There is no ham in hamburgers

I have been a mom for 27 years. I was 25 years old when I became a mom for the first time. As almost every mom will tell you there is no describing the overwhelming love a mother feels for her child. You really cannot know that feeling until you become a parent. As a young mom of a typically developing child, and then two, and then three, and then four.... I got to do a lot of amazing things with my kids. I enjoyed my time with them very much. When my sixth child was born I was not quite so young anymore. I had children at home, aged 13, 11, 8, 6, and 3. I'd had enough experience to know what I was doing. I had taught a lot of kids to walk, talk, use a spoon, brush their teeth, dress themselves and all the other things moms teach their kids to do. I really knew what I was doing. Except this time I did not. This time my baby did not learn the things I tried to teach him. This time was different. And around age two and a half the things he had been able to learn he seemed to forget. And that's when I knew. That is when I knew that something was really not right. And I first heard the word "autism." Autism has robbed my son Tate of a lot of things but autism has not robbed us of everything. Autism has never been able to limit our love. Autism has not taken our sense of humor. And in spite of autism, we have a really good life. Tate, not autism, is celebrated every day. Tate makes my heart smile. He does that in a lot of ways. Sometimes even the obsessions, struggles and misunderstandings are an endearing part of our lives. Tate is different than his siblings but different is not always bad or wrong. Different is just different. 

I have tried to illustrate some of the ways Tate thinks differently. 

Tate, being a very literal thinker is often struggling to understand figurative language. Words with more than one meaning are also often misunderstood. Here are just a few of the things I've had to try and reconcile for Tate recently. 

If Tate believes someone is upset with him he becomes anxious. It is not often I lose my patience with Tate. I know it will take him longer to get past a conflict than it will me and usually if I have to correct him I do it with a smile on my face so he understands he is not "in trouble." Sometimes though I slip. The following illustrates the results if I lose my cool.

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Nine months of each year for the past three, Tate insists on wearing a hoodie. He has several, his favorite have a Kansas University Jayhawk on them. He becomes upset if he is asked to take the hoodies off but sometimes I must insist. His hoodies are as important to Tate as a blanket or pacifier can become to a baby. A hoodie seem to be his comfort item. 

Tate, like many people his age would rather not help with chores. Sometimes he can be coaxed into helping out but most of the time he is ready with an excuse. The exception is laundry. A few months ago he discovered he likes to do laundry and he takes his job very seriously. 

Tate's little sister drives him crazy but he is also very protective of her. He can yell at her himself but he sure does not want anyone else saying a cross word to her. Sydney was born in Russia and we adopted her before her first birthday. Tate tells me often that her Russian heritage should exempt her from behaving. It makes perfect sense to him.

If you liked this post, you might also like Tate's Texts.

I dash dreams now to avoid heartache later.

Most of the time I don’t think about the things Sydney cannot do. Most of the time I am just thankful for the things she can do. As a matter of fact, I do not think Sydney regularly thinks about the things she cannot do either, but is also content about the things she is good at. But sometimes….. Sometimes it becomes quite evident that she is unable to do things her peers easily master and she sees it. She sees it and it hurts her. When it happens there is often nothing I can do or say to make it less painful.  

There was a time when Sydney was in preschool, struggling to learn colors and simple skills her peers had long since mastered. Back then I wondered if she would ever read or be able to do simple math. She has come so very far. I try to be grateful for what she is achieving and not disappointed about what she is not. It’s a fine line I walk though because I do not want to stop challenging Sydney and become complacent. I have to remember she would NOT have learned to read or do simple math had I stopped trying to teach her. And so I try to challenge her without making the goals loftier than she can achieve.

Last year Sydney was in the fourth grade. Fourth graders in our district spend a lot of their music class learning to play the recorder. I am sure using the recorder is beneficial for lots of reasons. The students learned how to read music. They were taught about rhythm and how to count measures. It was a lot of fun for them. The first song they tackled was Hot Cross Buns. And they went on to learn many more. And then there was a concert. They played some of the songs they knew that night. When I say “they” and “them” above I mean all the fourth graders…. EXCEPT Sydney. Sydney had finally mastered the first song Hot Cross Buns in time for the concert but that was all. She just held her recorder and pretended to play the rest of them while her classmates whistled away. And she knew. She knew she was the only one on the stage holding a recorder who could not play the songs. No matter how hard she had tried and how much she wanted it she was unable to memorize the fingerings or the order of the notes. Part of the time, even throughout the song she did know, she was not able to keep the holes completely covered well with her fingers so the recorder made shrill squeaking noises instead of the tones it should. During the time leading up to the concert Sydney would often tell me her classmates asked her why she could not yet play the easy song. They did not understand why the things that came easy to them did not come easy to Sydney. I think it is all about the thing called executive function I've mentioned before. Playing music on an instrument takes planning and reading ahead and remembering what comes next. Those things do not come easy to Sydney. How can I explain that to her classmates? How can I ask them to stop asking Sydney, "Why can't you do this? Everyone else in the class can do it." 

The whole experience with the recorder was pretty humbling for us and I was so glad it was over. But I knew it was not REALLY over. Because the recorder is used to prepare the students for band. In the fifth grade, the kids decide if they want to be in the band and what instrument they will play. This summer I touched on the subject several times. I casually mentioned to Sydney that SOME fifth graders would be in band and some would not. I told her she would be one of the ones who were not in the band. I did not make it sound like she would be missing out on anything great, just doing something different. She did not argue. Then school started. The music teacher began talking about instruments and introducing the students to them and allowing them to touch them. And the excited fifth graders all began chattering about band and instruments and Sydney came home telling me of their excitement. I reminded her she would not be taking band class. I gently reminded her how hard it was for her to learn just one song on the recorder. She remembered. But oh how she wants to try again. This time with a much harder instrument. We’ve had several conversations about it together each time her conceding seeming to understand she will be doing something “different” than band. On the way home from school today she once again got into the car chattering about how great it would be to be in the band. She announced. “I know just what trumpet I want to play in the band! It is the flute!” Of course I smiled at her gaffe but was saddened by her unrealistic expectation. Her sisters immediately jumped in with things like, “Band isn’t that fun!” and “Singing in the choir at school is more fun than band.”

Even if I pacified Sydney by allowing her to join the band and I bought her a flute or a trumpet or even a drum, it would only be a short-lived happiness. As the other kids picked up the notes and fingerings and learned what the band teacher wanted from them, she would fall behind. The other kids would notice. Sydney would notice. So, gently telling her that band is not for her may be painful now it is much easier on everyone involved than setting her up for failure. That is what I have to keep telling myself. I dash dreams now to avoid heartache later. 

Note: Sydney's disability is Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. For more about that click here: The F in FAS does not stand for Fun

More Texts from Tate

My readers keep asking for more texts from Tate and Tate keeps providing them. So I will share some more of the best of the best. And if you need to catch up then follow these links to past texts from Tate: Breaking Bad News and Tate's Texts

Tate sometimes makes grandiose plans that would be impossible to carry out. I am sure he himself is even aware that many of his schemes are just for fun. Almost always they are linked to a movie or television show he has seen. He loves to plan. Occasionally he becomes upset if we do not take him seriously enough but most of the time he is happy for us to just play along a little, even knowing his plans are only fantasies. 

Tate recently became interested in my blog Quirks and Chaos. He doesn’t really read it although he knows where to find it on the web. He likes looking at the pictures. He also likes that he is on the web. Although when I have teased him saying he is famous he says, “Mom. I haven’t even been on television.” He decided he wants to surprise me by making a commercial for Quirks and Chaos. He has enlisted the help of his siblings. He’s been texting them individually and in groups with ideas. He let me in on a bit of it and revealed to me he would like the commercial to air on ABC Family. And apparently his siblings need to learn some dance moves for their part in the commercial.

Tate's sister Bailey is in blue in this text. Tate and his siblings are in gray, although Tate does MOST of the talking here. Notice he even says, "I will ask the questions." That is definitely a movie line. 

 

 

Lately Tate has had an obsession with Black Friday and he wants to plan our day, months in advance. He wants active participation from all six of his siblings. Tate’s siblings enjoy his planning and texting, probably as much as Tate does himself.

Nebraska Furniture Mart is a favorite of Tate's. They have dvds and lots of technology there. 

Executive Function and Al Capone

I’ve been thinking a lot about this thing called executive function lately and I have been watching Tate and Sydney try to problem solve. I have to jump in often to help them solve very simple problems they should be able to handle. By “should,” I mean they WOULD be able to handle these things if they did not have a disability. Executive functioning allows a person to sequence events, problem solve, multitask, get organized and make plans. One of my autism heroes, Temple Grandin, speaks about executive function on occasion. She has said, "I cannot hold one piece of information in my mind while I manipulate the next step in the sequence." Can you imagine? Can you imagine always being lost in the steps it takes to complete a project or deal with the unexpected things that come up in any given day? Not being able to organize your thoughts and make a plan, then follow through and execute the plan?

This afternoon I took Tate to get a haircut. Tate’s been going to the same barbershop for many years. If I can get a parking spot right in front of the door and if there is no wait for the barber chair then I just wave at the barber and Tate goes in alone lately. Today I had to park several parking slots away from the shop so I walked Tate in and sat down with him. Why? Because I couldn’t tell if there was a line from where I was parked. I knew if Tate went in and there was a line for the chair he would not have known what to do. He would not have been able to figure out when it was his turn because a line for the next chair in a barbershop is not really a line at all. Although our kind barber would have given Tate instructions, there would have been potential for Tate to misunderstand or become confused and he would have been nervous. Remember that tyrant we fight everyday called anxiety. He’s brutal. And so I walked Tate in mostly because he does not have the executive function it would take to figure out what to do in a crowded barbershop without help. But stay tuned for the rest of the story.

This morning, before we left for the barbershop, I decided to give the kids’ bathroom a make over. I took down the old, mildewed shower curtain and threw it out. Then before the haircut, Tate and I went into a department store and he helped me pick out a new shower curtain and rug for the bathroom. We went with a fish theme, by the way. When we got home from town, I got busy with some chores. And then I realized I could hear the shower running. Tate was taking a shower without the curtain up. He always goes right to the shower after a haircut but I had not thought about it. (Where were my executive functioning skills?) Of course, the bathroom floor was standing in water by this time. I do not often lose my patience with Tate but I scolded him in my frustration. I know better than to do this but I did it anyway. I talked to Tate about what a mess he’d made. I told him he could have used other options and discussed those with him. He could have taken a shower in a different bathroom or waited. He could have asked me to put up the shower curtain right away too. None of those things had occurred to him. There was no executive function. And then when he saw the mess himself, it never occurred to him to clean it up. It probably never occurred to him that anyone would need to clean it up. There was no executive function. And because of my lecture to Tate about the mess he had made, he is perseverating about it. Not so much because he made a mess but because I was aggravated he made a mess. I’ve assured him several times that all is well and the mess is cleaned up and the new shower curtain has been hung. All is right again. But, he cannot get past the fact that I was annoyed with him and told him about it. Texts have been flying as he needs to let his siblings know of the injustice he received. 

This evening we were sitting at his school in an assembly to kick off the beginning of the school year. Tate leaned over to tell me that sometimes teenagers make messes. I said, “Tate, can we drop it now? It’s ancient history.” He said, “Messes are not history. I know a lot about history. Al Capone robbed a lot of banks and then he died in jail. That is history.” And there we have it. Tate made a mess that was easily wiped up. It was only water. I made a mess that will take days to clean up because I used words. Tate is not the only one who sometimes lacks executive function. I could use a little more of that myself. I wonder if Al Capone lacked executive function? 

If you like this post you will probably also like: The Hardest Thing About Autism