Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Oh Dear Me!
I'm not doing very well in the consistency department of blogging, am I? I don't know what to say about that, except, well, I've got all these vegetable to chop.
Luckily, I can enlist the help of my minions!
But, I know: you are really tuning in here because you want to hear all the wonderful amazing things that my boy with the big smile is doing. And I won't disappoint you. Or rather, he won't. But first I'm going to make you watch this video:
Yeah, the quality stinks but you try taking a video while biking on a dirt path. But seriously, do you see how cute he looks in his bike shorts on his pink Trek? God, I love this kid! And nothing makes me happier than biking with my boy. Well, except for spending each afternoon with my two boys in our little "learning lounge". That makes me exponentially happy, my friends.
I wish you could see how eagerly Oliver races up the stairs every day when I tell him it is time for school. I wish you could see how proud he is of himself for being able to answer questions and fully participate in what we are learning. I wish you could see how my heart swells each time he gets up from the bed, crosses the room and happily sits down to "talk" about the ancient Greeks and Egyptians.
Last week Oliver and I had this exchange (my part was verbal, his written):
Me: So, do either of you remember anything interesting about ancient Egypt?
Oliver: They were very rich.
Me: Why do you think that?
Oliver: Because they buried that boy with all the gold.
Me: Which boy?
Oliver: King Tut.
Me: And how did they get so rich?
Oliver: Because the Nile gave them good soil for growing things and a way for transportation and trade. They could get the gold because they had extra crops.
Pages and pages of conversations like these litter every surface.
We've come a million miles in the last five months. Every day feels like a miracle. Every single day.
Luckily, I can enlist the help of my minions!
But, I know: you are really tuning in here because you want to hear all the wonderful amazing things that my boy with the big smile is doing. And I won't disappoint you. Or rather, he won't. But first I'm going to make you watch this video:
Yeah, the quality stinks but you try taking a video while biking on a dirt path. But seriously, do you see how cute he looks in his bike shorts on his pink Trek? God, I love this kid! And nothing makes me happier than biking with my boy. Well, except for spending each afternoon with my two boys in our little "learning lounge". That makes me exponentially happy, my friends.
I wish you could see how eagerly Oliver races up the stairs every day when I tell him it is time for school. I wish you could see how proud he is of himself for being able to answer questions and fully participate in what we are learning. I wish you could see how my heart swells each time he gets up from the bed, crosses the room and happily sits down to "talk" about the ancient Greeks and Egyptians.
Last week Oliver and I had this exchange (my part was verbal, his written):
Me: So, do either of you remember anything interesting about ancient Egypt?
Oliver: They were very rich.
Me: Why do you think that?
Oliver: Because they buried that boy with all the gold.
Me: Which boy?
Oliver: King Tut.
Me: And how did they get so rich?
Oliver: Because the Nile gave them good soil for growing things and a way for transportation and trade. They could get the gold because they had extra crops.
Pages and pages of conversations like these litter every surface.
We've come a million miles in the last five months. Every day feels like a miracle. Every single day.
Friday, September 07, 2012
What lies between Yes and No? A cookie, apparently
"Mom, can I have a milkshake?
"No. I just finished cleaning up the kitchen and it's time for bed."
"But I can make it myself. Besides, Oliver had the last two cookies while I was at soccer practice and I'm still hungry even though I ate all of my dinner."
This is a version of a conversation I have with Sami everyday about a million different things. He asks for something, I say "No" and then he gives me a hundred reasons why I should change my mind.
One of the things that must have been hard for Oliver, being mostly non-verbal and unable to communicate for most of his life, had to have been watching his brother get away with things, get out of things and work the situation to his advantage through the delicate art of negotiation. (And yes, sometimes this means that the kid just hammers away at me until I give up or give in out of frustration.) When you stop to think about how much of life is really open to negotiation you begin to see how much time we spend navigating those grey areas. When you realized that you could actually have another cookie if only you could get your mom to agree, when you understood that there was something between the "Yes"and the "No", you probably also began to develop your skills of bargaining, negotiation, wheedling, whining and pleading.
But lets face it: if you are non-verbal, you are at a tremendous disadvantage in this department. You might want another cookie but if whining or repeatedly saying "cookie" is your only way of getting what you want, you are at a distinct disadvantage. I know this because both of my kids are master whiners, but when Sami follows it up by promising to eat two servings of vegetables for dinner if I let them have another cookie, I'm much more likely to give in. I've been conscious of this for years and try to remember to be more flexible when Oliver's desires are in conflict with what I think is the right thing to do, like say when he he wants to have a snack before bed even though he's already brushed his teeth. It's much easier to just say "no'' to a kid who just can't talk back, to one who can't argue or negotiate, and then chalk his frustration up to the autism.
So I'm thrilled to report that my boy is starting to assert himself through the fine art of negotiation. And given that he has a fine role model in Sami, I'm pretty sure I'm doomed. Two days ago when I told him that he absolutely, positively could not go and play in the water AT ALL TODAY because of something he had done, he waited until we were finished with school and then wrote: "Maybe I could go in the water for a little bit now?" The "maybe" did the trick and in five minutes he was in his bathing suit and in the water.
Then today I told him that he absolutely could not have another cookie until he finished all of his math work for the day, he picked up the pen and instead of writing out the answer to the question at hand, wrote: "How about if I have another cookie and then finish my math?"
So just like that, at the ripe age of ten, Oliver pulled up his chair to the bargaining table and served himself a cookie.
(It was actually me who ate the last two cookies. I did it when Sami was at soccer and Oliver was in the shower. And I didn't have to argue or negotiate with anyone. It's good to know how to pick your battles!)
"No. I just finished cleaning up the kitchen and it's time for bed."
"But I can make it myself. Besides, Oliver had the last two cookies while I was at soccer practice and I'm still hungry even though I ate all of my dinner."
This is a version of a conversation I have with Sami everyday about a million different things. He asks for something, I say "No" and then he gives me a hundred reasons why I should change my mind.
One of the things that must have been hard for Oliver, being mostly non-verbal and unable to communicate for most of his life, had to have been watching his brother get away with things, get out of things and work the situation to his advantage through the delicate art of negotiation. (And yes, sometimes this means that the kid just hammers away at me until I give up or give in out of frustration.) When you stop to think about how much of life is really open to negotiation you begin to see how much time we spend navigating those grey areas. When you realized that you could actually have another cookie if only you could get your mom to agree, when you understood that there was something between the "Yes"and the "No", you probably also began to develop your skills of bargaining, negotiation, wheedling, whining and pleading.
But lets face it: if you are non-verbal, you are at a tremendous disadvantage in this department. You might want another cookie but if whining or repeatedly saying "cookie" is your only way of getting what you want, you are at a distinct disadvantage. I know this because both of my kids are master whiners, but when Sami follows it up by promising to eat two servings of vegetables for dinner if I let them have another cookie, I'm much more likely to give in. I've been conscious of this for years and try to remember to be more flexible when Oliver's desires are in conflict with what I think is the right thing to do, like say when he he wants to have a snack before bed even though he's already brushed his teeth. It's much easier to just say "no'' to a kid who just can't talk back, to one who can't argue or negotiate, and then chalk his frustration up to the autism.
So I'm thrilled to report that my boy is starting to assert himself through the fine art of negotiation. And given that he has a fine role model in Sami, I'm pretty sure I'm doomed. Two days ago when I told him that he absolutely, positively could not go and play in the water AT ALL TODAY because of something he had done, he waited until we were finished with school and then wrote: "Maybe I could go in the water for a little bit now?" The "maybe" did the trick and in five minutes he was in his bathing suit and in the water.
Then today I told him that he absolutely could not have another cookie until he finished all of his math work for the day, he picked up the pen and instead of writing out the answer to the question at hand, wrote: "How about if I have another cookie and then finish my math?"
So just like that, at the ripe age of ten, Oliver pulled up his chair to the bargaining table and served himself a cookie.
(It was actually me who ate the last two cookies. I did it when Sami was at soccer and Oliver was in the shower. And I didn't have to argue or negotiate with anyone. It's good to know how to pick your battles!)
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