Parenting Up to Ability, Not Parenting Down to Autism

I have two sons. One is neuro-typical, though legally blind, and the other is autistic. As a single mother who works from home, I have both of my children all of the time. It can be a bit of a juggling act, holding the autistic child back while encouraging the typical child to inch forward, but it wasn't until I spent an entire day with just my typical son that I realized I was doing it wrong.

One day I found myself taking one child to the doctor while the other went to school. My typical child, Tristan, had to go to the ophthalmologist, but there was no reason for my autistic son to tag along, so off to school he went. My older son, the typical child, was quite happy to spend a day just with Mommy, even if it involved a doctor, so off we went. The doctor didn't take long, so we decided on the zoo as something to kill two hours before we had to pick up his brother.

We'd been to the zoo many times before, but this was different. Always, when I had both kids, we had to be careful. Mustn't go near the seals or the little one would have a meltdown. Avoid the play structure area because it's too scary. And don't walk in the sand. Do NOT walk in the sand.

This time, however, there was an immediate difference. We didn't avoid certain areas. Tristan could wander where he would and I trotted calmly behind. He was free to explore without having me call him back because his brother couldn't cope.

And then it hit me. I was parenting down, satisfying the lowest common denominator, instead of requiring more of us all. I felt it was just more fair to say no rather than allow Tristan to do something while I was forced to keep his little brother back, possibly while having a little meltdown over whatever big brother was doing. Now, to be clear, Tristan had never once complained when I had to say no, or felt I had to say no. He's an easygoing child, one who adapts to what's thrown his way. But that didn't make it right.

I watched him at the zoo, watched his little personality bubble forth without needing to be held back, and I realized I wanted my younger son to have that experience too.

That's when I knew I'd been guilty of the same mistake parents of special needs kids have been making since the beginning of time. I was parenting to the disability, to the disorder, and not to my son. He is autistic, but he is not autism. Autism is a part of our lives, but it cannot be our whole life. If I constantly parented down, catering to the lowest common denominator, I was doing everyone a disservice.

Especially my older son. Sometimes it is all too easy to focus on the child with the most severe disability, to get tunnel vision. And we, all of us, too frequently use autism, or any special need, as an excuse. It's the reason a child doesn't go to parties. It's the reason we didn't take the family to the movies last weekend. It's the reason we didn't go camping last summer. And in catering to this, we're stifling the potential of all our children, not just the special needs children.

Autism is scary and sometimes unpredictable and frustrating (why won't you eat white foods!), and it can be difficult to not focus on it all of the time. But I knew, for the sake of my small family, that I had to try. I had to stop parenting down, and start parenting up. I had to get rid of the lowest common denominator altogether. I had to expect more of everyone, including myself and my autistic son. If I could do that, all of us, perhaps especially my older child, would have a better life.

It didn't happen overnight. As anyone with an autistic child will understand, you don't just toss him onto the terrifying sand and expect miracles. The process involved a lot of coaxing, a lot of patience, and pure stubbornness on my part. We were going on that sand. Maybe not on day one, but definitely by day three. And day four meant we were visiting the seals. My little one didn't have to like it, but Tristan loved the seals and it was about time everyone got to see what they wanted. Autism or no autism.

Yes, we spent every single day at that zoo. Then we hit the playground to repeat the entire process with the rope bridge. Again, he didn't have to walk across the rope bridge himself. He just had to not have a total meltdown when his brother ran across it. Not too much to ask.

I no longer allow the, "Your brother doesn't want to," or the, "Your brother can't do that," to be a reason for not doing something. We even went to a movie as a family, and that's not something my little one likes at all. Too much of everything going on in there. But...too bad. One movie won't kill him, and we did something he wanted to do right after. Yes, it was hard. Yes, it would have been easier not to. But easier is not right.

Tristan, my older son, matters just as much as my little one. He is a whole child all on his own, a whole person with thoughts and feelings that count. He is one half of all the children I'm ever going to have. He needs to take center stage a full half of the time.

That was more than two years ago now, and autism is still with us. There is no cure and my little one will never love the sand. He'll also never truly enjoy going to a movie. But he copes. He copes for his brother. He copes for me. And he copes for himself.

He is only one half of my children, after all. The other half deserves the freedom and joy he now experiences every day.

Essential Items Moms Need to Survive Summer

Summer has arrived in full force and it's not going anywhere anytime soon. Kids are home, the weather is hot, and unless you have 7000 activities lined up, kids will complain of boredom within 37 seconds. So hit the store and be prepared with these essential tools for surviving an entire summer home with the children.

1. Head phones and music. Because kids having fun are loud. Kids annoyed or upset are loud. Kids bored out of their little skulls are loud. You're going to need some peace and quiet, and you'll only get that with a quality pair of noise-canceling headphones.

2. Reflective silver insulation. You know that thin weird stuff at the hardware store you always frown at? Pick up a roll. Cut it down to size so it fits in the children's bedroom windows perfectly. No gaps. This is important. Once this is done, you'll accomplish two things. First, you'll reduce your cooling bill by keeping the heat out, but who really cares about that? The real benefit will be blocking out the light so the kids don't realize the sun is up. Because we all know that when school's out, kids are up as soon they sense the sun. Buy yourself a little time each morning.

3. Sunscreen and bug spray. Not to use on the kids. You know darn well that those kids are not coming anywhere near you if you're threatening to slather or spray them with anything. Instead, these are the items you lose when you hit the beach or waterpark. Because everyone loses at least two things each trip. Better than the baby.

4. Water guns. Big ones. Then the kids can hunt each other in the yard, get wet and cooled down, and not bother you for fifteen minutes.

5. A list of chores. So when one of the kids cries about boredom, you can say, "Here. Bored kids sweep the porch." Post the list on the fridge and let the kids know what it's for. You'll be amazed how often they're not bored.

6. Drinks. Like lemonade, iced tea, or those fancy water enhancer things. You'll need to keep the kids hydrated and no one wants to drink water in the summer. This way you'll have a selection and no one moans. Yes, you could insist they drink water, but that will end with you losing your mind. Plan ahead.

7. A pool or at least a sprinkler. Think back to swimming in pools when you were a kid and you'll know why public pools are gross. Between the pee and occasional toddler actually pooping in the pool (it happens more than you think), you probably don't want to go to a public pool. Also, public pools suck for parents. Have water sports available at home as an alternative.

8. Towels and swimsuits. Multiples of each. Because you know they're going to get wet in the morning, change into dry clothes, and then want to get wet all over again, but not in the already-wet swimsuits. And no one likes wet towels.

9. Bubbles. Tons of fun to be had here by all ages. And, as a bonus, bubbles are basically soap. Once they're done with the bubbles, spray them off with the hose. Instant shower and the kids think it's hilarious.

10. Board games and such. Because not every day will be bright and sunny and you need a backup plan. If you don't have something to occupy them on yucky days, they'll eat the sofa.

11. Video games and movies. I know, I know. Screen time is evil and all that. But, seriously, on a rainy day, or a day when the humidity is out to murder you, these can occupy longer than that old game of checkers you have in the closet. Desperate times call for desperate measures. And screen time isn't the enemy. Two months of no school is the enemy.

12. Something just for Mom. If you want to come out the other side of summer in one piece, you need something just for you. Maybe it's a glass of wine before you go to bed. Maybe a chocolate bar you sneak when the kids are chasing each other outside. It might be a special book you read just a little of every morning. Whatever it is, make it something you never share.

You can survive summer. Trust me. It's only two months. You will make it.

Please Label My Child

My younger son is autistic. He's 7 years old now, and he was different from the start. That means 7 years of dealing with doctors, schools, aid workers, IEPs, and other parents. It also means I've had 7 years to get used to the label. To know that my son is indeed autistic. To get over the denial most parents of autistic children go through.

In those 7 years of dealing with my autistic son, I've heard dozens of parents say, "I don't want them labelled." And I never understand it. I can't fathom why any parent would shy away from a label that will only help. Here's why I haven't resisted having a 'label' for my son.

1. It's not about me. His diagnosis, his label, his IEP. Not mine. Putting my head in the sand and pretending he's not autistic is for my benefit, not his. It doesn't help him, and it can hurt him by not allowing him to access the services he actually needs.
2. Everyone has a label. I was the smart one. My older son is the mouthy one. His best friend is the shy one. Labels all. Because my younger son is only 7, his classmates don't know too much about autism. So he's the weird one. He's the one who flaps his hands. He's already labelled. I might as well make sure it's the correct label.
3. A label is practical. I know that's not a fun word. But sometimes practical is necessary. Having a single word, a single diagnosis, to describe my son means I don't have to spend 4 hours explaining his problem. And he does have a problem, so I can't afford those 4 hours anyway.
4. A label means he gets help. Even with that label, it's hard to get help, especially in the schools. IEPs don't grow in trees, after all. The law might say your kid is entitled to a free and appropriate education, but if you don't have a label, your special needs kid WILL slip through cracks. It's going to happen.

One thing I've learned over the last 7 years is that none of it is about me. My discomfort isn't important. What is important is my son. He needs certain services, and those services can only be accessed by those with a firm diagnosis.

So I got over myself and learned to accept what was. My son is a beautiful, loving, smart little boy who happens to have autism. That label doesn't lessen who he is. It just means he has more opportunities than he would have without that label.

It's Okay to Let the Baby Cry

Being a new mom is hard under the most perfect of conditions. You're tired, sore, and probably dirty because you've forgotten to take a shower for the past week. And that's when you have the ideal situation.

When you have a baby who won't sleep, the situation is just that much worse. This was where I found myself when my second son was born. He didn't sleep. Ever. Oh, he'd nap for 10 minutes at a time maybe 5 or 6 times a day, but he didn't actually sleep. And since I was going through a divorce, I didn't have anyone to take over so I could catch a nap. That meant less than an hour of sleep per day, and none of that was consecutive. I was totally fried and losing my mind.

Still, I held in there. For five months. On an hour of sleep. Picture that for a moment. I was past being a zombie, and I had a 2-year-old and an infant to care for. Everyone was cranky, everyone was tired, and I think we were all insane. No one was even liking each other at the time.

I had to do something. So I made a decision that wasn't entirely conscious and was mostly driven by exhausted instinct and put the baby down. I put him safely in his crib one night and walked away. I closed the door behind me and collapsed on the floor. I literally did not have the strength to stay on my feet for another minute. It was sit down or pass out.

In fact, I think I maybe passed out. The baby was out of my arms for the first time in five months. I had no reserves left and needed to just sit there, back against the door. So I sat.

And the baby cried. I don't actually know how long he cried. It was more than a minute, less than 30 minutes. I was only semi-conscious, so I'm not exactly sure. But I do know that the crying suddenly stopped. Just stopped. Like some sort of magic. He'd never been quiet when not in my arms.

So my first thought, quiet naturally, was, "He's dead!" Give me a break. I was insane at the time. So I went back in. But just in case he was alive and actually sleeping, or just trying to trick me, I had to be sneaky. Which meant I became Ninja Mommy. I was probably much less impressive in real life, but in my demented state I remember being very sneaky indeed. I remember slinking across the floor and peeking into the crib like a pro. I'm sure I was more like a slug who couldn't see straight. Whatever.

And there he was, sleeping like a champ. A champ I tell you! And not in my arms. For the first time ever. In my relief, I fell asleep right there on the floor. Ninja Mommy indeed.

Did I feel guilty? Honestly, I was too tired to feel guilt. I didn't cry when he cried because I was mostly unconscious. I didn't experience any of the emotions I've heard other moms talk about when they let their babies cry it out. And I wasn't deliberately letting him cry it out. I was just too tired to do anything else.

The next day I took my baby to the doctor because I needed him to tell me that what I had done was okay. He patted me on the back and asked me why I hadn't done it sooner. And, of course, reminded me he'd suggested it before. Twice. I'd just been too tired to listen.

Armed with the knowledge that I was not hurting my baby, I did it again. And again. By night five he was only protesting by waving his arms and snorting at me (he still snorts when he's annoyed and he's 7 now).

I was sleeping! Both kids were sleeping! We no longer hated each other! Mission accomplished (not that I'd really had a mission). I know there are people out there who would say I was being cruel. I don't care. It was either let him cry or drop kick him. Yes, I really was that tired. And I really needed to do something, and I was acting only on instinct.

So what's the moral of the story? That we, as parents, do what we have to do. We do what works for us. Because that's all any if us can ever do.