Professor Mother Blog

May 20, 2010

Laundry Solution

Filed under: Gifted,Twice-exceptional — profmother @ 10:24 am

We are ALWAYS fussing at Ray to clean up his room, put away his stuff, put dirty clothes in the hamper.  As a kiddo with Tourette’s, ADHD, and anxiety disorder, he likes being surrounded with his “stuff”- masses of stuff- and none of it organized.  We laugh, not with real humor, that Ray will someday be on “Hoarding: Buried Alive“.  He has paths through his room until James comes in, shovels it all up and puts it in a box to be hidden in the garage and eventually thrown or donated away.

I have managed to prevail on James not to throw away clothing, since Ray really does need to be dressed- mothers are funny in their demands, I know.  Which means that most of Ray’s shirts, shorts, socks, etc. wind up on the floor.  And then I turn into Wicked Mother who fusses at him to put it away, clean it up, do laundry.  We have tried labeling his drawers.  We have tried reducing his clothing choices.  We have tried washing only the thing that are actually in the hamper.  He likes doing his own laundry and this has worked the best so far, but he either forgets to do it, or wants to wash two socks and that’s it…

But now, Ray has solved his own problem and I am so terribly impressed!  He has invented the Dirty Clothes Balance.

When the dirty clothes hit a weight that overbalances the basket, it is designed to slide down the ramp, which alerts him that it’s time to do laundry.  It’s a bit Rube Goldbergish, a lot of funny, and absolutely brilliant!

The other thing that is wonderful is that Ray HATES for his picture to be taken.  Since he was a baby, he has turned away from the camera’s eye- too invasive, too… something.  He much prefers to be behind the camera.  So for him to want his picture taken means that he is really proud of this creation.

And now, if he could only create a contraption that picked up my husband’s socks…

May 13, 2010

Relief on the Homefront

Filed under: ADHD,Gifted,Schools,Twice-exceptional — profmother @ 1:08 pm

We are celebrating- whooping, throwing up our hands and dancing a sassy dance!  Ray PASSED his CRCT! 

This news is not unexpected in terms of his knowledge of 2nd grade material.  Ray is smart as a whip.   But Ray’s anxiety has been an issue all Spring.  Because we moved to GA in August and he had been in a Montessori school, he started off the school year unaware of the seriousness of THE test that would be coming at the end of the year.  THE state test.  THE test upon which passing to the next grade is dependent upon (never mind how hard he works or demonstrates that he can master content during the year- THE test is the only marker that is used… but that’s a whole ‘nother rant).  When February came, he figured it out quick.  The school had pep rallies.  The school had CRCT practice sessions.  The school had ”Fun in the Sun” games for children passing their benchmark tests.   And on the last benchmark, which Fun in the Sun was based, he failed.  He failed because his anxiety shut him down.  He failed because the pressure was too much. He failed, not because he didn’t know the material, but because he knew that his whole 2nd grade experience boiled down to one day.   We worked with his teachers to come up with an Improvement Plan.  He took more practice tests.  We paid money to him for his practice efforts.  His teachers, particularly Mrs. Lane, soothed him and encouraged him.  We quietly researched other schooling options and prepared to go broke paying for private school.  And we kept telling him that he could do it, that we all had faith in him.  What he needed, though, was faith in himself. 

And today, when he brought home his PASSING scores in Writing and Math and EXCEEDING scores in Reading, we’re celebrating!  We’re ordering pizza from Dominos and letting him watch television.  High times, indeed, in our household!

And we will be sure to praise, not the score, but his mastering of his anxiety.  The actual score is fine, but the fact that he could rise above his anxiety well enough to show most of what he knew is worthy of celebration.  That he could keep the baying of the hounds of his fears in their place.  That he could rise above the failure.  These are worthy of celebration.  And  next year, when 3rd grade is on the line for next year’s CRCT test, we will remind him that he did it once- he can do it again.  He NEEDED this success.  He needed to know he could do it.  He needed to know that what he was doing worked.  He needed to know that we all- the teachers, his family- believed that he could do it- and that he can too.  We all needed this. 

And not to be forgotten, Elizabeth EXCEEDED on all of her tests.  We will celebrate her achievement as well- and note her hard work and persistence, but her passing 3rd grade was never in doubt.  There is, perhaps, oddly enough, a bit of a blessing of the remnants of her autism.  She is fairly oblivious to the pressures and anxieties of testing.  Her anxieties come about from social issues and language issues, but school is a puzzle that she feels confident of mastering. 

So, tonight, we will eat cheese pizza and watch Disney Channel and enjoy the feeling of relief.  3rd grade starts soon enough….

Update: We actually ended up all piled on the couch watching “Extreme Home Makeover”.  And when I fussed over Ray’s conquering of his fears, he completely ignored me, interrupted me, and wanted to talk about his friend Bailey’s misadventures.  I thought that I was talking to myself and felt slightly foolish jumping up and down while he looked at me.  Funny what they really hear, though.  Later, he referenced it- “I guess the 3rd grade CRCT will be ok?”  Yes, Ray, it will be ok. 

May 4, 2010

Sidewalk Talk

Filed under: Autism,Twice-exceptional — profmother @ 8:12 am

At our Derby party on Saturday, I met the most extraordinary six-year-old little girl.  Her family had come to one of my talks, and since my husband is friends with her dad, we invited them to our Derby party.

She reminds me a bit of a fairy- dainty and lovely and clearly in her own world, most of the time.  She talked a little, made a little eye contact, but seemed to prefer her own company.  She didn’t seem to have a lot to say to anyone.

Until she got chalk in her hand.  THEN, she went to town.  She said that her family looked happy.  She said that she loved them.  She asked them their favorite color.  She asked them to write her to ask what her favorite color was.  I was amused at that- she wanted to tell them her favorite color, but it had to be part of the dialogue.  It had to follow the pattern.  She wrote all over my driveway- multiple questions and comments and dialogues.

She’s doing well in kindergarten.  Her teacher loves her.  She’s reading and writing up a storm. She used the word “appreciate” in her sidewalk conversation.  She also wrote, “Senz you sayd YES”, so she is doing what little kids do as well.  Her capitals were haphazard.  But she’s in kindergarten, and clearly, the written word is her passion area. I marveled at her abilities.

And I RECOGNIZED her… I recognized her discomfort with people and faces and her comfort with expression through writing.  I recognized her otherworldliness.  I recognized her family’s concerns and worries about her differences and their joys in her capabilities.

And I couldn’t say the word…the “a” word.  I’m not a professional who makes diagnoses.  She could just be… different.  She just might be a fairy.  And her parents need to walk that journey themselves without well-meaning input from a nosey acquaintance.

But as they left, I hugged the mom and said, “If you ever want to talk about your daughter, I’m here.  I’m a teacher, too, and I love kids.”  I wanted them to know that there are other people out there who see the beauty of their child, too.  And who marvels at sidewalk talk, too.

And I wondered- what will happen when she gets introduced to blogs and the internet?- the biggest sidewalk there is!

May 3, 2010

Back to Our Regularly Scheduled Program

Filed under: ADHD,Bipolar,Twice-exceptional — profmother @ 9:39 am

Oh what a lovely reverie this last week has been- preparing for finals, the pause before the onslaught of grading and the relative calm of the children…

Interrupted by oh, such a night after our Derby party.  Probably a little too much homesickness.  A little too much excitement.  A little too much giddiness with betting fever and the resultant anxiety.

Poor Ray has been having a very hard time getting himself to sleep these past few weeks.  He’s been needing a longer and longer time of reading, of having us stay with him until he drifts into sleep.  A longer and longer time while his ADHD medications wear off.  He’s been staying up until 10:30pm most nights- and I finally drag myself into my room only to fall down in my bed.  Or my husband stays with him until James himself falls asleep, coming back to our bed in the middle of the night.  Not exactly quality bonding husband/wife time.  Not exactly quality sleep time.

Saturday night was our firm stance- “I’m sorry.  You can do this.  We will be here and you can come and check in with me every 45 minutes.”  I taught him deep breathing.  I told him he could read until he fell asleep.  I told him he could have the little light on.  I tried to teach him coping strategies.  And I don’t know if he can cope.

He cried for 5 hours, and was hitting himself in the face at one point, sobbing “I hate my brain.  I hate my brain”.   He was genuinely frightened and anxious and kept “seeing robbers” but at the same time, he’s so phenomenally stubborn.   And he DID have his medication patch on until 7:00pm.

Where is the line between being consistent and firm and having it overwhelm him?  Where is the sweet spot where you know that what you’re doing is the right thing?  I feel that with my daughter so often- she protests, I hold firm, she backs down.  I feel like I’m under attack from a pile driver from my son- that his hole of need is so big that I can’t fill it up and I don’t know how to help him turn around and fill it himself.  Autism makes me sad, but this… this… whatever it is, that has no real label, that could be bipolar, that could be ADHD, that is definitely anxiety, that could be giftedness on the edge, that could just be an overprotective mother- this frightens me.  I constantly feel like we’re navigating an uncertain landscape, where the ground keeps shifting and swaying and any mis-step could result in disaster.

My husband and I are generally on the same page and were holding firm together that night- we were NOT going to let him or his anxiety win this round.  But I was crying and James was grim and we had to make a conscious effort to talk to each other- to not let the stress and sadness drive us into our own coping place of solitude.

He fell asleep around 2:00am, keeled over with the lights on, full-blazing and “Calvin and Hobbes” in his lap.  I turned off the lights, closed the door so that he could sleep in, and moved the book so it didn’t hit him when it fell.  And I went back to my room and passed out.  Did I “win” this round?  I have no idea.

He, of course, did not sleep in.  And Sunday, as I watched him play quietly in the living room, firing his “bombs” from his Battleship game that he was playing by himself, and feeling the peace of the quiet house since my husband and daughter were off to a soccer game, I knew that he did not ask for this.  He craves peace and routine so badly that when things get off track, he acts out.  The anxiety gets him.  Add food issues and tiredness to the mix, and he’s a very unhappy little boy- which makes for a very unhappy mother.

April 15, 2010

Calvin and Susie- Starring Ray and Elizabeth

Filed under: Twice-exceptional — profmother @ 9:50 am

I’ve just figured out the current characteristics of Ray and Elizabeth…

Elizabeth is Susie Derkins, Calvin’s arch-nemesis and female foil, without the romantic feelings that Calvin has for Susie, but certainly the latent affection.  She’s a perfectionist, very quiet, and the person who plays with him and then winds him up. She prides herself on having the answers, and on being the “good” girl.   She tattles on Calvin on a regular basis.  Yup- That’s Elizabeth- all of the above- plus, in her defense,  a whole lot more.  But this is how she can look next to Ray…

Ray is Calvin- bright, imaginative, more than slightly off-kilter, struggles with school and very active, with lots of imagination and ideas. Given our recent challenges with THE test

Is it any wonder that Ray owns all of the books from the Calvin and Hobbes strips and reads himself to sleep every night with this?  He’s recognizing himself… Last night, he was laughing at a strip and said “Look Mommy- he’s got Tourette’s too!” at one of Calvin’s hilarious faces.  Bibliotherapy in action.

What is sortof amusing is that I have used Calvin and Hobbes as teaching tools to explain twice-exceptional children to teachers for years… to understand how they have their own world, how they’re very insightful, how they struggle.  I’ve seen Calvin and Hobbes used by folks to understand autism, learning disabilities, ADHD, giftedness, and even bipolar disorder. 

I never quite imagined that my son would be using it for the same reason.

March 11, 2010

Here’s to You, Mr Robison

Filed under: Autism,Twice-exceptional — profmother @ 4:18 pm

Autism Speaks, one of the foremost autism advocacy organizations, has recently announced that John Elder Robison, the author of “Look Me in the Eye”, a memoir about growing up with un-diagnosed Asperger Syndrome and a very eloquent advocate for the field of autism, has just been invited to be on their scientific advisory board.  Now, that may sound like a logical choice, but it is a significant reaching out and healing of wounds within the field.

In September, 2009, Autism Speaks put out a video that anthropomorphized, some say demonized, autism as a scary thing that is to be beaten… and it polarized the field.

The field is split between those who say that autism IS their child and that autism is something that HAPPENS to their child.  One sees autism as disease, the other as individual difference.  One sees autism as something to be fought against, the other as autism as something to be accepted and dealt with.

It reminds me so much of the arguments in my “other” field of study- the field of gifted education.  Gifted education has been split for decades between the “Nature/nurture” argument- is high ability something you’re BORN with, or something that can be DEVELOPED?

Both fields are dealing with very different perspectives- giftedness is a desired trait; autism, much less so.  But they both have, at their heart, the same question- is this something you’re BORN with that is an innate aspect of yourself, or something that happens from outside sources that can be manipulated?  Is “this”, whether high ability or autism, something that is to be worked with, or something that can be created or stamped out by outside forces?  How much can we control, as people with autism or giftedness, families with children who are gifted/autistic, and teachers working with diverse children?

Deafness has been grappling with this for decades.  Deaf (capital D) people believe that deafness is not a “Dis”ability, but rather a unique way of being that should be appreciated and maintained as a culture unto itself.  People who are deaf (little d) often seek out ways to ameliorate deafness, often with technology such as cochlear implants.  The arguments on both sides are very passionate.  Do you cure deafness or work with it? Is it a disability or a misunderstood culture?

And the answer is important!  If government and schools believe that giftedness is something you’re born with, then they feel free to cut funding because “they’ll make it on their own”.  If insurance agencies and schools believe that autism is something you’re born with, they won’t fund “cures” or “treatments”.  In both cases, if the environment can’t affect the outcome, then funding and research is unnecessary.  It becomes something you deal with, you educate, you make the best of.  There isn’t a lot of funding to stop Down’s Syndrome- it’s something a child is born with.  There IS movement to promote the independence and acceptance of persons with intellectual and developmental delays.  There is a WONDERFUL movement right now through Special Olympics- Spread the Word to End the Word.  (You know the word- the “r” word.)  But movement to end mental retardation?  Not so much…

I got to attend a lecture once that Dr. Bob Plomin, a leader in “twin studies” gave.  In his lecture, he discussed the “nature of the nurture”- or how because of inherited differences, the environment can affect separate individuals differently.  It’s why you are very much like, and yet very different from your brother.  It’s why your parents DID treat you differently than they did  your brother.  The same environmental stimuli will have different effects on different children.  But the effects are not due only to the inherited issue, OR the environmental stimuli, but the interaction of the two.  It means that if there is no environmental issue, there is no effect.  BUT if there is no genetic component, there is no effect, either.

This is the way I see it:

  • Three children.  Two with genetic factors that have a pre-disposition to autism- we’ll call it Genetic X.  We’ll name them SarahX and SamX
  • One without- we’ll name that child, Sean-x.
  • Two children, SarahX, and Sean-x are exposed to something in the environment- say, high concentrations of mercury in the soil and air, or in large amounts of plastic.
  • Samx lives somewhere where the concentration is not as prevalent.
  • Of the 3 children, SarahX is the ONLY one to develop autism.
  • SamX passes his genes on down to his children.  He does not have autism, but they might, if they become exposed to something in the environment.  Sean-x does not have autism , and his children probably won’t either… unless, of course, he marries SarahX.

Given this scenario, there are three inter-connected lines of research:

  1. What are the genetic factors that lead to a predisposition of autism?
  2. What are the environmental factors that activate autism and make it worse, and
  3. What are the environmental factors/treatments that help autism get better?

And one REALLY activistic movement to expand the general public’s notion of “acceptable differences”.

All of these take time, and lots and lots and lots of money to find out answers.  Autism Speaks has only been around for five years.  For some parents, that is longer than their child has been alive and they need answers NOW.  Help NOW.  Treatments NOW.  They are caught in the activism of crisis.  But money funds knowledge and both of them take a very long time to respond to needs.  Activism now can help find money soon, for knowledge later.

As Jess from Diary of a Mom said in her eloquent post, we’re “family”- all of us affected by autism are family.  Infighting creates “camps” which alienates so many people.  Critically, infighting within the autism community leads to a lack of direction and a lack of coherence- which leads to a lack of resources, which leads to a lack of knowledge.

Discussion? Discussion is good.  Discussion as to how to seek a direction.  Discussion about how to address all three of the intertwined questions- because focusing on one without the others leads to inadequte answers.  By all means, lets’s have a family discussion!

John Elder Robison, I’m glad that you joined the conversation.  I hope that Autism Speaks listens.    Let’s push in the same direction to find answers.

February 24, 2010

Nicknames

Filed under: Autism,Twice-exceptional — profmother @ 1:43 pm

My son is going through a nickname phase.  He keeps calling me Mimsy, Tommy and other variations of Mommy- truly playing with the language and the sounds of the words.  I play right back with me, changing up his name.  I’m not as good at the game as he is- he has hundreds of riffs on my name and the names of everyone in the family.  I keep waiting for the “Fe fi fo-fanna” song to emerge from him.  Because you see- I don’t get to sing it to him.

Here’s the interesting thing- If I initiate the name game, he gets mad, but if HE does, we’re off and away.  He’ll walk past me and say “You CAN’T tickle me” as a challenge, and initiating the “I’m going to chase you and tickle you” game.  But if I reach to tickle him, he slaps my hand away and screams at me.  It’s as if the surprise of hearing his name changed or the physical contact disturbs his sense of balance, but if he’s in his funny, quirky place, it’s all right.  Reading Ray’s moods as as changeable as reading a weather map.  Do we play word games today or not? (Do I wear a jacket today?)  Do we sing and laugh today or is my singing kept to a minimum? (Is it shorts weather?)  Do we tickle and love on him or is it hands-off? (What about that hat?).

The other day, Ray said at dinner, “Did you know that the teenagers at the park didn’t know what ‘obstreperous” means?  And they were BEING it!”  BRILLIANT kid- who’s going to get his block knocked off someday.  I can’t imagine your typical 13 year old kindly taking to being called “obstreperous” by a little kid.

Elizabeth rarely plays word games.  She remembers words, she makes connections to antonyms and synonyms, she makes pun jokes, she WRITES jokes, but she doesn’t play with words on the spot.  She was the one who “named” my mother, and the name came from analyzing the relationship- “Mamamum” was her way of understanding “Mama’s mama”.  We sing her name to her and she preens when we do.  When we tickle her, she goes over the top with it in nothing flat, shrieking and flailing and wanting that stimulation.  She DOES have a sense of humor that she and my husband both “get”, but word games aren’t it.  She doesn’t really have a nickname beyond “Little girl/pretty girl/lovey” that I use endearingly. 

But I also remember her “peekaboo” language of “I can say it.. Now I can’t”.   I am deeply grateful for her ability now to learn language through analysis.  I still feel the pain when I remember the day, at age 3, when she was running down the hallway, stuck her head in my bedroom door and sang out “I love you, Mommy!”.  It was the first time I had heard her say it.  I snapped my head up and said “What, honey?”  trying to get her to say it again- but it was gone.  Just a flash of language and lost the next moment; lost in the mist of autism.  Joymama calls these language flashes ”Elvis Sightings“.  One of its traces still remain- my name is “Mommy”.  Always has been.  Always will be.  Constant.

And for Ray, my name is as changable as he is. 

Signing off- Nommy/Amam/Tommy/Mimsy… and always, Mommy.

February 2, 2010

Plan 173

Filed under: Twice-exceptional — profmother @ 5:06 pm

I blogged earlier about our search for a label for my son, and how we had rejected ADHD medications because they inhibit appetite, and with the issues we’ve had with eating, we were not even considering them.

My husband to the rescue.  (This is why my husband and I balance each other so well- when I’m overwhelmed, he does the research and gives me new “umph” to keep going).  He found that “traditional” ADHD medications- Ritalin, Adderal, etc. are not prescribed when a child has Tourette’s or Anxiety disorder and they all decrease appetite- Strike One, Strike Two and Striiiike Three- we are NOT going down the stimulant route!

But there is a new medication just approved for children in September 2009, guanfacine, sold under the drug name of  Intuniv, that (get this) helps ADHD, Tourette’s symptoms, anxiety, AND increases appetite!  Pretty much reads like a perfect medication for Ray… but I’m anxious about starting him on medication if there’s any other way…  Anyone out there with experience with this medication?

What I’m really wondering about is brain neurology.  The brain can only re-create an experience it has already had.  This is how kids learn to read- they see letters and hear the sounds and the brain has the experience of connecting the two things together.  A neurological synapse is formed and learning “happens”.  For some kids, they can form neurological synapses from one experience, other take many, many exposures, and others can never lay down that neurological pathway for some reason or another.  Once that neurologcal pathway is there, AND organized in a way that it is connected to something else, the brain can go back to it and recreate that experience.  When I teach this to my students, we play with Tinker Toys.  I give them time to “play” and then we talk about some connections are clear and simple and others go nowhere- just have arms sticking out in random places.  Other Tinker Toys contraptions are works of art that have moving parts where one part connects to and moves another.  This is a representation of the human brain.  Remember that old commercial of the fried egg “This is your brain on drugs?”  The reality would be a series of neurons that aren’t connected to each other- and other connections breaking.

Brain scans find that gifted kids have really fast synapses and really well-organized brains.  They can find the memories, the skills- the synapses- faster.  Kids with language processing issues have the words go to a part of the brain, where, for some reason or another, the synapses aren’t happening.  It’s a bit like a burned-out lightbulb. When language goes “there”, there is an electrical short and the synapses don’t happen.  When I teach someone with a language processing issue, I try to “work around” the problem.  The experiences of general education haven’t worked to turn on those electrical connections, so my job as a special education teacher is to find another way to access that area.  It’s a bit like having a dark corner in a room where a bulb has burned out.  I have to find and angle a different light in that direction to light it up.  All children can learn- but for some, you have to search for different “lights” or strategies to activate the reading/writing/talking.

Twice-exceptional children are particularly fascinating to me- they have very fast connections that are very creative in their wiring.  Their synapses aren’t just fast, but they connect very unusual things around the problematic areas.  They have often re-wired their brains.  For more on this, I highly recommend Thomas West’s book, In the Mind’s Eye.  And my son is so very twice-exceptional.  His verbal abilities- the joke, the insight, the story telling- often hide the fact that he can’t actually tell you what he’s feeling.  They can hide the fact that his attention just shifted onto something else and he can’t make a decision.  That he can read a story fluently at the fifth grade level, but not be able to tell you what it was about.  That he’s not eating.

So… in order for a kid to talk/calm/sleep/ learn- they have to EXPERIENCE that feeling.  Most kids simply have the experience randomly and it happens more easily with practice, but some kids, for some reason, don’t.  Here’s my child who HAS experienced calm and relaxation- but rarely.  I don’t think he has the neurological connections where he can find them. He can’t find those synapses that help him calm down.

Can medication help him “learn” how?  This is the question… Some medications stunt the growth of synapses so that the child can do something while ON medication, and not have the foggiest idea of how to access that process without the medication.  The synapses occur ONLY because of the medication.  But some do- and some people brains let them, and others don’t.

The one time I tried “magic mushrooms”, a hallucinogenic drug (in college and I was curious), it was a great experience that freaked me out because although I was seeing rainbows, I couldn’t choose to stop.  I was clearly not in control of this experience- the drug was.  But I loved the creativity and the feeling of being aware of so many things around me.  I still remember at one point when I was grooving on the loveliness of a petunia (the sheer perfection of the shape of the petals- how they ruffled to music, the vibrancy of the blue, the horror of the worm holes and the tremendous effort the flower took to overcome that worm and how that worm could not keep that flower down- but then we all have to die, don’t we?…) When I came out of it, I realized that although the drug had taken me somewhere, it was a place that I could go on my own.  But I could come back whenever I wanted.  And ever since then, there are moments when I will just sit and admire a rose every now and then… really and truly appreciate it.  The drug may have laid down the neurological connection, but it was one that I could find again.

But some drugs inhibit the formation of synapses.  Heroin, for example (I don’t know personally- I’ve just read and I hear about on Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew) gives the person an amazingly good feeling where they feel powerful and happy and on top of the world.  So good, in fact, that when they come down, the body physically craves that feeling again (interesting note- very similar chemicals are released when you are first blindly, passionately in love with someone).  ”You’ve lost that loving feeling” is a biological chemical let-down.  BUT, with heroin, the brain can’t find that feeling again, and that synapse is close to burning out, to be forever lost.  So, the person takes more and more heroin, trying to re-create that high feeling, only to keep losing it, bit by bit.  My husband and I just have to take a weekend to ourselves to get that feeling again because those neurological tracks are there- just lost amidst the day-to-day grind.  But some drugs- the addictive ones- are the ones that destroy synapses, not create them…

The same day that I learned about guanfacine (which for some horrible reason reminds me of the word “guano”- which is bat poop), I was listening to Oprah Radio on XM Radio on a long drive.  Dr. Laura Berman had a meditation expert on her show, who was extolling the virtues of meditation for adolescents, especially since meditation can reconfigure the brain.  I had read a few months ago how Buddhist monks have the best-organized brains- brain scans have shown how their brain operate far more effectively than most of us.  Their synapses are logical, clear and rarely stressful.

But my son has a VERY difficult time paying attention to meditate.  Plus, he’s seven- not the ideal age to understand what meditation can do.  It’s like trying to catch a butterfly when I’ve tried to teach him how in the past.

So here’s my medication/meditation plan.  We were thinking about introducing him to this medication (if doctor approves and teachers see it as necessary, etc.) and as he comes down from it, reminding him of what he felt like on it.  See if we can “trigger” that memory.  Introduce him to meditation when he’s experiencing calm.  And when he hits puberty (which messes with medication, etc.) wean him off and focus on meditation as a strategy, using the skills he’s learned over the next few years.

At least, that’s the plan today.  We’ve learned that with our kids, the plan may have to change.  Tomorrow, or next month- things may happen to change the plan.  We’ve had lots of plans change since they were born…

But this is Plan #173 and I’m hopeful.

January 26, 2010

Just Joking Around

Filed under: Autism,Twice-exceptional — profmother @ 7:48 pm

Elizabeth has always had a bit of a challenge with humor. She “gets it”, but is about a beat behind. When the other four year olds were discovering knock-knock jokes, she would be in tears because she just didn’t understand why people were laughing.  Ray, on the other hand, has an amazing wit- and perfect comedic timing. The other day, I was laying down the law on something and he was trying to soften me up.  ”Please.. you’re the best mommy in the world”.

I smiled, because, really- he is so cute, and said “Nice try, but no”.

pause, pause-walking away- “Ok, fine, but you’re now only the second best mommy in the world”.  I laughed out loud!

So- for Christmas, I bought them both joke books- to enjoy, to learn, to memorize for Elizabeth’s scripting purposes. When kids are telling jokes, she needs to be able to contribute- so I gave her jokes to tell.

But she is incredibly analytical and read and re-read the book, to figure out what made a joke funny.  On a recent long car trip, she said “Mommy, they’re using words that have two meanings- there are a lot of homonyms and homophones, aren’t there?”

Me- “Exactly!  That’s why they’re funny.  People are expecting one thing, and the words makes it different for them.  The surprise makes it funny”.  I felt odd explaining it to her, but she was figuring out the “rules” of humor.  It’s so typical of a kid with high-functioning autism- she doesn’t innately find humor, but she can analyze it to figure out why others do.

And applying them!  Now that she’s has figured out the rules, she is now writing her own!  She has quite a few, in my terribly-biased view, really funny jokes!  So- here they are…

Q: Where does a skeleton learn?

A: In skuul.

Q: Why does Right love jellybeans?

A: Because there are never any left.

Q: Why does Left hate school?

A: Because he can’t write.

BRILLIANT!  You should see the look of pride on her face when she watches people laugh.

I’m quite looking forward to her career as a comedy writer…

January 25, 2010

Identity Labels

Filed under: Book- Parent's Guide,Twice-exceptional — profmother @ 11:09 pm

Who are you?  What do you say?  What do you do?  We have so many ways to describe kids and so many ways to describe ourselves.  My daughter and I are both adding identity labels on and it’s an odd process.

Today, I forgot to tell Elizabeth that she got into the gifted program.  In my defense, my husband was out of town and the morning was a little rushed.  Also, I was purposely making it “not a big deal” since a) her brother is not in it yet (they identify at 3rd grade mostly) and the two of them are so competitive that he is likely to shut down and not even try to do well if she is already in (if he can’t win, he doesn’t play), and b) I want to emphasize things she DOES have control over like effort and neatness, rather than grades or program placement.  Because I forgot to tell her, she went to school and got to hear how a bunch of her friends got in.  She and I had already talked about how she may or may not be “accepted” and how that it wasn’t a big deal either way- so she felt sad, and in her incredibly plucky way, went and found a friend, “Hannah” (all children’s names are changed) that also had not gotten in.  She came home from school and told me that her bestest friend “Emily” HAD gotten in and wouldn’t be in her Thursday afternoon class anymore.  ”Oh yeah,” I said “I forgot to tell you- I got the letter and you’re going to go with her”.  She shrieked, ran out the door and jumped up and down with Emily, very happy and thrilled.

Later, once dinner was on the table, she asked “Does this mean that Hannah’s mom forgot to tell her, too?”

“I don’t know, honey”… and Elizabeth sat and pondered a label that she didn’t have before and now she does and how that changes her friendships.  We talked a brief bit about how really the job of a teacher is to help all kids learn stuff that is hard and you might be in different classes and do different things, but you’re still friends.

“Will I be able to stay in?” she asked.  ”How will it be different?”

“Remember, you’ll have Emily,” I reminded her.

“Yeah,” she said with relish.  ”And now I get to carry the special notebook the gifted kids carry.”

And I’ve gotten the label of “Author”.  My book is now available for pre-order and I’m getting ready to go on a small book tour, and I’m not sure what an “author” is.  I saw the cover for the first time and it was exciting and thrilling, and… foreign to see my name on the title page.  I wrote the book this summer because it was therapy- it was the book that I wanted to read when we were scared and panicked and thrashing about looking for the “right” label, therapy, program- trying to find a new “normal” and integrating what I knew as a professional with what I felt as a mom.  I wanted someone to hold my hand who knew what was going on and yet would be deeply sympathetic.  Someone who understood the toll it took on my marriage, my friendships, my job, and my finances- and yet, provided a way to celebrate, and laugh, and and be really curious about what was happening.  But somehow, while I was writing this book for others that I could help, it wasn’t real.  I showed it to my husband, my mother (who both read every word and had lots of ideas and insights), my friends (some of whom read it) and some other mommies (who gave great feedback and added their own stories).  It was a bit like writing a really big paper- and having a doctorate means that I’ve written a lot of papers.  But now, it’s out- it’s beyond my “just one more edit” place.  It has a COVER and is available for pre-order.  It’s a process of connecting to other people who I don’t know- going to Barnes and Nobles and being “that” person.

I’m actually rather shy- new people and situations make me really anxious.  I so relate to my son when he hangs on the periphery of a crowd and has screaming meltdowns when I have to leave to travel to a conference.  Familiar roles are easier.  I’m comfortable with being a teacher.  Teaching is wonderful, when the students (of any age) have the “oh wow- I GET it” moment.  When you can visibly “see” the connection that was made.  Being a professor means that I present at professional conferences and I write professional articles for other professionals just like me.  If I know the “script” that teaching content that I know and love, I’m happy.

But I tend to keep my professional life fairly separate from my personal life.  My personal life is much less clear.  Parenting is something I’m figuring out, as I get to know these little people who are my children.  (Adolescence will change the rules again- I know…).  Wife- working on every day.  Daughter- I’m pretty good at that, too- most of the time.  Friend- I could always do better, but I’m there when I’m needed.  All of these are roles that are defined by a relationship to someone else- someone I know- and the scripts and relationships are well-established.  But “author”… that’s a role of something DONE.. and now what?  It means talking, blogs to communicate with a larger audience- and sharing with people- just like me- whom I don’t know yet.  And that’s perhaps the scariest part of all.  Being an author implies a relationship with people who (hopefully) want to read my book and have questions about both my professional and my personal sides, and being shy, I’m nervous to meet people in this new role.  I don’t know the script.

So, if you see me in my new label as author, I’ll probably be carrying the “special notebook”.  It’s working for my daughter as she tries on a new label, too.

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