"Hi, My name is...and my son has Aspergers"

For two hours last night I was normal. My husband was normal. We were normal together. When I mentioned my feelings on my son hitting me, there were no looks of shock or bugged eyes. When my husband talked about sometimes needing a break from our son's intense interests, you could see the other's heads nodding in understanding. For just that short time, our family was just like everyone else's.

I guess I naively thought once you got a diagnosis of Aspergers that would be the beginning of therapies, support groups, classes. I had figured there would be tons of handouts with all kinds of different groups to join. Boy, was I wrong. Nothing really changes. You get the diagnosis, go home, and the next day is exactly the same just now with a name. And so since Jacob's diagnosis in October we have been searching. Looking for someone, anyone to connect with. Someone who also has a child with Aspergers. It took a while, but we found one, and not only one, but several!

A month ago while attending a workshop put on by my son's school on "Friendship", I hesitantly asked a question at the end of the session. In my question, I mentioned my son having Aspergers. You would have thought I was an alien by the way the group looked at me. Some with pity, some uninterested, some judging, some sympathetic but glad it wasn't their child. The moderator had no real solutions. She couldn't relate to my situation no matter how much she tried, and she quickly tried to brush me aside. I felt alone and discouraged. And that's when just as I was getting up to leave as the session ended, a man at the table next to me introduced himself and said, "My 9 year old son has Aspergers." Those were words I had been wanting, hoping and praying to hear from someone for months. He went on to tell me how they were in the beginning stages of helping form a support group and gave me all the information I would need. I went home that night giddy, filling my husband in on my conversation with this man. I was so thankful I had said something in front of the crowd of well over a hundred. Finally, another person who got it.

So that's what brought us to the church last night on a beautiful spring evening. The meeting began like every support group you see on TV, with everyone introducing themselves and saying what brought them there. As I listened to everyone's stories, it felt so familiar and comfortable, so much like our own, the only differences being the ages and passions of each child.

The thing that was great is everyone just listened and shared stories of how they could relate. There was no "well intended" parenting advice. There was no "That wouldn't happen in my house!" Or "Oh, my son does that too and is obsessed with Spiderman right now. Last week it was dinosaurs."  (Ummm....no, sorry...that's not an obsession.) That's what made the meeting different. All these people got it. They really got it! For the first time, someone actually one hundred percent understood everything we were saying, feeling, and experiencing with Jacob, and without any judgement or preconceived ideas of their own.

Sometimes when we try to explain our son to our family, friends, acquintances, or even strangers, as much as they want to, they really don't get it. All kids can be scared of stuff, have special interests, not like to get their hands dirty, have an occasional meltdown. Aspergers is much more than that. Fears are intense and irrational causing panic. Special interests last for years and that is the ONLY topic they want to talk about from the moment they wake until they go to sleep. Sensory issues prevent them from enjoying typical childhood activities such as playdoh or sandpiles. And meltdowns are not occasional. My son could still be having meltdowns as an adult. Hopefully with time he will learn some coping skills. Aspergers is everyday, all day long. Sometimes I feel like I have to convince people that Jacob has Aspergers, because he does look and act normal much of the time. And a lot of times well intended parenting advice is given to which I politely nod. Typical parenting approaches are not effective with Jacob. Trust me. We've tried them. Aspergers is not a parenting problem, nor can it be solved with "good" parenting skills. Sometimes people will say, "Well, just tell him. Tell him how it's going to be!" Really? Really? Good luck with that. I try not to focus on it or let people's ideas on my son bother me, since I know they are well meaning.

I didn't want to leave last night. I think my husband and I both could have stayed for hours. It just felt right. I felt alive again. It was as if it gave me that hope and reassurance I needed. It made me feel that my husband and I were doing ok. We were doing the best we could. A huge weight felt like it had been lifted off my shoulders giving me a clear mind and the energy to keep pushing forward. Next month can't come soon enough.

I Will Not Allow My Son's Light to be Stolen: Bullying

Last week my husband and I were working our church's Parents Night Out program. It was towards the end of the night, and the kids were getting their jammies on. I walked down to the ladies restroom with two six year old girls in tow. I have never heard so much giggling as these little girls got into their pajamas. Finally one of the girls came out of the stale in a beautiful long flowing nightgown. I said to her, "I love your long nightgown. It is so pretty." To which she proudly said, "It is a size eight!" The other girl hearing that quickly exited her stale and said, "Well, I wear anywhere from a size seven to a ten!" Not to be outdone, the first girl said, "I really meant a size eighteen. Mine is an eighteen." Obviously as I looked at this teeny girl there was no way she was a size eighteen. But what I found so interesting was their desire to be the bigger size. As little girls they have heard their whole life to "be a big girl" or "eat your dinner so you grow up big and strong". But where do we as society and parents do them wrong? At what age does that end and they start wanting to be this perfectly glamorous skinny girl? At what point can they no longer be comfortable with themselves and celebrate their differences, but instead desire to be something unattainable?

And so over the course of the last week it has still played on my mind. When is it our children's innocence is lost and they come to believe their differences are not beautiful?

When Jacob was four and in preschool, I remember one day he asked me why his friend AJ at school had brown skin. I told him that his skin was brown because God made him that way and we are all different. He was curious about their differences, but what I thought interesting it had taken him close to a year to notice or comment.

Last year while in kindergarten, Jacob came home a few weeks after school had started, and was talking really fast in a gibberish manner. When I asked him about it, he said, "I am talking in Spanish, mommy, just like Alex." "Honey, that's not Spanish," I told him. "But I want to talk in Spanish, too. " he said jealous of his little friend. "Why does Alex talk in Spanish and not me? " Again I talked about how God has made us all special, and again this answer satisfied him.

Another time Jacob asked me about our young neighbor boy who our neighbor's had recently adopted from China. He was born without a hand, and Jacob wanted to know why his hand was missing. Funny again how it took many months for him to even notice. "He is really a good golfer even with one hand!" Jacob exclaimed. Again, I talked about God making each of us unique and special, and again he was satisfied with my answer. Later that day I saw him in the backyard awkwardly swinging his club with one hand while the other was tucked in his sleeve.

For my son it is so easy to brush aside all the differences of others. Will it be as easy for others to brush his differences aside? Jacob has many friends right now. In fact the other day while walking home from school, we walked a different route which took us in front of the school. All the car riders were waiting there for the parents to arrive. As we walked in front of his class, he was greeted with loud cries of "Jacob, Jacob!" and "Hi Jacob!" with many scrambling to get up to give him a high five. A beautiful sight to see for a mom knowing that socialization will never be easy for my son.

So at age six, his peers are pretty accepting and tolerant of Jacob. It's not that they haven't noticed his differences. While helping out in his classroom for parties, many have mentioned Jacob's love for elephants and his detest of loud noises. I know from his teacher they have commented on his humming in class being distracting. Yet, they more than tolerate him, they include him. Why does this have to end? And why as a society do we allow it?

When you read about Aspergers and their social difficulties, you learn that bullying is severe for kids with Aspergers. Some figures say 90% are bullied on a daily basis. Why is this allowed to continue? I even read how some bullies will try to trigger meltdowns in children with Aspergers.

Children aren't born mean spirited. They aren't brought into this world with hate towards their neighbor. They aren't born bullies. It is learned, and there is no one else to blame but us, all of us. As a society we have turned our head to bullying for too long. We have brushed it aside as "kids will be kids" or "let's just let them work it out on their own."

Whether you like Hilary Clinton or not, she hit the nail on the head, it truly does take a village. To turn this around it takes every one of us as adults and parents to have a no tolerance for bullying. It takes each of us to celebrate the differences in each other. It means gossiping and judging must end. We must accept each other regardless of race, creed, sex, age, disabilities, size, or whatever it is that makes us different. We need to realize that there is no "normal". Each of us are unique. We need to help our children see beyond differences and realize we are all special.

Last Friday night while my husband and I were at the movies, we saw the trailer for the new movie, "Bully". Wow! My heart broke for the young boy on the screen. As they showed pictures of him as a child, tears started rolling down my cheeks. Here was this bright-eyed beautiful little boy full of life. He was happy. You could tell by the smile on his face, he was happy. And then you saw him older, broken, the light no longer in his eyes. This is my biggest fear for my son. I worry so much about someone stealing his light. Bullying needs to stop. AND IT STARTS WITH ALL OF US!

I will not allow my son's light to be stolen!

No Bad Gas!

I'm sure the title enough has peeked your interest. Last night our family got together at my sister's house with her family for a fish fry of fish we had caught on our family vacation last summer. It was a beautiful night, so Jacob decided to eat outside on the patio with some of the others, while my husband, nephews and I sat inside. While enjoying the fish, we heard a loud single BOOM off in the distance. A firework I am guessing. One quick little blast, and my husband and I knowingly looked at each other.

Jacob is terrified of fireworks. They are probably one of his biggest fears. How ironic that my sweet boy was born around the Fourth of July. Even the thought of fireworks sends him into a panic. The other day he handed me a kids book and told me he didn't want it anymore because it bothered him. Sure enough when I glanced inside, there was one page that had a photo of a fireworks display. It doesn't matter if he hears the boom sound. In his mind it is real and it terrifies him. Nothing can get him over his fear. Not even his love for our major league baseball team. The single firework they shoot off after a homerun keeps Jacob fearfully at home to watch the game on TV.

And so last night, it didn't take but a minute for Jacob to carry his dinner plate inside because of the bang he had heard outside.

"Mommy, was that a firework?"

"I'm not sure." I said trying to sound uninterested to help downplay the situation. " I don't think so, but even if it was, it is over."

"I think it was a firework," Jacob insisted. I knew we had to do something or Jacob would never want to return to his aunt and uncle's house again, forever associating the firework with their home.

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't a firework." I replied.

Thankfully Jacob's uncle stepped in, "I think it was just a car backfiring."

"What's that mean?" Jacob inquired. His uncle briefly described what would make a car backfire, but I could tell Jacob wasn't listening, but instead the wheels were turning wondering if this could happen to our car.

Sure enough. "Mommy, would our car do a boom?"

I needed to squash this fast or Jacob would never get in a car again. "No, it happens to really old, old cars. Not our cars."

Still not satisfied with my answer he asked, "But what if it does?"

"Jacob, it won't. It only happens when you have bad gas." I replied not thinking how funny that sounded.

"Mommy, do you have bad gas?" Jacob asked seriously, and I heard my nephews let out a chuckle.

"No, nope, I do not have bad gas."

"But how do you know if you have bad gas?" Jacob asked and again my nephews quietly laughed at the connotation of the conversation.

"I just make sure I don't get bad gas. Before I get my gas, I ask the guy, 'Hey, do you have bad gas?' and if he does I don't get his gas." Again more laughing.

Not satisfied with my answer he turned to my husband, "Daddy do you have bad gas?" To which my husband proudly responded, "Yep! Sometimes."

"And I get really mad if daddy has bad gas, " I added.

By this point my nephews are rolling with laughter. Jacob goes back and forth trying to get reassurance that we do not have bad gas, the humor of the situation lost to him. Finally the conversation ends with Jacob saying, "Whew...I hope I never get bad gas!"

So if you happen to see me at the pump and Jacob is with me, don't be surprised if he leans out the window and yells, "Mommy, make sure you don't get bad gas!" Or better yet, maybe I will just let that job fall to my husband.

The Meltdown

I should have known it was coming. You could feel the tension in the air. It was inevitable that there would be an explosion of emotions. The night was far from great. In fact, it was awful. And I wish I could have prevented it, but the meltdown occurred.

The meltdown was like so many in the past. There were tears. There was yelling. There was feelings of rage and anger. There was one difference. This time the meltdown was mine. I own this one.

The day wasn't particularly bad in anyway. Everything was running like a well oiled machine, until Jacob stepped in the door after baseball practice tonight at 6:45. Stepped isn't exactly the right word. More like ran in guns blazing. He was fired up and I didn't have any idea what was about to go down. I knew from his footsteps that he was upset.

"Mommy, I am not eating that goulash!" Well, that explained it. It was about dinner. Suddenly Jacob has became pickier than ever when it comes to food. I knew when making the goulash this afternoon that he wouldn't eat it, but figured he would eat some chicken nuggets or a sandwich instead.

"Jacob, you don't have to eat it. You can have nuggets or a ham sandwich."

"NO! I want macaroni and cheese!" he demanded yelling at me. "Make it now!"

Again I tried patiently to reason with him hoping to ward off any impending meltdown, but I could tell we were already beyond that. Jacob proceeded to pick up the goulash and tried to throw it in the garbage. At this point I had already had enough. I took the goulash from him, filled myself and the baby girl a plate, and sat down to eat determined to ignore him hoping it would fizzle out. My husband walked in from returning from practice, and he was immediately sucked into the drama. With Jacob there is no way not to get sucked in. He is relentless. My meal was far from pleasant as he continued to cry, yell and scream about the dinner choice. At one point he even tried to remove my plate from in front of me.

"She is only thinking of herself, you, and the baby sister and not me!" he told my husband.

I knew I was at a breaking point. I was trying to be apathetic about the situation, but like I said, it is about impossible not to get sucked in. Jacob is good at baiting you and reeling you in before you even realize it is happening. Jacob continued to rant and rage all the while the rest of us were attempting to eat our dinner. He went back and forth from tears to anger still demanding macaroni and cheese.

Just as each child with Asperger's is different, there meltdowns are different as well. Jacob's tend to go on and on for hours. When they are done you feel as if you have been beaten with a wet stick drained of any emotion. For Jacob they seem to come in waves. He will go for long periods of time with no meltdowns or fits of any kind, and then you would think World War 3 was going on with the way they happen so frequently. Typically his meltdowns go back and forth with anger and sadness where he is feeling sorry for himself. During those times he will sometimes reach out wanting to be held, but soon the anger will continue.  He is extremely impulsive and irrational during a meltdown. There is hitting and kicking. Many times we have to physically restrain him so he doesn't hurt us or himself. We try to get him to his room so his sister doesn't have to witness the meltdown, hoping some time alone will help him calm down. Most of the time that requires us sitting in his room with our backs against the door to prevent him from getting out. He's been known to try to run from the house to which we have had to put chain locks on all of our doors. The entire time during the meltdown he is talking nonstop arguing his point better than any defense attorney in the state. And don't even think about trying to get your own words in. There is no hearing or listening during this time. Just a never ending looping conversation that eventually makes your head start to spin. Afterwards comes the remorse and the promises of never doing it again.

Usually when Jacob is having an episode, I hold it together for the most part. My husband and I typically take turns dealing with it, trying to give the other some relief. Tonight I just had enough. When he started going on and on about how I was the meanest mommy in the world, I just couldn't sit and listen anymore. I apologized to my husband and went to my room to have my own meltdown. I laid in bed crying listening to the rain hit the windows. Yes, it was my pity party. As I laid there I envisioned other families enjoying dinner together talking about the days events. I pictured them afterwards playing a game, or sitting on the couch with a bowl of popcorn watching a movie as they laughed together. And then as the night wore down they snuggled in bed reading their favorite books before soundly drifting off to bed.

Don't get me wrong. We have those moments, too. And I know not everyone's life is full of roses. And of course every child has their days regardless of Aspergers. But we have many of those days. Tonight was my pity party, and I will move on. As strong as I try to be, sometimes it just becomes too much to bear and I break.

As I laid in bed crying, I heard the bedroom door open. I wasn't surprised to see Jacob standing there. "I'm sorry I hurt your feelings, Mommy." Usually when he begins to be remorseful, the meltdown is close to ending. I pulled myself together and went out to help him find some dinner. At this point the clock said 7:45. Had it really only been an hour? It felt like an eternity.

I am guessing his meltdown had little to do with the goulash. I am guessing there is something deeper bothering my son that has yet to surface. He is so on edge and it doesn't take much to set him off these days. But I'll continue to ride the waves of his meltdowns and I know at some point the sea will calm down again, if only for a while.

The ol' Curveball

Just when I think I have my son figured out he throws me a curveball.

This morning he announced, "This is going to be the best day ever!" I was thrilled for his enthusiasm, but skeptical since I knew what the day entailed. Jacob has a field trip this morning. In fact, as I am writing this I am guessing he and my husband are bouncing up and down on the packed bus full of first graders. Then this afternoon he has an eye appointment where they will be dilating his eyes, which he has been dreading for months.

If you remember, Jacob had a field trip last month and we opted for him to stay home. He was stressed about the bus ride being loud, and from past experiences I knew how stressful it can be for him. Plus the field trip was to a puppet show that featured a witch. Not good for Jacob. But this time was to a children's art studio. Jacob loves drawing, and he had been there before, so I knew once there he would enjoy himself. But there is always the bus ride that brings about anxiety. I didn't say much leading up to this morning. I had kept it low key hoping to downplay the experience. Naturally, I was shocked when he made his proclamation of it being the best day ever! Had he forgotten what the day entailed?

He went on to tell me how trying new things was a good idea. *gasp* Did my son really just say that? I've been preaching that for years, and it hasn't made an impact. Then he wanted to know why he hadn't went on the last field trip. Hmmm....really? How soon you forget my lovely son the tears and your steadfast resistance against the field trip. I believe I was all for it! "Where was this coming from?" I thought.

"Amy said that the field trip was a lot of fun and she wished I was there." Ahh....Amy. That explains a lot. Amy is his best friend at the moment and Jacob's social world revolves around her. He becomes slightly obsessed with his friends and for the last few months it has been all about Amy. I am thinking of having Amy over to explain some other concepts I have been trying to get through to Jacob.

I left my son at school this morning the happiest I have seen him in months. Usually school drop off is met with opposition and is a struggle for both of us. This morning he was beaming. I had been dreading drop off ever since I heard about the field trip and it went nothing as envisioned. I think Jacob just likes to keep his mama on her toes.

The day is just beginning, but I am hoping for Jacob that it is indeed the best day ever. But knowing that the day has many deviations from his normal routine, my guard won't be down until my head hits my pillow. If I know Jacob and his love for baseball, I'm sure there is another curveball coming. But I'll be ready, and I'll hit it out of the park!

What's Gonna Work? Teamwork!

My husband had disappeared. Here we were last night having a bonfire with our family and friends, and my husband was no where to be found. Most everyone had left for the night and it was just my neighbors and I sitting around the fire, when I asked if anyone had seen him. No one had for a while, so I went in the house to investigate. I found him sitting on the edge of Jacob's bed trying to comfort him as Jacob wept. It was almost 11:00 and I had put my son to bed over an hour ago. What had happened in that time to make my son so upset?

Our day had been a busy one. A day that Jacob had been counting down to for well over a month. His grandparents were coming to our house on their way home from their winter vacation. Our plan was to have dinner with his grandparents and his aunt, uncle, and cousins, and afterwards have a bonfire with family and friends. In Jacob's mind it was a party. Usually events like this, although small, can get to be too much for Jacob and he starts slowly melting down by the end of the evening. But he was doing awesome playing flashlight tag outside with all the neighborhood kids. Typically Jacob's bedtime is 8:30, and we are pretty strict about it knowing that Jacob needs his sleep. But last night he was acting great. No meltdowns, no tattling, just having fun. As time got away from me, I let his bedtime slide, not wanting to end his fun night by having him lay in bed hearing his friends continuing their fun outside. And so at 10:00, as he sat beside me by the fire, I could see his eyes were sleepy. I suggested bed, and surprisingly it came with little resistance. I tucked him in, and he turned over on his tummy before I had even made it to the door. I assumed he was out.

That was until I went searching for my husband. There was my sweet boy sobbing away. "What's going on?" I asked knowing that usually any worries Jacob has tend to come out at night. Night time is when I find out what is really weighing heavy on my son's mind. Tonight it was a fear for his friend, our neighbor boy who is a couple years older than Jacob. Our neighbor is much more of a dare devil than Jacob, and likes to ride in his little sister's plastic car down our street. He positions himself at the top of the hill and rides the little red car to the end. Jacob has been watching this for weeks, and every time he sees him doing it, he will yell out the window, "Stop doing that! That's not safe!". I agree, it probably isn't safe. And usually it opens up a conversation about each family having their own set of rules, and that his parents will tell him not to do it if they are uncomfortable with it. But last night it was more than just a little worry for Jacob. He was insisting that the little red car be hidden away so his friend could no longer take his joy ride down the hill. Seeing that my husband had it under control I left to go back outside figuring Jacob would soon be asleep.

As I returned to my neighbors, the other moms mentioned to me how their own kids have many anxieties and worries as well. I know that they were meaning to make me feel better by not making Jacob's reaction so alarming. It is normal for kids to have worries. The difference is, most kids you can reason with and the worry is quickly brushed aside after a short conversation. That's not the case for us with Jacob. Usually it will go on for hours escalating to a point of exhaustion for everyone. And when my husband didn't join us, I knew that things were only getting worse inside. But then there was my husband walking out the front door. "Ah, it was over," I remember thinking prematurely, because right on his heals was Jacob. In my husband's hand was a deflated red playground ball. He proceeded to show Jacob how it wouldn't roll. Before I could ask any questions, they were heading back inside.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I went inside to check out the situation. Things had indeed escalated. Jacob was now panicky. No longer was he just crying, but you could hear the sheer terror he was experiencing in his voice. My husband was beat, and with good reason. From experience I knew how exhausting these talks can be. It was my turn now. I tried getting Jacob to lay down and I slowly rubbed his back. I knew that the day and night had been too much for him. He was overwhelmed. Although his body was worn out, his mind just couldn't stop. We get that a lot at night from him. He will tell us his brain keeps telling him to do things. As much as I tried to console him, it wasn't working. No longer was he just upset about the little red car, but now also about balls rolling into the street and kids being in the street in general. He had demanded that my husband flatten every ball in our house. For a little boy who loves sports, that was a big demand and showed how truly terrified he was at the moment.

Jacob was still beside himself, crying and insisting we move to a new house. He needed out! He didn't want to live on a hill! He was like a wild animal unsure of his escape. Somehow I convinced him to come lay in my bed. I turned on one of his favorite shows, and slowly I heard his breathing start to return to normal. It didn't take long for his eyes to close and he was out. He slept fitfully for a while there beside me, until my husband took him to his own bed.

When I woke this morning I was still tired from the last night's events. My wonderful husband had let me sleep in, although I'm sure he was much more tired than I considering he came to bed quite late. I glanced to my dresser where we have a whiteboard that says "I love you because...". In our crazy life we sometimes get too busy to tell each other the little things we love about each other, so we have started leaving love notes. My husband had written, "I love you because...you take the time to try to understand our son!" I picked up the black dry erase marker and wrote, "and so do you!" It takes both of us as a team. Together we will solve the puzzle.

As I finish writing my note my husband opens the door and I am thankful to hear Jacob hasn't mentioned the night before. All balls are still bouncing in our house for now.

No Green Day!

St. Patrick's Day is here and I just got a text from my husband that my son is the only one not dressed in green at his social skills class that is meeting this morning.When I helped him pick out his clothes this morning, he wanted to wear his new shirt of his favorite major league baseball team, and I agreed it was a good choice. I admit, I didn't give it much thought. Not that I didn't know today's date. Probably because my son owns nothing green and for good reason.

When he was three and in his original preschool class, they were learning about colors this week back in March. Each day a new color was to be celebrated and the child was to wear that color and also bring a small item to place in the color jar. "Green Day" was to coincide with St. Patrick's Day. Each day I dressed him in the appropriate color and sent him off with his treasure for the jar. When it came to the day to wear green, he absolutely refused. He was not in any way going to wear green or put his item in the jar. At the time we did not have a diagnosis, and being a first time mom with my child in preschool for the first time I didn't dare break the "rules". Knowing what I know now about Jacob, I wouldn't have pressed the green shirt issue, but at the time I wrestled him to the ground determined to get his little green shirt on his body as he kicked and screamed.

We took off for school with his green item, an Easter egg, in his little Diego backpack. I left him there perplexed about the morning's events but thinking "Green Day" was behind us. When I picked him up that day, I found him sitting at his usual spot alone at the table while the other kids were finishing up with circle time. When he saw me he started to cry, and his teacher stepped outside to fill me in on the day. Jacob hadn't participated in anything that day. He refused to put his item in the jar, had a hard time in gym class during the parachute, and really didn't partake at all. We left, with me carrying my crying son to the car, and all he kept telling me was he wanted to take off that green shirt.

Since this was pre-diagnosis, it was all strange to me. What kid cares about a shirt color? And why couldn't he simply drop his item in the big color jar like the rest of the kids? And who doesn't like the parachute? I lived for that day in gym class as a child!

But like so many other warning signs at the time, I brushed it aside to him having a bad day. The green shirt was washed and hung in his closet never to be worn again. I tried to put it on him, and each time he became upset. Maybe it brought back reminders of that day at school.

The next year I naively assumed things would be different. Jacob had been at his new school for almost a year at that point in the peer model program for social issues, and was flourishing. I hadn't forgotten "Green Day" from the year before, but I assumed Jacob's four year old mind had. Of course, it hadn't and again he refused to wear a green shirt. This year I knew better and just let it go.

Every year since then I haven't mentioned wearing green on St. Patrick's Day. Today my son is in blue and if he comes home and wants something green like the rest of his class, I will help him figure something out. But maybe St. Patrick's Day is a reminder for him of a time where he felt really alone and misunderstood. And maybe it is a reminder for me of a day I want to forget as well. No mother wants to remember her child sitting alone at a preschool table unsure how to join the rest of the class while the others are singing bible songs. But instead, maybe I could look at it as a milestone of how far we have come. All of us. We have all grown in the past three years.

Jacob's Dream

Yesterday morning, Jacob got in bed with me like he does every morning once he wakes up. Usually he respects the fact that his mommy isn't a morning person and let's me sleep until my alarm wakes me. But on this morning he tells me, "Mommy, I had a dream." "What kind of a dream," I ask still with my eyes shut hoping to go back to my own pleasant dream land. "It was a very scary dream." I opened my eyes knowing that Jacob would need my full attention and it would be a lengthy discussion.

He went on to tell me how in his dream he was at school and there was a large airplane in the school. All of his friends got on board the plane flight (his words) and it took off without him, because he was too scared to get on. Once the plane flight took off, he started yelling, "Stop, come back! I want to go with you!" But they kept going. And then he was scared because he was all alone at the school.

Sure I talked to him about how his dream could never happen. A plane could never be in the school for starters, and there is no way his entire first grade could take off without adequate supervision and waivers in hand. And we talked about how going on a plane for the first time can be a scary thing. It's a conversation we have often as there are many places Jacob wants to visit, but he adamantly refuses because he is too frightened of the airplane ride. Mainly he wants to go to Africa to see the safari animals. I haven't told him that the plane ride should be the least of his worries and instead he should be concerned with being trampled by a herd of elephants or eaten by a lion. But since an African adventure is not in our near future, I'll let him continue to think that the worst is the plane.

My husband and I both would love to take a family vacation, but we know that the reality of that happening right now is slim to none, at least if it is a vacation that involves a plane ride. Jacob would have to be heavily medicated to even get near the plane! I can picture us now trying to get Jacob on board with him kicking and screaming. I've seen him first hand throw himself down in front of the school bus refusing to get on before a field trip. I can only imagine how he would react to boarding a plane.  I don't think TSA would be very forgiving. And that's not even mentioning the horror of going through metal detectors and God forbid if Jacob would be flagged for any type of search. If we did get him on board, Jacob wouldn't be able to sit still, and remain in his seat. And he certainly wouldn't be able to stop talking, if he was calm and not crying. There would be constant questions and worries, "What's that noise?", "We're going to fast!". The sound alone would be too much for him. And even if by some miracle he managed to get on the plane, I'm sure it would be a long flight for the person in front of him as there is no way Jacob would be able to keep his feet down or not constantly be in motion. Plus let's not forget we would be doing all this with a toddler in tow. I think it's best to wait.

But I can't help thinking that his dream has much more meaning than the plane itself. Of course he concentrated on the fear of the plane. But when he first told me about the dream, he focused more on being left behind and alone. Subconsciously is Jacob starting to realize he is different from his peers? Is he already feeling separate from them in some way? Is he becoming aware that his fears are holding him back from doing things that his friends do? Because I believe Jacob does want to be like his friends. I'm sure he really is thinking, "I want to go with you," so many times in everyday life, but can't because he is paralyzed by his own worries.

I want my son to soar like a plane. I want him to dream big and never look back, with no worries. I want him to believe in himself and have the courage to try new things even if they seem frightening. I want him to feel like he is part of the group and not set apart. I want him to chase down his passion and accomplish great things.  I want him to be proud of who he is and what he knows. I want him to have confidence. I want him to have the belief he can accomplish anything. And I want him to find true happiness. That is MY dream.

What Would you do for a Klondike Bar?

There is nothing Jacob dislikes more than running errands. I've learned to do them during the day while he is at school because I don't exactly like having him along for the ride either. It's hard to concentrate on my list when I have a six year old asking me every minute if we are done yet or better yet running around not listening. But today I was desperate. I had a few things on my list that were a must. Pay some bills, return the almost overdue library books, and a couple of necessities at Walmart. So yes, I bribed him. I told him if he came along and behaved, he could pick out a treat at Walmart. Surprisingly that was all it took and he said yes with no hesitation.

So off we went, list in hand. We weren't even to the end of the street when Jacob presented his "good idea". How about going to the DQ afterwards for a treat instead of getting something at Walmart. "Maybe. You are right, that is a very good idea," I said. We made it through the library and post office with little fanfare. Jacob was on his best behavior and in one of his moods where he asks countless questions. I was up for it, so we talked and talked. All was good, until we got to Walmart.

At Walmart, It didn't take long for him to start thinking of the promised treat. He spied a big bin of theater sized candy and zeroed in on the Mike & Ikes. Yummy, yes, but with us eliminating Red Dye from Jacob's diet, it would leave him with only a handful of candy. He opted to put them in the cart anyway just in case he didn't find anything better.

As we made our way through the store, Jacob spotted the bakery off in the distance. "Donuts!" he yelled, "I want donuts!" "Ok, but then the Mike & Ikes have to go back." Hmm...Jacob wasn't so sure about that. And then I had a brilliant idea, or at least it seemed like it at the time. Since Jacob had originally wanted to go to the DQ, I suggested picking out a box of ice cream treats at the store. In my mind, less expensive and more convenient since we were right there. He was up for it and we headed to the freezer section, with the donuts already long forgotten.

We never really buy boxed ice cream treats and apparently Jacob has never even looked at them. Instantly he was overwhelmed by all the choices. He read all the boxes to me savoring over each one. That's when I knew I had made a big mistake. It was too much for him to take in. There was no way he could pick when they all were equally appealing.  Knowing his love for brownies and oreos, I tried directing him towards one of those choices, thinking it would be easier for him if I helped narrow it down to three. But he wanted all three. And then the tears started flowing. Not in a "I want it and am a brat way". He seriously couldn't decide. It wasn't a loud tantrum cry. He wasn't having a meltdown or fit. It was more of a silent cry, with big fat alligator tears running down his sweet face with every so often him quietly saying, "Mommy, I just don't know. I just don't know what to do." shaking his head as he stared at the ice cream case conflicted.  I couldn't help it. I started to laugh. Right there in the freezer aisle as my son cried, I was rolling with laughter. Oh, I bet we were a sight to see.

We stood there in the freezer aisle for a good twenty minutes. We discussed the pros and cons of each choice, did the math on which box would provide more additional treats for a later date, but still Jacob could not decide and tears continued to flow. "It's such a hard decision," he said as I hugged him right there in the freezer department. And it truly was for him. He was so worried about making the wrong choice having never been given such freedom before.

I knew that the situation was fragile. Jacob was already overwhelmed and choosing for him would just make him upset. Just leaving was not an option, because that would turn into a huge unwanted meltdown resulting in a return trip to Walmart. And so instead, I patiently helped him work through it.

At times we were joined by others, some giving me knowing looks that they had been there before. While others gave me looks of "You are seriously going to buy that child ice cream?" And yes, I was. He deserved it. He was incredible on the errands. He did everything right. Stayed right by his mom. No running, jumping, dancing, none of the usual stuff that he does at the store.

And so after a lengthy discussion, he opted for the Oreo Klondike bars. Six in a pack leaving two extras if everyone in the family had just one. So what would I do for a Klondike bar? I would patiently stand in the freezer department at Walmart for close to half an hour helping my conflicted son pick an ice cream treat.

But next time, I'm driving through the DQ ordering his regular mini brownie blizzard. Easier on both of us.

Just a Swingin'

Saturday was a beautiful day. We packed up a picnic lunch and headed out as a family to the park to enjoy the beginning of spring. Both kids bounded out of the van, running as fast as their little legs would carry them for the park. It didn't take long for the baby girl to notice the swings. " 'Wings! 'wings!" she called out and bolted for the swings. I followed behind, watching Jacob's reaction. His sister loves the swings, but for Jacob it is a different story.

I can't say when the fear of swings started for Jacob. He certainly never liked them as a baby. I tried the baby swing that everyone insisted I needed to lull him to sleep. Nope. Wanted nothing to do with it. But not every baby dislikes swinging, so we didn't give it much thought and stored it away in the attic. As a toddler we would set him on our laps as we swung on the swings, but usually it was short lived. He liked the slides. So maybe he was a slide guy, nothing wrong with that.

But at about age three, things got worse. It was after my husband and I had gone away for a much needed week away for an early anniversary vacation, that we noticed Jacob's fear of swings had escalated. Suddenly it was no longer just a preference of slides, but a full on fear to where he couldn't even be near swings. He would start screaming and you could hear the panic in his little voice. The much loved park behind our house became a nightmare for him and us. We couldn't even go to the park anymore. But worse, Jacob couldn't even stand the sight of the swings from our house. "Oh, no!" he would yell, from our dining room window while he stared at the kids at recess. It was like a train wreck to him. As much as it bothered him and brought him distress, he could not stop watching. He would cry and yell while at the window fearful for the kid's safety on the swings. No matter how much I tried to stop him from looking, he still managed to wrangle the blinds to the side so he could see out.

It only got worse from there. It escalated from not only the swings in our school yard behind out house, to any swinging object. The wands on our mini blinds in our house brought him huge anxiety. It's hard to even convey the panic that would take over my son when he saw them ever so slightly swaying. "Oh, No! Stop it! Stop it!" he would yell while either my husband or I would try to comfort him and the other tried to stop the swaying wand.

It went on like this for months. Thankfully it was mainly over the winter, so the playground behind our house saw little use. At school the occupational therapist worked with him forcing him to go on the swing in her room. And gradually he would go with little a fight, and notes would come home praising him for a job well done.

Slowly but surely we were able to go back to the park with the reassurance he wouldn't have to go on the swings. At first he would comment, "Mommy, look how high those kids are swinging," but eventually he moved past it and it was as if the swings weren't even a part of the playground as none of us mentioned them. I know that swinging objects still bother him. In our garage my husband has hung a tennis ball for me since apparently I am parking challenged. It used to send Jacob into pure panic mode when our neighbor boy would make it swing. He learned quickly that it bothered Jacob and knew how to push his buttons by casually giving the tennis ball a little push. Jacob no longer panics, but calmly tells his friend to not do that because it bothers him. What that tells me is my son is able to control his impulses to be afraid even if it does bother him still.

Jacob's come along way from that scared boy staring out the window yelling at the kids at recess. Two years ago we wouldn't have been able to drive by that park let alone stop at it. But we were there and his sister was running for the swings. As Jacob sat on the swing next to his baby sister, I watched him out of the corner of my eye. He pushed himself along, definitely swinging, but not nearly as high as his baby sister. And I am fine with that. I am MORE than fine with that. I didn't offer to push him, as the last thing we need is for him to go back to that fear. I let him go at his own pace. I didn't comment or even acknowledge that he was swinging. Hopefully he has forgotten that paralyzing fear he had not so long ago. But for my husband and I it is still fresh enough that a simple family outing to the park will never be taken for granted. It is truly a gift. And watching my son on the swings couldn't make me happier.

Finding Balance

The other morning when I woke, I walked out into the kitchen to find my husband balancing a wooden spoon on his hand with Jacob counting loudly to ten. It looked like something off Minute to Win It. When Jacob got to ten, he announced, "Great work you've won the snowy owl!" I look at my husband who tells me he was bored with the usual animal games we play and wanted to make them a little more challenging. So while making breakfast, my husband balanced a bowl on his foot, a donut bag on his head, and a yogurt cup on his forehead. Jacob's last challenge was for him to balance the syrup on his head, but not liking dry pancakes, I put a stop to it there.

I have to give it to my husband for his creativity. Usually Jacob is wanting to play the same animal games over and over. "Answer ten questions about the elephant before time runs out!" I've played them so many times, I answer without thinking and when I respond incorrectly that elephants do have spots, or giraffes have long trunks, Jacob knows I am not listening and just going through the motions.

Over the years I have changed my stance on Jacob's animal obsession. At first when he was little and loved cows and bison it was so cute. Not many three year olds can tell you the difference between a Hereford cow and a Holstein cow. Then somehow there was a transition to elephants and safari animals. Still cute that he knew all about African and Asian elephants. But then there were times when we felt like it was becoming all Jacob could focus on, and we would take some of his favorite animal things away. I remember more than one time when my husband would hid his animal stuff in the attic, while Jacob would scream in protest running around like a wild animal himself. Or sometimes we would simply refuse to play animal games with him. There were plenty of times we both lost our cool.

I'm sure that all sounds horrible. How could a parent be so insensitive to a child? But it wasn't that. We were wanting to connect. We were desperate. Desperate for anyway to enter his world. Desperate for anything meaningful, besides animals. Anything!!

One of the biggest questions for me about Aspergers is how much should we try to limit Jacob's obsessions. I can't seem to find a clear cut answer. Some say if you limit it, they just find a different obsession. Very true. Jacob went through a dinosaur phase about the time we were an anti-elephant house. Other stuff I read says that the more you try to control it, the child will learn to resent you. By not accepting Jacob's love of animals, is he thinking we are turning our backs to him as well? And when I think about it, how would I feel if someone took away my favorite things? Of course I would react as a crazed being. Or how would I feel if when I was talking to my husband about something I am passionate about and he told me he wasn't interested? How hurtful! And so that is always the big question, to indulge or not to indulge. We still go back and forth on it, but lean more towards indulging him just with some time limits.

Unless you have lived with a child who has an obsession, it is hard to even describe how it can become your entire day. I admit some days I hate animals! I hate them! I just want to do something else with my son. When he draws, he draws animals. When he plays on the computer, he looks for an animal game. When we play a board game, he gets mad and quits if he doesn't get an elephant. When we read, it's about animals. And don't even think about reading a fiction animal book, it has to be a fact book. When I buy him a new book, the first thing he asks is if it has an elephant. I have learned not to even bring anything with animals into our house if it doesn't have an elephant. Sun up to sun down is all about animals. It seems to come in waves to where for weeks it will be his only focus, and then it will back off some. I've often wondered if during those times he is struggling with something and needs the security that animals bring for him.

The other day after the Minute to Win It Animal Version, I told Jacob we wouldn't be playing animal games all day and to pick a time to be done. He chose 9:24. As the moments ticked down to the end, he hurridly asked my husband the final questions to ensure he would win every animal. He came in right at the buzzer winning the elephant with only seconds to spare. Jacob said he would be done with animals for the day. I knew that wasn't a possibility. It didn't take long for me to hear the familiar sound of him lugging his huge plastic tote of animals down the stairs into the living room.

Jacob has asked me numerous times over the years what my favorite animal is. It bothers him when I don't have an answer. You see, I don't really like animals. I don't tell him that. He can't grasp that others aren't as amazed as he is by these creatures. I usually just tell him giraffes. Still in the safari family, yet doesn't compete in any way with an elephant, so it is safe territory.

My husband and I have learned that to truly connect with Jacob we have to embrace his passion for animals. So we enter his world. We indulge him and play his games, but do set time limits. We still try to encourage other interests. We kindly remind him that not everyone is interested in animals. We try to find some balance. And if that means balancing a wooden spoon on your hand, we do it!

Let's all go to the lobby, Let's all go to the lobby...

Ask any kid which they would rather do, go to a movie or go to a dental check up, and it's a no brainer. Well...


The other morning at breakfast.


"Jacob, your sister is going to the dentist this morning," I say trying to slowly work the conversation in the right direction.

"She is?"

"Yes, and you have a dental appointment on Saturday, " I say in a cheery tone.

"I'm not going," I hear between bites of banana. "I don't want to go to the dentist."

"Well, you can pick. You can either go to the dentist, or we can all go to a movie at the movie theater," still in my overly cheery voice.

"Hmm....that's a tough decision. I'll have to think about it," Jacob tells me and continues eating his breakfast.


There was no sarcasm in that reply, by the way. Jacob doesn't understand sarcasm and certainly can't use it in everyday conversations properly. He honestly couldn't decide. I know to most of you that is hard to imagine. A trip to the dentist or going to a movie? No question needed to be asked! But it must give you some idea of how scary a movie theater can be for my son, because let me tell you, his dental appointments are no walk in the park.

For most everyone an afternoon of going to the movies as a family is a lot of fun. For Jacob it is terrifying. It's loud, dark, and crowded with lots of unfamiliar people. Plus there is the huge screen that you have no idea what is going to pop up on it. We've tried taking Jacob to movies before with little luck even with his pockets stuffed with candy, a tub of popcorn in his lap, and a drink the size of his head, he still has little desire to go.

Like I have said before, Jacob is not a big movie guy. So when the movie "Oceans" came out two years ago when Jacob was four, I decided to take him. I had thought maybe it was just the choice of movies prior, and with his love for animals this would surely hold his attention. It was just the two of us, for a much needed mommy/son day right after the birth of my baby girl. We found our seats and settled in with our snacks and drinks. The previews went on and on and Jacob was getting antsy. We had come prepared with ear plugs already in his ears, so I figured the noise wouldn't be a problem. And that's when the giant whale soared high above the ocean coming down with a huge splash to start the movie, and Jacob screamed and screamed in sheer terror! I quickly gathered up our belongings knowing that there was no salvaging this bonding moment. Coats, purse, even Jacob's shoes on the ground as he yelled "Oh no!" over and over again as the whale continued it's journey. Now how to get him out with all our stuff and me being four weeks postpartum. Not an easy task, but somehow we managed to get out and I reassured Jacob all would be fine. Since we had only managed to see five minutes of the movie, I stopped at guest services to see if it would be possible to get a refund once I explained the situation.

I waited patiently behind the woman in front of me who was standing there with her own daughter who was probably about six. This woman was livid. As I listened to her rant on and on about children acting inappropriately at movies and demanding her money back, I realized she was talking about Jacob. As the customer service girl went through the proper procedures to issue the refund, the woman kept on going with her ignorant verbal outburst about Jacob. She was so upset that she started crying because her day with her daughter had been ruined by some "selfish brat". Oh yes, those were her words. I looked down at my sweet son who was quietly humming with his orange ear plugs sticking out of his ears, and tears started flowing down my face. I couldn't take it any more. I tapped her on the shoulder and said, "Excuse me, but you are talking about my son." She paused in her tirade, and looked at me and then down at Jacob who was unaware of anything going on. And what did she do? Turned and walked away. I was crying hard at that point and the customer service girl didn't even ask and just started issuing my refund.

So we've tried. Some would say is it worth the fight? No, and for the most part we haven't attempted movies in a long time. But there is an incredible thing we have recently learned about. Sensory Friendly Films! That's right, a movie experience without all the chaos and confusion. Lights are turned up, volume is turned down, it's ok to talk and move around. You can even bring your own snacks! There are even no lengthy previews to sit through. But the best part for me is the company you are with. I can relax, Jacob can be himself, and I don't have to worry about anyone's reaction to my son.

It just so happens that the dental appointment I made for Jacob six months ago falls this Saturday morning, the same morning that our local theater is having a sensory friendly films version of "The Lorax". Sensory Friendly Films only happen once a month, and not always are they a good choice for Jacob.

So why the push to go to a movie? Three reasons. The first, it gives Jacob a "social edge" if you will. If he is familiar with whatever current movie is out there, it makes him part of the group. I've been around kids enough to know that the current cool movie makes a big impression and they definitely talk about it. McDonald's has known this for years! It makes me shutter to think of all those plastic and sometimes strange toys from each and every kid movie that has been discarded and now filling up our landfills. But enough on that. Second reason. It is a perfect family opportunity. I admit I want to be able to experience a movie with my son. And when my daughter is old enough, I would like us to go to the movies together. And the third and final reason. I just want him to get used to it. If he never were to go to a movie and went for the first time as an adult, it would be incredibly overwhelming. The more Jacob goes, the more he learns what to expect and it becomes easier.

It's Thursday and Jacob has yet to decide about the movie. I won't push it, but leave it up to him so he feels he is in control of the situation. I'll ask one more time and see which is the lesser of the  two fears, the dentist or the movie theater.

"Just Another Manic Monday" or "Ice Cream: Part Deux" You decide

Ah, Mondays. Normally I don't mind Mondays. Being a stay at home mom, there isn't a lot of difference in days. Most weeks I very much welcome Mondays and the routine it brings. Not to mention Jacob goes back to school and I know I have a few hours to myself while the baby girl naps in the afternoon.

I woke this morning in a great mood. A little earlier than normal, and actually feeling the best I have in weeks from fighting a nasty sinus infection. (Thank you antibiotics for working!) Jacob had snuggled in beside me sometime after 6:00 am when his dad had left for work. Usually Jacob turns the TV on right away despite my protests, but today he had fallen back asleep. I love seeing Jacob asleep. He is so peaceful. I carefully got out of bed trying not to wake my sleeping angel, and hurried to jump in the shower figuring he would be awake when I got out. No such luck. Hmmm.....never good with Jacob. Waking him can be like waking a giant. Honestly, I dread it because I'm not sure how it is going to play out, and can set the tone for the entire day. I waited until the very last minute hoping he would wake on his own, but by 7:30 I had to wake him. Sure enough he was in rare form. "Mommy, get off of here!" "But Jacob it is my bed." "Can't you see I am trying to sleep?" The morning proceeded from there. We were hurrying because I had let him sleep in, and he was grumpy. But we got out the door, and I said a prayer that he would have a good day and come home in a better mood.

Now that Jacob was at school I could deal with the real problem at hand. The baby girl has recently found her nose, and let's just say she likes it a lot! Apparently she felt like it was a good place to store her extra dinner for later when she needed a snack. You would have thought that my husband and I pinning her down on Saturday night with flashlight and tweezers in hand to get the corn kernels out of her nose would have been a traumatic enough experience, but oh no, she still managed to put her peas and her bread in her nose Sunday night. No matter how hard we tried, we couldn't get it out. So that's what brought me to the pediatrician's office so early on a Monday morning. She did in fact have more bread in her nostril, and got plenty of laughs from everyone in the office. We left reassured that was the last of the food in her nose.

So the baby girl and I left the doctor's and headed to the grocery store. I knew after yesterday's ice cream fiasco, I did not dare forget to stock some chocolate brownie ice cream in the freezer for Jacob. With our cart full, we headed to the check out. The cashier made a pleasant comment about the baby girl and then quickly turned her head in disgust. You know that look, where they are smiling with adoration at your beautiful child when suddenly their face turns to complete horror. Their mouth drops, their eyes become wide and they turn their head as if they are witnessing Satan's baby itself. I knew instantly that something was hanging out of my baby girl's nose. I looked to the baby girl, and sure enough some large something or other I'm guessing last night's dinner was hanging out of her left nostril. With nothing to wipe it, I hurried to pay and then pushed out to the van for a tissue. But it wasn't budging. And before I could get a good swipe, she sucked it back up. Gross, I know!

At home the remainder of my day was spent trying to get the mystery food out of my daughter's nose. It was like a scene straight out of Mission Impossible. Right as I would get close to accomplishing my mission, she would wiggle away or worse yet, snuff the nastiness straight back up her nose. After days of poking and prodding, she wanted nothing to do with it and refused to let me near her honker. I doused her with nasal saline, put her to bed for a nap, and waited until 3:30 for pick up time for Jacob.

Oh, please let him be happy when I pick him up, I was thinking as we walked up to the school. We were walking Jacob's friend who is also on the Autism Spectrum home today. Jacob seemed in a great mood, and so we were off on our short trek home. We weren't even half way across the playground when Jacob decided he was cold and needed his jacket on. His friend looked at me and asked, "Will we be home by 4:00? I really need to get going to get home by 4:00." Like Jacob his buddy has his routines and needs to be home by 4:00. I knew this and tried hurrying Jacob along. But for a boy with lacking fine motor skills, zipping a coat is not an easy task. After the fourth attempt we were back on our way, and then I heard it. That familiar tune known by every child out there in every suburb, the ice cream truck. Sure enough as we rounded our house, there was the truck at the top of the hill already surrounded by a flock of kids.

"Ice cream! Ice cream! I want ice cream!" Jacob shouted. "Not now, Jacob. We need to get your friend home," I told him as I noticed his friend continuing down the sidewalk towards his house. I kept walking pushing the baby girl along and taking hold of his friend's hand, thinking all along Jacob would follow. But instead he sat down on the drive way not willing to move. I still kept going, figuring he would eventually get up. And that's when our neighbor girl came running out of her house money in hand saying, "Jacob, I have $5.00 and I'm getting ice cream!"

That's all it took. Jacob jumped up and took off running up the street away from us and towards the ice cream truck. Ok, what to do? My son is running up the street angry, screaming that he is going to get ice cream even though he has no money so it is an impossible task, while my baby girl and the boy I am responsible for are in the opposite direction. I knew that it was nearing 4:00 and I could tell Jacob's friend was getting anxious. Thankfully my neighbor happened to be outside and quickly stepped in to watch the kids, while I took off running up hill chasing Jacob worried that he would run wildly out into the ice cream truck's path. As I catch him I am out of breath, and he is furious that I have no money and am refusing him ice cream. I may have to consider training for a marathon so I am prepared for the next time he takes off.

Somehow I managed to get Jacob back to our driveway where at this point everyone had convened. Jacob is still screaming and very mad at me. I get him in the house and he is demanding ice cream telling me that I had better have bought him brownie ice cream at the store. Oh no, my dear child, kids that talk to their mom that way do not get to have ice cream!! Of course this made him even more furious and confirmed his beliefs from yesterday that I am indeed the meanest mommy ever.

It took a while, but I got him mildly calmed down. Somehow during this madness I noticed the large nastiness hanging out of the baby girl's nose again. I swooped in from over top as silent as a stealth bomber finally completing my mission. Ah...it was bread! That's the mystery food in the nose! Thank God it came out and not another copay needed.

After cleaning up the baby girl's nose, I found Jacob laying in my bed watching TV . The ice cream was forgotten, and I thought the madness was behind us. My husband got home, and upon walking in noticed our neighbor girl, Jacob's friend who had gotten ice cream, outside playing and suggested to Jacob to head outside and play with her until dinner was ready. It was probably a bad call on our part considering the blow up after school. Typically once Jacob has one fit, he is on edge and ready to explode for the remainder of the day. After twenty minutes, my husband went over to get Jacob for dinner, and came home carrying a screaming, kicking child. Jacob had spit at his friend. Not acceptable. And over something so silly, beanie babies of all things. Jacob had wanted to take them home even though just a few months back he had me remove all stuffed animals from his room because they bothered him, yet now he was coveting his neighbor's beanie baby collection from the 90's. Turns out he just wasn't ready to go home and they actually had been playing rather nicely together until dad showed up to break up the party announcing dinner was ready.

And so Jacob was sent to his room for the remainder of the night other than for dinner. He also lost his animals and his Nintendo DS, both very much favorites. I'm hoping it makes an impact going forward this week, but more than likely not. But we had to do something. We couldn't let him think spitting at a friend is ok. I talked with him about how our neighbor girl may not want to be friends with him after this, but he insisted that she would. At some point his friends will not be so forgiving of his outbursts.

Thankfully the day was coming to an end. With only one hour left before bedtime, my husband and I went back and forth as to whether Jacob should be doing his homework since he was being punished and we also knew that it could cause another blowup that neither of us had the energy for. Much to Jacob's protests, we decide that yes he needs to do it, when I hear my husband say, "You have got to be kidding me!" The book sent home for Jacob to read and write about was entitled "A Scare in the City" and detailed a major city having an emergency and people getting trapped in elevators and trains. Seriously! Why would this book be sent home for any first grader let alone one with severe anxiety issues. No way would we let our son read something that could be the next disaster movie to hit the theaters. So we opted for one of our own books, and the night wound down.

Later as I am heading to bed, I hear Jacob "eeeeeee"ing from his bed. It is a calming sound he makes. Usually when he does it in his sleep he is either stressed, getting sick, or cold. I walk in to find his covers on the floor. My heart softens to the day as I watch my baby boy quietly sleep as if the craziness of the day hadn't occurred. As I crawl into bed and close my eyes I reflect on the days happenings. Today was a day I'd like a due over. Is there something I could have done differently? Was all of Jacob's anger still carrying over from yesterday? So call it what you want "Just Another Manic Monday" or "Ice Cream Part Deux", it doesn't matter because this was my day, my crazy, crazy day.

And then my eyes open with panic when I realize the baby girl has her first dental appointment in the morning. Oh, please God, not a Part Three!

Yes, I did it. I ate the ice cream.

I admit it. I did it. I didn't want to admit it. So that's why when Jacob looked at me for an answer to who ate the brownie ice cream, I didn't respond. I didn't know what to say. I knew whatever I said would cause a blow up, because there wasn't any brownie ice cream left in the freezer. So instead I stood there frozen, as solid as the ice cream I had finished off earlier, while my husband answered for me, "Mommy, ate all the ice cream." And then looked at me and said, "Well, he needs to hear the truth. We want to build trust right?" To which Jacob yelled, "YOU ARE DEFINITELY THE MEANEST MOMMY EVER!"

At that moment I did feel like the meanest mommy ever. I mean what mom eats their kids ice cream? Right?

We had picked out the ice cream a week or so ago, or should I say JACOB picked out the ice cream. Ice cream was on sale, and so I let Jacob pick out one of the flavors. Of course, he picked chocolate brownie, his favorite! The week had gone by with no mention of the ice cream. My husband and I had eaten some late one night once the kids were in bed watching last season's Parenthood. I honestly thought Jacob had forgotten about it, when it was calling to me from the freezer this afternoon. Jacob and his dad had left for baseball practice and wouldn't be back for at least two hours. My baby girl was fast asleep in her crib napping, and I realized I was hungry. For the past week or so I had been fighting a nasty sore throat and sinus infection, so when hunger struck, the ice cream sounded like a perfect solution to my scratchy throat. Plus I was alone to savor it completely.

I did hesitate. I knew there wasn't much of the brownie ice cream left, and that Jacob had yet to have any of his favorite treat. But Jacob hadn't mentioned it once, so surely I could replace it first thing tomorrow before he noticed. I should have known better.

Jacob comes running into my bedroom after baseball practice and announces, "Daddy and I are going to have some ice cream and Sprite!" Uh oh! I head to the kitchen to try to avert disaster. I grab the three other choices from the freezer and place them on the counter. "What kind would you like?" I nervously ask Jacob. "Where's the brownie ice cream?" he replies. Hadn't I learned I couldn't pull a fast one on my son? And that's when my husband ratted me out!

Jacob didn't take it well. And it didn't just end with me being the meanest mommy. Oh no, he went on and on making me feel even worse. "How could you not think of your son? You need to think of someone other than yourself." These were my own words coming back to haunt me. Words I had used with Jacob while trying to help him understand empathy and other's feelings. Maybe he gets it more than I realize. And then he hit me, more than once. Unfortunately we are used to it. When Jacob is raging and in the beginning stages of a meltdown he lashes out at my husband and me.

I know some of you are saying, "That would NEVER happen in my house!" You know what? You are right. It wouldn't happen in your house because you don't have a child with Aspergers. Those of you who do have children on the spectrum are reading this with understanding, knowing what a true meltdown looks like full of intense emotions. Trust me, it's not pretty. And honestly, I wish it were a Super Nanny thing. I wish someone could give me the magic solution to my son no longer hitting. Of course we talked about it after the fact. We discussed that being angry is ok, but hitting is not, and what he could do or say instead. Jacob is always remorseful and promises to never hit again. But then it happens. Something brings on those powerful emotions and he lashes out without thinking.

He did have something right though. At that moment when the ice cream was calling to me, I had been thinking of me. But what he doesn't know, and may never fully understand is there are very few moments when I am not thinking of my son. All day long my thoughts are filled with how Jacob will respond to new situations, plans we have made, errands we have to run, dinner menus, etc. I never know what could and will set him off, so it is always there in my mind. I am always prepared for it. And so while sitting on the sofa this afternoon, eating the last of the chocolate brownie ice cream and watching the latest DVR'd episode of Survivor in silence, it was all about me. If only for a while.

Jacob did calm down. He accepted my apology and kindly asked through stifled tears for me to pick up some more brownie ice cream next time at the store. Naturally he agreed on one of the three other replacement ice creams without too much complaint. He did manage to tell me that I was the 20th meanest mommy, and no longer the meanest. And then he asked for some Sprite, and I said a silent prayer to God thankful I had not finished that off as well.

Just Like Jakey

There are three little words that melt my heart when my baby girl says them. No, not "I love you". She has yet to say those three words together. Right now it is "love you" in the sweetest little voice ever. That melts my heart, too, trust me. Those are powerful words for a mama to hear from her little one.

No, I'm talking about these three words. "I want Jacob."

This morning one of her favorite songs by the Fresh Beat Band came on TV. If you are an avid Nick Jr follower like our house, you have heard the song "Just like a Rockstar" before. It is pretty much played in between every cartoon all day long in hopes of promoting their new album. Typically when my kids hear this song, it becomes a full fledged rock concert at our house. So this morning when my baby girl heard those first few lyrics "Play it loud, just like a Rockstar!"...she turned to me and said, "I want Jacob." She knew that no matter how hard her mama tried, my rock concert couldn't compare to her big brother's.

On the days when my husband works from home and she wakes after her brother has left for school, she seems a little lost. She'll go from room to room saying, "Jakey, Are you?" hoping for her big brother to pop out and scare her like he normally does. But she knows that when Jacob is at school, she will get to see him. At 11:00 each day, we head to the windows at the back of our house waiting for Jacob to run out with the rest of his class for recess. When she catches a glimpse of him, she yells out "There he is!! Found him!" She'll spend the next fifteen minutes pounding on the window in hopes of getting his attention. Thankfully Jacob is oblivious or I'm sure he would race over to see his baby sister.

When we first decided to have another baby one of my biggest worries was how it would affect Jacob. For four years he had been our everything. The sun rose and set by him. It was all about Jacob. Like many other moms I thought how could I possible love another child as much as I love my son. And would having another baby change the wonderful relationship I had with Jacob? Jacob hadn't been diagnosed at the time, but of course I was worried how this huge new addition would rock his world. But it didn't. For a child with Aspergers, I would say he adjusted to a new baby sister better than most kids. He was never jealous vying for our attention. He didn't act out. He just loved her. I mean really, really loved her.

When you read about Aspergers, it is often said that they lack empathy. Jacob may lack an understanding of others emotions and not know how to respond accordingly. I have also read lately, that it is more possibly believed that they do not lack empathy, but rather they are easily overwhelmed in emotional situations, so they tend to shut down. To me this makes more sense, because at times Jacob can be very tuned in to his emotions and others. And it is said that they are more emotional than their peers. Again, that makes more sense to me as well. But even if he is lacking in empathy, it does not mean that he lacks in compassion. When his sister is upset or hurt, he is the first one there asking if she is ok. When I am sick laying in bed, he is always right there beside me wanting to make me better. He may be jumping on the bed, but he is right there.

I remember when our baby girl was only about a week old. My husband had returned to work and it was one of our first days home alone, just the three of us. I was still moving pretty slow at the time from my c-section. Jacob was watching a show on TV while the baby slept and I decided to take a much needed shower. I stepped out of the bathroom after showering, to find Jacob at the age of four standing in the baby's room holding his brand new baby sister under her armpits. "Jacob!" I screamed, "What are you doing!" "Mommy, she was crying. I wanted to help her." How he had gotten her out of her crib I do not know. Nor do I want to know. But he had heard her cries and as a brother knew he had to help her.

He is still so protective of his sister. And the funny things is, she is of him as well. No matter how much we try to shield her, she has seen Jacob at his worst. She has seen his meltdowns and fits, the battles and tears. And she, like us, doesn't like it. The other night Jacob was running far ahead of us while walking up to his school, and she yelled out to him, "Jakey! No! Trouble!" She didn't want to see him in trouble any more than he wanted to be.

Yesterday my baby girl was helping me unpack some clothes I had stored away in our attic for her for this summer. In the plastic crate was a red hooded sweater. Out of all the cute, adorable sundresses and skirts, she was most excited about this red hooded sweater. She pulled it out and said, "Jacob's!" I told her no it was hers not her brother's, but it did indeed look like one of Jacob's favorite red sweatshirts. She wanted it on, and I helped her zip it up. She pointed at her tummy and said, "Like Jakey!" My precious baby girl wants nothing more than to be just like her sweet big brother, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

"The Misunderstood Child"

I found this online a while back and wanted to share. So much of it rings true for Jacob.

The Misunderstood Child
By

Kathy Winters

I am the child that looks healthy and fine.

I was born with ten fingers and toes.
But something is different,somewhere in my mind,
And what it is, nobody knows.

I am the child that struggles in school,

Though they say that I'm perfectly smart.
They tell me I'm lazy-can learn if I try-
But I don't seem to know where to start.

I am the child that won't wear the clothes

Which hurt me or bother my feet.
I dread sudden noises, can't handle most smells,
And tastes-there are few foods I'll eat.

I am the child that can't catch the ball

And runs with an awkward gait.
I am the one chosen last on the team
And I cringe as I stand there and wait.

I am the child with whom no one will play-

The one that gets bullied and teased.
I try to fit in and I want to be liked,
But nothing I do seems to please.

I am the child that tantrums and freaks

Over things that seem petty and trite.
You'll never know how I panic inside,
When I'm lost in my anger and fright.

I am the child that fidgets and squirms

Though I'm told to sit still and be good.
Do you think that I choose to be out of control?
Don't you know that I would if I could?

I am the child with the broken heart

Though I act like I don't really care.
Perhaps there's a reason God made me this way-
Some message he sent me to share.

For I am the child that needs to be loved

And accepted and valued too.
I am the child that is misunderstood.
I am different-but look just like you