When I was younger, I could always win a prize at the Carnival if I played the "Guess Your Age" game. The guessers always thought I was at least 5 years younger then my real age.
But then came kids and I just hoped that I just looked my actual age, because I always FELT 10 years older than I really was.
In the past year, I've lost 30 pounds and have been trying to take better care of myself.
Yesterday, another Mom told me I had a baby face and she thought I was 30 years old. I will be 39 next month.
THANK YOU.
Thank you, kind Mom-of-my-son's-friend. I don't know if you were just saying that to make me feel good, but mission accomplished.
That felt GREAT.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Potty Training with a Twist
Today, the article I wrote months ago on potty training boys came out on the Huffington Post Parents page. I'm so thrilled. It's so nice to see your own name in print (or online...)
You know, having three boys, I FEEL like an expert in this area, just because I feel like I've been potty training for YEARS, and yet I'm still struggling to potty train my youngest boy.
As difficult as it is potty training boys, its ever so much more difficult potty training boys with Autism. I didn't discuss this in my published article, but its something we've struggled with figuring out with two boys now.
I think there are two main hurdles with potty training boys with Autism - the communication barriers and the sensory issues.
With our two sons with Autism, they just didn't have the language to tell me that they were wet or needed a diaper change. It took forever for them to have the words "I have to go potty." It was only after many hours of speech therapy and potty practice that the words came and were used at the appropriate times.
Our oldest son wore Pull-Ups on his first day of kindergarten, just because he wasn't quite all-the-way potty trained. I was afraid he wouldn't tell the teacher he had to use the bathroom and pee his pants. And with his social difficulties, I didn't want him to immediately become the "pee pee boy" at school, the one who peed his pants all of the time. (He eventually became comfortable with the bathroom at school and was in undies by the time November rolled around.)
And the sensory issue. How difficult is it to potty train boys who may or may not be able to feel the urge to pee or poo? Or tell when they are wet? Without the language piece, how can you tell if they are feeling it or not?
I've had so many discussions about potty training with other parents of kids on the Spectrum and one thing is for sure: there is no reliable time-table. No "tried and true" method that will work with every kid. It's as individual as each kid with ASD.
And just know that your frustrations are valid and felt by so many other parents going through the exact same things as you are. Just keep trying. Gently trying. It's all you can do.
You know, having three boys, I FEEL like an expert in this area, just because I feel like I've been potty training for YEARS, and yet I'm still struggling to potty train my youngest boy.
As difficult as it is potty training boys, its ever so much more difficult potty training boys with Autism. I didn't discuss this in my published article, but its something we've struggled with figuring out with two boys now.
I think there are two main hurdles with potty training boys with Autism - the communication barriers and the sensory issues.
With our two sons with Autism, they just didn't have the language to tell me that they were wet or needed a diaper change. It took forever for them to have the words "I have to go potty." It was only after many hours of speech therapy and potty practice that the words came and were used at the appropriate times.
Our oldest son wore Pull-Ups on his first day of kindergarten, just because he wasn't quite all-the-way potty trained. I was afraid he wouldn't tell the teacher he had to use the bathroom and pee his pants. And with his social difficulties, I didn't want him to immediately become the "pee pee boy" at school, the one who peed his pants all of the time. (He eventually became comfortable with the bathroom at school and was in undies by the time November rolled around.)
And the sensory issue. How difficult is it to potty train boys who may or may not be able to feel the urge to pee or poo? Or tell when they are wet? Without the language piece, how can you tell if they are feeling it or not?
I've had so many discussions about potty training with other parents of kids on the Spectrum and one thing is for sure: there is no reliable time-table. No "tried and true" method that will work with every kid. It's as individual as each kid with ASD.
And just know that your frustrations are valid and felt by so many other parents going through the exact same things as you are. Just keep trying. Gently trying. It's all you can do.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Too much t.v.?
We're all sitting at dinner and Tristan turns to us and says, "You know, I think we should be giving Emerson some Pedia Sure Milk."
Chris and I look at each other and grin...
"Really Tristan? Why do you say that?"
"Because he hasn't eaten anything for years and years!"
Yeah, he's been watching lots of commercials again. At least he's showing concern for his little brother.
Chris and I look at each other and grin...
"Really Tristan? Why do you say that?"
"Because he hasn't eaten anything for years and years!"
Yeah, he's been watching lots of commercials again. At least he's showing concern for his little brother.
Genuis or good rememberer?
OK. Now, I happen to think my three-year-old is a genius, but he also has Autism, so knowing whether he is a genius or just autistically quirky can be tricky.
Not many three-year-olds I know can read, but Em has about 20 sight words down. The other day, he was playing with my other son's cootie catcher. (I didn't know this paper contraption was called a cootie catcher until our speech therapist mentioned it.) See photo below:
Em was upset that he didn't get a turn, so I took the catcher and gave him a turn.
"Pick a color," I said.
"Yellow," Em said and pointed to the word yellow. (Our cootie catcher does not have the colored dots on the triangles like in the photo above, it just has the words written on them.)
Huh. Interesting.
We played out the game, and then I turned on the video camera:
So he knows how to spell his colors.
And yet when asked to read the words out of context of the cootie catcher, he didn't know them. But asked again on the C.C., and he read them.
Genius or good rememberer?
Not many three-year-olds I know can read, but Em has about 20 sight words down. The other day, he was playing with my other son's cootie catcher. (I didn't know this paper contraption was called a cootie catcher until our speech therapist mentioned it.) See photo below:
Em was upset that he didn't get a turn, so I took the catcher and gave him a turn.
"Pick a color," I said.
"Yellow," Em said and pointed to the word yellow. (Our cootie catcher does not have the colored dots on the triangles like in the photo above, it just has the words written on them.)
Huh. Interesting.
We played out the game, and then I turned on the video camera:
So he knows how to spell his colors.
And yet when asked to read the words out of context of the cootie catcher, he didn't know them. But asked again on the C.C., and he read them.
Genius or good rememberer?
Monday, August 8, 2011
My Old Friend's Wedding
(And let me preface this with this: When I say "old," I mean I've known my friend a long time, I don't mean that SHE is old!)
I recently went to an old friend's wedding. She and I met "back in the day" when we were both lowly admin assistants fresh out of college (well, she was out of college, I was on a "break" from college). So we've known each other since 1995? 1996?
Anyways, it was "out of town" - which meant 2 hours away from home. The wedding didn't start until 6 p.m., so overnight accommodations were needed.
Unfortunately, we didn't have a sitter, so I was going to the wedding solo, unlike the two other girls from this old workplace gang; they were bringing husbands, so I was going to be the 5th wheel. Chris was going to have to stay home with the boys.
BUT
being mostly ALONE for almost 24 hours was thrilling. I had a two hour car ride down, which I found heavenly. No one was screaming in the back seat about how he dropped his small baggie of goldfish crackers on the floor of the car - not once did I have to pull over to get said crackers. I put in an audio tape of a deliciously cheesy book and listened in bliss as the Amish countryside rolled by.
I got to the hotel and went to the POOL TO READ A BOOK for an hour before getting ready for the wedding. I took a shower without small children peeking in while I was shaving my legs to ask me what I was doing. I did my hair and make-up without a little boy asking for me to also apply eye shadow to his eyes and cheeks.
BLISS.
And the wedding was a blast. My friend is a bit hipper than I am (at the moment. I blame parenthood for taking my hipness away. But who has the time or energy to even know what IS hip when you're wiping asses, making lunches and doing laundry all day!)
The wedding was in a dinosaur museum, so there were all sorts of dino skeletons hanging from the ceiling. My friends made sure I didn't feel like a total heel for being the wheel of the group, and I took lots of photos to post on FaceBook later for the bride to tag herself in.
I wish the bed in the hotel was more comfortable; I didn't sleep well, which feels like such a shame when you can sleep through the whole night without little ones needing something at 2 a.m. (last night was Monster dreams from the 3 year old!)
And the ride back again was also a dream. I skipped the Amish country route on the way home, and took the awesome scenic lake route instead. I had a strong urge to stop at the outlet mall on the way home and just wander stores and try things on - just for fun - but the pull on home was calling me back.
And who doesn't want to walk in the door to hear screams of "MAMA!" as they all run and plow into my abdomen?
Sidenote: Sebastian's main concern with me being gone for a night was with what Dada was going to feed him while I was gone. He said, "You'll come back tomorrow, right? And what if Dada feeds us TUNE FISH?" This coming from a boy who has never even tasted tuna fish....
I recently went to an old friend's wedding. She and I met "back in the day" when we were both lowly admin assistants fresh out of college (well, she was out of college, I was on a "break" from college). So we've known each other since 1995? 1996?
Anyways, it was "out of town" - which meant 2 hours away from home. The wedding didn't start until 6 p.m., so overnight accommodations were needed.
Unfortunately, we didn't have a sitter, so I was going to the wedding solo, unlike the two other girls from this old workplace gang; they were bringing husbands, so I was going to be the 5th wheel. Chris was going to have to stay home with the boys.
BUT
being mostly ALONE for almost 24 hours was thrilling. I had a two hour car ride down, which I found heavenly. No one was screaming in the back seat about how he dropped his small baggie of goldfish crackers on the floor of the car - not once did I have to pull over to get said crackers. I put in an audio tape of a deliciously cheesy book and listened in bliss as the Amish countryside rolled by.
I got to the hotel and went to the POOL TO READ A BOOK for an hour before getting ready for the wedding. I took a shower without small children peeking in while I was shaving my legs to ask me what I was doing. I did my hair and make-up without a little boy asking for me to also apply eye shadow to his eyes and cheeks.
BLISS.
And the wedding was a blast. My friend is a bit hipper than I am (at the moment. I blame parenthood for taking my hipness away. But who has the time or energy to even know what IS hip when you're wiping asses, making lunches and doing laundry all day!)
The wedding was in a dinosaur museum, so there were all sorts of dino skeletons hanging from the ceiling. My friends made sure I didn't feel like a total heel for being the wheel of the group, and I took lots of photos to post on FaceBook later for the bride to tag herself in.
I wish the bed in the hotel was more comfortable; I didn't sleep well, which feels like such a shame when you can sleep through the whole night without little ones needing something at 2 a.m. (last night was Monster dreams from the 3 year old!)
And the ride back again was also a dream. I skipped the Amish country route on the way home, and took the awesome scenic lake route instead. I had a strong urge to stop at the outlet mall on the way home and just wander stores and try things on - just for fun - but the pull on home was calling me back.
And who doesn't want to walk in the door to hear screams of "MAMA!" as they all run and plow into my abdomen?
Sidenote: Sebastian's main concern with me being gone for a night was with what Dada was going to feed him while I was gone. He said, "You'll come back tomorrow, right? And what if Dada feeds us TUNE FISH?" This coming from a boy who has never even tasted tuna fish....
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Throwdown in the Supermarket Parking Lot
Let me say something before getting into the story...
Other than hitting a boy on the bus in 5th grade, because he called me a nasty word (of which I didn't know the meaning, but knew it was BAD), I have never been in a physical altercation before. It's just not me, I'm more of the easy-going, passive kind of person. I try and let everything roll off my back, if possible. So the thought of me being involved in an altercation, for those who know me, is just plain ridiculous.
Here's the set-up -
The kids got sick. Really sick. I was bathing them in rotational shifts to get sick off their bodies as well as cool their fevers down. I was washing, changing, and rewashing sheets, because we only have two sets of sheets per bed and we were blowing through those every few hours. I was cleaning puke out of the rugs.
Then it was off to the pediatrician's office to figure out what was going on in their little bodies. Now, I normally would not take all three kids to the pediatrician's office, but I didn't want to infect other family members, asking them to babysit. And I wanted them all looked at, because I didn't want to have to come back to the doc's office AGAIN. One trip is enough.
We spent an hour and a half in that small exam room. Wait 20 minutes for the doc to see us, another 10 for the nurse to come back and administer the strep cultures, another 20 minutes for the cultures to develop, and YES, a round of strep for the Thibault family!, then another 20 minutes for the Doc to come back and give us prescriptions.
Oh, and because of his Autism, Tristan doesn't like to be in small enclosed spaces like an exam room. Oh, and he puked on the floor of the exam room while we were waiting and I had to call someone to come and clean it up and also make sure none of the kids were stepping in it while we were waiting.
THEN after all of that hell, it was off to the Supermarket to get the prescriptions filled. Another hour wait, because it was cold and flu season and everyone was there doing the same thing as we were -- getting meds. I pushed them around in the cart, tried to make up games to keep a sick 6 year old, a sick 4 year old and a 3 year old busy inside of a supermarket for AN HOUR.
FINALLY it was time to go home with meds in hand. I was close to the point of tears as I pushed the kids out to the car and put them in their car seats. I just wanted to GO HOME and lay on the couch for the next three days and SLEEP.
I pushed the cart to the front of my car, near the light post, and started to walk back to my car - when I saw HER. Do you remember the hag in "Princess Bride?" The only who shouts at Buttercup in the dream sequence? This woman was looking at me in the same way, mouthing the words "Shame!"
Let me just pause and say this: I usually park close to the cart return so that I can take the kids out of the cart, put them in the car, and put the cart in the return. On this day, returning the cart was not my top priority.
So this woman is giving me the stink-eye and mouthing the word "Shame" over and over again as I back out and start to pull away.
And I snapped. Had enough stress and misery for one day.
I pulled my car around to the spot next to this HAG. I got out of the car, walked up to the open window and asked, "What is your problem?"
Hag: "Could you be any lazier? So lazy that you can't return the cart?"
Me: "Listen, lady, not that its any of YOUR business, but I've had a really hard day, and I didn't feel like leaving my sick kids in the car, ALONE, while I traipse across the parking lot to the return. The cart is out of the way."
Hag: "People like you are just so lazy. So rude. What's wrong with you?"
Me: "Are you kidding me? Seriously? I have three kids in the car, all sick, two with a disabilty and I don't feel like I should need to explain myself to you."
Hag: "Your kids aren't disabled. I saw them. They looked fine to me. Now you're not only lazy, you're a liar."
Me: "Whaat?"
Now here is where I wanted to have a Master's degree in Profanity. I wanted to let loose a 10-minute tirade on this woman, but in stressful times like this one, I lose all ability to spew really creative strings of cuss-words at people. (I have two friends who are masters at profanity, and I have always secretly envied them for having the right insult for every occasion!)
And I felt the rage bubbling up. I wanted to scream at her. Make her feel 1,000 times worse than she was making me feel at that moment.
I also wanted to drag Tristan out of the car and have him cough all over her and strep her up - that would teach her.
But finally, with a loss of words and patience, I said:
"BITCH"
and got in my car and drove away.
Two lessons from all of this:
1) Never judge a person or situation before you know the whole story. You don't what that person has been through or is going through. Instead of commenting, offer some assistance. Be nice.
and
2) Always have a practiced-set of profanities ready for any situation...
Other than hitting a boy on the bus in 5th grade, because he called me a nasty word (of which I didn't know the meaning, but knew it was BAD), I have never been in a physical altercation before. It's just not me, I'm more of the easy-going, passive kind of person. I try and let everything roll off my back, if possible. So the thought of me being involved in an altercation, for those who know me, is just plain ridiculous.
Here's the set-up -
The kids got sick. Really sick. I was bathing them in rotational shifts to get sick off their bodies as well as cool their fevers down. I was washing, changing, and rewashing sheets, because we only have two sets of sheets per bed and we were blowing through those every few hours. I was cleaning puke out of the rugs.
Then it was off to the pediatrician's office to figure out what was going on in their little bodies. Now, I normally would not take all three kids to the pediatrician's office, but I didn't want to infect other family members, asking them to babysit. And I wanted them all looked at, because I didn't want to have to come back to the doc's office AGAIN. One trip is enough.
We spent an hour and a half in that small exam room. Wait 20 minutes for the doc to see us, another 10 for the nurse to come back and administer the strep cultures, another 20 minutes for the cultures to develop, and YES, a round of strep for the Thibault family!, then another 20 minutes for the Doc to come back and give us prescriptions.
Oh, and because of his Autism, Tristan doesn't like to be in small enclosed spaces like an exam room. Oh, and he puked on the floor of the exam room while we were waiting and I had to call someone to come and clean it up and also make sure none of the kids were stepping in it while we were waiting.
THEN after all of that hell, it was off to the Supermarket to get the prescriptions filled. Another hour wait, because it was cold and flu season and everyone was there doing the same thing as we were -- getting meds. I pushed them around in the cart, tried to make up games to keep a sick 6 year old, a sick 4 year old and a 3 year old busy inside of a supermarket for AN HOUR.
FINALLY it was time to go home with meds in hand. I was close to the point of tears as I pushed the kids out to the car and put them in their car seats. I just wanted to GO HOME and lay on the couch for the next three days and SLEEP.
I pushed the cart to the front of my car, near the light post, and started to walk back to my car - when I saw HER. Do you remember the hag in "Princess Bride?" The only who shouts at Buttercup in the dream sequence? This woman was looking at me in the same way, mouthing the words "Shame!"
Let me just pause and say this: I usually park close to the cart return so that I can take the kids out of the cart, put them in the car, and put the cart in the return. On this day, returning the cart was not my top priority.
So this woman is giving me the stink-eye and mouthing the word "Shame" over and over again as I back out and start to pull away.
And I snapped. Had enough stress and misery for one day.
I pulled my car around to the spot next to this HAG. I got out of the car, walked up to the open window and asked, "What is your problem?"
Hag: "Could you be any lazier? So lazy that you can't return the cart?"
Me: "Listen, lady, not that its any of YOUR business, but I've had a really hard day, and I didn't feel like leaving my sick kids in the car, ALONE, while I traipse across the parking lot to the return. The cart is out of the way."
Hag: "People like you are just so lazy. So rude. What's wrong with you?"
Me: "Are you kidding me? Seriously? I have three kids in the car, all sick, two with a disabilty and I don't feel like I should need to explain myself to you."
Hag: "Your kids aren't disabled. I saw them. They looked fine to me. Now you're not only lazy, you're a liar."
Me: "Whaat?"
Now here is where I wanted to have a Master's degree in Profanity. I wanted to let loose a 10-minute tirade on this woman, but in stressful times like this one, I lose all ability to spew really creative strings of cuss-words at people. (I have two friends who are masters at profanity, and I have always secretly envied them for having the right insult for every occasion!)
And I felt the rage bubbling up. I wanted to scream at her. Make her feel 1,000 times worse than she was making me feel at that moment.
I also wanted to drag Tristan out of the car and have him cough all over her and strep her up - that would teach her.
But finally, with a loss of words and patience, I said:
"BITCH"
and got in my car and drove away.
Two lessons from all of this:
1) Never judge a person or situation before you know the whole story. You don't what that person has been through or is going through. Instead of commenting, offer some assistance. Be nice.
and
2) Always have a practiced-set of profanities ready for any situation...
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