My Summer Adventures and Tate's Pictures of Autism

Recently two of my friends from college told me they were both going to be near Branson to visit their families the same week. They asked me to meet them for a couple of days. I hadn’t seen one of them in 29 years. I happened to have one of the older kids here and willing to watch my youngest ones and Shawn was all for me taking the time so I did it. I left home for three nights and four days. That was unprecedented for me.

I worried as I drove away that I would spend four days feeling guilty and three nights lying awake thinking of all the things I SHOULD have been doing at home. It didn’t happen though. I was able to enjoy every single minute of my time away. Well, except for the few minutes of embarrassment when I accidently knocked the hotel phone off the hook and it resulted in an accidental call to 911. Oh, and the sunburn. I do wish I had moved my chair earlier that one day. Then, there was the sick feeling when I put a new large door-ding in the van. I parked too close to a pole. But other than those things, everything else was wonderful.

I don’t take a lot of breaks away from my kids. I’ve never felt the need mostly. Then there is the fact that it takes money to go away and a sitter who is able to keep Tate and Sydney occupied and safe. Taking care of Tate and Sydney is a lot of work. The list of people I would entrust them to is a short one. The list of people willing and able to keep them for me is an even shorter one.

In Branson, my friends and I shared stories of our children and their accomplishments. I listened in amazement as one of my friends explained what it takes to become a Green Beret. Yes, her son is one of our nations’ finest and will be keeping the rest of us safe! I could not hear enough of my other friend’s stories of baseball. Her son has scouts from colleges following his pitching “career” and recently a major league scout has been watching him play! Of course, I had a few of my own stories and kids’ accomplishments to talk about! 

I am back in the “real world” now. My husband had to leave town for a few days to help one of our older kids move. All the other kids happen to be out of town on various “adventures” this week as well. So, it is just Tate and Sydney and I. We went to the zoo yesterday. I purposely chose to take them to a very small zoo. It was really hot and I knew they would not last long. We had a fast food lunch and a forty-minute drive. Tate was much more talkative than usual and I enjoyed it very much. Then began our zoo adventure. Both kids kept me laughing with their questions and comments about the animals. The funniest being when Sydney asked me if the pile of hay and sticks in the giraffe pen was a giraffe nest. There was a small train ride. It cost $1.25 and lasted twelve minutes. Tate insisted we ride it twice. It was definitely the highlight of the zoo for him. Typical. What was not so typical is that the two kids got along beautifully all day long. They actually enjoyed each other’s company!

Tate had his camera with him all day. He has become very interested in taking pictures this summer and he does not use the word “picture” but says, “pic” and it sound so funny to me. I looked through his “pics” of our day last evening. It did not surprise me but there was not a single picture of a zoo animal and very few of people. He took pictures of things. We visited a mall after the zoo and ate dinner in a restaurant. Tate snapped pictures there too. He did get a selfie and a couple pictures of me during dinner, but at the mall he took pictures of the escalator, racks of shoes, ceilings, and floors. The ceiling and the floor were not snapped accidently either. He wanted pictures of these things. Things are what he is drawn to, not people. That is typical of people with autism. I looked carefully at some of the pictures and I saw patterns. I saw lines, rows, stacked items, and order. I saw autism.

If you Google the word “autism” one of the first things you will read is that many children with autism have a need to line things up. You might see an image of a child with dozens of toy cars or blocks in a long line. Children with autism do not play with toys appropriately and have very poor imaginations. They use the toys for a different purpose than play. Favorites of children with autism are often trains and Legos. I believe so many kids with autism are drawn to trains because they come in long lines and when one car moves, they all follow. Trains are very predictable. They stay on the long tracks. Legos are such a good toy for the same reason. They snap together in lines and in patterns and stay put. You can control Legos.

It was a great day and all three of us had a lot of fun. I was thinking after I got my kids in bed that I could honestly say, as much fun as I had with my two adult friends in Branson last week, today was just as fun for me. It really was. It was a different kind of day for sure but it was very enjoyable. I had no adult conversation. Instead, I got lots of driving advice from a 12 year old who cannot drive, I heard about how walruses "spawn" (courtesy of Tate and the Disney channel), and I heard a lot about muppets and their attributes. These two children have a lot to give. Neither, will ever pitch for a baseball team or join the military. They will not attend college or even preach a sermon. They may not ever be able to drive a car, or count change so they can work in a store. But they are doing the best that they can do. They see things that the rest of us do not see. They make me proud. 

Below are some of the "pics" from Tate's camera. I think they could go well in a collection called, "Pictures of Autism." What do you think? 

I just started a gallery of photos from Tate's camera.  They can be found here: A photo gallery: Pictures of Autism

The Photo On My Living Room Wall

There is a photo of my kids on my living room wall that was taken before Tate was diagnosed with autism. Sometimes when I look at that photo I wish I could step back in time and be with those kids again, not knowing what I know now. They are the same kids I have today, of course. I am still their mother. They are still my kids. They still love me. But it was a different life we lived. It was life before autism. Tate had autism the day the photo was taken. I am convinced he had autism the day he was born. So, what is the difference? The difference is that I was oblivious. I was ignorant of all the hard work that would have to be done, unaware that my hopes and dreams for Tate’s future, my future, were about to be snatched from me. They say, “Ignorance is bliss.” When I look at that photo I can believe it. I remember fondly the days that I did not know what autism was and what lay ahead. My ignorance was bliss. 

The reality is that I had to learn about autism to be able to help Tate. In fact, if I really could turn back the calendar, taking the knowledge that I have now with me, the wise choice would be to go back to the day he was born, long before that photo was ever taken. I would want to know that same day that he had autism. The earlier the intervention and education begins, the better, and I could have begun that very day to educate myself and begin the early intervention Tate needed. So I suppose, although ignorance is sometimes bliss, it is not usually for the best. I would even argue that education is power, knowledge leads to opportunities, and awareness prevents many problems. And that is why I started my blog. I wanted to raise awareness and educate others about autism. If I can end another mother’s “bliss” soon enough then the early intervention can begin and their child will get help sooner, not later. I hate to do it in some ways. I know the pain of the realization that your child will struggle in this world. He may not mature and go away to college. He may not be able to live on his own or marry. His interests may never develop beyond video games or toy trains. But I also know the relief the diagnosis brings. Now the developmental delay has a name and now there are therapies you can do that will help. There are experts you can call and books you can read. Now you roll up your sleeves and fight and work as hard as you can to help your child meet those milestones he has been missing.

Having said all that, my heart still argues with my head on occasion and I sometimes long for the “bliss” that was my life in that photo on my living room wall. I want to be ignorant, just for a little while again.

Want to read about the day I realized Tate had autism? Here it is: The Memory That Does Not Fade

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Where Dollar Bills Come From

Tate has very little understanding about time. He picks random times out of the air when he wants to give us a time frame. He might say, “At 11:00 I want to go get ice cream” yet he has no idea when 11:00 is. He might tell us that he has been in his room for ten hours when it was only thirty minutes or that he was at school for seventeen hours. Some mornings when I drop him off he will tell me, “You’ll be back in 23 minutes.”

Money and the value of a dollar has been very hard for him to grasp as well. He does not understand that the price tag on a DVD and a cart full of groceries would not be the same. In order to teach him something about money, Tate’s wonderful behavior consultant thought it might help if he had a chore and the ability to earn some money, along with shopping trips so he can buy some of the things he wants using the money He EARNED. It is actually going very well. I decided that unloading the dishwasher would be a good chore for Tate because he has excellent matching skills and he would just have to match each dish or utensil to its correct cabinet or drawer. It took a while but he has become an expert dishwasher un-loader. If I remember correctly he has only broken a couple of glasses so far. Tate gets one dollar every time he does his chore and he is usually able to earn one dollar a day. Occasionally if he asks for a break and wants to forfeit his dollar, I agree and unload the dishwasher myself. Tate has been keeping track of how many times he has unloaded the dishwasher and I believe it is a fairly accurate count. He almost always gives at least a little bit of a protest about the "hard" work. I usually call, “Tate, the dishwasher is ready for you to unload.” He will say, “But mom! I have done it 67 times now!” Then I will say, “That is a lot of times but it has to be done everyday.” He will end with something like, “This will be 68. Maybe this will be the last time. I will really miss it.” (I think he is really catching on to the sarcasm thing I blogged about a while back. Blog post: What brought you here?)

Tate keeps his money in a “safe” with a plastic combination lock. He is learning to count it. He still needs a lot of help with the coins but the paper money he is managing fairly well. So far the timing has been working out for us. Usually a DVD Tate wants will come out about the time he has around $20.00 saved. A couple of times when I saw he was going to be a couple of dollars short we’ve come up with another job or two he could do. Picking up sticks in the yard before we mow is something he HATES to do and can think of so many excuses when I suggest it. It can be 3:00 in the afternoon without a cloud in the sky and he will tell me it is about to rain or that it is too close to bedtime. The kid with almost no imagination can get pretty creative if he is trying to avoid manual labor. Two or three times we’ve even picked up sticks next door in Grandma and Grandpa’s yard for $1.00. Several times lately as we were getting in the car to go somewhere Tate has said, “If this is a trick to get me to pick up sticks in Grandpa’s yard, count me out!” That really cracks us up. He thinks we are all slave drivers.

A couple of days ago when I handed Tate his daily dollar he paused and asked, “Where do you get these dollars anyway?” Because Tate does not often ask the whys, or the where or how questions, I was thrown for a second. I had to think fast but talk slowly or I'd lose his attention. I reminded him about the kind of work his dad does and explained that people pay his dad for doing the work (Well, most of them do…. But that is another blog post for another day. HA) Tate did not walk away before I was done talking as he sometimes does. He listened. I had to keep the explanation short. I wanted to get more detailed and explain banks and checks and deposits but I knew better. It is a fine line I walk when teaching Tate. He asked a question and cared enough about the answer to stay and listen. I think he even understood. I have to celebrate the small things. Small things are really big things in our world.

In Search of The Perfect Dog

This is the third installment in a series about the loss of our dog and our search for a new one. 

Our dog Pepper was killed a few weeks ago and word has gotten out that she is gone. The wildlife have been peering in our windows at night, taunting us. If you have not yet read the story of the evening we lost Pepper, here is the link: Saying Goodbye to Pepper. In our search for another dog we’ve had some real adventures. I’ve talked to a lot of folks, visited a lot of websites, driven a lot of miles, sent a lot of emails and texts, and learned a lot about dogs and people. Many of the shelters and animal rescue organizations have adoption fees that are as high or higher than the puppy breeders they seem to have such a low opinion of. The people who work at the shelters where I have made inquiries have been intimidating. They have interviewed me, almost suspiciously, like I am there to steal a dog and mistreat it, instead of rescue it and give it a home. The whole experience has been nothing like I thought it would be. These dogs need homes but the screening process to get one is ridiculous. Keep in mind I have been through the international adoption process for a HUMAN baby.

Last Saturday, shortly after returning the two dogs that murdered our cat, caused our rabbit a nervous breakdown, and got sprayed by a skunk, I visited a shelter in Kansas City. The reason that I went to this particular shelter was because they were advertising a no fee day. I saw the ad on Craig’s List and heard it advertised on the radio as well. They claimed they had over a hundred dogs to choose from. Upon arrival, I explained that I was there because I had seen their ad for the free adoptions. The employee I was with had not heard of this “no fee day.” She said they took donations and I would be expected to give a donation. She explained that their suggested donation was $350 but they never expected less than $100. I nicely asked her to make sure that the ad got taken off Craig’s List and I moved to leave. She asked me to wait while she went to talk to the manager. She came back and said that if I did not want to leave a donation then I would still be able to adopt. So…. I was “interviewed.” I told her we wanted a mid to large sized dog, NOT a puppy, good with kids and cats. The first two dogs she showed me were one-year-old pups with way too much energy. The third dog was a shepherd-mix that I really liked. He was eight-years-old and so calm. Calm is right up my ally. I had just spent two nights with those two hyper dogs I had “borrowed.” (link to "Stinkin' Dogs and A Traumatized Rabbit") The third dog was the kind of dog who would lie on the porch all day. Did I mention he was calm? I was pretty sure this dog was the one I wanted but the family at home had been watching on Facetime. They were not so sure. I was open to look a little longer. After all, the shelter advertised that they had at least 100 dogs up for adoption. The girl left the room and came back saying I had seen them all. All three. They had three dogs that met my criteria. Three. I asked her to check again. She brought in a two year old female Golden Retriever mix. The family on the phone said THIS dog was the one. You know what I saw? I saw Trooper, the Yellow Lab that I described to you in a previous post, the dog that shredded the kids’ trampoline and anything else he was able to sink his teeth into, the dog that made my life miserable for over two years. I let those kids and my husband talk me into saying, “yes” to that Golden Retriever. So… Did I bring home a dog? No. Let me explain…

AFTER I looked at those 100, I mean four dogs, and picked out the dog we wanted, I had to fill out a lengthy application that would need to be approved. I was honest. We wanted an outside dog. This caused the girl who was helping us to raise her eyebrows. Apparently, people who do not allow their dogs into their living rooms are not worthy of owning a pet. We could not adopt a pet from this shelter unless we were going to have it inside our house as “part of our family.” What I wanted to scream as I left? “IT’S A DOG!!!!  GIVE ME A BREAK!!!!” What I quietly said instead? “Thanks for your time.”

Back to square one I went. I saw an ad from a very large shelter in Kansas City, Missouri that claimed they had 900 dogs. The ad said they had “farm dogs” and had no requirements about inside/outside pets. Adoptions were only $25 for the time being due to their over crowding. They claimed all pets were already spayed or neutered and if they were in need of any vet care in the first 30 days it was covered. THIS sounded like the perfect place to find a new dog! So… two of my girls and I made the trip over to see these 900 dogs. I am starting to wonder if these people can count. They had eighty or ninety dogs in pens, almost all of them were Pitbulls. Some had been there for months, even years. Some were lying in their own urine and feces. The place reeked and as I wandered through the aisles I marveled at the cruelty that was being called “humane treatment” here. Sure all these dogs were spared at this no-kill shelter, but is it really better to keep all these Pitbulls and Pitbull mixes for long periods of time in these small cages? I believe the humane thing to do would be to put them down. THAT, however, is NOT the politically correct way of thinking in this day and age. Unborn humans are aborted and it is a mother’s “right” while our society protests loudly at the idea of euthanizing an animal.

This particular organization had two other locations and we were told there were some great dogs there suitable for farm life. At the second location all of the dogs had kennel cough. They sounded horrible. We really liked three of the dogs at the second location and expressed interest in bringing one, or even two, home. Our favorite was a very calm Australian Cattle Dog. He was so calm he was almost lethargic and I questioned them about his demeanor and his health. I even joked that he seemed “depressed.” I do not know much about dogs but I knew something was not right. They claimed he was just new to them and scared. He did not appear scared to me, but ill. We asked for permission to adopt more than one dog. We were denied the other two dogs we liked because, despite the claim that they had no “indoor” requirements, they did not like the idea of these two dogs being outside animals. They claimed their hair was too long for the heat. They had both been strays and both were old. One was a Lab and one was a shepherd mix and neither had very long hair. I wanted to say, “You have got to be kidding me! My grandparents had many longhaired dogs when I was growing up and no air conditioning for them OR their dogs. None of them died of heatstroke!” What I quietly said instead? “OK. You know more about dogs than I do.”

As I was signing the final paper on the shorthaired cattle dog they WOULD allow us to have, it was revealed to me that the dog had a bad case of heartworms and I would have to return to Kansas City, Missouri for the free treatments. I had asked them more than once if there was something wrong with that dog and they said there was not. We left without a dog. Again.

We did not give up though! We drove to the third location. These folks were from the same organization as the other two locations but seemed much more motivated to send us home with a dog. There were only eight dogs to choose from but we found one that the girls and I really liked. They cat tested him for us and he seemed a little “iffy” but it looked do-able. I filled out form after form and we walked out of there with our new friend. I had dog-shopped for seven and a half hours. We got home and played out in the yard for the rest of the evening. We carefully introduced the dog to our kittens. It looked like he was going to be fine…. And then SNAP. Shawn had to dig another hole and Sydney cried another bucketful of tears. The next morning, it was back to the shelter for our new friend and I was out a $25 adoption fee and one more nights sleep. At least there was no incident with a skunk at 2:00 AM. Returning the dog to the shelter was very humbling and I hated to do it. I thought he was a perfect fit before he killed the cat. My oldest son has teased that I should stop consider any animals from very far away because I always have to make the trip twice, once to pick the dog up and once to return it. Sad, but true

After I returned that dog I went to yet another shelter. Compared to the other places I’d been this shelter was like a doggie spa and the prices reflected it. I left there with empty arms, discouraged, and determined that I was finished with shelters. From there I visited a veterinary office where I had been told there was a free five-year-old English Setter. She was beautiful but was said to have the tendency to wander and I sure do not want a dog that I have to keep on a chain. THAT is what I consider inhumane. I have spent the last three days making phone inquiries, answering ads, and even considering some puppies in need of a new home. Puppies? I must be getting desperate! There are quite a few people seeking homes for their dogs right now. I was offered a black Lab with high energy through a Facebook message. I talked to a woman about a large Boxer mix that is used to being inside most of his day. I got excited about a lead on an Australian Shepherd but he hates cats. I talked to another lady through Facebook who has three dogs she’d like to stay together but three is probably one too many. I made arrangements to meet a woman in Kansas City with a mixed breed dog and she stood me up. I was offered an Australian Shepherd who has a bad case of heartworms and has a history of running away. I was offered an elderly dog with arthritis, a one-year-old hound that is covered in ticks and afraid of people, a three-legged dog, and a dog that has to be rehomed because he barks all night and day and his neighbors are complaining. I suppose if you think about it people do not try to find a new home for many “perfect” dogs like our dogs Red or Pepper so I will have to be patient I suppose. It is hard to be patient and I have been thinking that maybe I should give up, put a collar on one of the raccoons that like to dump over my trashcan and name him Rex. This whole dog hunt has been frustrating but I am determined to keep my sense of humor. I have walked away from animal shelters shaking my head because I was approved to adopt a child but I cannot be approved for a dog at many of these places. I guess the difference is that I did not say my daughter would be an “outside” child. HA. I never knew how “mistreated” out past dogs have been because they slept outside. And our dogs certainly had no clue. The last two were miserable when we insisted they come inside the heated garage in extreme cold weather or snowstorms. Pepper shredded the sheet rock around two of our garage doors trying to get back out when we brought her in. Tomorrow I hear back from a family who has puppies that are Australian Shepherd mixes and the next day another family is bringing their Doberman over for us to meet. Someday, eventually, I will post a picture below I hope!

Sydney and Murphy
July, 2014

And here it is.... Our puppy Murphy. She is an Australian Shepherd mix, only eight weeks old and even I am head over heals in love with her. After having her one night Sydney asked me, "Are you gonna take her back?"  Poor Sydney. She thinks we only have dogs here for one or two nights now and they have to be returned. I told her that this one is here to stay. 

Stinkin' Dogs and A Traumatized Rabbit

I’ve said it before. I am so glad we live out in the country. It has its benefits. It does have some drawbacks occasionally too though. The last ten days have been somewhat wild for us. And the word is used literally out here in the country. We’ve been without our Pepper for ten days now and the raccoons, possums, and skunks are becoming braver and braver. Soon they’ll be pulling up chairs when we sit down to dinner. When you live out in the “wild” without a dog, all kinds of critters wander into your yard. We are almost surrounded by trees and my youngsters often call the wooded area “the jungle.” Even with a dog, we often saw a lot of critters. One day we saw a turkey walk through the yard, a deer on the driveway, and a coyote in the pasture in front of the house. Sydney watched all three from the front window and I heard her mumble, “What’s next? A dinosaur?”

So, I have been visiting pet rescue Facebook walls and internet sites and watching Craig’s List, looking for the perfect dog. The perfect dog: a mid to large sized dog, past the puppy stage, well mannered, who will bark at people who drive up but not attack them. My expectations are reasonable, right? I know it has only been a short time but it seems like I have spent eons calling and questioning people who are trying to find a home for their four-legged friends. And always in the background I have Sydney bouncing around and begging me to work some magic and find her a furry companion.

A couple of days ago I answered an ad on Craig’s List about TWO dogs. Two for the price of one… because free times two is still free!! They both sounded good. They are four and five year old Australian Shepherd mixes, used to staying outside, both female, already spayed, with no history of roaming, and they are good with kids! The perfect dogs! And I’d found two! The owner was moving from a rural setting to town and needed to rehome them right away. We went to meet the dogs that same evening and really liked them. We brought them home. The dogs were model passengers and Sydney giggled the whole way home. We were so happy! (for about an hour.) Then the escapade began. We got out of the car and immediately the dogs grabbed a kitten. I will just say Shawn is getting really good at digging holes. We comforted Sydney, buried the kitten and began to doubt our decision. We played out in the yard until it was really late. As we came in to go to bed, the dogs began to bark. I looked outside and saw both dogs jumping against Sydney’s rabbit hutch in a frenzied fit. I went out and calmed them, led them away from the rabbit, and came back inside. Fast forward 15 minutes and the scene repeated. All. Night. Long. I tried tying them up but they got right off the cable! Around 2:00 in the morning when I went out, I was almost knocked over by a horrible stench. Those dogs had been sprayed by a skunk! I had already been calling them “stinkin’ dogs by that time so I was feeling a little prophetic. This time, when I led those dogs away from the rabbit hutch and scolded them I started looking around for the hidden camera. Surely, this was not happening to me! When it was nearly morning, I wised up. I raised our window so I could hear when the dogs got crazed again and I could holler the dogs’ names without going all the way outside to calm them. The raised window had its pros and cons though. That skunk smell? You get used to it after a while. Each time I hollered at those dogs, they obeyed and left that poor rabbit alone…for about 15 minutes at a time. So basically, they are dogs with a short attention span and no impulse control. No wonder I was drawn to them. I was contemplating sharing some of Sydney’s medication with those dogs before the sun came up.

Oh, I almost forgot one of the “best parts” of this story. One of the dogs is named Julie. Julie is my little sister’s name. So, every time I yelled at that dog I thought of my little sister. Yelling at that dog was like stepping back in time about forty years. 

Sydney was up at first light and took over where I had left off, tying to distract the dogs from throwing themselves at the rabbit hutch. Even when they were not barking and trying to eat that rabbit through the wire cage, they were sitting beside the cage, staring and drooling. Finally, late in the afternoon, the two dogs went and sprawled out under my van and took a nap. I used their nap time to call the dogs’ original owner and arrange to take them back. For some reason, that guy was a little hard to get ahold of and pin down to a time to meet. He'd been so eager to meet up the day before. I wonder why? We got 'er done though. We unloaded those dogs in a hurry and sped away.

When we returned home without those stinky dogs, we were able to coax all the cats down out of the trees and Febreeze the car. Does anyone out there know of an animal therapist that can help our poor rabbit? She used to be black but now she’s white and she seems to have developed a nervous tic. And now, once again, we are looking for the perfect dog. Added to our new list of requirements is that the dog must be rabbit tolerant, cat friendly, and not share a name with one of my sisters. We've got a lead on a Golden Retriever but that fell through. Then I was sure we were going to adopt a Doberman but that was not in the cards either. We are still looking. 

If you have not yet read about our recent tragedy and the loss of Pepper, who truly was "the perfect dog," then you might want to click on the link below.

 http://quirks-and-chaos.blogspot.com/2014/06/saying-goodbye-to-pepper.html

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