The Mother I Was and The Mother I Have Become

Have you ever heard the Indian fable about the seven blind mice and the elephant? Each of the mice explored a different part of the elephant and they each came away with a different description of the elephant. There was a moral to the story is a bit different than the moral to the story I want to tell today but the idea is somewhat the same. Ironically I have seven children in my story. I play the part of the elephant. Flattering, I know. 

All seven of my children would identify me as their mother. However, I am really not the same person to each one of them at all. If they were each asked to think back to their youngest memories and on into their elementary school years, they would have very different descriptions of their mother, yet they all had the same one. And if they were asked to describe the roles I play in their lives today, being all different ages, the descriptions would be vastly different.

My oldest four kids have memories of an energetic young mom who played kickball in the front yard, had Nerf gun wars, and could sit crossed-legged on the floor to dress a Barbie or build with Legos. They will remember a rule about movies. We only had G rated movies, no others were allowed. Their mom always seemed to have a toddler on her hip, and a baby on the way. She was always sleep-deprived and often grouchy because of it. The oldest would tell you that mom was strict and wanted to be obeyed immediately.  A clean house was very important to their mom and she cooked six nights a week.

The younger kids would probably listen to those stories and wonder just where their brothers and sisters had lived back then. These kids have never seen their mom kick a playground ball across the yard and run bases, shoot a Nerf gun, or sit cross-legged on the floor. The younger kids know an older mom who has issues with arthritis and moves pretty slow. They will remember a lot of nights when supper came from a can, a box, or a drive-thru window. And they will remember being able to watch a few PG rated movies while they were still in grade school. (Scandalous, I know.) Having an older mom is not the worst thing that could happen to a kid though. The younger kids will definitely remember a more patient mom who did not become stressed when the house was not clean or the kids did not obey the first time. Sure, I am the same person but… not really.

To two of my children I was a tutor and helped them with many of their assignments while the other kids will have little memory at all of mom sitting with them to do homework. It was not necessary. They managed quite well without help. Some of the kids loved to read and loved to be read to. Those children will recall lying in mom’s bed while she laughed hysterically at what Junie B Jones had just done. One of the boys was passionate about dinosaurs and he will remember that we spent a whole lot of time discussing those great beasts and trying to pronounce their names correctly. One of the girls was/is passionate about cows and tractors and we have spent many hours pouring over fun facts about farming and sitting at the cattle auction just for her pleasure.

The oldest children and the youngest two will remember a mom who volunteered in their classrooms in the primary grades and was often at the classroom parties. The children in the middle will not have those memories. The girls will remember a lot more play dates than the boys will as they played so quietly and did not require me to repair anything at the end of the day. The boys could definitely holler “discrimination” about this.

Five of the kids played baseball or softball in the summers when they were young and will have a picture in their mind of a mom in a lawn chair at practices, games, and tournaments. Two of the children will never associate their mother with a ball field at all. The oldest children will remember their mother having chickens that they had to help feed but not the younger ones. The older children will remember their mom taking them to swimming lessons but the younger children will remember a mom that taught them to swim in the pool we built in the backyard. Two of these kids might remember their mother with a joystick in her hand trying to learn to play video games. The rest of the children would say their mother had probably never held a joystick in her life. A couple of the children would remember a day their mother brought home eight different brands of hotdogs so they could have a blind taste test to settle a very important debate. Only one of the kids will have a memory of getting a pony on their birthday. That girl’s mom really came through for her!

All seven children will have some very similar memories. They will all be able to hear my voice in their mind, singing from the rocking chair. They will all remember their mom as their first Bible class teacher. They will all remember a mom who was crazy in love with their daddy.

I gave all seven children a good childhood but they did not all have the same childhood and I am learning to be okay with that. Not all my children had the same opportunity nor will they have all the same memories and has to be okay. I cannot recreate the older children’s childhood for the younger children, nor can I turn back the clock to make sure the older kids get every experience the younger children have now. Recently one of my oldest children returned home for a visit. He saw Lucky Charms in the pantry and did a double take. My rule for a lot of years was that I would not buy chocolate cereal or cereal containing marshmallows. He looked at me and said, “Mom. You’ve changed.” I said, “Yes. I have.”

I usually blog about autism or FAS but occasionally I like to talk about something else. If you liked this post then you might find the following to your liking as well. What Does A Good Mother Say?

He's my brother

In the past few days I have seen three beautiful stories about boys with autism, and the bond they have with a sibling. I was especially moved by a video I saw yesterday about a young man named Spencer Timme, whose older brother has autism. Here’s the link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QHC0FzywHGY 

In one of my previous posts called “birth order and siblings have made a difference,” from May 12, 2012, I talked about how beneficial it has been for Tate to interact and be taught by his siblings. You can go to that post and read some specific lessons Tate’s siblings have taught him. Here's the link: http://quirks-and-chaos.blogspot.com/2012/05/birth-order-and-siblings-have-made.html 

Tate would definitely be an entirely different person if he did not have siblings. Spencer says in the video, “Not one person understands him the way I do,” I completely understand what Spencer is saying. Tate’s siblings know his quirks and what he likes and doesn’t like.  Understanding autism isn’t easy but Tate’s siblings have become quite the experts. Connecting with Tate is difficult. To communicate with Tate you have to be able to think like Tate. I don’t mean you have to have autism. I mean you have to think about what Tate is thinking about (or NOT thinking about) and understand how important the unimportant things are in his world.  His anxieties and obsessions are often in the way. If he is focused on an m&m that he dropped and cannot retrieve, you are not going to be able to talk to him about anything else until that HUGE problem is resolved. Eight hours later he may still be bringing up that m&m and you have to understand how important that lost piece of candy was to him. Minimizing an event like lost candy, while NOT minimizing the anxiety over the lost candy is like a tight-rope-walk. Tate lives in a very small world and he likes it that way. He doesn’t enjoy new experiences. He knows the name of a very few people and interacts with very few people. You have to be a very important person in Tate’s world before he will remember your name…or a cartoon character. He never forgets a cartoon character.  Ha!

Birth order plays a role in the way any child develops but being one of the youngest of seven has given Tate many advantages. His older siblings have helped him to grow and cultivate many of his skills. They push him to try new things and they often provide him with experiences he could not have had without them. They expand his small world by forcing new experiences on him. They bring their many friends and activities into Tate’s world too. Tate doesn’t always welcome these things but we don’t allow him to choose. If he were in charge, he’d never leave the living room and the television set, except to visit the kitchen. One evening this past week, Tate led our evening prayer and he asked God to “get Levi out of my life.” After the “amen,” we told Tate it was not kind to ask God to eliminate a brother, but we were all struggling to keep a straight face. It seems Levi had walked through Tate’s room a couple of times that evening to retrieve something and Tate had not taken kindly to Levi being in his room. Levi’s trespass was on Tate’s mind, and like the lost m&m, it could not be disregarded by Tate. Tate’s fury over Levi’s infraction is especially funny because the boys have shared a room for the majority of Tate’s life. Levi is never unkind to Tate and has taught Tate many things, but Tate has become very territorial about the bedroom. I suppose I can look at the bright side.  Tate is not anxious about being left alone in the room. He loves the independence.  Looking at the bright side is just another thing we have all learned, courtesy of Tate. 

Of course, Tate has one younger sibling, and that has advantages as well. Sydney is a great teacher. She and Tate are on similar levels in some academic and developmental areas right now. I know it won’t be long until Sydney becomes an “older sibling” to Tate, instead of a younger sibling though. She can already do things that he cannot. She communicates better than he does and her motor skills far exceed his. Today at school, Tate was asked to explain who Sydney was. Of course, the expected answer would have been, “She is my sister.” Tate did not give the expected answer. He said, “She is a kid from Russia.” Who else would describe their little sister of eight years as “a kid from Russia” but Tate? She was born in Russia. But, was “a kid from Russia” the RIGHT answer? Not really. It is misleading. Tate just doesn’t get the whole “communication thing.” In the first place, he probably did not understand WHY he had to explain who Sydney was because of the “theory of mind” thing I have blogged about before. He doesn’t understand why you cannot SEE what he sees and think what he thinks. He assumes that everything he knows, you also know. Therefore, why would anyone not know who Sydney is? In the second place, Tate doesn’t see the importance of developing peer relationships or having conversations and sharing information. So, he probably didn’t care if anyone else understood what he was saying or not. He was only attempting to have a conversation at all because it was part of a social skills lesson his mom and teachers insist he takes part in as part of his school day. Thirdly, Tate cannot separate the details from the main ideas. He gets caught up in trivial information. Instead of telling someone the plot of the story, he wants to talk about the tiny detail in one scene. We see this happen all the time and it is typical of people with autism. 

In the video, Spencer Timme says of his brother: “He has the ability to make everyone around him happy” and  “He makes me a better person.” I think Tate’s siblings would say the same thing of him. My heart swells when I see Tate’s siblings interact with him. He keeps us laughing. He makes us all so happy. He is sweet. He is funny. He has taught us all how to be better people. Who doesn’t need someone like that in his (or her) life? Who wouldn’t want to have a brother that helps them to be a better person?   

Update! Spencer made another video!
Spencer Timme's Second Video 

birth order and siblings have made a difference!

Birth order plays an important part in the development of any child.  Tate being number six of seven was a blessing, for sure.  Not having a routine, is hard for people on the autism spectrum.  Without us even knowing it, Tate probably began therapy the day he was born.  Had Tate been my first, second, or even third child, his daily activities would have been set, nearly, in stone.  When I was a young mother of three, I had the kids’ mealtimes, naps, baths, and bedtimes regulated by the clock and done the same way almost every day.  Toys were organized in bins and labeled boxes and kept picked up when not being played with.  Books were on shelves. There were hooks for jackets with each child’s name above them.  By the time I had five children, there was just organized chaos.  My routine was gone.  I still hoped most of the toys were picked up by the time Daddy got home in the evenings and jackets were somewhere off the floor.  I hardly ever got a hot meal on the table in the summer because many evenings were spent at a ball field, watching an older sibling play ball.  If Tate had been born earlier in our lives, he would have become much more handicapped.  I did not know Tate had autism when he was an infant and the routines I had for my first few children would have been so hard to break for Tate as he needed to outgrow them.  Seeing how hard it has been for Tate to be flexible about the few routines we have had in his ten years, has made me realize how glad I am he didn’t have more routine in his life earlier. 

Of course, the one thing that has always been constant in our lives, no matter what, is worship times on Sundays and Bible class times on Wednesday evenings.  The only exception is illness.

Some of Tate’s best teachers and therapists are his brothers and sisters.  Tate came home as an infant, to the perfect environment for him.  It was behavioral therapy from day one.  There was always an older sibling touching him, holding him, playing with him, talking to him, and causing him to adapt and be flexible.  There were unpredictable noises and movements, door slams and lots of talking.  Tate had to share.  There was not much that was his alone.  I am certain, that without all the siblings, Tate would be so much more handicapped than he is now.  

Sometimes, when I cannot teach Tate something, one of his siblings is able to teach him.  I was still feeding Tate his cereal when he was three because he had not mastered the use of a spoon.  His oldest brother determined he was going to show Tate how to use a spoon and he did it quickly with ice chips.  Tate loved ice chips but I had never thought of teaching with ice.  Tate was much more motivated to get the ice chips in his mouth than anything else I had tried. 

I tend to “baby” Tate because I think of him as a six year old in a ten year old body.  Tate’s siblings often expect more of him than I do and it is good for him.  When I do a cooking project with Tate, he helps me cook.  However when Tate’s nineteen year old brother cooks with Tate, he only supervises while Tate actually does the cooking.  The same brother takes time to show Tate how to do many tasks.  He is gone to college right now and he is looking forward to being home this summer to help with the education of Tate.

Before Tate was diagnosed with autism, we had initiated the adoption of Sydney.  Some people thought we should back out of our adoption while others encouraged us to continue.  I am so glad we did not listen to the negative people around us.  Where would Sydney be?  AND… Where would Tate be?  Sydney has taught him so much.  She is younger but much more outgoing.  She challenges him daily to do things he would not be doing without her prodding him on.  She is loud, demanding, and bossy.  She is a good teacher!