs he LOVES to watch and requests daily is the DVD the Old Man put together of all his first year videos that we took.  Yes, daily I get to look at the two false alarm hospital trips, the sleepy-frowny face of one who hasn't slept in days, and the absolute GINORMITY of my cans during those breastfeeding days.  yay me.

There is one scene (I tried to upload it but it has been deemed IMPOSSIBLE by every electronic device int his house) where the Old Man has set up a series of stacked blocks so that Ben can crawl through and knock them down--an 8mo favorite activity.  he sets the camera at the floor level so that "benzilla" can destroy the city, all the while narrating "oh, the carnage!  The Humanity!"  (yeah, we're fans of the hindenburg film footage.  what of it?)

This is the one script that he uses appropriately.  When things fall, when cars crash, when dinosaurs attack, the cry of shock and awe can be heard throughout the house.

At least he didn't pick up me yelling at the dog:  "Manny!Quit humping the baby!"

And since I couldn't upload the ONE video I wanted to upload today, here's a random one when his head was huge and he was cuter than all get out:  

Reticence

I have stated before that I am a bit of a recluse.  Reticent.  Reserved--well, in public at least.  I'm not the most social of animals its true.  Some asshat once compared me to an anemone and only people  willing to risk my sting could get in.  Although, this was in a bar, and I think he was just telling me this to rub up against me.  And  it turned out this anemone had a hidden barracuda, and kicked that clownfish to the curb.

Its just that…well…I don't like people.  I find them annoying 90% of the time.  What with their jabbering on about nonsense like weather and traffic and the price of gas,  and  wanting to exchange small-talk, and half of them having no concept of personal space--physical or otherwise.  I don't like 'em.  Me and Jonathan Swift--we're like this *holds up crossed fingers*  Friggin Lilliputians.

So, you can imagine the whole "park scene" isn't really mine.   I once discussed that scene here.  And in some ways, Ben's Autism has served me in this.  He isn't social, so I don’t' really have to be.  Or when he is his version of social, the parents of his victims usually DON'T want to talk to me.  Nor I them, honestly.

But yesterday, at this torture chamber of sand and swingsets, I found a woman wanting DESPERATELY to make eye-contact with me.  She had a cute little munchkin, just getting the whole walking thing down, and she hovered over him like an LAPD helicopter over our house on a Friday night.  (hope my lack of sleep meant you caught your man, AirPigs™ ) Having served my sentence at the swings, I pushed Ben toward the climbing/sliding/bone breaker so that I could sit down  and exhibit this neighborhood's version of poor parenting. 

Anywhoosers, My kid was coming down  the slide while the previously mentioned larval form was standing at the bottom of said slide, so I granted her 2 seconds of eye contact to give her the silent nod/head's up you're kid's about to eat it signal so she could rescue him in time.  Which she did like any sober attentive parent.

And I went back to my taciturn indifference. (yeah--I've been watching Pride and Predjudice again.  sue me)  So, I can still feel her eyes boring into to me, with the crunchy/hippie smile plastered on her face as if she wants to share the joys of parenting such a beautiful, intelligent, all-natural child with me.  You may, kind reader, already guess my feelings on this possible scenario.

However, my kid, at this point did something kinda cool for him--he looked at the small grub, smiled and actually LEANED OVER to LOOK HIM IN THE EYE and said "baby". 

HOW AWESOME IS THAT???!!!

So I gave him some verbal praise for making "good eye contact!"  and clapped for him and did my little mom sideline cheer.  After which my kid took off to try to break his leg on another apparatus.

And the need for eye contact from this yoga-pants model stopped.  All non-verbal requests for communion had ceased.  She grabbed her child and headed in the opposite direction, keeping one eye on Ben, lest he turn into a 7-headed hydra and try to defeat her little hercules.

(sorry to tell you lady, your kid looks like he'll make a great red-shirt.  Just sayin')

She, no doubt having done all her research while her pupae was still in its cocoon, knew the secret code words I had just uttered, and realized at that point that my child was not. like. her. child.

Lucky for me (and for her consciousness and facial structure)  a friend of hers arrived within the next few minutes and they proceeded to have a FASCINATING and just loud enough conversation about how horrible a parent her sister is while their little arthropods proceeded to eat sand.  No doubt she had been bursting earlier to tell SOMEONE about how her sister lets her kids eat too much sugar, and *shudder* WATCH TELEVISION.  FOR 30 MINUTES.  EACH. NIGHT!  Gods preserve us, it's a wonder she didn't call CPS right then and there.

I should say, I hadn't strayed from my spot near this unfortunate and loud conversation until it looked like Ben was gonna attempt the climbing wall, and as I had no desire to visit the ER, I decided a ground rescue was in order.

And wouldn't you know it, that conversation, which had been at a decibel that even the parking lot could hear previously, was suddenly hushed, and upon curious glance to see if they had been set upon by zombies, i found both sets of eyes were upon me.  Now, no doubt they were discussing their latest bikini wax, or the fact that her husband made a sexual request she just wasn't comfortable with, and both had just HAPPENED to look up at my stellar gymnastics at removing my little lemur from an apparatus from which he did not know how to exit. 

Because she would be a giant douchebag if she took that moment to talk to her friend about my kid.

And while I am a self-proclaimed misanthrope, I don't ACTUALLY believe the worst of them.  I like to think that people will rise to their inner good naturally.

But perhaps you will not begrudge me my inner reluctance at befriending these asshats.  No, I prefer to be taciturn, and read great literature, and talk smack about people anonymously. 

If you need me, I'll be hanging out in my anemone...

Quees quees?

This is how Ben says please.

he also says "quay" for play.  And don't get me wrong, he can say his "P" just fine, for things like pop, puppy, poop and pumpernickel.  Not that you would understand him if he said pumpernickel, but it definitely has a P sound.

But please has ever been with the "qu" sound.  And usually in twos.  "more milk quees quees?"  And actually, when i prompt him to say please, either with a look or the classic "say what?"  "what do you saaaay?", i get a  "quay more milk quees quees?"  I think it's because i started him on "please" by getting him to ask to play games or toys.

So for now, it's our cute little secret language, one of which he seems quite proud:

P.O.T.T.Y.

I know, i know.  He's 4.5.  It's time.

Like i haven't tried.

We've done the three day miracle, the every 15 minutes, the do a little dance, cloth pull-ups, being naked outside  (during summer of course), long pointless discussions that gain only blank gazes or crying and controlling all liquids to try and time this bitch.

Nothing.  Nada.  Bupkis.

Occasionally he'll freak me out and tell me he's wet (3x) or actually ask to go potty (2x) or, no, that's it.  He has sat on the potty and farted once or twice--which made for a good giggle, but no poopy.

*sigh*

Yes, I know.  he has AUtism.  It may take him longer.  I get that.  Doesn't mean i have to like it.

(at this point i will stop and say how absolutely BLESSED we have been that he shows no interest in his own...um...crap so that we haven't had to deal with any of the horror stories i've read from other moms, Autie and typical alike.  Thank you G-d .  THANK. YOU.)

And yes, i know, he get's tremendous support from his teachers at school, and is about to start ABA therapy, and i have hopes that we'll at least have the basics down by kindergarten.  But having gone through a couple trials of underwear-wearing, "see, that's what WET feels like", forgive me if it seems like it's never going to happen.

(and yes, i realize it WILL happen.)

Now all this comes to mind because we just got a new respite worker (YAY) who is also a mom of two boys with Autism.  (um--wow?  I can barely deal with my own kid)  Anyway, when we all first met, she was shocked--SHOCKED---that Ben was still in pull-ups.  Both of her boys, she proudly announced, were potty-trained by 4.  And then she proceeded to tell me what i have to do (as if i've been living in ignorant bliss--yeah lady.  like i'd never thought of or tried ANY of the things you mentioned)

(that being said, she is a great caregiver, playing with and challenging Ben in wonderful ways.  And i know when we attempt serious potty training again, she will be behind me 100%.)

I don't want to be that mom--the one obsessed with poopy and peepee.  But i am.  And i am excited more than you know that ABA will start soon.  If anything, maybe they will give me the 1 method i HAVEN'T tried.

Unless its' the "mommy will drink less if you make a peepee in the potty method."  I ain't flyin' with that nonsense.  I'll invest in Huggies stock instead...

Open and Shut

So, one of the little "quirks" that can be associated with Autism, OCD and/or SPD is the need for order. A place for everything and everthing in its place.  OR ELSE.

 In Ben's case, it is the need for all doors to be closed.  This includes all gates, doors, windows, flaps and porthole, hatch and any other door-like aperture.

Now, this can come in handy when you're dealing with muffin-headed mommy and her absent-minded distractions (aka, leaving cabinet doors open after she sees something shiny--or remembers the 547 things she has to do that day)  I can always trust that my little man, when he's making his "kitchen rounds" will close those doors for me.  Or notify me if one is open that is out of his reach.  Its his attempt to control his environment, and it makes things a tad tidier in the process (or at least hides it behind a closed door)

There's no chance the front door would be left open on accident, but it's also difficult to leave it open on purpose--perchance on a lovely spring day when the birds are chirping and the bees are buzzing and the beautiful southern CA sun is shining.  NO!  It. Must. Be. CLOSED.

(luckily, he will accept it open if we put up a kiddy gate across the entrance.)

And his little habit has come in handy during those times of the year when i am trying to economize the heating or cooling bill--mainly, shutting doors around the house so that our massive open floor plan living room is a livable temperature--and if not then we can retreat to one of those closed off rooms that has the perfect temperature.  (to whomever designed this house--the mid-century modern floor to ceiling picture windows are great for the view, but crappy on the power bill!)

There are times, though, when his quirk can get in the way.

• trying to shut other people's car doors or trunks--and screaming when i pull him away
• when i try to be polite and hold a door open for someone
• going into businesses that leave the door propped open for whatever reason
• exiting ANY ride at Disneyland
• leaving a cabinet door open for cleaning purposes or to remove something from the back
• walking away from my laptop and coming back to find it closed and asleep

I suppose this could manifest into something far more annoying, but for now it seems harmless.

And you know what they say, when one door opens, Ben will be right there to close it for you.