Don't Blink

“Don’t blink.” We’ve all heard the older folks say it. They tell us that youth is wasted on the young. They tell us that we should enjoy every minute of being young. They tell us that we are really going to miss the things we take for granted now. They tell us, “These are the best years of your life.” When I was young I wondered at these things and thought “time doesn’t pass any quicker for younger folks than it does for the elderly. What are they talking about? Isn’t life just as enjoyable at an older age?” 

The older I get, the more I understand just what those older folks are talking about. I am becoming one of them. Now I say all those things. I often tell young mothers, “You’re gonna miss this one day.” I saw a toddler throwing a terrible fit in the grocery store yesterday and felt sorry for the mother who was trying to deal with her tired little boy. I watched and smiled, and thought: “When he’s ten or fifteen, she’s going to so wish she could still pick him up and hold him.” Of course, not everyone is like me. Perhaps, not everyone will miss the tantrums, the dirty diapers, the drool, and the noise. But I do and I will. 

I have older kids and I have younger kids, seven in total. Yes, they all have the same father. (I have actually had people ask me that.) I gave birth seven times and have seven children. One of those babies didn’t make it (See: Loving Chaney) and we adopted another (Sydney). The baby I lost is missed every day and there are not too many days that go by that I do not think about her. The pain isn’t as intense as it once was but it is still there. Five of my children were/are typically developing and two have special needs. I may have a different perspective than a mother who has never lost a child. I definitely have a different perspective than a mother who does not have any special needs children. I also am sure I have a different perspective than a mother who had one or two children. I’ve seen a lot and done a lot and experience has helped me to realize that all the things I used to “know” were not necessarily true. I had so many false ideas and expectations when I was first starting out. The understanding I have now about how fast eighteen years goes by, helps me to enjoy and to parent my younger children differently than I did my older children. I am much more patient and I am trying to savor every minute.

I am thankful that I have been able to be a stay-at-home mom. I don’t think I am a “better” mom than those who have to work. I have many good friends and relatives who are mothers and they have full-time jobs. They are a wonder to me because they get it all done! 

I am able to spend time with my kids, lots of time. I may not enjoy every single minute but I try to value every single minute. Something I have learned over the years is that almost every moment throughout the day is a teaching moment when you are with children. They absorb things from their environment from the time they are new until they “know it all” around age 13. Haha Kids are always watching and learning. They are developing in so many ways. Who better to shape their character than their own mother? A mother who isn’t complaining about their tantrums and their crying and their constant needs? Isn’t that what you signed up for the day you conceived them?

Once when I was young and newly married, I was sitting in my parents’ kitchen and I was complaining about some chore that needed done at home. I didn’t want to go home and do it but I knew I had to. I don’t remember if it was moping the floor or cooking a meal or what. My dad said, “You knew when you got married that you’d have to do those things. If you didn’t want to do them, you shouldn’t have gotten married.” I remember it hurt my feelings a little but it was just what I needed to hear. I have often thought about that over the years. When I am complaining about a task I often remember what dad said and I try to count my blessings instead of complaining. I love being a wife. I love being a mother. I love summer vacations. I love snow days. I love spending time with my kids. All those things come with chores that are not always fun. But those things are all worth it. 

Sometimes when I hear another mother complaining about the amount of sleep she is not getting, or missing work to stay home with a sick child, or doing all their laundry…. I want to say to them what my dad said to me all those years ago:  “Why did you have a baby if you didn’t want to be a mother?” It’s not all fun and games. Didn’t you know that? There are so many people who would trade places with you in a heartbeat. Stop complaining and count your blessings. Did you know it takes ten positive things to undo the damage of one negative comment you make to a child? It takes ten smiles to undo a frown that you showed them. I’m re-reading a book right now called “The Power of a Positive Mom.” I tend to be a pessimist and I often need reminded to find the silver linings when the skies are gray. 

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not smiling a hundred percent of the time. Sometimes kids need to see the look of disapproval on your face. You can’t let a toddler play in the street and you can’t let a child be disrespectful….  I’m talking about the heavy sigh you give when a preschooler asks you “why?” for the tenth time in an hour. I’m talking about the lack of enthusiasm you show when a kid asks you to “watch me” as they jump off the bottom two steps of the staircase. I’m talking about the frown when a kid asks you to read him the same book that you read him yesterday and the day before and the day before that. Do your kids know how tired you are of them? 

Count your blessings and value the day that the Lord has made. Be thankful that your son doesn’t have autism. If he does have autism, be thankful that he isn’t as severely disabled as some of the other kids in the autism community. Be thankful that your child can walk, see, hear, talk and/or learn. I have met a lot of parents these last few years who would give everything they owned for their child to be able to say “no” to them or to ask “why” over and over. As Kid President would say, “Make the world more awesome for a kid.” That doesn’t mean spoil them with material things. Turn off the television and read them a book or two or three. Listen to them when they talk. Stop and LOOK at them while they talk. You really are going to miss all that chatter. I know I do. Every time I hear the song “Boot Scoot Boogie,” I flash back to a four-year-old boy (my first) singing at the top of his lungs, in the sweetest little voice, from the backseat of the van. It was his favorite song. I miss him so much but I also love who he has become. He is 26 now. When I have to straighten a sock for my ten-year-old because she still cannot get them on quite right some days, I flash back to a little boy that I had to help with his socks for fifteen minutes some times because he had sensory issues. His socks and shoes had to be on "just right" every time. He was my third and he’s 6’4” now with a beard. I love the little boy he was and I love the man he has become. When my 19-year-old daughter hollers up the stairs for her sister, I remember the same little girl doing that as a toddler. Back then there was a gate up so she couldn’t climb those stairs and fall. She had to holler to be heard around here. I miss it. I miss it all. There's a song out right now, a song that I really love called "Dirty Dishes." Scotty McCreery sings it:

Mama hollers "Supper time,
And don't make me tell you twice
Wash your hands and wipe your face.
The table's no place for your toys,
And try to use your inside voice,
Don't dig in 'til we say Grace."
So we put down our forks and bowed our heads
And then she prayed the strangest prayer ever said:

"I wanna thank You Lord,
For noisy children and slamming doors,
And clothes scattered all over the floor,
A husband workin' all the time,
Draggin' in dead tired at night,
My never ending messy kitchen
And dirty dishes."

We all got real still and quiet,
And daddy asked "Honey, you alright?"
She said, "There ain't nothing wrong,
Noisy kids are happy kids,
And slamming doors just means we live,
In a warm and loving home,
Your long hours and those dishes in the sink,
Means a job and enough to eat.

So I'm gonna thank You Lord,
For noisy children and slamming doors,
And clothes scattered all over the floor,
A husband workin' all the time,
Draggin' in dead tired at night,
My never ending messy kitchen

For my little busy bees
Beggin' mama, mama can you please?
Always wantin' me and callin' me
Loads of laundry pilin' up
Crayons crushed into the rug
In those little sticky kisses
And dirty dishes, And dirty dishes..." 

I’m not a perfect mom. I still complain and I lose my temper too often. I forget their homework once in a while and I let them stay up too late on a school night on occasion. I’m not a perfect mom but I’m a much wiser mom than I was twenty-six years ago when I was just starting out. I’m not a perfect mom but I’m trying to enjoy every minute because I know it is going to be gone soon. I’m trying not to blink.  

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prank phone calls and teaching Tate

I have so many stories to share, but they are not all related to one topic (unless it is just autism, in general) so this is going to be a pretty random post. 

Tate has tried his hand this week at practical jokes. He will tell me in a whisper that he is going to prank someone, usually Levi, and then do something really silly. A few nights ago, Tate dropped a clothes hamper over Levi’s head. Of course, Levi saw it coming and cooperated so Tate could have his fun. 

We found out last night that we would be staying home today for a snow day. Tate became so excited he began to chatter and he became very animated and active. He isn’t usually much of a talker so when it happens we love it. He gets really talkative sometimes when he is happy. A day I will always remember is from a trip to pick out an Xmas tree, in 2011. It was one of the first times he had EVER become a chatter-box for a day. Most days he is pretty quiet. 

Tate’s favorite prank right now is to go find a sibling and tell them that Mom has been calling. Then he follows them into the room and when they ask what I wanted and I look confused, Tate runs and they chase. Last night he did it to everyone, at least once. They are great to play along. Tate has started making up jokes that are usually not funny too. Last night he told one he made up: “Why did the pen not write on the paper? Because the paper fell on the floor!” We usually laugh much longer and louder than is worthy of such a joke because of the kick we get out of Tate telling a joke. Most kids make up their own jokes around age four. I know because I had five kids before Tate that told me hundreds of jokes. I have heard “knock knock” many, many times in the past twenty years!

Last night Tate told me he was going to call his older brothers who live in Tennessee and prank them on the phone. I could hear his end of the conversation with both boys. When they answered, Tate yelled into the phone, in a voice that is cracking due to his age, “Hellooooooo, How can I help you?” Then he said, “I don’t have the wrong number, YOOOOOUUUUU have the wrong number.” He did a lot of giggling. He told one of the boys “Congratulations, you have just won a new foot.” We were laughing pretty hard on this end but I haven’t talked to my boys yet to find out if they understood much of what he was saying. Knowing them, they loved the call. I couldn’t ask for better kids than I have. Tate has a whole family of therapists. For more on Tate's siblings and all that they do, read here: He's My Brother

Totally unrelated to the above: This past weekend we skipped an afternoon of school and went to the movie theater. That is not the real story I want to tell here, but it is a story in itself. When Tate hears the release date of an animated movie or a movie that strikes his interest, he immediately begins to make plans to attend the opening day of said movie. If you are not involved in the life of a child with autism, you probably will not understand the importance of these kinds of things to us here in the Smith family. When Tate makes a plan, if it is not altered or shot down, IMMEDIATELY, then it is set in stone. The mind of a child with autism is much like stone. Plans made are not easily changed. Usually, I am fine with taking Tate to a movie on a Friday after school. He doesn’t ask (demand) that often, maybe every-other month. So, last Friday was one of those times and I had agreed to take him. After about three days of listening to him talk about the movie, my senior in high school, told me that my presence was required at one of her school events. She told me IN FRONT OF TATE, so there was no time for me to prepare myself for his anxiety attack. His face turned blotchy, he began to choke, and he started pacing the floor on his tiptoes. He actually said some pretty hilarious things in his misery. He was trying to talk us out of our alternate plans and saying things to his sister like, “I’m sorry, but we won’t be able to attend that game. You’ll be on your own.” The funniest thing he said was, “If your wedding is on a Friday night, we won’t be able to make it.” Tate’s oldest sister came up with the perfect solution. She would take Tate out of school early on Friday and take him to the movie. 

I told that story to tell this one: At the theater, a young man in a wheel chair was taking tickets. Tate got right in front of him and even crowded him and said to me, “Hey, what’s wrong with him?” I was totally taken back. I had no idea what to do. I knew I needed to use the moment to teach but what was the proper way to handle the situation? I had no time to decide. I said to Tate, “You can ask him, why he needs to use a wheel chair.” Tate said to him, “What’s wrong with you?” The young man said, “I have a disease.” Tate said “Oh” and walked away. I hung back to explain to the young man that Tate was lacking in manners because he has autism and doesn’t have many social skills. The guy replied that he could tell and he was very gracious, although we were both embarrassed. As we got settled in our seats and waited for our movie to begin I talked to Tate about how impolite it is to ask someone what is wrong with them if they are sitting in a wheel chair. He seemed to understand. A few days later, Tate asked a person with a blemish on their face, what was wrong with their face and I had to repeat the lecture. If that person had been in a wheel chair, he wouldn’t have asked them perhaps but I hadn’t covered acne.  If you think about it, etiquette is very hard to teach. It is okay to ask a friend who shows up to school with a broken arm, what happened to their arm, but very rude to ask a stranger in a wheel chair what happened to their legs. Typically developing kids just learn these things from watching and absorbing the examples around them. Kids with autism have to be taught everything they know systematically. They have to file away each little lesson and each little variance to each rule so they can know how to act. When something new comes along that they have not seen before, they don’t know what the proper response should be. They don’t mean to be rude. They just have no idea what is acceptable and what is not. These kinds of unwritten rules are often referred to as “the hidden curriculum” in schools. Teachers don’t have to teach the hidden curriculum to the typically developing kids but the kids with autism do need to be taught all the unwritten rules. I feel so badly sometimes when I hand my special needs kids to their teachers. I’m asking them to give more and do more for my kids than their job descriptions ever called for. I don’t think that colleges give a lot of instruction to their teaching students on the hidden curriculum. Special needs students, fully included or not, require so much more work than the other students. They are also much more expensive to educate, due to the need for para support, other services, and modified materials and equipment. I cannot sing praises loud enough for my kids’ teachers. 

A little bit more about hidden rules that Tate cannot learn without systematic instruction: One day this week when I dropped Tate off at school, I watched him walk into the building as usual. A girl much smaller than him was holding the door, waiting for Tate to catch it. A boy much smaller than Tate was right behind him, waiting to enter. Tate pulled the door open, slipped through and dropped the door. The little boy behind had to reopen the door because Tate had not pushed it open wide enough for him or held it that extra second it would have taken for him to grab. These kinds of things come so natural for the rest of us. Tate is not mean. He just doesn’t think about others, their thoughts, their feelings, their plans, or their motives. That part of his brain isn’t working. He cannot help it. If we teach him the “rule” for holding the door for the kid behind him then he will hold the door next time…. But then there will be variances of that rule that come up. What do you do if you are in a crowd and there are a lot of people behind you? What do you do if the person is on crutches or pushing a stroller and you need to move out of the way a little while you hold the door? All these things would leave Tate confused about what to do. I asked Tate’s teachers to help me teach Tate about holding the doors. The teaching opportunities for social skills abound at the school. Tate’s classmates are often involved in teaching new skills. I appreciate them so much. 

If you liked this post, you might also like this one: What is Autism?

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celebrate autism?

Tate, age 3

I just don’t get it when I hear a parent of a child with autism say they “celebrate” their autism. I have heard parents say, “I wouldn’t change anything about him.” What are they thinking? I’d change Tate in a heartbeat if I could and I have been doing everything I can since he was a toddler to minimize as many of the stereotypical behaviors of autism that I can. 

Here are my black and white thoughts…. If your child was paralyzed and you knew he’d be able to walk with a surgery or a special piece of equipment, would you say, “I accept his paralysis and will not seek help or a cure?” If your baby was born deaf, would you “celebrate” his deafness or would you seek a physician that was able to repair his ears and give him the ability to hear? There is no cure for autism but there are many ways to minimize the behaviors that will cause that child to miss out on opportunities. If you truly celebrate the child’s disability and accept it then would you be asking therapists for help, reading to find the latest research, and seeking the advice of specialists in the field of their disability? 

I met a parent many years ago that told me she had a son with autism and wouldn’t change him for anything. In the same conversation she told me about all the therapies and programs he was participating in. ???? Wait a minute? Didn’t you say, you wouldn’t change him? I’d do ANYTHING I could possibly do to give Tate a better life, a life free of autism. I’d let them take the brain from my own head and give it to him if it would mean he could live the rest of his life without autism. I do NOT celebrate autism. 

Does that mean I have less love for Tate than the parent who says they “celebrate” autism? I think not. I actually have a hard time believing that anyone really celebrates autism. I would believe they have come to ACCEPT autism, as I have, and what they celebrate is the love they have for their child. I love Tate with all my being but I HATE autism. Autism has stolen the REAL Tate from me. He will never become the person he should have been.  What? You think I have it backward? You say the Tate with autism is the impaired Tate. If he had been born blind and I found a doctor who could give him sight, would I have been wrong to do it? Would I have been a bad parent for not accepting the blindness and the “real” Tate? If a person has a life-long disability (deafness, blindness….) they learn to live with it and their parents accept it and they love that child, disabled or not. BUT, they give that child every opportunity available. They teach them sign language, how to read Braille, or anything else they need. I somehow doubt they ever celebrate the deafness or blindness. I do NOT celebrate autism. I do NOT celebrate his sensory issues and I try to help him overcome them. I do NOT celebrate his inability to communicate well and he gets lots of teaching and therapy. I do NOT celebrate his social deficits and we work on them constantly. I do NOT celebrate autism…. But I DO love Tate. Tate is a blessing to me. Autism is not a blessing for Tate or for me either. 

See this post for more about this topic: Is autism a disability?
And PLEASE, if you are an autism parent or a person with autism who feels very differently than this, read this post before you comment: What did I do to deserve this?  

Find us on Facebook at Quirks and Chaos. Or, if you liked what you read and want to become a follower, click on the Google Friend Following gadget on this blog. It's over on the right side and asks you to subscribe. Or you can add the URL (the web address in your search bar) to your Reading List. You can do that by clicking the plus sign in front of the URL. Thanks! 

my reputation, bruised and healed

Reputation. It’s something that is pretty valuable to a person, especially to a Christian. Most people like to think they have a decent reputation and that people know they can be trusted and liked.   

I always knew that the first few years of our experience with Tate’s public school education had probably bruised my reputation somewhat. Back then, I had to argue, write complaint letters, and even consult with the state board of education about getting a free and appropriate education for my son with autism. I begged a couple of times with tears, and once, after Tate’s para was taken from him and given to a child with greater needs, I had a meeting with the ones in control and yelled. That was the first and only time in my life I have ever yelled at anyone I was not related to (ha.) Although I didn’t say anything obscene or untrue, I’m sure I probably should have handled it differently. The one who held the reigns of Tate’s IEP and I often did not agree on what Tate's education should entail. I felt like I was at the mercy of a system that had no mercy. Consequently, my own reputation was damaged in dealing with the public school staff and trying to obtain greater services for my son. 

And then.... our rural school was closed and we were forced to move our children to town for an education. I could feel the staff tense up when I walked into a school building. Never mind that I had five older children who had been to the Junior High and High School in town and I had NEVER caused a single wave. Never mind that I had NEVER had a problem with a single general education teacher or principal at any level. Never mind that I loudly sang the praises of almost every para Tate had ever been assigned. I got a reputation from the whispering about how I had fought for my son's right to an appropriate education.

Today, I heard from someone (an educator) I have learned to respect and admire very much. That person said one of the nicest things I have heard since we moved to town. Although I cannot quote it word for word, it was something like this:  “You had a reputation when you moved your kids to town. We heard awful things about you. Not one of them turned out to be true. Now, when someone tries to say that you are not easy to get along with, one of us always says, ‘She is not like that at all. She is very reasonable and she only wants what is best for her kids.’” I was very touched. I hope I can always be the mother I am supposed to be to Tate and Sydney and advocate without ever having to cry, beg, and yell again. Somehow I doubt that will happen but I do know I can do it. I can cry, beg, and yell, still be okay with God, and heal my reputation with men in the end. 

Thanks for reading.