The Importance of Control and Expression

Routines and schedules can be tiring, but they give crucial structure to a day and a feeling that one can have some control in a world gone chaotic.

I have seen the importance of a schedule with James during our new, mandatory learning at home routine. It helps him take better care of himself. When checking his school-issued Chromebook, his face looks a bit relieved, and his mouth curves in his smile.

Here are some great handouts to give structure and control in a messy situation:

Thanks to Natalie Long at LONG Creations, you and your child can create a time capsule about this historic situation. Please visit her Facebook page for more information.

I like the way James can give some order and structure to how he is feelings. An outlet for questions. And understand that there are things he can do to keep himself busy and in control. And hey, a writing exercise!

Signal Output Divergence

My father passed away less than two days ago. Even though it was peaceful and anticipated, it was emotional. While I was at his home, I had James stay here with a friend. When I returned from being with my mother and family, I was exhausted and wrung out.

James focused on getting computer time and complained after I had him stop after an hour. He paced to and fro, argued almost every statement I made, and muttered under his breath over and over how upset he was and how mean I was.

I told him he needed to be nicer to me, because my father just died and I was sad and upset. Also, we were going to bed early. He fought that too.

James sometimes has trouble talking about anxiety, sadness, or loneliness. These emotions tend to come out as agitation and behaviours.

I know he understands that I am feeling sad. There is a great big "now what?" disconnect between knowing this and being able to express sympathy or compassion in a recognizable way.

Food Prep Pep

James has been upping his survival skills by learning to prepare some food for himself: toasting frozen waffles, assembling snacks for his lunch bag, and cooking his chicken nuggets.

This may not sound like much, but small starts are big things with us.

Over the winter break we even made and baked chocolate chip cookies from scratch because a friend with a bad cold sent out a distress call for cookies via social media and we thought "what the heck - why not?"

The cookies were weirdly shaped, but completely delicieux.

From the movie Ratatouille: (Gusteau) "You must be imaginative, strong-hearted. You must try things that may not work, and you must not let anyone define your limits because of where you come from. Your only limit is your soul."

Cooking, autism ... it's your life - go for it!

More Moments in Song

James has a lot of time on his hands lately, and was rewatching Jack's Big Music Show. He kept showing me this video, asking me if I remembered it. Yes, but the memory is getting fuzzy.

We started getting silly on the sofa, wrapping each other in blankets and making up verses to the song. It made a nice end to a crazy, hectic day. Belonging feels good, especially affirmed with music.

Blur of Fun

Sometimes, James can be hard to catch in a picture. He moves too quickly, limbs and joints moving fluidly, feet and toes hopping and leaping, hands flapping. In Kindergarten, they called him Peter Pan, because he got so lost in the fun that there was no way to keep him still.

                    

Yet James can sit still for things that interest him. He can focus on a task or object for periods of time. He had a big breakthrough in Kindergarten by being able to finally sit cross-legged on the floor and join the class for circle time for the whole session. Over his year in First Grade, he increased the time he could sit and stay focused on a task during break-out groups for reading and writing.

It still makes me happy to see him enjoying life, even if it makes it tough for me to get it on camera.

Magic Marker Monday: Signs

To defend ourselves from the horror that is Unstructured Time and whiny, messy melt-downs (child and parental alike), our household  has turned to schedules and has visual cues. We are by no means uber-organized, but our charts, calendars, and picture schedulers sure do help our lives.

 

  

I've also enjoyed hanging up the kids art projects and schedulers on the walls of the kitchen and family room.  They've started to merge and become a new form of visual self-expression. Our family is turning structure and signs into a kind of performance art:

This appeared in James' door one day. Way high up,
where only a parent can read it (or a sister can reach).

Honey,  I will treasure this one forever.
And knook respectfully as I smile on the inside.

That pop out at one in unexpected places:

Found on corner of the main hallway.

Discovered one morning on the outside our bedroom door.

We will never be bored - yes!

To find more expressive pieces, or to share some of your own,
visit 5 Minutes for Special Needs for more Magic Marker Monday.

                   
 

A Different Kind of First Friday

First Fridays used to mean Family Connection Parenting Classes run by James' preschool. Some of these were extremely helpful, and it was nice to connect with other parents of kids on the spectrum. As we crept up on the second year, it became less effective for me, as they covered the same hot topics every year. I started ducking out, feeling guilty.

End of Year First Friday Family Picnic, 2008

Once again, it's a First Friday, and I am at home, drinking coffee and looking at my To Do list, vol. IV, and remembering how happy James was on the walk to school this morning. He was extremely vocal, calling out things like "I'm walking!" and "Ooh look -- dere's a leaf!"

As we rounded a corner, we scared a group of ravens off a neighbour's yard, and they flapped away across the street to land on top of a tall street light. James struggled to capture this with expressive speech "Look! They go ... they go over dere. They go ... up, Mommy! They tall! Up High! Big!" And laughing. How I do love that boy.

Two blocks from school, with the drop-off parking lot in sight: "I'm James (hand on chest) ... and You are Mommy (hand pointing to me)." Wow. He was already getting ready for being in class. We got onto the play yard just as classes started lining up. He ran right over to his aide and gave her a hug. I got what I think of as the Push Off Wave: "Good bye, Mommy!" with the hand and palm flat out, arm straight, as to push me off ... but waving. He is polite.

I walked off, checking him out discreetly; but he was all set to start his day and happy to be there. So I came home. To drink some coffee. And grin. And enjoy a wonderful, bittersweet First Friday.

Magic Marker Monday: Waiting

I met with the Full-Inclusion Coordinator at James' new school, so we could go over James' schedule and related information. Because I know she is new to the position and will be swamped with new faces and back-to-school activities, I made a cheat sheet for James, with contact names and information at the top and bullet points of his ... hmmm, how do I put this? behaviours and tips for good coping strategies. I was lucky to have almost an hour with her.

James came with me. And he took almost 150 photos with my new phone's camera to pass the time. I am really becoming a fan of letting the kids use my camera to see what they notice and focus on.

Just see some examples below:

Visit 5 Minutes for Special Needs for more Magic Marker Monday.


  

Who's That Guy?

Every now and then I'll get a new glimpse of the James that's inside the familiar face. Sometimes it's like a peek through a chink. Sometimes it's like a chunk or exterior plaster has fallen away and reveals the living person underneath.

James has always liked people and fun. He's noticed far more than we think he does. I've called him a "sleeper" because I will think he's not paying attention to me or the world beyond his shape sorter ... then boom! Out will come a phrase from 2 days ago or he will want that book that his sister has been looking at for a week.

Today James is feeling better after coming down with a sudden, nasty cold. He went from limp in my arms and on the sofa to running around all over the house. He went from one of us to another, engaging us in play.

He circled his Dad on his toes, head bent at an improbable angle, dancing just out of arms reach until Dad finally lunged a bit and caught him up in a tickle and hug. He asked his sister if he could use her computer (and she said "yes"!!!). He'll find me wherever I am and ask me to "Come here, Mommy" and pull me over to help him reach a game or a snack. He had a new grin on his face. It had more James personality to it and less generic cute guy -- it's kind of hard to explain, but I kept staring at this new side of James, and grinning back at him.