What?

One of the first blogs I ever wrote was called "Never Ending Questions".  I think I posted a total of four entries to it, and it dealt with dealing with RR and his being twice exceptional (gifted with Asperger's).

Tonight he posed such a question to me I actually considered resurrecting that blog.  

As I was tucking him in tonight he asked me what the difference was between carbon-monoxide and carbon dioxide.  I explained the molecular make-up and we began discussing where each one is found in the world around us and how they are different.  His conclusion was that neither was very good for humans since one can kill you quickly and the other lends a hand to global warming.  But if he had to live with "just one" he would pick the carbon dioxide since it won't kill him as fast.  

Where does he get this stuff from?

That Was Easy

I remember when I found out Santa Claus wasn't real.  I was in 4th grade and was getting ready to walk out of my school at the end of the day, I can still see the front double doors in my mind, and an older student told me.  I was crushed.

Obviously, being the super awesome cool mom that I am; I wanted to spare my own kids that heartache.  Not that I blame my parents for my lingering Santa Claus belief.

Now RR, he's a special case - he's been doubting the Santa Claus / Easter Bunny / Tooth Fairy gig for a while.  He started questioning when he was 3 or 4 years old, and I've managed to string him along; one holiday after another, for the last few years.  Until today.

RR found a notepad that Husband left laying around with some Easter notes on it and he started making comments about how we needed to "hide" these things better.  I just looked at him and said "Do you think the Easter Bunny is real?".  He smiles.  The smile of knowing the truth.  I told him it was OK to not believe anymore and he smiled even bigger.  Then I told him now that he knows the truth he needs to keep the secret from other kids, especially his brother who has many more years of believing in him.

And  breath a deep sigh of relief.  That was easy.  Honestly I had been trying to figure out the right time to say something to him; and now it's over and done with and we can move onto the next stage - older siblings conspiring with parents to make the holiday magic happen.  I loved helping my parents get the baskets and presents ready for my brothers when I got older and I am looking forward to this next stage with RR.

Time to Study

When I went to RR's parent teacher conference earlier in the year his teacher commented "Parents always want to know how they do in spelling, because it's a more of how did we do."  I wanted to snicker, but I kept it to myself; spelling wasn't an issue for him.  We never studied spelling words and he was getting perfect marks.

Then his 2nd trimester report card came home and his spelling grade went down a whole level.

And then tonight came.  He got a 65% on a spelling test.

Part of doesn't think the issue was whether or not he could spell the words; he had some words entirely wrong.  Like he's wasn't even in the right ballpark kid of wrong, which I guess is about right since he gets baseball and football confused.  For instance the correct word was "price" he wrote "callum".  Can you see me scratching my head.  When I asked him about the spelling of "giraffe" - "jerafe", he tells me "she threw in some curves that word wasn't on our list".  Try again kiddo it was on the list.

So we're going to start studying spelling words this week coming up.  I'm not really sure studying is going to help, but it sure can't hurt, right????

Bueller... Bueller.... Bueller

That Age

As of tomorrow I will have a pre-teen.  The Big Boy turns 9.  As my mother just reminded me on the phone, the last year before double digits.

I will admit having a 9 year old makes me feel old(er); but I think it's also pretty darn neat.  It is such an age of transition and of change and growing (and regressing.... he's into watching Disney Jr. shows again.).  But I have found with this age comes a new challenge.

The challenge of buying him gifts.

Really; what do you get a pre-teen (or teen for that matter) boy these days?

Sure there is the obvious: video games and Legos.

Sure he wants video games and Legos.

But really he doesn't need anymore video games.  And Legos, well lets just say he has enough Legos.  Enough for 5 or 6 or 20 kids his age.  Yes, he would play the video games.  And yes, he would build (then destroy) the 1,000 piece Lego set.  But when you already have a mild video game addiction (which your mother is fighting hard to overcome) and about fifty-million-billion-trillion Legos you don't need anymore.

So what to get?

I settled on a Razor Scooter.  The "graffiti" one.  Husband says he'll break his neck.  He's probably right; given RR's (total lack of) coordination.  But as I pointed out to Husband, better to break his neck on a scooter than on a bike.  And hey, it was 50% off.  You can't argue with that.  As an added bonus he has asked for a scooter a time or two, just not since winter has gotten here.

Oh, yeah... and I got him a little box of Legos.  From his brother, of course.

Wish List

Last year all RR wanted for Christmas was a flute, and I was able to make that happen for him thanks to Facebook, a friend from high school and my brother and sister-in-law.

So this year I should not have been surprised when he made yet another off-the-wall-holiday request.

No, he did not ask for a saxophone, or a trumpet, or the like.

While him and I were driving along last night he says to me "I really hope I get what I most want in the whole world for Christmas".

"What's that?" I ask him, bracing for an insanely expensive Lego kit or video game I would rather him not play.

"I want 5 pillows and 3 blankets".

"5 pillows and 3 blankets?", I question.

"Yes, and 2 stuffed animals."

"Ok, why?"

"Because I like being really snugly".

I've said it before and I will say it again; I should have named that kid Linus.

You Read It Here

Some of the funnier conversations with RR lately....

1st here's a now infamous one I posted on FB lately:

Me: RR that's not the shirt you wore to school.
RR: I know.
Me: What happened?
RR: I accidentally fell into the into the urinal and I accidentally flushed it on myself.
Me: That was an accident?
RR: Ok, maybe not really... and guess this I only lost 5 minutes of lunch... no lost recess time.

Or this gem from the other day:

Me (upon entering RR's bedroom): Why don't you have pants?
RR: Because I am getting naked.
Me: Why are you getting naked?  It's the middle of the afternoon.
RR: Because I always do my homework naked.  

Or how about this one while we were driving the other day:

RR - rambles on and on about Wizard 101 (a video game)
Me: Hey, RR, did you know when having a conversation both people are suppose to talk?
RR: So?
Me: Well we're not having a conversation, you're just talking and I'm just listening.  
RR: I like talking.
Me: So do I.  Can we have a conversation now?
RR: No... what's this called a monologue?   

Test Subject

At the beginning of the summer I learned about a research study being conducted at UMass Amherst that was looking for children volunteers.

The study was in regards to the communication characteristics of Asperger and High Functioning Autistic children versus nuero-typical children and was being conducted by a doctoral candidate as part of her thesis.

RR fit the criteria, and after getting more information on the study I asked him if he would like to participate.

He eagerly agreed.   RR loves doing little tests and showing off for people.  RR loves talking.  Oh, and he really loves money (yes, I told him he could keep the stipend).  

So he got all signed up and we waited.  And waited.  And waited some more.  The study was suppose to happen in two sessions over the summer.  When September rolled around I thought it had been called off; and then we got the e-mail with dates and times.

This past weekend we ventured off to UMass - and what a venture; apparently street signs are not allowed in Amherst.... and RR got to go and do his part.

We sat in a sound booth with a two way mirror.  He sat on one side with the assistant that preformed the test and I sat on the other side (so cool to watch him and hear him in stereo) with the doctoral candidate (DC).  He got to wear a microphone that would have made Justin Bieber jealous.   

aaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh  - he went
ppppppppeeeeeeee ppppeeeeee - he

He made up stories based on pictures they showed him.  What a story teller that boy is.  DC commented about how you could tell he had a superior IQ based on the words he chose and how he told the stories (she had a copy of his profile which included his IQ scores and diagnosis).

They sang Happy Birthday... he forgot the words.  Oh wait, he forgot the words to the "regular" version... but he knows the one when you sing about people smelling like monkeys.... happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, you smell like a monkey and you look like one too.

45 minutes later he was done.  Done and jazzed, so excited.

He signed his first consent form, and I signed as well.  His voice recordings have been released (with no identifying information) to be used in conducting research and shared with students for educational purposes. Man, did he feel like a grown-up signing the form.  His chest was all puffed out and he wrote as neatly as possible.

So proud of my boy.

And many thanks to John Elder Robinson for turning us on to the study.  You can read more about it here.

Talking to Our Kids

Over dinner the other night RR started telling us about the 9/11 tragedy.  Some of his information was incorrect, but it was mostly not understood by his eight year old brain.  When I asked him where he learned about 9/11, my brain raking for answers and concerned about his impression of this date, he answered "Mr. Baker our music teacher.  We're leaning songs about."  Oh dear.  "Oh and Iush told me, we watched videos about it at his house."  Iush being the boy that lives across the street.  Double oh dear.

I quickly and quietly blamed myself for not talking to him about it sooner.  But like most things in life, that are BIG subjects I've waited for him to ask me.  Once he has asked me I haven't skated around the truth, but have rather chosen the direct and simple answer approach.  We've had a few BIG talks in the last year.  We've talked about his biological father and the past with him.  We've talked about how babies are born.

But why do I skirt around other subjects?  Why didn't I set him straight about 9/11 when he brought it up?  Why when he asks about Santa I don't tell him the flat out truth?  Rather I use the cop out "Santa is a feeling during the season."  This kid has been questioning Santa since he was like 5, if not earlier.  Dam... girl, get over it and just tell the kid the truth.  Why is Santa such a big deal?  Maybe because I'm not ready to admit he's growing up, and ready to talk about world events like 9/11.

And all this thinking about talking has made me wonder about talking to him about his Asperger's.  He's heard Husband and I mention it, the word is not foreign to him.  Does he know more about it than I expect? Family, friends and the various mental health professionals seem to be split on talking to kids on the Autism spectrum about their disorder(s).  Some camps are all for, the more information the better.  Other camps stress not telling your child they are different.  But really who is to say a nuerotypical person is normal?  What is the deciding factor?

I know I certainly don't want him learning about sex for the first time in the boys locker room in middle school.  So I guess telling him about Asperger's in the same thing.  Now to figure out how and when to talk to him.  Yeah, how.  Is there a parenting manual on this subject?

I suppose while I am at it I should tell him about Santa, the next time he asks that is.  Oh the joys of parenthood!!

His Kind of Clean

A while ago I was watching Hoarders on Netflix while folding laundry and Turkey came in to join me.

Now if you're not familiar with the show each show features two different families/individuals that are dealing with compulsive hoarding.  The type of hoarding that leaves makes it impossible to throw anything out.  So in the end these families end up living in a state of squalor, in which protector services are called for both children, the elderly and animals.

Now Turkey's room was usually in a state of clutter.  The always stepping on Legos (which really hurt if you've never done so), can't find his shoes, and keeping every paper he's ever drawn on kind of clutter.  OK, I'm being kind; it was a mess.  A big hot mess, that I would clean really well two or three times a year, and he would "pick-up" every weekend.

In watching this show Turkey came to the realization that he doesn't really keep his room "that clean".  Actually I think the show disgusted him, as I am sure it does most people that watch it; and since then he has made a point of keeping his room clean.

Mommy trick #23,145 - Have your kids watch Hoarders to ensure clean bedrooms.

His room isn't my kind of clean, but rather it's kind of clean.  He's learning how to organize, how to pick up after himself, figuring out a cleaning strategy that works for him.  I am really proud of him for this.  I'm not going to nit-pick and tell him his shoes don't get organized with Legos - I'm just glad I'm not stepping on them anymore.

His snake, carefully curled up, tucked into a blanket and set to "read" Lego comics.

For some reason he feels his baseballs belong in these way too big sneakers my brother gave him.

His Halloween pumpkins, keeping an eye on things in his room.
He's assured me they will come downstairs and be part of the decorations when the time comes.

The Lego-and-Shoes pile.

His watch carefully laid out on his alarm clock.
Which is on his nightstand along with his fish, his "bug spray" and his savings jars.

This cracks me up.  

He keeps this pillow between his night stand and bed to cover up his book collection.

So it "doesn't look messy"... and that's a quote.

 The book collection under the pillow.

His very clean desk.  He was on his laptop in Husband's office when I snapped his pictures.

He has started rearranging his draws and trying to make things more useful.

I had kept his PJs in here, but I see where he's going this is better as an underwear and sock place.

I must say I am really proud of the kid.  I love how he's taking better care of his stuff, and I love watching him evolve.

Triumph and Defeat

Our public library is turning 125 this summer, and to celebrate they are hosting a number of events.  This evening was the "Children's Library Birthday Party", it was for ages 5 and up; so we signed the Big Boy up to go.  

We went and grabbed a quick bite for dinner and then dropped him off at the library and went grocery shopping.  Yes, we left him alone at the library.  No, we were not afraid of him getting stolen or the like.  Yes, we left a consent form and our contact information.  Hey, it's small town America.... our library doesn't even have AC.  

So off to grocery shopping we went.  And I hate to admit it that while he can be a super big helper when shopping and keeping me on my list; sometimes it's just easier to shop without him.  Less requests.  Less whining.  Less his legs getting tired.  Now that Monkey is more of a toddler than a baby he loves riding in the car-cart at the store.  This keeps him happy and content for 85% of the trip.  The other 15% he likes to walk and help push the cart.

Anyhow I digress.... after shopping we went and picked Turkey up.  He was SO excited.  Giddy with happiness.  He won the marshmallow stacking contest.  

And he made a crown.

And he had his face painted.

And they read a story about a cupcake.

And they got to decorate cupcakes.

And he decorated his with a gummy worm and a gummy bear

and an explosion of sprinkles.

And he decorated a crown.

And he had got a snake made by the balloon man

And, and, and....

It's amazing all the activities they fit in less than 2 hours.  

He was so happy and had more fun than words could describe.

And then we got home and he walked up the stairs.

And his balloon snake popped.

POP!!!

Tears.  Oh he was so sad.  I felt terrible.  I still feel terrible.  How he loved that balloon snake.  

What had been the perfect evening.  Shattered before his eyes.  

Ouch.  If I could make a balloon snake he would have had it instantly.  

This is my son.

Asperger's is on the spectrum.  And while he's never been diagnosised with SPD you can see him in this poster.

He has trouble concentrating.
He doesn't like having his hair washer or combed, but he's OK with haircuts.  Until it get's too ticklish.
He does not like loud noises.  We travel with ear plugs.
He chews on everything.  EVERYTHING.
He doesn't like getting his teeth brushes and the dentist tickles him.
He is not a picky eater.  Except he won't eat "white" food.
Smells and textures make him gag.  We went through years of him vomiting on everything.  EVERYTHING.
He is completely and totally unaware of how strong he is.
I would rather cut the baby's nails.  Cutting the big boys nails are a challenge.
If it is too crowded he gets overwhelmed and can't think straight.
Oh yeah, he has selective hearing.
He is good on smells.  He LOVED going to Yankee Candle and sniffing away.
Motor skills off????  Have you seen the way he runs?  LOL.  I love his shuffle.

Sorting

Turkey gets this little moments of OCD every now and then.  Don't we all?

Tonight he's decided he needs to sort his Legos.

He must have eighty billion, ten million and twenty-two Legos.  I do not think this is a gross exaggeration.  OK, maybe a slight exaggeration, but he has a LOT of Legos.  Easily 10,000.

He is sorting his Legos into the following categories (based on the number of small totes and storage baggies on hand)  -
red and green bricks
black and dark grey bricks
white, light grey and blonde (known as tan to the rest of us) bricks
special pieces (regardless of colors)
wheels
wings (regardless of colors)
fabric pieces (sails and tents, etc)
big pieces (grass, water, etc)
and guys - aka minifigures

He's also taking all the non-Lego stuff out - Kinex pieces, Lincoln logs, and all the like.

He says he's sorting to make building easier.  Let's see how far he gets.

Thinking About the Spectrum

I invite you today to head over to John Elder Robinson's Blog "Look Me In The Eye" and read his post about looking forward on the autism spectrum.

Turkey is one of those whose “substantial communication impairment" is defined as “has difficulty reading body language and interpreting unspoken messages.”; which is typically why many people see him as eccentric and not on the spectrum (because he is so verbal; with verbal skills greater than many adults).  

We are learning, on our Asperger's journey, that the schools do NOT understand the needs of those with this disability.  They keep crying that he needs to be failing subjects in order to receive many of the services he desperately needs.  But being as gifted as he is, it will take a lot for him to fail subjects... he would need to totally disengage from the classroom.  Is this really what the school system wants?  To build him back up again, after THEM being the ones to drop the ball?  I would think not.  

My "Asperger's Goal" of 2012 is to get the schools to provide the services he needs and is entitled to.  

Spelling

Spelling was never my strongest subject in school.  I recall many many tears over the subject in grammar school.  I can honestly say that I couldn't really spell until I was in college.

Thankfully that is not Turkey's case.  He's an excellent speller, on spelling quizzes at least (spelling in context not so much, but that's a different story), but he typically tests great at spelling.

Today he came home with a 90% on his weekly spelling test.  Many parents would be thrilled, but his spelling tests grades have been slowly declining over the last few weeks.  But the declining grade wasn't really what bothered me; what bothered me is that he misspelled  the word try.

I know he can spell try.  I know this for a fact.  He can recite how to spell this word without thinking twice, and spells it correctly when he writes stories and letter.

He spelled his bonus words of "frequency" and "magnify", but he misspelled try.  For the record he spelled it t-r-i-e.  Really???

When I asked him about this, he said "Why do I have to spell it right on the test?"

Me: "Well, that's the idea of the test.  It's to make sure you can spell the words right."

Him: "I don't see the point.  What do we have spell check for than?"

Me: "You need to, you must, spell the word correctly on the test IF you KNOW how to spell it."  And with that I imposed some real studying guideline for his spelling quizzes, which are in effect until he starts doing what he's suppose to be doing.

Such an odd problem to have.  Many parents make their kids study so they learn.  I need to make mine study to ACT the right way.  Sigh.

A New Chapter

Yesterday I started Chapter 34 in my life.  It was a good day.  And I am hoping the rest of this chapter follows suit.

Chapter 33 was a difficult one.  It started out a bit rocky with Turkey's diagnosis of Asperger's, but then quickly became joyous during the birth of Monkey.  The end of winter and early spring were quiet, but it seemed like unrest was afoot.  In July we lost my step-father, and then in September we lost my Grandmother.  It was during this time my heart and mind went to a dark place, life suddenly seemed a lot less fair than it had in the past. But I looked to my family, especially Husband and my mom, and prayed really hard on it all; and slowly but surely I am finding my way around to a more positive light.

And I think I'm off to a pretty good start for a more positive light, and a better new chapter.

Usually I am a sullen mess around my birthday.  It's not that I don't like my birthday or getting a year older; it's that my paternal-grandmother died right before and was buried on my 25th birthday. Something like that sticks with you for a while.

But this year I was better.  I was less moody, less upset... and considering all that had happened this year, I think I did pretty darn good on my birthday.  Husband was impressed by how cheerful I was compared to previous year.

The day was wonderful.  Breakfast in bed with my guys, swimming lessons for the boys, lunch (child free) with my dear friend KB (who invited my mom as an added surprise), a little holiday shopping, and then a quiet evening home with presents and ice cream cake... capped off with the Griswold's Christmas and some alone time with my honey.

It's days like that, that remind me; that while I was lost a lot, and don't have everything my heart desires; I do have a lot.... especially a lot of love. And for that I am truly blessed.

So bring on this next chapter... I KNOW it's going to be better than the last.

A Fine Line

Turkey is a complex guy.  I've blogged before about his Asperger's diagnosis, his anxiety diagnosis and his ADHD diagnosis.  But the other side of the coin is his intelligence.  His IQ is in the 99.6% and his intelligence level is considered "far superior".

Often times gifted kids are afflicted with Dabrowski's Overexcitabilites (or Supersensativies), called DOE in this blog.  There is a fine line, a very fine line; between many of these characteristics and other "development disabilities" such as ADHD.

There are 5 areas of DOE, psychomotor, sensual, emotional, intellectual and imagination.  Sometimes when Turkey is being, well Turkey, I often wonder if I am watching a DOE or if it really is ADHD.  This is partly why, we have decided to medically treat his anxiety and see what falls into place from there.

From About.com:

Psychomotor

The primary sign of this intensity is a surplus of energy. Children with a dominant psychomotor overexcitability are often misdiagnosed with ADHD since characteristics are similar.

·         Rapid speech 

·         Impulsive behavior

·         Competitiveness

·         Compulsive talking

·         Compulsive organizing

·         Nervous habits and tics

·         Preference for fast action and sports

·         Physical expression of emotions

·         Sleeplessness

Turkey "suffers" from 7 out of these 9 characteristics.  He does NOT have a preference for fast action sports (although that may be partly blamed on his flat feet, but he does love wrestling with Husband) and he often lacks physical expression for his emotions (but that's the Asperger's).  The compulsive organizing is new, and it's only in respect to his time.   He is into listing his time and what to do, and when to do it.  It makes you wonder... ADHD or DOE.  Hhhmmmm.

More about the other DOE to come.

Staring Contest

The other night at dinner Turkey says to us, "You know how I don't like looking people in the eye?"

"Yes", I say knowing this is one of those Asperger's things.  "Why is that?"

"It makes me feel awkward."  Lately awkward or dweeb are his adjectives for just about everything, thanks for Wimpy Kid.

"Oh, OK. So what's up?"

"I've been practicing for staring contests.  I've been staring at my books.  I can almost see through them now.  I might be ready to have a staring contest."

OK.... let's just chalk that one up to strange things that 7 year old boys do.  

Literally

Turkey had a "Getting to Know You" homework assignment to do over the weekend; and in true Asperger's fashion he took each question literally.

My favorite example is this question: "What is your favorite hobbies or sports?"  Turkey replies: "building Legos". So I ask him if he wants to list fishing or swimming or bowling as a favorite sport.  He replies, "No, it said hobby OR sport, not both".

When I told him to write his last name on it, he replied; "It says name not first and last name".  Sigh.... "You need to put both down in case she knows another Ray." He begrudgingly wrote it.

I love that kid, but he makes me a little crazy some days.

Playing the Game

I have come to realize in the last few days (how I didn't realize this sooner is beyond me), but the best way to get Turkey to do what needs to be done is to "play the game".

Take for example cleaning up before bed.  I tried check lists, posted lists by the sink, reward systems, picture charts, punishment; you name it I tried it and I could barely get him to brush his teeth.  The other day I told him to go upstairs and "get ready for inspection".  Now I tell him "inspection time" and he springs to action.  He washes his face, he washes his hands and forearms (and he actually uses soap), he washes his feet, he brushes his teeth, and combs down his hair with water.  And then stands at attention and shows me what good work he's done.  It amazing!!!

Why didn't I think of this sooner?  For years, we've been racing to see who can get dressed first.

To get him to finish eating his dinner, I tell him to pretend he's Adam Richman (Man V. Food, he loves that show); and his plate gets cleared.

When I need to scrub behind his ears I tell him to pretend he's a cat (he loves cats and they love getting scratched behind the ears).

It's all about the game, and how I can play it better than he can.

And that's why they call it...

"The Little Professor Syndrome".

Turkey was being himself while Monkey was getting his 6 month pictures done this morning, and the photographer turned to him and said "Why aren't you just a little professor."  I replied "Why yes, he is."  I am sure she had no idea what the reference was too, but I appreciated it.