Filed under: Special needs parenting, autism and autism spectrum disorders, philosophy | Tags: consciousness
The world of teenage boys is a minefield.
My guy travelled to his Grandma to spend Christmas with my husband’s family. He has been pretty psyched about the prospect of seeing the young friends around his age who usually come to these gatherings, and who might also be bringing the latest PSP or Wii games to help make the trauma of full-contact family gatherings more bearable. And though his scheduled routines get screwed up in a new place and new routine, there is usually someone there who knows how he is, and can get him calmed if he is getting upset by teasing or too much roughhousing.
Though all the kids are really nice (and from what I’ve seen, nice to him), they are young guys, growing up and involved in their peer groups and friendships at their schools. Bringing those contacts and experiences into the holiday gatherings as well. Unwittingly or deliberately leading their friends into modern adolescence: violent games, suggestive lyrics, rap videos, drugs, sex. The code of silence.
The minefield.
I remember the shock and titillation the first time I heard “nasty” song lyrics whispered by a new kid in our neighborhood, whose family was damaged and dysfunctional, who eavesdropped on her older brothers’ world to collect what she could use to keep us interested. We hooted with laughter, yet guiltily, eagerly hung on every word. I hadn’t even had my first crush on a boy yet, but was getting my first lessons about sex mixed with the guilty excitement that accompanied the lesson. It took some of my childhood. Some of my innocence. It became a secret. And for years I became adept at hiding my secrets from my parents, my family and romantic relationships, and ultimately my real self.
And now that he is thirteen, I am watching for signs of it in my son, too.
I don’t know some aspects of his deeper personality. The things that might attract him, the flipsides, pitfalls. What he thinks about, struggles with. His tendencies to secrecy and poor judgement, the things he wants to know but is too embarassed to ask.
I realize I am trying to assess the risks to find out how much my son watches the guys he thinks/wants/hopes are his friends, and what he will do to join the club, like that poor degraded girl years ago who saw depravity as a way to be liked.
I spent years trying to sweep the minefield ahead of time, trying to anticipate the risk, all the while knowing I can’t anticipate everything he needs. So I need to see it a different way.
It might not be the minefield I have imagined it to be. And with what I am learning about the nature of reality, might not even a place of any danger at all. What would happen if I saw him as being complete and learning how to live in his life? What would happen if he had more responsibility for his life? What would happen if I saw his world in a different way–as a good place to live, able to teach him what he needed to learn?
And he could show me that the perception of the minefield are my projections of my own issues on him. It’s like imagining alligators lurking in the cracks between the stepping stones that becomes a sidewalk again instantly when you choose to play another game.
It sounds good. Playing. Beats mine-sweeping any day.
Filed under: Special needs parenting, autism and autism spectrum disorders, photography | Tags: trying new things
I enjoyed the beautiful weather we had this Halloween
and the look of a new costume for Artist–this time, one we made ourselves.
He likes the idea of Halloween, but in the costume-idea department he’s always wanted to be something simple and uniform-y. A race car driver sufficed for three years, then an army uniform. And up to now, the costumes were cheap. I just bought the next size up at half-price and it was fine for us both. But this year I wanted to get crafty and make something different. I covered a Burger King type crown with black tissue paper and photos of jewels from a magazine, draped a beautiful length of blue batik cloth over his shoulder, some costume jewelry and voila—–he was Prince Artist the 2nd.
(he was okay with everything except wearing an earring.)
The prayerful pose was also his–
maybe he was channelling a prince from an enlightened monarchy.
I am so happy that there are signs that he is becoming more flexible and open to trying some new things.
Even though the usual verbal answer is noncommittal, he’s at least giving it a try.
New things, one at a time. And that’s all that I ask.
Happy Halloween.
Filed under: autism and autism spectrum disorders, philosophy, photography | Tags: photography
September 22nd I attended a meeting to hear a guest lecture from one of my heroes, Los Angeles photographer Joe Buissink on using our passionate love for our subject to fuel our creativity. I knew that he had created a beautiful book on autistic children, but had not known until then that he also had autistic children.
The creative black and white family portraits in his slideshow moved me to tears, especially the ones in which I recognized the body language and behavior of my son. He is usually pretty easygoing about being photographed, but Joe’s work made me want to be more persistent in capturing the beautiful images I see of him that catch the more subtle aspects of his personality and showing some of them as artwork.
Though most everyone wanted to talk photography, I spoke to him as a member of our select club. In and around what we do for our profession, we have children who can break open our hearts with their way of living. More and more I am beginning to understand that this opened, receptive state of mind offers some valuable lessons for my life for as well.
Filed under: Special needs parenting, philosophy | Tags: consciousness, parenting, relationships, Special needs parenting, spirituality
Here’s a special gift for all us crazy busy parents: a “spa day”– at your computer. Let the music or the simple natural sound of the water help you get grounded and focused on what is important in your life–you.
http://www.serenitypathways.com/virtualspajacuzzi.htm
I would also like to send along some relevance from Abraham-Hicks, the author of The Secret:
“The most significant thing for a parent to contribute to anyone is their own Connection and their own stability. An effective parent is a parent who laughs easily and often, and who doesn’t take things too seriously.”
Take time to enjoy the “here and now” with your children, your family, your life and yourself.
Filed under: homeschooling, unschooling | Tags: computer drawings, designs, illustrations, imaginary creatures, monsters
My son is an artist with an assured hand on the mouse.
I am amazed at the variety of the images that flow from his imagination.
My daughter loves me.
My son loves me.
My cat loves me.
Even my husbands and lovers past love me.
But the best thing of all
is that
now
I love me.
Filed under: Special needs parenting, autism and autism spectrum disorders, homeschooling, philosophy, unschooling
This past week I received a call back from a special-ed attorney whom I respect. When she asked me, “Why isn’t he in school?” I felt like I really couldn’t say why except I didn’t want him to. Part of me wanted to say, I’ve got it all under control, thank you, and another part wanted to blubber about all this anxiety I fear in beginning the process of dealing with doctors and psychologists and school bureaucrats again.
As an intuitive person, the conferences with teachers, principals and autism-department officials lit up old energy memories from my own childhood battles with teachers and authority figures so much I was scrambled, scattered and useless for days after a conference.
We have been drifting a bit, unschooling and keeping things relaxed regarding school since about this time last year. I realized that we both had been in need of a rest from the toxicity of our last public school experience, and that I, more than he, was dragging my feet about taking him to Rush to get an workup and assessment to get home-bound services started.
In the meantime, I have been studying seriously as a psychic, and have been making some pretty heavy-duty changes in my energy. I had been wanting a different set of eyes to look at my thoughts about my son’s education. A clear look, without guilt, shame or baggage from the past. And I realized that there had also been a big shift internally in the way I wanted to consider about him now.
I did not want to confer with professionals about his Asperger’s, his anxiety, problems with impulse control, blow-ups, meltdowns and aggression. I did not want to talk about trying to get him into a four-walled school again, with good intentioned teachers stretched too thin to help, and about my fears of having him shamed and excoriated for his mistakes.
I wanted to find ways to encourage and support his strengths and possibilities.
And along came lots and lots of information on RDI . I have been encouraged by reading Tammy Glaser’s articulate blog on this therapy, and have mets lots of great parents on the Yahoo groups and related links.
In the meantime I am reading Ross Greene’s excellent book, “Lost at School”, to use different strategies to address working on writing, the part of the school day still guaranteed to cause a meltdown if it’s more than writing in his journal. (I’m on hold to get his other book, “The Explosive Child”) and I’m focused and positive for the first time in months.
And hopefully here to have a record I can to refer to to see how far he’s come 
Filed under: Special needs parenting, autism and autism spectrum disorders, homeschooling, philosophy, unschooling
A conversation about what my son remembered about his past brought up the idea of helping to improve his memory by photographing and videotaping his activities to help him remember.
Videos can also be used to help see a picture for the future. I am reprinting a beautiful, inspirational article sent to me by one of my homeschooling moms entitled
What You Could See If You Really Looked
by Shannon Coe
Imagine a home video taken during the late 70’s. The black and white screen, the static, fuzzy feel of the movie. On it are two little girls and a stick. The oldest girl is using the stick with such showmanship. She is twirling, spinning, using the stick as art. She looks at the camera and smiles, all the while flipping and making magic with the stick. The other little girl gets a turn with the stick. What does she do? She takes a much more practical approach and starts digging with the stick. She uses it to pretend she is fishing or vaulting. She is digging a garden. It is a tool in her hands. Now fast forward thirty years and what are those little girls doing? One is a professional photographer and one designs curriculum. One deals with art and one focuses on tools for the homeschooler.
If we would just focus a little bit more, watch them play a little longer, really see what they do with the objects in their hand, we would be better equipped to help our children prepare for their lives outside our home. Not just in play, but the way a child does their school work, or the subjects they excel and have confidence in are all clues about the design the Creator used for this little soul. Focusing and paying attention will allow you to focus on the abilities this child was instilled with.
After thinking back on the home videos of me and my sister, I am intrigued with the realization that it was evident way back then the road we were meant to take. I wonder if we took time to rewatch our home videos of our children, if looking for clues, how much we would really see and learn about them? It will save you time and money when purchasing next year’s school curriculum, save you sorrow at the table as you try to use an approach that just does not fit with the design, or even compel you to study and learn more about children and the different ways of learning. It never dawned on me until my sister and I were talking how early it became apparent where our talents would take us. It was so evident now that we look back.
I hope this article encourages others. I am a huge fan of talking about the design of the Creator and the purpose for our children. It is easier for me as I am seeing my adult children living out their purpose that was so obvious as children. And as both those purposes involve risk, (police and Marine) it brings me greater comfort than people can imagine.
This is where I go when I am afraid for them, that THIS was the plan by God.
Filed under: Special needs parenting, autism and autism spectrum disorders, homeschooling, philosophy | Tags: love, relationships
I was moved to tears reading an ABC article about a young man and woman on the spectrum talking about being in a romantic relationship and dealing with the challenges their autism causes. My son is a slender, neat, handsome boy, and the years he was in public school seemed embarrassed if girls would say anything to him. Partly because he was eleven, but also partly because he didn’t really know what to say to anyone who didn’t play games on a Nintendo.
But he turns into a teenager this year, and as he grows older, it is my job to help him navigate through puberty and practice the skills of interactions with the opposite sex. The story is an individual example, and may be rare in the scheme of things, but it gave me hope that my son’s life might also have love in it…a special person who will understand and accept him for who he is, and let him be as he is.
Filed under: Special needs parenting, autism and autism spectrum disorders, homeschooling, philosophy, unschooling
My son hasn’t gone outside to exercise or play a lot this winter. Since we don’t drive regularly, and he doesn’t ride a bike, I have been kinda pragmatic about going out alone to do shopping and getting what we need during wretched weather. Sometimes I’ve felt like an early pioneer woman, out in the elements all covered in snow with my groceries on my back, and it’s better that he’s warm and dry and safe at home.
But I think it’s time to begin “stretching” him a little more–starting to bring him out with me in a variety of situations to practice real-life strategies for communication and problem-solving. We can walk around and learn the neighborhood, play as we walk and talk, and look for small-scale, slower-speed ways to practice and experience new behaviours until he feels able to handle them himself.
