Autism parents have a lot in common

My son Tate is fifteen. Tate has autism. He was about two and a half years old when he was diagnosed. Parenting a child with autism is challenging at times, but also very rewarding. We have had a lot of interesting experiences over the years and gotten to know a lot of others who are also a part of the autism community. So many of our stories and experiences are similar. I recently decided to illustrate some of the most common and repeated scenarios I have heard about from others in the autism community and/or experienced myself. They are in no particular order.

If you can relate let me know. I will be adding to these so tell me what kinds of things happen to you the most: annoying things, rewarding things, kindnesses shown, and the ways you’ve had to educate others. I would love to hear from you. Contact me on my Facebook Page called Quirks and Chaos. The comments are temporarily turned off here.

We are all in this together!  -Lisa

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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?

What Does A Good Mother Say?

I have adult children (an oxymoron for sure). I have found myself not knowing the right things to do or say more and more often as my kids age. Of course they do not need the same kind of nurturing they used to. And, it turns out I’m not very good at mothering adults. I still want to be able to fix the things in their lives that need fixing. I still want to be able to take care of their hurts and disappointments. I still want to be able to tell them what to do, knowing they will obediently follow my instruction, because after all, mother knows best.

I have seven kids. Four are young adults. They are great kids. Great kids. They all have some similarities but they are all very different people with individual strengths and weaknesses. I love kids. I was a really good mom to the babies. I did a great job with the toddlers. I did well with all of them in elementary school too. And then. And then. I had teenagers. Teenagers are ridiculously hard to deal with at times, but that’s to be expected. Right? Everyone warns you about teenagers. But they do outgrow the teenaged attitude like they outgrew the terrible twos and life gets better again.

There was no instruction book handed to me when the babies were born. But, I did okay without an instruction book, really. I was a young mom with a lot of enthusiasm. I suppose my first babies and I grew up together in some ways. I should probably apologize to the oldest. He endured most of my learning experiences and was so often my “test subject.”  

I’m finding that an instruction manual would come in handy about now though. Anyone seen one entitled, “How to mother grown children”? This is not easy! Adult children sometimes still need guidance. Should I wait ‘til they ask me for it or just go ahead and offer it? If I should wait, should I wait until I see pending disaster? If I watch silently will I be asked later why I did not speak up? If I speak up will I be accused of interfering? If I am the voice of caution am I also the voice of pessimism? A dream crusher?

There is this high balance beam I’m finding myself walking. The abyss on the left side of the balance beam is very quiet and labeled “neglect” while the cavity on the right echoes with the voice of that interfering Emily Gilmore of “Gilmore Girls.” Emily tells me to offer as much advice as I like, in the most condescending voice I can muster. Hmmm, those two options are pretty far apart so the balance beam might be a lot wider than I was originally thinking, huh? Maybe I won’t fall after all.

But it does seem that often a mom cannot win-for-losing. What does a good mother say to her nearly adult child who asks, “Hey mom, do you like the muffins I made?”  The answer I want to give is, “Yes, they are good but next time you might want to pull them out a few minutes earlier.” Did I just give helpful advice or crush my daughter’s enthusiasm for baking? What does a good mother say to a nearly adult child who decides he wants to become a professional rodeo clown? Do you encourage him, cheering from the sidelines? Or do you try to talk some sense into the young man, who, by the way, will forever blame you when he is sitting behind a desk and not out in an arena, being chased by a bull, and living his dream.

I’m being facetious here. No one has baked me burnt muffins or announced they are going off to clown school in this family. I’m just reasoning some things out here; thinking "out loud." It’s hard to parent when your kids are old enough to become your friends. I recently sent my mom this message, “Having grown kids is so much harder than having little kids.” She knew exactly what I was talking about and she spoke to me from experience. After all, she has walked that balance beam for a lot of years before me and I am her adult child who she gets to watch blunder through life as she bites her tongue.

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Choosing My Nursing Home

This is a follow-up to my last post entitled “Don’t blink” I started my blog to raise autism awareness and encourage people to interact with people who have special needs. So the way that post was received took me by surprise. I received a lot more feedback than usual. Many people told me it was their favorite post to date. I decided I’d take another stab at blogging about parenting, in general. Thanks again to those who have encouraged me.   

Last week I accompanied my dad to a pre-op meeting. He is going to have some knee surgery. He has a terrible cold and his knee is bothering him so I convinced him to sit on a bench while I went to retrieve the car, saving him a few steps. He was reluctant to let me, afraid to inconvenience me, but I was able to persuade him to allow me to save him the extra exercise, which he did not need.

As I walked away, I wondered how many times my dad had gone out into the cold to do something for me, or how many hundreds and thousands of steps he had saved me over my lifetime. I wondered how many kind deeds he had done for me that I could remember and how many that I will never even know about. Why did I offer to save him those steps? Because I love him. If you have good parents you will understand. We love our parents because they taught us what love is, by loving us first. If asked to describe the devotion involved in a child/parent relationship, I’m certain I would never be able to put the depth of love and commitment into words. 

My mom and dad are in their eighties and have been parenting me for almost fifty years. That’s a long time of putting someone else’s needs first, counseling them, encouraging them, and praying for them. My dad can’t do as much as he used to be able to do. He used to be able to work on hydraulic elevators, and fix almost anything that was broken. He cannot do those things anymore. I’ve seen him struggle to finish much more simple tasks lately. My dad, my hero, a man of steel, sometimes needs me to do things for him now. So, I will be there for him, the way he was there for me. I will let him sit on a bench while I go and get the car. I will help him take care of my mom. I will do many of the things for him that he once did for me. I will put his needs before mine. 

Putting others’ needs first: isn’t that what it’s all about? The golden rule?  ...whatever you want men to do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets (Matthew 7:12). It was Jesus who spoke those words. If everyone lived by the golden rule, there’d be no need for any other rule. My mom and dad taught me that rule. If we were to all teach our children that one thing, we could change the world in one generation. Think about it. 

I hope my husband and I have instilled the Golden Rule well in our own children for many reasons, one being: they will pick our nursing home. (haha)  We’ve had a sort of joke around our house for the past few years with our oldest two sons. When we aggravate them, they sometimes say, “Be careful, I get to pick your nursing home.” It seems a long way off, getting old enough for a nursing home. But in reality, time flies. Our lives are compared to vapors in James 4:14.  As I said in the last post, “Don’t blink.”

As my parents become elderly and I’m living my middle-aged years, my oldest children have become young adults. Yesterday morning our oldest son called home to ask his dad for some advice about a car that wouldn’t start. I wondered how many of those phone calls I have made: “Mom, what’s that recipe for…..?” and “Dad, come quick! There’s a raccoon in my chicken house!” As I listened to my husband’s side of the phone conversation, I could hear how willing and happy he was to help our son, as best he could, over the phone. It’s like coming full-circle for me. My husband and my dad are both very wise men. I’m switching gears here and no longer talking about their ability to help with engine repairs or unwanted varmints. Although their knowledge of mechanics and their shotguns have come in handy over the years, their Bible knowledge and wisdom is what really matters. Our oldest called home a few months ago to ask his dad’s political opinion on an issue. Shawn didn’t give him a short answer, but helped him reason it out himself. After they talked, my son wrote this in a blog post: “My dad is the smartest man I know. He’s not a doctor, lawyer, scientist or professor. Ironically, he didn’t even finish college. I’m talking real-world-experience-smart. He’s always pushed me to make hard decisions and trained me to learn from my own mistakes—mistakes, by the way, that he encouraged me to make on my own. This life is a learning experience, and my dad’s my favorite teacher.”  

That blog post, written by my son, touched me and made me realize that our son sees his own father the way I see mine. I wish everyone had the kind of dad I have. I wish everyone had the kind of dad my children have.

My wonderful parents

My folks will hopefully be with me a few more years, but years go so quickly for me lately. Is getting old scary? If I live to be their age will the reality of my life ending be terrifying? My parents seem tired but they don’t seem terrified. Their influence will live on in the lives of their children and grandchildren. They have a lot of things to be proud of. The apostle Paul wasn’t afraid of death. He said “to live is Christ and to die is gain” (Philippians 1:21). Why wasn’t Paul afraid of death? Because he knew what waited for him after death. The apostle John tells us that we can KNOW we are saved (1 John 5). If I am sure I will spend an eternity in Heaven then what’s to be afraid of?