Charlotte really, finally, *got* Christmas. She has slowly been embracing bits and pieces of it each year and this year it all just came together. She bought the whole “naughty or nice” Santa concept (despite that we don’t push that idea). She was curious about how Santa delivered the toys (that may have been inspired by Sarah who was very, very curious about that one). She remembered that Christmas has a religious aspect and she wanted to make Jesus a birthday cake. She was thrilled about coming downstairs and opening up toys (years past that didn’t seem to matter to her). She was also considerably more vocal about things she wanted for Christmas, another concept that seemed to just sail right over her head. And when I told her that Christmas isn’t just about *getting* presents, but also about *giving*, she decided she wanted to get her best friend and her sister each a present.

Reading the above, it kind of sounds like my kid finally got into the materialistic aspect of Christmas, doesn’t it? Yes, it does sound a bit like that. But that’s not why it’s worth mentioning, is it?

Sarah really, really loved Christmas. She was so adorable with her bright eyes shining at all the decorations around her. Decorations everywhere but here it seems. Driving down the road one day she hangs her head and sadly says, “Too bad we can’t have any decorations like that in our yard.” Ouch!

Of course, it wasn’t even Thanksgiving when she said this. We put some lights up. Eventually. Decorating the tree was probably her favorite thing. She ooh’d and ahh’d over all the ornaments and took care in arranging (and rearranging) their placement. Totally adorable.

The week in between Christmas and the New Year was … okay. It’s hard to be out of your routine and without the structure that you need. Sarah handles it smoothly. She wakes up each day ready to take on whatever we have or haven’t planned. Charlotte, sweet girl, wakes up ready to set forth the day’s agenda and argue about whatever we have or haven’t planned. Control is the name of the game.

While it wasn’t smooth sailing all the way, the time off has been markedly better than previous breaks. The days were up and down, mostly up. One big highlight was after a little sibling squabble in the basement, Charlotte came upstairs and told me, “I was really, really upset with Sarah, and I wanted to bite her! But I didn’t.” In the end, that’s all I’m looking for. Resist that impulse to lash out. Come talk to me instead.

New Year’s Eve was big for me. We did something I have wanted to do for a long time. We (successfully!) played some games (one game: Uno). It was just me, Sarah and Charlotte. The little guy and the big guy did their own thing (watched college basketball). Charlotte didn’t play every hand, and Sarah did a lot of pouting, but we played! And it was fun! (And I won!) An evening of game playing shouldn’t seem like a big deal but, like with many other things, it’s taken us a bit longer to arrive there than I expected. (Say it with me: “And that’s okay.”)

Here’s hoping 2012 brings more good times to be enjoyed by all of us.

Happy New Year, friends.

What I love is his unbridled enthusiasm and curiosity. Everything is interesting to him and must be explored. And what he finds delights him. Oh, the delight. Big smiles for everything from crayons to cats and belly buttons to bottle caps.

He adores books. His favorite book is Goodnight Moon. Loves it. The first of my kids to get into that book. Anytime you can’t find Nolan, look over by his bookshelf and you’ll find him browsing away.

Like his big sisters before him, he has a great love for that furry little red guy Elmo. And Oscar. Oscar he likes so much that it’s one of his three words: “Ah cah.” There’s also “ah dun” and “ca” for cat. The cat is his other favorite thing. Books, Elmo and the kitty. Nolan sleeps about half the night in bed next to me, and smooshed right up next to him is the cat.

If I could pick an age to keep a baby at forever, it’s this one. He is full of cuddles and wet kisses and his eyes light up when any of us walk into the room. Such a sweet boy.

But that’s not to say that everything is as perfect as I wish it could be. And there arises a struggle between holding back and seeing where things go, or jumping in to intervene on my daughter’s behalf.

When it rains, I drive Charlotte and a few of the other walkers to school. There is one boy who you could say has a mean streak. Or you could characterize him as mischievous, possibly a trouble-maker. I wouldn’t go so far as to call him a bully, but he certainly doesn’t display too many traits that I admire.

The questionable behaviors I have seen include mimicking Charlotte (repeating what she says then giggling), kicking her seat, and pretending he doesn’t hear her. He gets the other boys gigging, too. Their giggles are less enthusiastic though. And when he’s *not* been in the car, nothing like this happens.

I have seen this only the few times I have driven him to school. The first time it happened, I was devastated.

WHAT?! He is mocking my girl! Repeating whatever she says and laughing! And doing it RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME!! I could not believe it. In the 3-minute drive to school and 3-minute wait in the car line I vacillated between rage at this obnoxious, evil boy to deep down depression that he was mocking her so openly.

Charlotte, meanwhile, is totally oblivious to this. Not a clue. Her obliviousness may serve her well in matters like that. It’s no fun to tease someone who doesn’t get upset by it.

Quite a range of emotions I experienced though. Part of what fueled those internal reactions is because Charlotte says some wacky stuff. Me driving them when it rains is not the norm, and when she’s out of sorts like that she tends to get very talkative (which is helluva lot better than her screaming so I’ll take it).

She uses funny voices and says things that are, frankly, out there in left field. She repeats herself. She states the obvious (“that’s the garbage dumpster.”). So I’m hearing the “weird” stuff she’s saying, then seeing them giggle, and immediately I’m a mess.

During the 3-minute drive home, I collected myself and began that internal dialogue of whether I should be upset about this, and just how upset. Maybe it’s not that big of a deal. Maybe it is a “boys will be boys” kind of thing. Once home, I immediately go to my neighbor. She babysits this boy and I wanted to get her take on it.

I tell her what I saw and ask her what she thinks. She says this is what those boys do and it drives her crazy. They repeat what the girls say and they laugh. They tease. She says they can be very  obnoxious. She assured me they do this to everyone and that Charlotte is not being singled out.

I feel better.

Yet I don’t. I hate this. I think to myself, “Why does one kid have to be so obnoxious and drag others along with him?”

However, as much as I hate it, as much as I can’t stand even the faintest hint that someone might be teasing my girl, I have to hold back. Teasing is part of childhood. Boys tease girls. As a mom, I can’t protect her from everything. And I can’t allow autism to make me jump in and over-protect where it’s likely not necessary.

A small part of me contemplated telling Charlotte not to talk so much in the car because … well, because why? Because it might annoy this kid and he’d laugh at her? I couldn’t bring myself to tell her because I didn’t know how to end the sentence in a way that wouldn’t make my daughter feel bad about herself.

And so what if one boy or maybe two think she’s odd? In life, not everybody is going to her (and she’s not going to like everybody). I think I would be doing her an injustice to make her feel like she can’t be herself on random car rides to school just so no one (i.e. those couple of boys) don’t think she’s weird.

That’s not to say I won’t be watching this kid. I’ve got my eye on him. If he ever takes it too far, I won’t let it slide. I can only hold the mama bear back for so much. Cross the line and she will be unleashed.

*****

Related note: I may not need to worry too much about protecting my little Charlotte. One day recently it was very cold in the morning and she insisted on putting on her winter coat, no matter the high was going to be in the 50s later. She pulled her hood up and wore mittens too. When she joined the walkers, a boy (not the obnoxious one) said something to her about the coat (they were all in jackets, some in shorts even). I’m not sure what he said, but I clearly heard Charlotte’s response: “Yeah, I know, but it’s freezing.” And with that they all kept on going. I’ll say it again: It’s no fun to tease someone who doesn’t get upset.

That pink bin is where I throw all the girls’ toys when I’m cleaning up the playroom. That room is a designated Nolan zone which means no choking hazards can be in there. Most of their stuff is up in their rooms now. What little is in there goes in the pink bin (’cause I’m all color-coordinated like that -yeah, right).

Every day Nolan, of course, goes straight for the pink bin.

Remember this post from a while back when we had to say good-bye to Daphne. Charlotte and Sarah were fighting over her so freaking much that she had to go on a permanent vacation. Another Daphne emerged from the rubble to take her place as most beloved. (Fortunately they aren’t fighting about her.) The new Daphne, along with the old Fred, are Charlotte’s most favored toys.

When Nolan peers into that pink bin, he always pulls out the same two things:

Lord help me. I am not ready for this.

We have consecutive days in a row with relative calm. Relative, of course, because there are three kids in this house and invariably something goes haywire at least 1 or 4 times a day. There are minor skirmishes, for sure. But the behaviors, from my dearest Charlotte, that would essentially stop everything else in its place and take full parental team effort to reign in, those behaviors are the ones improving.

One of the blessings of so much peace and calm is that the bad times are relegated to isolated incidents and much easier for me to pick apart and try to figure out what’s wrong.

There were two such incidents last week. After the second one, in my frustration, I said to Charlotte: “You know, Charlotte, I can’t do anything nice for you because when anything at all is different, you can’t handle it.”

At that moment, I could hear the proverbial ding ding ding and could see the flashing neon sign  blinking, “That’s it! That’s it!”

And friends, that is it.

Even if it’s the most wonderful thing in the world and something that Charlotte loves, such as a trip to the ice cream shop or a bath instead of a shower, if it’s out of our normal turn of events – she can’t handle it. It invariably leads to a meltdown or disruptive behavior from her. Sometimes immediate, sometimes slightly delayed. But always happens.

Behavior is communication, right, and what she’s communicating is that when things are different from the usual, even if she wants to do it and welcomes the different, it’s hard. It’s not easy to step outside of the normal routine.

This feels like, possibly, a real breakthrough in my understanding of my daughter. It seems so obvious, doesn’t it? People on the spectrum generally like things to be consistent. Charlotte herself thrives at school where, for the most part, the flows of the days and weeks are consistent.

A breakthrough, maybe, but I am somewhat perplexed. How do I support her through the different? Not just the planned and positive different, but the unplanned? I think the 3 times she has decided not to walk to school have been because of some minor difference to the morning routine of when/where she meets the other kids.

Despite my lack of surety in just how to support her, I am encouraged. I am encouraged because of the potential of this new understanding. The potential to teach her strategies and help her gain self-awareness. It won’t be easy. It won’t happen overnight. But I am hopeful nonetheless.

And so it went last week as homework assignments began coming home. I found myself wanting to micromanage her doing it, but I held back, and Charlotte showed me that she can do it herself.

Last year homework was a bit of a challenge. A weekly packet came home on Fridays and was due the next Friday. We never really found our homework groove and it ended up taking a lot longer than necessary and I did far more cajoling and prompting than was comfortable.

Because I have read countless blog posts and heard so many stories from friends about the daily homework battles that go on out there, I wanted to set in motion right away that Charlotte had full responsibility for completing her homework. I didn’t want to wind up spending 1-2 hours, or even the whole evening, cajoling, prompting, motivating or even talking about a 5-minute worksheet.

The first night the book she brought home to read took her all of 3 minutes. She skimmed through another of her books, but finally gave out after about 15 minutes of reading. The worksheet, which was to write out her spelling words 3 times each, took much longer. Not because it was  hard, but because it was “stupid” and “boring.”

I did a fantastic job, if I do say so myself, of not pressuring her to do the worksheet, or to read for 5 more minutes to make it the full 20. I let her know that she could finish spelling words later, and that even if she chose not to finish it, she wouldn’t get in any trouble at home. She just couldn’t watch TV that night.

That was Tuesday. Wednesday she didn’t want to do it. Again, I held firm with myself (no easy task mind you) and did not do any pressuring. Around Nolan’s bedtime, I suggested she do her homework while I was putting Nolan to bed. She did half. She said she’d do the other half in the morning. And she did. Independently. With no pressure from me, only a reminder.

Thursday night she had trampoline class and told me she’d do the homework after that. When she came in afterwards, she said, “I’m just going to play play play,” and she looked at me with that look. That testing boundaries look that says, “I want to see how you handle this, Mom.”

Remembering my personal vow, I said, “OK.” An hour later, at bedtime, I reminded her and she said she wanted to do it Friday morning. I set her alarm for a half-hour early and dragged her booty up when I heard it go off.

She didn’t follow a single one of my suggestions of when to do her homework. About 20 minutes before it was time for her to leave, I told her she only had 20 minutes left and so it was now or never.

She completed it. Independently.

At school if you don’t do your homework your clip gets moved off green. And then you also have to complete it during recess. While I absolutely do not believe homework is even remotely vital to learning at this age and that children should not ever lose recess for not doing it, I wanted to see if Charlotte could summon her own motivation to complete her homework. And she did. She told me several times she needed to do her homework because, “I NEVER get my clip moved.” She never got her card flipped from green during first grade and she was extremely proud of that.

All that being said, I am not going to pressure her to read the full 20 minutes. As long as she reads the book in her book tote, that is enough. And once she has books at her reading level, it will take longer. Additionally, I am going to ask for more challenging spelling words homework (like writing sentences instead). Maybe I’ll just modify it myself even. What are they going to say?

I realize that was only the first week, and things could dramatically change, but if you are the parent of a kid like Charlotte, you know how it important it is to get things started on the right foot. How it goes at the beginning is usually how it will go all the time.

And if it goes like this all year, I think I can live with that.

I’m almost afraid to type this and hit publish. The last thing I want to do is jinx the terrific start we’ve had to the year. But, ooh la la (in the vernacular of Fancy Nancy) what a terrific start it is.

I credit the ease and peace of our days to switching up the routines at home at the start of the school year and creating a new normal for Charlotte. The girl loves her some routine!

Charlotte’s morning routine expanded to include a daily shower (thus eliminating arguments about whether it’s a bath day or not). This has worked beautifully. She especially loves Tuesdays and Thursdays – shower cap days. Once she’s in the shower (unceremoniously dropped in there by me as she refuses to get out of bed), she perks up and goes speedily through her written-out routine.

The evening routine has smoothed thanks to several changes. Only one show per night and it has to be started by 7:00. We added an immediate reward for cooperation at bedtime (a very motivating one that gets her booty moving). And, the biggest change of all, I put a clock in her room.

Apparently Charlotte can’t stop talking when I say talkers off, but when the clock displays the magic “lights out talkers off” number – she complies. What used to take upwards of an hour, sometimes close to two, has been reduced to 20 minutes. 10 minutes of me telling a story and 10 minutes for her to fall asleep.

Long live the clock!

Homework just started this week so I can’t speak to how well that’s going to go -but today wasn’t too bad. Better than expected.

Charlotte appears to be doing pretty darn good at school too. She is so much more communicative than last year. She tells me what they’re working on. Every day she tells me who she ate lunch with and played with at recess. Each day she says school was awesome. I don’t think I can ask for any better than that.

I won’t pretend it’s completely and totally smooth sailing. Friday she decided she wasn’t going to school. Flat out refused to walk with the kids. I ended up driving her and leaving her in the guidance counselors office in tears. That’s wasn’t fun. And I have a hunch she’s going to pull the same thing this Friday.

This first two weeks are going far better than I could have imagined. I am beyond proud of Charlotte. I know it’s hard on her. She’s coming home and doing some major sensory-seeking. Smooshing herself into cushions, rolling around on the floor a lot. She just looks like she isn’t feeling comfortable in her skin. But she’s not lashing out at any of us. She’s handling herself.

Her sensory breaks haven’t started at school yet. Hopefully they will soon. Perhaps that will help her not feel so whatever it is she feels that makes her need to crash her body.

This awesome start is, I believe, due to the power of structure and a routine. The girl needs it. And school and our improved routine at home are providing it – enabling her to thrive. Makes me realize how the looser schedule over the summer was probably quite hard on her. And perhaps contributed to some of the frustrating times we experienced.

Now we know though. We learn. We grow. We change. I’m already thinking about next summer and how to keep us on tighter schedule.

And I’m stocking up on clocks. Just in case.

Not to mention that I recently found out she has some vision issues that make it difficult for her to organize all the visual input she’s taking in. In other words, if there’s a lot going on around her, she’s distracted and can’t process it all. (I didn’t need the developmental optometrist to tell me this, but it was nice having it officially confirmed.)

This year, Charlotte moved to the elementary school (from the early childhood school) which is behind our house, across a large soccer field. When the leaves fall off the trees, I could stand in her room with binoculars and see if I can find her of the playground. We’re that close.

Thanks to budget problems and a failed levy, our district cut bus service down to the bare minimum. With our close proximity, it’s either walk or be a car rider.

All summer long the plan has been for Charlotte to walk to school with the kids from the neighborhood. Given there are two sixth grade girls next door, I was feeling reasonably comfortable about this over the summer. The days leading up to school starting last week had me panicking and visiting all possible worse case scenarios.

I’m not talking about scenarios of abduction. The walk is short and there is safety in numbers. I have been concerned about things like my low-endurance girl keeping up with the bigger kids, the fact that all the other kids are boys (except for the aforementioned two 6th grade girls), a stray dog wandering onto the soccer field and scaring her, bullying or teasing.

Stroller-unfriendly bridge

The first day I walked with her along with the other kids and she really didn’t keep up. I began envisioning her being left behind day after day and how horrible that would feel. By the time the school day was over, I had talked myself into driving her everyday. At dismissal time I walked up to the school to walk her home (she didn’t know the plan for meeting the neighbors to walk home anyway).

Right away she was looking for B (neighbor girl) and when I told her that from now on she’d be a car rider she was distraught. “Noooooo, I want to walk with the kids!!” I told her that I was worried she wouldn’t keep up with the other kids and she’d be left behind.

“No, Mommy, I’ll walk faster! I’ll keep up!”

And sure enough, she did. She hustled and totally kept up with the two girls. Once home, I talked to B and her Mom about my worry about Charlotte not keeping up, disclosed Charlotte’s autism to B so that she’d know why new situations were scary for her and why she was sometimes anxious, and was reassured by B and her Mom that B would always walk with Charlotte and not let her lag behind.

Armed with those reassurances, an eager attitude, and a 6th grader with a cell phone, I sent her off the next day to walk to and from school with a group of neighborhood kids.

Without so much of a backward glance, she was off.

One of the gang.

I have since come up with a myriad of positive benefits for Charlotte to be gathered from walking to school. Including being part of the community, building independence, daily (albeit brief) exercise.

There are risks, too, but they are the same risks for all the children, and not anything due to ASD. The kids could tease her for some reason. Or, perhaps, the group could form a protective ring around her should someone else tease her some day. I like to believe that being a part of a community has those kind of benefits.

There goes my girl. She’s free-rangin’ it to school.

So, of course, she sets out today to prove otherwise.

First, some background: I have not ever told Charlotte she has autism. My reasoning is that Charlotte doesn’t see herself as different from other kids (that I can tell). I feel it would be somewhat cruel to start a conversation with her about autism and differences when she thinks of herself as just another kid (and, pretty much, she is). I’m not hiding it from her, but I have always thought it would be a child-led discussion for us. When she asks questions, I’ll answer.

I also thought that conversation wasn’t happening anytime soon.

I mentioned a few posts ago that we are considering working with a behavioral therapist to get a handle on some challenging behavior. The beginning of this process is that we are keeping a detailed behavior log for two weeks. I have a few sheets of the log on a clipboard which I have left laying on the countertop in the kitchen.

Twice I have found Charlotte reading it. Across the top it says “Client: ______________” and I wrote in her name. The rest of the sheet is a blank ABC grid (antecedent, behavior, consequence) which I’m using to record the challenging behaviors. In the top left corner is a teeny tiny logo that says Center for Autism, and at the bottom, in a small font (barely legible as I need more ink for my printer) is the web address of the Center for Autism.

Today I was sitting on the couch with my iPhone browsing my Twitter feed. Charlotte came and sat next to me right as a clicked a link to read the latest post at The Thinking Person’s Guide to Autism.

This is the conversation that followed.

Charlotte: Why am I a client?

Me: {I knew immediately what she meant.} Wellll, you’re not really a client exactly. Actually, I’m just keeping track of some stuff at home so I can help you with some of your tough behaviors. You know, the pinching.

C: Is austem {her pronunciation} going to help me?

Me: You mean autism? No, autism is not really what’s going to help us. It’s something different.

(OMG she picked out the word autism from that teeny logo on the behavior log! I’m suspecting she saw the word and recognized it as something she’s heard around the house before.)

C: Am I going to go to autism and they’ll help me with my behavior?

Me: No, you won’t go anywhere. I’m just keeping track of your behavior so I can see if I can help you when you get frustrated. At home. Autism isn’t something you go to.

C: What is autism?

Me: Ummmmmm, hmmmmm, welllllllllll {world-class stalling tactics} autism is a way that some brains operate. Some people’s brains operate with autism, and some people’s don’t. Some people have a little bit of autism, and some people have a lot.

Sarah: Do I have austem?

Me: Sarah, you probably do have a little bit. Everyone has a little bit and some people have a medium amount and some people have a lot.

(Aside: I really believe this. I believe all the traits on the spectrum are human traits that all people have in varying degrees of severity.)

Me (continuing): Charlotte has a medium amount. And I probably have a little less and Daddy has a little bit too. And I know other people that have a medium amount or even more.

Then Charlotte stands up and falls to the ground laughing and rolling around while saying, “I have autism in my brain!” And cracking up hysterically.

And there you have it.

Our first foray into The Autism Discussion.

I’ve been wondering most of today if I should say anything to her about it, or ask her anything.Or perhaps I’ll wait for her to bring it up again.

As she’s gotten older, Charlotte’s communication skills have improved tremendously. She can be very specific about what she wants and doesn’t want. She generally makes her likes and dislikes known.

Or so I thought. Perhaps I’ve grown complacent because, compared to younger Charlotte, her language is awesome. But the reality seems to be that her language skills still aren’t on the level of what I imagine a neurotypical 7 year olds to be. It’s causing some frustration.

Rather than tell me that she doesn’t like the particular bread I served, she says, “I don’t like bread.” Or, rather than say, “I can’t eat this pasta because there are also lentils on the plate,” she just leaves the table. Sarah, on the other hand, looks at the plate horrified and declares, “I do not like lentils. Get them off my plate.” Big difference.

I’m left feeling frustrated. Those two examples are what have finally clued me in that she’s not expressing herself well. When she said, “I don’t like bread!” and bolted from the table, I managed to get her to talk to me about it (a real conversation is usually such a struggle) and she eventually said, “I like the other bread, not this new bread.” I had recently changed breads because I was tired of the other one.

The lentils example was just tonight. She ate her carrot and pears and then bolted from the table. No amount of encouraging could get her to come back in. I’m trying to get the girls to try new foods so I put lentils on their plates. They don’t have to eat it, it’s just there for them to try, no pressure. Eventually, of course, I gave up. While I was out running an errand, my husband texted me that she ate most of her pasta, that the lentils on the plate were the problem.

I’m connecting the dots. It’s not that she didn’t like or want the pasta, it’s that she didn’t want the lentils there. It’s not that she no longer likes bread, she just didn’t like the new bread.

So much of our communication lately seems to be me saying, “Charlotte, listen to me.” Or “Charlotte, I need you to respond.” She’s off doing whatever she wants to do, heedless of my requests/demands/shouts. She seems frustrated with me too. “Stop interrupting me!” is frequently heard, along with “you’re making me miss out on all the fun!” And “you’re messing up my plan!”

So many of our disagreements seem to center around the misalignment of our plans. I work very hard to engage her upfront with the plan for the day or just the next several hours. Sometimes she goes along with it, and other times she says “okay” but then she fights me on everything. Sometimes it’s because she has her own plan, which she has failed to communicate. Or it’s that she really didn’t want to do my plan, but didn’t just come right out and tell me.

I feel like there is something missing here. She and I are lacking the tools we need to get on the same page. I know she enjoys structure to her day, and she needs to know what the day entails. However, we are past the days of a visual schedule to let her know what we’ll be doing. She has her own very opinionated mind. Me writing up a plan is only effective if she buys into it. I don’t know how to get a sincere buy-in from her if she’s unable to tell me that she doesn’t like a part of the plan. If she’s unable to communicate to me that she’d rather stay home in the morning and play with toys rather than go to the playground or to the store. Or that she’d like to watch a show, then color, vs. the other way around.

I don’t want to be a mama dictator. I am completely willing to make a plan that makes everyone happy. I can’t do that, however, if Charlotte doesn’t have the communication abilities to better express herself.