The need to punch someone

School started a few weeks ago and we are in the middle of the transitional time where the boys are getting used to their new schedule and they’re becoming acclimated to their new teachers and classrooms. It is always a challenge, but school is always such a welcome experience following the less-scheduled summertime.

Over the past couple of months I have noticed that the boys were starting to fight more. At first it was kind of cute in a way. This is because in the past they weren’t really interested enough in each other to spend the time and energy to play together, much less fight. Their autism experience meant they didn’t choose to have interactions with each other unless it was necessary.

As they began to have small arguments and sibling rivalry, I was excited for those neurotypical moments. In my mind, it was part of their development and they were learning what it meant to be brothers. They appeared to be going through something that all siblings go through when they just rub each other the wrong way simply because they live together in the same house day after day. I know what that’s like and so does everyone else out there that is not an only child.

Their fighting became more intense as the summer continued, and it also became physical. It got so bad that at the end of summer it seemed that we were dealing with daily screaming matches, hitting or kicking that always led to someone getting hurt or brought to tears, and the eventual slamming of doors and yelling through the walls to continue the argument from their different rooms after I had to forcibly separate them when I couldn’t take any more.

In many regards, Prince Charming has been the instigator of most the fights. Although, Monkey is not innocent and often pushes all the hot buttons that quickly trigger his little brother. You would think that Monkey would just clock Prince Charming because he has been training in karate for a year now. But, what I found was that Monkey would often fall victim to the aggression that came from Prince Charming when he had turned into a Grumpy Badger. Monkey wouldn’t defend himself and would eventually get hurt to some degree; but I’ve found that about half the time his “hurt” is for dramatic purposes in the hope that it will get his brother in trouble.

After a particularly rough week last week, I sat down with Prince Charming to have a talk about what had been going on between him and his brother. I had been thinking that some of the fighting had to do with his need for sensory input on his body (a.k.a. “proprioception”). He had been hitting his punching bag in his room a lot more recently, and I wasn’t sure if it was due to anger issues or sensory issues or both.

This is the punching bag
that Prince Charming uses.
He doesn't use the gloves.
(Affiliate Link)

We had a really nice chat, just the two of us, hanging out on my bed. I let him do most of the talking as I led with certain questions to try to open him up.

After a few minutes I asked him, “Honey, why do you keep hitting your brother?” 

The response I got was quite surprising.

“He makes a really great punching bag, Mommy.”

It struck me as funny and I immediately started to laugh. He got a case of the giggles because I was laughing, so we had a good chuckle for a moment.

Then I asked him, “What do you mean by ‘he makes a great punching bag’?”

“It feels good when I punch him.”

“So, do you like punching him to make him cry, or do you like the way it feels on your hand?”

“It feels good on my hand. He’s softer than my punching bag.”

“Oh, I understand! It makes your body feel good when you are hitting something, and hitting him feels nicer than hitting the punching bag.”

“Yeah.”

“I have an idea about something else you could do that might make you feel the same way but wouldn’t hurt your brother. Do you want to try it with me?”

“Yes!”

He got really excited. I demonstrated how he could put couch cushions on the floor and try to punch straight down to see if he could feel the floor through the cushion. He showed me that he’d like to try it a different way than I suggested, and he was happy to try it out.

When we are in the throes of a bad day because the boys are fighting incessantly and I feel like I’m at the end of my patience and ugly mommy is going to pay a visit, it is so easy to automatically go to the behavioral side of the equation. But, if I hadn’t been paying attention, I would have missed the clues he gave me about the fact that his sensory needs were not being met.

Obviously it isn’t okay for him to hit or hurt his brother, and there are consequences for his actions when it happens. But, it was more than that. And, that’s the point. As parents of children with autism, we need to keep our eyes, ears, and minds open to the possibility that there is more going on than what we see in front of us. If we can seek clues that lead to the function of the behavior, we will be able to better work with our children in guiding them to a more appropriate outcome, and it will also help us keep our sanity intact for another day.

My experience with homelessness

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Never in my life did I expect to welcome a homeless man into my home to temporarily live with my family, but here we are.

For purposes of this blog, I’m going to call this man Jester because he’s a bit of a goofball. In the short time Jester has been with us, he has taught me a lot. First let me make a clarification, because I know you are wondering why we would make this kind of a choice.

Jester is a long-time friend of my husband’s. They had fallen out of touch years ago and had reconnected via my Facebook account a few years ago. Even though I had heard about him a lot in the past 16 years that my husband and I have been together, I had never met Jester until he moved in with us.

We got a call one night from him asking for help, and within an hour he was in our home. While Titan was out picking him up, I was hurriedly getting the kids into bed and prepping the house for his arrival, making sure there were clean sheets for him on our hide-a-bed, and that there was tea ready for all of us when they walked in the door. I knew it was going to be a long night of chatting, and I was right.

I was overwhelmed with his stories of the things he had been through, including a very recent and sudden separation from his wife. It was all so heartbreaking and surreal.

Growing up as a cop’s daughter, a healthy distrust is part of my nature. I often think of things with the filter of safety and security, and I obviously had concerns about whether or not I could trust this man to be with me and the boys while Titan was at work. Since Titan had zero worries, I knew we would be okay. Since then I have been working to systematically let go of my automatic mama bear reflex around him, and I feel like I’ve kept an open mind and have actually gotten to know him pretty well. He's a very nice guy and I can totally understand why he and my husband are friends.

When you look at him, you can see that life has been hard. When you hear his story, you can’t help but feel sorry for his experiences. I often find myself thinking about how I have reacted to homeless people in the past…with a very healthy dose of skepticism. Are their stories legitimate or are they fabricated to make you feel sorry for them? Are they trying to manipulate? Do they have good intentions? I will admit that all of those thoughts have crossed my mind in regard to Jester.

What I have found is that the boys absolutely love him. They ask if he will be home when they get back from school or when they wake up. One day when Monkey was getting off the bus, before I could even say “hi” to him, he asked me if Jester was here. When I said “yes” he was visibly relieved and excited to run into the house to find him. Seeing their pure love for him is really something, and I know it is having a positive impact on Jester.

I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason, and that even if you have bad experiences, those experiences will teach you something you need to know for later down the line. In other words, God has a plan, even if you don’t agree with it or understand it at the time. I can't help but feel this way for Jester and have shared that with him. As a Christian man, he also believes it to be true. And, even though it is adding financial strain to our lives to have him here, I am happy with our decision and have faith that God has a plan for us in this situation as well. 

Since Jester moved in, we have been helping him connect with resources, including things for veterans and for his old hobby and sport, karate. What we are finding is that some people really do have huge hearts. Jester is using his former black belt status to get him back into training, and he is being allowed to help teach classes at the dojo where Monkey takes karate. As it turns out, both Jester and Monkey's karate teacher studied at the same place when they were younger, so it’s a great fit. God has a way of working things out! 

Jester’s heart has been so lifted since we helped him make this particular connection, and he is thrilled to be doing something that he loves and that is so positive for not only him, but for others as well. It’s also been great for Monkey, because he gets to practice with Jester here at the house. Jester is eager to learn about autism and how to work with Monkey, and Monkey has made great strides with his technique in just the past few days. I think it will be a growth opportunity for both of them and they will learn a lot from each other.

I have no idea how long Jester will be with us, but we are taking it one day at a time. Jester has singlehandedly challenged all of my preconceived notions about homelessness. And, because some of the things he has gone through hit a bit close to home, he has also helped me realize how close we all can be to that kind of a situation. It really can happen to anyone. My perspective has grown and my boys seem to be enriched by the experience of having him here. 

Who knew that the arrival of a homeless man to my door would turn out to be a blessing in disguise?      

Did Daddy Have Cancer?

Last night we went on a family walk as the sun was setting. Near our house there is an area that was under development and was quickly abandoned as the housing market fell apart in recent years. There are sidewalks and trees, and it is set back from the main road. It makes for a serene, enclosed space that lends itself well to family time. We have had some excellent walks there on the long summer nights, and it’s a great place for the kids to get their energy out before bed.

Just before we left our house to take a walk, I had been watching a documentary on Netflix called “Dying to Have Known” about cancer treatments and whether or not the Gerson therapeutic approach can improve health and cure cancer. It was interesting to me because of my husband’s experience with lymphoma back when our boys were very little.

As I expected, when the boys heard the TV, they came out to check what I was watching in case they were missing something. They ended up watching almost the entire last hour of the documentary with me. I have no idea what piqued their interest, but I was glad to have their company. I figured, if nothing else, it might give them reason to ask me questions. Unlike most neurotypical kids, my boys don’t seem to ask a lot of questions, and I have to really make a concerted effort to have these kinds of interactions with them.

So after the movie concluded, we left for our walk. As we got underway, I was recounting part of the documentary to Titan, who missed most of the movie. I briefly spoke about how the work of Dr. Gerson* and Dr. Burzynski* are not viewed favorably in the mainstream medical community, much like how “alternative” autism treatments such as the GFCF diet are viewed with the same disdain, despite a lot of evidence about their efficacy. (*The documentaries, “The Gerson Miracle” and “Burzynski” can be instantly viewed on Netflix.)

I was reminding Titan about how his doctor got upset when he lost weight by eating raw foods, taking supplements and juicing while he was undergoing chemotherapy. The doctor was concerned that his weight loss would make him sicker from the chemo. 

Monkey interrupted us and asked who we were talking about.

“I’m talking about Daddy.”

“Oh. Wait… What? Why was the doctor upset with him? Was he sick?”

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“Yes, Daddy was sick a long time ago. The doctor didn’t like what we were doing to help Daddy’s body stay strong during his treatment. But, Daddy’s better now, so everything is fine.”  

“What was wrong with Daddy?”

“Well, he had cancer. He doesn’t have it anymore. He’s okay.”

I could see the wheels turning in his mind as he remembered the movie we had just watched and all of its talk about cancer. I could see it was troubling him and he started to walk slightly faster so that he could avoid me seeing his face. He tries to cope with emotions by avoiding eye contact because it gets very uncomfortable very quickly for him.

I’ve often heard people say that those with autism have dulled emotional responses, but from my experience I can tell you that I believe that sometimes the surge of emotions can be overwhelming and they are responding in those ways due to a feeling of chaos and lack of control. I think people with autism may feel even more emotion than you or I, and they simply can’t handle the way it makes them feel. Monkey will do whatever he can to avoid emotion, but sometimes it can hit him very, very hard. So, I respected the subtle nonverbal clues he was sending me about how the subject of his dad having cancer was difficult to process.

“Did Daddy really have cancer? What kind of cancer was it?”

“Yes, he did. He had lymphoma.”

Titan jumped in and asked Monkey if he could remember the scar on his body, and told him that the scar came from a surgery where they removed his tumors. He also talked about the blue tattoo dots on his chest that were used to align the radiation machine.

“How old was I when this happened?”

“Well, your brother was a baby…about 6 months old. You were 2 years older than that. You were really young, which is why you don’t remember any of this. We haven’t really talked about it with you because it happened a while ago. Daddy is fine now. So, please don’t worry.”  

“Okay.”

His pace slowed back down a little bit as his emotions began to calm. I figured the door was open, so maybe we should expand the conversation.

“You know you can ask me a question about anything whenever you want, right? Is there anything that you want to ask me about right now? Maybe about Daddy, or autism, or something else?”

“Yes. Why am I allergic to wheat?”

I explained to him that his food allergies are something he was born with, much like my allergies to pollen, and that the special diet is helping his body and brain. I also told him that the allergies are part of his autism and that when he is on the diet, his autism is better. This, obviously, led to the next question…

“Will I have autism and food allergies for the rest of my life, or will they be cured?”

I told him that much like with cancer, some people can get better and some do not, and that this can also apply to things like autism and food allergies. Some people have to stay on a special diet for their whole lives, and that we didn’t know yet if that was the case for him or for his brother. We talked about how the diet has helped his body, his brain, and his autism, and that he needed to stick with it for a while longer.

We talked for several more minutes and I tried to involve Prince Charming as much as I could. I made sure to specifically ask him if he had questions about his autism or anything else. He understands that he has autism, but gets easily confused about the fact that autism is a condition that affects his body and brain, and that it isn’t something more concrete like a local event we have called Autism Day. So, I talked with him about how some kids have autism and some don’t, and reminded him about how we like to visit and play with our friends that have autism at some of the special events we go to.

I know that in time his understanding will expand. All I need to do is keep talking with both the boys and encourage questions in those distraction-free times, such as family walks in the evening.

How do you talk with your kids about autism?          

The joy and anguish of flying a kite

After the school year ended we took a much-needed mini vacation, which ended up being a small family reunion. My mom had just been recently released from the hospital. My brother flew out from Colorado and my dad rented a beach house on the Oregon Coast for all of us. It was a nice time to gather together and just be a family for a few days.

Part of the trip we were dodging rain drops, and this was a picture I captured one evening as I enjoyed the view of the sunset over the ocean from our rental.

The boys had a huge fascination with the stairs, since our home is single level. They kept running up the stairs and sliding down them head first. They had tons of fun!



And then, there was the sleeping loft. It was a match made in little boy heaven. They got their own cool sleeping space that gave them an awesome view of what was going on downstairs.

And, when you have a really tall daddy like Titan, this is what happens when little boy feet are dangling through the railing...

I found my dad and Monkey hanging out in the sunshine one afternoon in the back yard.

And, after about 20 minutes of carefully negotiating our extremely sensory-sensitive Prince Charming into the water of the hot tub, I was able to capture this gem before I climbed into the water with the boys.

I love the Oregon coast. It is so picturesque.

 

And, now we get to the heart of our story.

In anticipation of our beach trip, I had purchased new Angry Birds kites for the boys. They had never had a very successful kite-flying experience before, so we were eager to test the new kites' ability to catch the wind.

After a quick tutorial with a short line, the boys practiced near us and ran around in circles. They had a lovely time. Titan then showed them that they could let the line out more and watch it fly higher. All they had to do was run to keep it in the air.

And that is when it went horribly wrong.

At first, I was enamored by the sheer joy on their faces. It was an astonishing moment of freedom for them. They were running with excitement and happiness. I didn't want the moment to end and was rapidly taking pictures of them to capture this milestone. I was able to watch their fun easily through the zoom lens of my camera.

I put the camera away for a moment to chat with Titan, and that's when it happened. We both realized exactly how far down the beach the boys had gone. And they continued to run, without stopping. They did not glance back once. Monkey was in the lead and Prince Charming was just trying to keep up with his brother.

Titan and I left my dad and brother behind as we scrambled down the beach as fast as we could through the sand. Each moment we traveled, the further and further away they got. After chasing them for what was likely ten minutes (that seemed like an eternity), the wind must have shifted, because Prince Charming managed to hear one of my bellows.

He stopped and looked back. Monkey was still running at full speed.

I used exaggerated body movements and sign language to tell Prince Charming that he needed to get his brother and come back to us. He seemed to understand, thank the Lord.

He ran off to catch up to his brother and started yelling his name. Monkey was far enough away he didn't hear him. Titan and I continued toward them, but knew that neither could hear us. After a few more minutes, Prince Charming managed to get close enough to Monkey to get his attention, and he finally looked back toward us.

Titan and I were wildly signaling with our hands to come back. He saw us. Both of the boys started heading back in our direction. Thank God. I never made it down the beach as far as Monkey did, and I swear to you it was probably at least a mile away from where we had begun. Looking back down toward our starting point, my dad and brother were barely distinguishable as dark specks on the sand.

When the boys made it back to us, we quickly reeled in the lines on their kites and had a stern chat with them. The long walk back was spent in silence. There were no smiles. No more joy.

It was a shame. They had no cares in the world as they ran along the beach, loving their kites, the wind, and the sun. What was a blissfully happy moment for the boys became something entirely different. Their freedom escalated into our intense worry over their safety, and our recognition that they lacked understanding of possible consequences.

After we re-joined the others and the boys settled into looking at rocks, I quietly excused myself. As I walked up the hill to the car, the tears began to fall behind my sunglasses. I stifled my sobs until I got into my car, and then I let it all out.

This was not the first time Monkey had wandered away with no regard for safety. One time he was brought back to us by the police after being missing for almost an hour with a full-fledged neighborhood search underway. It was a horrific experience I never wanted to repeat. Talk about a flashback.

It had been a few years since we had dealt with his complete disregard for safety concerns. Titan and I thought this portion of our autism experience was finally behind us. That hope was immediately crushed as I reflected on what had just happened with the kites and what could have been, had we not been able to get Prince Charming to hear us and understand that he needed to get his brother's attention. With Monkey's high level of endurance, rate of speed, and sheer distance he had on us, there is no telling where he could have ended up before he stopped.

I was snapped back into the reality of autism.

As I cried in the car, I wondered if any of it would ever actually be behind us. The rollercoaster of the boys doing well then not doing well, improving and regressing...it's all so exhausting as so many things in so many areas of their lives can be affected.

It made me ponder the big picture. What will the future hold for my children? It can seem so uncertain from day to day. I always hope for the best, but you can't help but go through worst-case scenarios in your head. Will my planning 20 steps ahead for things ever stop? Will my boys ever lead a "normal" life? I guess I have less certainty of that than I thought I did.

A day that started with so much joy, ended with anguish.

As we checked out of our rental that morning and went down to the beach one last time to fly kites before we left town, I certainly didn't expect our vacation to end on that note. And, I doubt I will ever look at a kite in the same way again.          

A giveaway that was 2,000 people in the making!

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Can I just say how much I LOVE my Facebook fans?

I do. You rock.

I want to say thank you. For liking me. Somehow you guys found my Facebook page, read my blog, and yet still stick around to hang out.


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And since you are all cool like that, it's time to celebrate a momentous occasion. The Caffeinated Autism Mom Facebook page finally reached 2,000 Likes, and it has been a loooong time coming.

Thanks for showing up and letting me know that I am not alone in my often-caffeinated, autism-laced wanderings in life. It's nice to know that there are folks there who share in some of my misery, successes, confusion, brand of hilarity, mishaps, and let's face it...crazy.

My gift to you is a sweet kitchen towel and potholder set featuring the vintage coffee lady that resembles me to a certain degree.

If I can ever afford my own custom graphics for this little blog, I imagine I'll change the CAM images to look a bit more like her. After all, she's a wavy-haired brunette, just like me. Oh, and you gotta love how she rocks the pearls and the fancy cup!

Now, get on with it. Win the cool kitchen towel set already. And, don't forget that sharing is caring.

**Please Note: Some folks with Internet Explorer are not seeing the giveaway widget below. It works flawlessly in the Chrome browser, if you are having any trouble.**