Doing laundry at our house

I know I've said it here before, but I love RDI. It just makes sense to me and it works for our family. But that doesn't mean that we don't still have frustrating moments -- moments when it seems terribly hard to maintain a connection with Oliver -- which is what it is all about, in my opinion. And so I keep this video clip on my desktop and watch it whenever I need a little boost. It is all about emotion-sharing, referencing, initiation and communication: everything we've been working on coming together in the space of two minutes. On a good day, this is how much fun we have remediating autism!

Blogger Video blahs

Ok, I spent way more time posting those videos than I'd ever admit to. And then Eileen still couldn't view one of them. So I tried again to use the new video feature on blogger. I can see the videos and even watch them in my preview but they don't appear in the published version.

I give up. For now anyway.

Just Back

Well, we're just back from what was meant to be an idyllic retreat to a mountain cabin not too terribly far from where we live. The perfect, easy vacation. I'd like to say that it was all of that. I'd like to say that Oliver handled the change of surroundings and pace with flexibility and ease. I'd like to say that our stellar parenting shone to all those we came into contact with -- and especially those within earshot of our cabin. I'd like to say that a good time was had by all. And actually, all of that is true, in small doses and little moments scattered throughout the week. But the good, happy times were salted in between large meaty chunks of time when the complete opposite was true. So we did what any sane people would do: we called it quits. We came home a day early. We recognized that it wasn't working and called it a day. And that is A-OK. We'll try again next year. Or maybe the year after.

In the meantime, here are a couple of videos -- the first is pretty funny and the second showcases Oliver's new swimming talents. (My comment at the beginning of that video is because I didn't want Oliver climbing on the staircase because it was so slippery).

Forget Not

Nik is working a lot of overtime lately so I've been stuck without my much-needed, much-loved, much-taken-for-granted partner in parenting. I've also been stuck with the children. I hate to use the word stuck, because I love them and I know I'd never just leave them by the side of the road or anything, but sometimes I would just like to know what it is like not to have a conversation with someone other than myself while sitting on the toilet. So in that sense, yeah, I feel a little stuck.

I was also feeling a bit in that way today when we came home from the grocery store. Sami was having a fit because the man at the grocery store gave both boys a balloon on a stick and he desperately needed to have both of them. He needed them much in the same was as he needed more room in the fire truck shaped grocery cart that the two boys rode in and two bags of candy not just one. And he needed those as much as he needed not that glass but the other glass and not that apple but a different one. Each of his needs throughout the day -- and there were many, many of them, were punctuated by loud wailing and occasional bouts of throwing himself to the ground. In an effort to limit the amount of crying that would take place between unloading the car and nap time I decided to work with Sami rather than against him. And that, I tell you, is no easy task. It involves a lot of dialog and every explanation ends in "Why?"

So I parked Sami's butt on the counter, put the groceries away, started to figure out what I could fix the two boys for lunch and found myself also half lost in thought. I wondered: Is it normal that he talks so much? He never stops. I never met another two year old who talks so much. Maybe there is something wrong with him. Should I ask the speech pathologist about it the next time I see her? How can I complain about one kid who talks too much when I've got another who won't talk at all? But really, he talks so much I.can't.think. I just really can't think.

And then I heard a voice and knew in an instant, even before the voice in the hallway said what followed hello.

Oh my god. How could I be so stupid?! I raced into the hallway, the man's face barely registering and as I sprinted past him and heard him say: "We found a boy wandering in the street. We've got him. He's safe. Don't worry."

I looked up the street and saw Oliverr walking with a young, college-aged woman. He was still clutching he Popsicle box that he had insisted that I empty of its contents and give to him.

I had left the front door propped wide open so that I could carry the groceries in. And later I even saw Oliver come in from the back yard and head towards the front of the house. But we never leave the front door unlocked. Never. So I didn't even think about it. And I guess I've gotten a little bit relaxed, too. Oliver doesn't run off like he used to. He doesn't try to scale the fence or dart into the road. He is pretty happy to stay in the yard.

As I sat weeping, holding Oliver on the curb and waiting for my legs to stop shaking, I thanked the college students who live next door to us. So many of them have come and gone since we moved to our street five years ago that I didn't even know their names. I had seen them. They seemed nice. But mostly I hoped they would be quiet and that they wouldn't hog all the street parking on the block.

"No problem," the young man said. "We'll keep an eye out for him."

Yes, I told him. I will two.

My Boy. Like a Fish

Oliver is swimming. In my last post I described his joy in the water and his bouncing technique for moving around. But yesterday when we went to the pool I saw him experiment a bit with pushing off from the side or from the stairs and move a few feet by kicking his legs and moving his arms. I saw him lay back in the water, pick his feet up and swim another few feet. I saw him venture away from the side of the pool towards the middle, swimming a few feet then bouncing, then swimming a few feet more. And I saw his proud, proud smile. The smile that tells me more than a million words ever could.

I could never have taught Oliver how to swim. Being in the water is such an overwhelming sensory experience for him that it would be next to impossible to get him to really absorb any kind of instruction. I know because I tried. I hired a college student who was also studying special education. She gave up after about 10 minutes. "He's not really paying attention." So this is something that he learned completely on his own, from trial and error, experimentation and from an awareness of how to control his body in order to achieve a certain outcome. There is nothing extraordinary about this. Kids do it all the time.

Incredible, isn't it?

About this heat. ...

The downside to not having air conditioning is the heat. And the humidity. But believe it or not, there are upsides. In our neighborhood of houses mostly built in the years before 1910 only a few have air conditioning. So the early evening hours will find people strolling. And visiting. Sitting on the glider or porch swing on the front porch. We know most of our neighbors and there is the feeling of being part of a community. Need an egg or a cup of flour? Go ask Crystal. A flashlight or help with your car? Ask Angel. Someone to watch your kids for an hour? Leanne or Phil are always at home and one more kid doesn't make a difference at their house.

The other upside is that it forces us, especially on a week like the one we've just had, to find ways to stay cool. If you have the time a trip to the river is always good. Or the library. Or the bookshop with the great Thomas the Train setup. Or head to the bakery for a cup of lemonade and a cookie. A trip to Lowe's? Yes, that will kill an hour in the middle of the afternoon.

We've also made a daily pilgrimage to the community pool this week. We timed our 4:30 arrival to coincide with the time most folks are leaving for the evening and can swim for an hour or ninety minutes when the sun isn't so high and the pool not so crowded. I've loved watching both boys in the water. Oliver is in his glory. He can stand now in the 3.5 foot section and just keep his face out of the water. He moves about by taking little jumps and doesn't mind if the water washes over his face on the landing. He is also really good about jumping from the side of the pool. Sam, in his little arm floaties, swims like a fish.

Yesterday as I was sitting on the step of the pool watching both kids another boy came over to where I was and said hello. I watched him for a bit because he had the same "swimming" technique as Oliver. He appeared to be about the same age and size and he hung around the area of the steps just a few feet from where Oliver was. Everytime a child or adult came near he would greet them with the same "Hello." A few minutes after I noticed this boy I heard Oliver's excited vocalizations -- noises that sound to me almost like excited buddhist chants. Only I soon realized that it was the other boy making that same sound.

I looked around for the boy's mother but didn't see any likely candidates. I hover. Don't all moms of autistic children hover? Ready to leap in if their child needs help navigating something? No one else was hoving nearby. The boy eventually moved out of my orbit and I returned focus to my kids. But later I scanned the pool for the boy and saw him climbing the steps and running along the side of the pool, hands flapping in excitment. His mom swooped in and got him to stop running. She then took ahold of his wrist and led him to the opposite end of the pool. So then I knew. How many times in the past, when Oliver was prone to darting, had I told Nik and RT not to pull him along by his wrist? Just ask him to hold your hand, I'd say. I watched them wondering if I was seeing what other people saw when they saw us. If you didn't really know about this boy, you wouldn't know.

Aside from the wrist pulling, I really admired this mother. She wasn't hovering. She was standing at a very discreet distance from the pool, ready to jump in at a moments notice if she needed to. When her son got too near the deep end she beckoned him back.

I wanted to find a way to approach her, to say: Your son reminds me a lot of my own. But I couldn't find a way to comfortably do it. What if she took offense? I mean how do you approach someone and start off a conversation like that?

I watched as they prepared to leave the pool. I watched as the boy tried to slap her when she made it clear they were going. It happened so fast and with so little to-do that a by-stander might have thought his eyes were mistaken, that he didn't really see this five year old try to smack his mother. Then I watched as she positioned the boy between two pool chairs and the fence, standing between him and the pool, and told him to put on his shoes and dry off.

About this time, I told Oliver it was time to go. On this day there were no complaints. Both boys were tired and hungry. Before leaving the parking lot I drove around once, scanning the cars for a magnetic ribbon on the bumper. I didn't see one. But then I don't have one either.

Done with it!

It's kind of funny what choosing a perspective will do for you. Yesterday was the official last day of Early Intervention services for Oliver. It was the last day that a therapist and babysitter both came to our house while I headed out to work with that nagging, guilty feeling. It also marked the last time I will ever have to hear the dreaded sentences: "Oliver, I have candy!" and, "First work, then play!" After almost two years we were so ready to be done with it!

When we first learned that Oliver was aging out of his eligibility for services, I can't deny that I felt a worrisome, sinking feeling for a few days. But the truth is that I had been struggling for some time to reconcile ABA with my parenting and philosophical views. I mean, why reward him with candy for touching his shoulder when he did it for me for nothing? With RDI I found a framework that fit our family better. But even so, it was difficult for me to think about abandoning ABA completely. How do you say no to $75,000 worth of in-home services a year that families in the next county would kill for? I found it very hard.

So in a way I look at Oliver's early birthday as a blessing in disguise. I didn't have to make the decision to stop ABA, it was made for me. But I embrace it. Preparing for the transition we gradually reduced the number of hours of service from 21 to 9. During that time we started to establish our own rhythms and rituals. I became less stressed. I could suddenly afford to wait the few extra minutes that Oliver needs to respond to my requests without growing impatient. It didn't matter if he got dressed now or an hour from now.

Choosing the RDI and homeschool approach is not something I ever would have predicted. In the beginning I wanted 40 hours of ABA plus OT plus whatever else we could lay on. Now I believe that sometimes less is more.

So we're celebrating in my house today. At lunch time we will crack open a bottle of our finest sparkling apple cider and drink a toast. It is the first day of something different. We've moved on from one phase to the next. In the past when I thought of this day it was with apprehension. But now I only look forward with anticipation.

Another adventure in eating

We're one week into the gluten-free, casein-free diet. Why? Oh, because I need something else to do with my time. And because I need one more thing to obsess and fret over. But really maybe I should just have my head examined. Instead I fell asleep last night reading a gluten-free bread book and wondering where I could lay my hands on some bean flour.

I'm fortunate in that both my kids eat a wide variety of foods. Both of them went straight to table foods at 7 months and have eaten pretty much whatever I was serving since then. A lot of my cooking tends to be Asian-inspired anyway so it was no stretch for me to eliminate the gluten and casein, although grilled cheese sandwiches and pizza will be missed -- hence the gluten-free bread book.

Shortly after Oliver was diagnosed two years ago we embarked on the Specific Carbohydrate Diet. THAT was hard. It got easier, though. And it was effective, Oliver's digestive system normalized. The SCD eliminates many, many carbohydrates and all grains from the diet and so we were also gluten-free for a year. But we weren't casein-free as the diet allows some yogurt and cheeses. Then last year I tried a dairy-free diet just to see. After about 8 weeks of seeing no effects we quit.

So now why the new diet? Well, my mind wonders: what if both have to be eliminated simultaneously? The proteins are so similar, they say. And if I don't try it I will always wonder. And I like to cook and my kids are good eaters -- so why not? Sometimes Oliver has this look about him, this zoned out, faraway look. A drugged look. What is going on in his little body to make him behave that way, I wonder? Could there be something to the opiate theory? The last time Oliver had that look about him I surveyed his diet for the past twenty-four hours: oatmeal, grilled cheese sandwich, pizza, more oatmeal and some fruit and veggie snacks.

I do get tired of wondering all the time. I get tired of observing so closely, of wondering about the cause and effect of every little thing, of weighing and measuring, hypothesizing and pathologising. And yet it is not hard for me to see the link between what I eat and how I feel, so I'll give this a go. But in order to have the right frame of mind about it I've decided not to make it all about Oliver. It is about my family's heath and fueling our bodies with the very best. And it is about my new quest to make a perfect gluten-free loaf of bread.

A Big Night

It was a big night at our little green house. Actually, it was a big night on the street in front of our little green house. August 7th is National Night Out, an event sponsored by cities and municipalities as a way to help people get to know their neighbors so that we can help each other in times of need or notice when something is amiss in our own neighborhood. For the past four years we have made fliers and planned for a block party that would bring everyone together. But last night was the first time that the event was truly a success. We got special permission from the city to block off a portion of the street, we put up a lemonade stand, cut juicy red watermelon, turned a sprinkler on in the middle of the street, and suddenly the whole block was teeming with wet, shouting, happy, kids and their parents. A lot of them I knew but some were coming out for the first time. And best of all: I could socialize without worrying about Oliver running out into the street!

Sam was in his glory. Two days ago he learned to pedal his tricycle and so he spent the whole two hours riding it through the sprinkler, taking breaks only long enough to go and grab another slice of watermelon. I loved watching him. His growing self-confidence and Independence is such a pleasure. It makes me feel as though I've done some things right by him.

Oliver enjoyed himself, too, I think. More and more I see that he is able to stay in the fray. True, he tends to stay on the edges -- so unlike Sam who is right in the thick of everything -- but he stays, and that is the important part. Also, I found it endearing that he passed up all the brownies and cookies and zeroed in on the cut veggies. Give that boy some cucumbers, carrots and green peppers and he's happy.

By 9 o'clock though he had had enough and began tugging on my hand to go home. Once in the door he peeled off his wet clothes and headed straight for bed. I tucked him in and he was snoring before the light was out. Sam, on the other hand, stayed outside until the very last possible minute. When he finally conceded to get into bed it was 10pm and he was still going strong.

Too strong.

Five minutes after heading downstairs to clean up a bit I heard Oliver's piercing screams. Nik and I looked at each other. Wasn't he sleeping? Then I bolted upstairs to find Sam sitting on the bed next to a prone Oliver. Then his unbidden confession: "He bit me so I just bit him."

A quick search of Oliver's body revealed a nasty bite mark on his face, just below his left eye. But he was already drifting back off to sleep as I kissed the spot and silently hoped it would be gone by morning.

No so luck. This morning Nik remarked that it looked like an animal got the poor kid.

I'll have to post a picture of him and with another boy I know we'd have a couple of bookends!

A Night Out

I was ridiculously excited all day Saturday at the thought of Oliver getting to see his favorite band perform. And I wasn't disappointed.

The Hackensaw Boys are incredible performers, their music is so alive and funny and just makes you want to dance. (Go here to listen to an NPR piece about them) They tour constantly it seems, both in the US and Europe, so I was pretty amazed to find them performing at this very small fair. But it was perfect. We got front row seats (in the grass/dirt) right in front of the stage. During the first few songs Oliver's eyes were about as big as I've ever seen them. He immediately started to clap right along with the music and later played along on a little wooden xylophone that Sami had insisted on bringing. I leaned in once or twice and whispered in his ear that he could get up and dance if he wanted to. But mostly he sat very still on my lap and didn't take his eyes off the stage. Then, more then half-way through the performance, Oliver jumped up and started to dance. Someone observing him might think his rhythmic style looks a bit like calisthenics but to me it is the most beautiful sight. In fact his joy in the music brought tears to my eyes.

After the music concluded we went up to the stage to introduce ourselves. Oliver got to look at all the instruments and shook a few hands. I think I gushed a little bit.

Following the music we rode the merry-go-round, the scrambler and the mini roller-coaster about three times each. Oliver didn't seem troubled in the least by all the people, nor was he phased by the lights and the sounds.

A very good time was had by all.

The checklist just got a little bit longer

Yesterday we decided to divide and conquer. Nik took the #2, who apparently has come to the terrible twos a bit late, on the bike in the early evening hours before bed. I took the #1 to the supermarket where I had just a few things on the list. Oliver likes going to the store and I like spending time with the children one on one whenever possible. I like even more not having to listen to the constant barrage of comments and complaints from #2 for a few blessed moments.


The outing to the store went fairly well and when we returned to an empty house I offered Oliver a popsicle. My thinking was that there was only one lime popsicle left so if I offered it when there was only one child I avoided the inevitable ruckus should one child have to settle for raspberry or strawberry. So, outside with the popsicle Oliver roamed around and occassionally obliged my request for a taste. I took the opportunity to roll up the new slip and slide so that it wouldn't kill the grass in the morning sun today. In the middle of this task Oliver finished the popsicle and headed inside. I quickly ran through a mental checklist. Front door: locked; bladder state: empty. Ok, I'll just be a minute and then I can join him, I thought.


Then I heard it, the sound ever so small but most definately a splat, followed closely by a second splat. No, surely he wouldn't, I thought, as I grabbed up the slide and threw it on the deck. I opened the door to the house and scanned the kitchen immediately relieved by the sight of the closed refrigerator door. But what's this? A head barely visible on the opposite side of the kitchen island. A sicking feeling comes over me and I peer around the island at the floor and the sight of Oliver's obvious delight: Two eggs that must have hit the ground at high velocity. "Messy, Messy!", he said sounding highly pleased as I handed him the paper towels. Having been through the drill twice previously that same day he knew the routine.

This Just In

Sometime ago I sent my very first fan letter. I had never seen Oliver as happy as he was when he discovered dancing and I wanted to share my gratitude with the folks that helped him find his rhythm. The utter joy of watching Oliver dance at the age of 4.5 for the very first time, losing himself in the music, Nik's eyes and mine wordlessly questionning each other: "Do you see that?", well, that is something that will stay with me for the rest of my life.

So anyway, Oliver got an e-mail today from his all time favorite music makers, The Hackensaw Boys.

Please come to our show. Bring your family. We can't wait to meet you. Hope you're still dancing.

So we're off to the show. We'll be the one's dancing in the isles.

The Little Strong One

Ok, so Sami it is. (Anyone know how to make the umlaut over the a?) Just to be clear, we aren't thinking of changing his name legally, but we will probably never actually call him Samuel (or as he says it: Sami Well). I just want to be consistent in how we spell his shortened name because that will be how he mostly identifies himself.

So anyway, this new guy in our life, this Sami -- well, he is a piece of work. I keep forgetting that he is just two years, four months old because he is so darn articulate and thoughtful. I take a real guilty pleasure in my interactions with him because they are so reciprocal and easy. I relish our blossoming ability to have conversations. Not so much his growing ability to assert himself and even to argue with me.

In the store yesterday I told both kids that they needed to stay right with me. Oliver was very good about it but Sami really wanted to go his own way. At one point I looked back at him and said: "Sami, can you come over here with me please?" He responded: "Um. ..... No Mom, I can't. I need to go over here and look at something."

Then, when we were on vacataion and walking up a grassy slope with some gravel mixed in he turned to me and said with a sigh: "There sure are a lot of rocks in this world, Mom."

Later that same night he handed me two shiny pennies that he had found on the floor and said: "You should go and buy yourself something, Mom."

Watching his personality grow with the months, I do believe that this is not the only time in his life when he will be giving me his two cents!