You've been chopped!

Summer is a very interesting time of year for us. And by "interesting" I mean, "is it wine-thirty yet?" I might need to pull out my Pyramid of Crazy...

I have been working with the boys on a new reward schedule for our token economy system. They can earn treasure coins to pay for rewards by following a list of expected behaviors.

That's fancy talk for, "follow the rules and earn prizes!"

One of the things they can earn is time to watch a show of their choosing. If they don't want to pay coins for a show, then they are stuck watching whatever I pick. Or, they can go play elsewhere if they don't like the show I selected.

We don't watch all that much TV in our home because we can't afford cable. We rely on things like Hulu and Netflix and we have our PC hooked up to the big TV in our family room so that we can stream shows over the internet for free. Well, it's free except for the exorbitant cost of high-speed internet!

One of the shows I have recently rediscovered courtesy of the internet is Chopped, from the Food Network. I love this show! I figured it was somewhat educational for me in learning about ingredients and food preparation, and it didn't seem to have anything offensive that would be bad for the boys.

As it turns out, the boys love this show! They are glued to the TV when I turn it on. So much so, that they do something miraculous: They sit still. The entire time. I know. Miracle!  

If you've never seen the show, a group of 4 chefs come on the show to compete for $10,000. They have to go through 3 rounds - appetizer, entree, and dessert. With each round, their dishes are judged by an esteemed panel of chefs/culinary giants, and then one chef is "chopped" and does not move forward to the next round. Depending on the course, they have 20-30 minutes to create an amazing dish that must feature all of the ingredients revealed in a black mystery basket. The chefs open up the basket and the clock starts ticking away the few minutes they have to execute their brilliance.

Some of the ingredients the show comes up with, and the combinations of those ingredients, are truly insane. I mean it. I've seen things like candied fennel seeds (that look that sprinkles on steroids) for use in an entree. They come up with the most unlikely pairings of ingredients that have no relation to each other in any way.

One dish can include things like: chicken kidneys, sea beans, popcorn, and star fruit. I don't know. I'm trying to think of ingredients I have seen them use... Crazy stuff!

"Chefs, open your basket! Your time starts now!"

Really? And, what the heck are sea beans anyway? How exactly do you prepare chicken kidneys? Ewww...

So, my boys, the little script memorizers that they are, absorb everything about the show while it's on. Prince Charming can actually do a Ted Allen impression. It's the funniest thing ever to hear him interject things he's heard from the show when I'm cooking.

In fact, we were out having dinner at a restaurant and Prince Charming was reading the menu. Titan and I were ordering an appetizer and Prince Charming piped up and asked, "Is that an 'on ray'?" Puzzled, Titan and I looked at each other trying to figure out what he was talking about.

Then it hit me. Not "on ray." Enree. He's trying to say "entree!" He is figuring out that at a restaurant you can order an appetizer, entree and dessert. Just like Chopped!

Smart boy.

The next day, we were hanging out at home doing nothing in particular. The boys were playing in the same room. When this happens, it can spell trouble very quickly. Monkey did something that Prince Charming didn't like and he was getting agitated and escalating his behavior. All of a sudden, he angrily glares at Monkey and I hear him yell:

"You've been chopped! Grrrrr!"

Well, I guess Prince Charming figured out how to turn a Food Network show into a way he can fight with his brother. It was so priceless, I could barely stifle my laughter.

Now, that is scripting in all of its glory. And it was pretty awesome.       
 

The pyramid of crazy

If you are a parent of a child with autism, you quickly realize that there are new levels of crazy you have never experienced before. If you are a woman, this intensifies the situation. This topic came up the other day when I was in a mood. I had a headache that suddenly appeared and was escalating fast, my boys were driving me nuts, and, well, I was hormonal and felt like crap.

I had a full car as we headed off to therapy. In addition to my kids, I also had my husband and Miss C with me. Instead of the adults staying to participate in the therapy session, we dropped the boys off and got back in the car since I needed headache medicine in the form of a hot, caffeinated beverage. Miss C made an off-hand comment on our way to Starbucks. Sensing my mood before we left for the appointment, she chose not to say anything at the time because she knew I would likely maim her in some fashion. She was right. So, in the relative safety of the car (and the protection of my hubby) she shared her little quip about how she had been afraid to say something to me earlier that afternoon and instead chose to shut her trap for fear of the bodily harm I might have done to her.

My hubby laughed. Loudly. I whipped my head around to glare at him. He immediately changed his body posture and looked back at me timidly. I made some stern remark about how I was hormonal, I had cramps, I had a headache, I was in a pissy mood and you better not mess with me. (You should know that I’m really not as mean as I make myself sound…I had a humorous glint in my eye and a smile on my face while I was laying down the law.) Titan, sensing the mood was clearing a bit, replied with something to the effect of, “Yes, dear. Okay, dear. Anything you say, honey. I luuuuuv you.” With that we all broke into laughter.

Somehow this interchange started us in the direction of the different kinds of crazy we have observed. I got to talking about how you don’t want to mess with an autism mommy because she will cut you if you talk smack about her kids. We starting coming up with some hilarious anecdotes and we were all laughing very hard. Laughter is good medicine for headaches. And, coffee helps, too! I mentioned that all the talk about crazy would make a great topic for a blog post and I tucked it away in my brain for later.

Well, it does make a great topic for a blog post! I got to thinking about the conversation we had in the car and let my mind wander and funny stuff starting popping into my head. I actually cracked myself up and began laughing out loud while I was pondering what I would write about. I was imagining a diagram of crazy, much like you might see with the USDA’s Food Pyramid. Coming up with the names of the levels practically made me cry with laughter, so I knew I had to write about it. I crack myself up sometimes. And, here it is…the pyramid of crazy:

(It's kind of hard to read when it's so small... You can click on the image to make it larger.)

Would you like a little explanation?

Level 1: Tired, Hormonal, and/or Uncaffeinated crazy

This is the most common form of crazy and we’ve probably all been there quite often. Some autism moms can be afflicted by this form of crazy every day, to varying degrees. Lack of sleep, chronic stress, wacked out hormones and always being in need of caffeine is part of the job description. And yes, it does make you crazy one day at a time.  

Level 2: Gird your loins, I may cut you crazy

This is affectionately known as the Tonya Harding level of crazy. I can say that because I grew up in Oregon and worked at the mall where she practiced before she became all famous. I feel a little bit entitled to use her name for my gain, especially after her crazy unleashed itself at the Olympics and later in the wrestling ring. Anyway…this level is achieved when you have been at level 1 for too long, or if you have multiple forms of level 1 happening at the same time. Tired, hormonal AND uncaffeinated? That is a situation ripe with “I may cut you” potential! And, if your hubby is reason you are going crazy and you have the desire to whack him, you might warn him to gird his loins. They could become a target if he’s not careful!  

Level 3: Rubber room, reservation for 1 crazy

If after being at level 1 and possibly level 2 for an entire day (or an hour, depending on how predisposed to crazy you are), you may find yourself with the intense desire to go hide in your bedroom, lock the door, rock gently in the corner, and hum, “Soft Kitty” to yourself (thank you Sheldon Cooper for a song of comfort). You may feel the urge to escape your child with autism because they won’t stop scripting {insert the name of the cartoon you most loathe here}, stimming and/or melting down and you are about to snap or start the ugly sobbing that won’t stop without copious amounts of chocolate or alcohol.

Level 4: Batsh*t/Killer rabbit crazy

This level is known as Batsh*t crazy for most of you, but for the hardcore Monty Python fans (like we are at my house), the preferred name is Killer rabbit crazy. The Killer rabbit comes from the movie, Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I love what Wikipedia says about this character: “The rabbit is now used as a metaphor for something ostensibly harmless which is, in fact, deadly.” I can tell you from personal experience that if I have worked up to the Rubber room level and my emotions are raw from a rough day (or several days in a row of full-blown autism at its finest), this level is unavoidable as you become like an exposed nerve that can turn into full, insane crazy at the drop of a hat.  

Level 5: Blue-faced warrior crazy 

Do you remember the scene at the end of the movie Braveheart when Mel Gibson’s character is standing at the top of a hill making his big speech about them never taking away his freedom, and then he proceeds to fight with his army to the bitter, bloody end? Now imagine that your child with autism is a target of some idiot that decided to judge you as a bad parent and your child as a snot-nosed brat because they are having a meltdown while standing in line at a store. You will move easily up to Blue-faced warrior as you defend your child with a savage verbal attack before you feel compelled to go cry in the car. Have you ever seen a mob of autism mommies form out of thin air to circle the wagons around a family that has been harmed in some way as a direct result of their child’s autism? We are a vicious bunch when we are angry and have climbed the levels of crazy. Let me tell you…we are a force to be reckoned with. I think the blue paint would be an added bonus, given that blue is often associated as the color of autism. Can you imagine us running down that hill in our warrior paint screaming at the top of our lungs as we attack the stupid people? It’s an awesome visual, isn’t it?

Level 6: Shotgun crazy

The best way to describe this level of crazy is the picture from my Shotgun Mama post. If you’ve had a particularly rough time recently with your child and you are at the end of your rope, you may do like I do and call your husband to warn him that if he doesn’t start heading home from work the kids may not survive. When you’ve reached the top level of the crazy pyramid you may feel like if one more crappy thing happens people are gonna die. You know that I say this in jest. Jail just doesn’t fit in with my boys’ therapy schedule! Some autism mommies I know will take a vacation day away from their kids. I’d say that’s a good plan if you can swing some time away from your precious angels. Before going postal, you might consider talking with a mental health professional. I’m just sayin’.  

One last thing about the pyramid of crazy:

You don’t have to move through each level in succession. It is possible to be in more than 1 level at a time or to skip levels as you work through your particular brand of crazy.

We all have some sort of crazy inside of us, and autism has a way of magnifying that. You are not alone in your crazy. We are all right there with you. Revel in it and claim your level!

Take a deep, cleansing breath. Happy thoughts. J   

I love to singa

Do you remember the old Merrie Melodies and Looney Tunes cartoons? There was an episode from 1936 featuring the character of Owl Jolson. This little owl only wanted to sing jazz, and his parents disapproved and insisted he learn classical music. Sound familiar?

Well, over the weekend we lived in “I love to singa” land. All. weekend. long. Prince Charming sang the song nonstop around the house as he played, sat, ate... You get the idea.

It went a little something like this:

I love to sing-a
About the moon-a and the June-a and the spring-a,
I love to sing-a,
About a sky of blue-a, or a tea for two-a,
Anything-a with a swing-a to an "I love you-a,"
I love to, I love to siiiiiiiiiiiiiing!

You remember the song, don’t you? Fair warning…since you just read the lyrics and found yourself singing along in your head, there is a 99% probability that the song will now, in fact, be stuck-a in your head-a. At least I’m not the only one-a!

He even included the nasal rendition of the piece that Owl Jolson’s parents wanted him to sing instead of jazz.

Drink to me only with thine eyes,
And I will pledge with miiiiine.

Prince Charming nailed it every single time. Perfectly. In hindsight, I guess it was a nice distraction from Monkey’s constant talking about cars.

As I sat down to write this post, I reviewed the cartoon again to refresh my memory (as if I needed to be reminded).

Guess what? I made a discovery!

Both of my boys have been saying, “stop, Stop, STOP!” in increasing volume and intensity as they play together. Let’s just agree that it’s NOT an enjoyable experience to be in a room with them yelling, “STOP!” repeatedly to each other. Anyway, I discovered that the boys got that little gem from Owl Jolson’s father who yelled those words with the exact same inflection whenever he wanted his boy to quit singing jazz.

Well, I guess that cleared up the question of where the latest and greatest phrase came from. I could choke Owl Jolson’s dad for that one. Perseveration is fun, isn’t it? Mommy needs coffee. Or maybe vodka.

    

Telling the truth is hard (revisited)

A few months ago I wrote a post entitled, “Telling the truth is hard.” The next day I followed it up with, “Telling the truth is hard (continued).” Well, another issue cropped up shortly after those posts, so I thought it would be good to share an update with you now that some of the dust has settled.

In case you haven’t had a chance to read the old posts yet, I’ll bring you up to speed:

Monkey was having lots of trouble with honesty. It came to a head when he (1) stole money from me and lied about it, and (2) stole food and lied about it (you can read about how we dealt specifically with this issue HERE).

About a week after these incidents, I learned that he had stolen a toy from a child at school. It took us almost 2 more weeks to figure out the details of what happened and who the toy belonged to, much less return it to its rightful owner with an apology letter and sacrificial gift. (He did not like having to give up something of his to this other child! Can you say mean mom lesson?) 

Monkey said something before that I thought would be good to repeat now before we move along with the latest chapter.

When asked the question, “Why do you think it’s okay to lie,” he answered, “I don’t have the right equipment.” I was fairly astonished by his comment at the time and thought it was very profound.

The stolen toy incident spurred yet another in-depth conversation about honesty with both me and his dad. Monkey hates having these kinds of conversations. It’s hard for him to focus and stay engaged (much less stay somewhat still), and he gets very uncomfortable with having to talk about anything for more than a couple of minutes. It causes him stress, which makes it exceedingly difficult to have a meaningful conversation that could yield any sort of positive result.   

Some of the things he said were truly interesting and I thought I would share the highlights of what he told us as we pressed him for information about the incident.

Pink Panther to the rescue

At the suggestion of one of my autism mommy friends, I decided to check out Pink Panther cartoon episodes for my kids. I remember watching Pink Panther as a kid, but it never really held a lot of fascination for me. However, I do distinctly remember the theme song! You remember it too, right? I think you would have had to be living under a rock if you didn’t have that song permanently ingrained in your brain. I used to love the mellow tones of the saxophone and the jazzy lilt to the music that ran through the episodes.

Well, I was complaining chatting about the latest cartoon my kids were perseverating on. She understood completely. Echolalia can take over our home with the latest brand of cartoon fascination. It can become consuming and after a while I can get downright annoyed. In February I wrote, “Chaaarge! Retreat!” about how my boys were reliving an episode of Bugs Bunny over and over again. It’s cute to think about them playing nicely together (for once!) and acting out the parts, but when you’ve seen and heard it a zillion times in a row it ceases to possess the same level of cuteness.

In case you don’t know or haven’t yet figured it out, echolalia is when a child repeats or echoes back something that is said. When they do it for an extended dialog, like memorizing all the lines from their favorite show, it's called scripting. Then, you add in perseverative behavior (an obsessive interest in something; in this case, repeating something over and over) and it feels like it’s frying my brain one cell at a time. They love it.    

I’ve heard practically every single cartoon I’ve ever seen with my children repeated back to me in some fashion. Often they are able to pull phrases and words from various shows they’ve seen and string parts of them all together to form an in-context conversation. Most people who don’t really know my boys may have no idea whatsoever that the words they speak may not even be their own. It’s a finely crafted facsimile of a conversation and it’s an astonishing feat when you think about it. I could never do that in a million years! The way my boys can categorize and memorize information is beyond my comprehension, and is most certainly one of the gifts that comes with their particular brand of autism.

Anyway, my friend reminded me how perfect Pink Panther would be for my kids. There is almost no dialog! (Insert singing choir of angels here...) They would only be watching it for the musical and comedic value and I likely wouldn’t want to strangle them afterward. Yes! This was something I could get behind! I discovered that Hulu.com picked up some of the old episodes and made them available on their site for free online viewing. Since we no longer have cable television, it was perfect for us. And, the best part is, the kids love watching it. It’s a win-win!

Pink Panther, thanks for your jazzy tunes, funny style, and for being quietly cool. You may have saved my sanity. Well, at least for a little while.

 
April is Autism Awareness Month! A group of mommy bloggers have joined together to help spread the word about autism. Please visit these wonderful blogs!

Organizing Made Fun
Earth Monkey Moms
A Bowl Full of Lemons
Goodbye House, Hello Home
Pieces of My Heart

Caffeinated Autism Mom
Mom's Flight School
Helping My Boys
My Thirty One
Life with Lissy
Frou Frou Britches
This Journey Through My Life
Endless Crafting
Loving This Life with 5
Snails & Puppy Dog Tails
Me, You, Wine, Cheesecake, and Autism
Organizing Amid Chaos
The Five Days

Join us, won’t you?

Chaaarge! Retreat!

Do you remember watching Looney Tunes? You know, when good cartoons were a Saturday morning tradition? My boys have recently decided their favorite is the “Bunker Hill Bunny” episode with Bugs Bunny and (Yosemite) Sam von Schmamm trying to storm each other’s fort.

Bugs defends his wooden fort with a single cannon and Sam defends his formidable stone fort with multiple cannons. As always, Bugs calmly outwits the irritable Sam. A highlight of the episode is when Sam comes out with a musket bayonet and charges Bugs in the wooden fort. Bugs charges back with his musket bayonet and they end up switching sides and changing their respective flags from “We” to “They.” It is this portion of the episode that has enamored my boys, keeping them entertained for hours as they recreate it in their play on a regular basis.  

Like many children on the spectrum, they both have a talent for absorbing things they hear from their favorite shows, cartoons, songs, and games. I consider this to be a verbal form of photographic memory. Many people call it scripting, but at our house we call it dialoging. Dialoging has become a preferred form of stimming for both of my boys, and is a way for them to perseverate on something they really like.

In times past, Monkey was the only one who did this. Now that Prince Charming has also honed the skill and the boys are finally learning how to play together successfully, they’ve found it enjoyable to dialog in tandem. They derive intense satisfaction from repeating particular scripts over and over. At times they have an uncontrollable need to get all the words out from their current favorite dialoging subject, and it’s very difficult to get them to stop in the middle of this type of activity. I discourage them from dialoging out in public, but I usually let them do it freely when we’re home. I believe that if they have the overwhelming urge to stim, home should always be a safe place to do so. If I simply can’t listen to it anymore, I have them dialog in their rooms with the door shut.  

As I mentioned, their current focus is on recreating the Bunker Hill Bunny episode. Over and over. And over. They each choose a part to play and then go through the episode, providing both dialog and action. Serving as their pretend musket bayonets, they use the plastic Star Wars light sabers that they got for Christmas.

It always starts out super cute. They have great attention to detail and it’s impressive how they work together to be accurate. They take turns playing different characters and have fun mimicking their tone of voice and mannerisms. After the 50^th time in a row in the span of about an hour, it’s a smidge less cute.

Remember Scrat, the saber-toothed squirrel in the movie, Ice Age? You know how he gets a twitchy eye when he’s reached the end of his proverbial rope? Yeah. I get that. Completely. By the end of the night, I can sometimes be found wildly grabbing for their light sabers and making threats about never allowing them to watch Looney Tunes ever again. Ever. It’s usually about that time that I’m wishing the martini fairy would bring me a stiff drink, and that the sleep fairy would knock my kids out into a deep slumber. But, I digress…