Bite Me, Lola!!!

There are days I throw myself a pity party, days where I get mad at myself, and days where I'm just so tired of it all I literally sleep the day away.  Oh, and let's not forget my good old friend, the one that's stuck with me through thick and thin, the one that never leaves my side as other friends have done, the one and only:  Guilt.  Born a girl, and Catholic, I never stood a chance to escape this friend.  I was literally born with him beside me.  My twin.  I call him/her "Lola."  My sick, twisted, evil twin.

When I go to visit the Autism Winnipeg Facebook Page, I see new members coming on daily.  These new members are asking for advice for their little ones just diagnosed with an autism spectrum disorder.  When it comes to the little tykes under the age of five, I feel like screaming at the parents to take the ABA (applied behaviour analysis) therapy, or the Floor Time Therapy, hell take them both if you can.  I think the toughest Autism Winnipeg Parents to hear from are the ones that got their child's diagnosis after age five, where the child is past the acceptable age for ABA or any other therapy, as was the case with Dayton...

But it didn't have to be that way for Dayton...

We lived in Calgary at the time, and Dayton was just under two years old when early intervention came to my home to do observations on my little tyke.  And one day, in my home, in front of my babe, they tell me:  "We're not sure, but we'd like to observe Dayton for autism."

My reply?  "What are you on crack?  My son ain't no 'Rain Man!'  Get out of my house!!!

I had worked with children with disabilities for about a year at this point, and had a few children with autism on my case load.  These children, however, I fed through a G-tube.  They were completely non-verbal, in diapers at age 7 and often zoned out into 'their own world.'  A lot of stimming, such as head banging, humming, rocking and finger flapping came along with their autism.  My babe was NOTHING like that!

So, when Early Intervention told me their reasons for observing Dayton for autism, I dismissed their reasoning away...

Reason 1)  Dayton does not speak well, and only has five words.
Big Momma's denial or lie:  Yeah, he's not quite two, and he's an only child.  Plus, let's not forget he's a boy and boys are a wee bit slower than girls, right?

Reason 2)  Dayton grunts and points at objects he wants instead of asking for them with his words.
Big Momma's denial or lie:  Ummmm, yeah...  He's a boy!  Plus, I finish his words for him and I know what he wants so I just get it for him.  I've made him lazy is all.  I'm his mom, it's my responsibility to know and sense what my babe needs, right?

Reason 3)  Dayton's only form of entertainment are dinosaurs, even though he has many other toys to pick from, he continually chooses the dinosaurs and plays with them exactly the same way every time.
Big Momma's denial or lie:  Ummmmm, yeah...  Again, he's a boy.  If he was playing with Barbies, I'd be worried.

Reason 4)  Dayton chooses the dinosaurs over other toys because dinosaurs don't speak, so he doesn't have to.
Big Momma's denial or lie:  Seriously people!  Are you on crack?  For real?!  That means the rest of the boys out there playing with dinosaurs are autistic too!  Every boy I've met has played with dinosaurs!!!

Reason 5)  Dayton walks on his toes.
Big Momma's denial or lie:  yeah....  I got nothing for that one.  Maybe he wants to be a ballerina?  OK, so I agree, a little weird, but we can fix this.  Doesn't mean my babe's like 'Rain Man.'

Reason 6)  Dayton doesn't cry when you leave the room.
Big Momma's denial or lie:  I think that's freaking awesome!!!  I'm grateful he's not a big momma's boy!

Reason 7)  Dayton doesn't make good eye contact.
Big Momma's denial or lie:  Neither do I...  I'm working on it though.  Maybe he's a little shy like I am (NOT), but you know... that's what I mean, was I lying to myself or in denial?

Reason 8)  Dayton's play skills are delayed.
Big Momma's denial or lie:  Ummmm, hellllllooooo...  My babe's just under two years old!  How delayed could he possibly be:  a day or two?!  Get over yourselves!  Plus, that's my fault.  I don't know how to play, I was a single child too and had no one to play with.  I'll learn how to play and play with Dayton more often then.  I can fix this.

Reason 9)  Dayton eats the crayons instead of drawing with them.
Big Momma's denial or lie:  He's a toddler people!  Why does every parents ensure there's nothing for a toddler around the house for the child to choke on?  Because all kids stuff their mouths with something not edible...  That's how they explore, right?  Could that possibly be why most toys for older kids have a warning "Choking hazard, not for children under 3?"  Maybe he doesn't have an interest in drawing...  I know I don't.  I can hardly draw a stick man!

Reason 10)  Dayton can't hold a pencil or crayon properly in his hand.  His fine motor skills are lacking.
Big Momma's denial or lie:  Ummmmm....  he's not quite two years old...  Let's let the boy get some practice with this, shall we?  Let's let him grow up a bit and then worry...

MATC and finally got a diagnosis within two observations of my boy...  Very short observations revealed that Dayton in fact had PDD-NOS.  Finally, got the diagnosis, two months before his eighth birthday.  He was too old for ABA or Floor Time Therapies.  Lola came on strong and made me feel like the world's worst mother.  I'm gonna have to take Lola out back and shoot her.

So, for parents out there struggling with what professionals think of their kiddos, if some professional even whispers the word autism, LISTEN to them.  Put down your pride, shut up, take whatever therapy they want your little one to take and like Nike says, JUST DO IT.  A little play never hurt anyone, and if they're wrong, then all you've lost is a bit of time, during which your kiddo got to play with someone other than you.  Big deal.  But if they're right...  You've offered everything you possibly can to your child.  Don't let Lola into your life.  Her craaaaazy!!!

Warning:  denials and lying to yourself continues on way past the diagnosis...  It's happening to me as we speak as I sit back and wonder if I've just grounded my boy for his disability or if he truly deserves it.  Yup, Lola's sitting right beside me...


Consider yourselves hugged,

Lou

10 Reasons Not To Pi$$ Off An Autism Mamma Or Dedicated Daddy

I'm really tired of unsolicited advice from strangers, friends and family who think they could do better raising my child, aren't you?  Why can't they just mind their own beeswax and run along?  Sometimes their hearts are in the right place, but most of the time it's just showing off what they "know" about parenting, and trying to feel good about themselves while belittling us as parents.  My personal favourite is the time where my babe was having a stimming meltdown in the middle of the mall, and a man in his 40's walked up to me and asked me if I could "control my child."
"My 'child' has autism, what's your excuse?"

10.)  We are trained in verbal warfare.  We received our training first from the family members we no longer speak to (no need to get into whether or not they're still with us, you just need to know we've won), passed friends (no, this is not a spelling mistake, take it any way you like) then our children's daycares, then their schools.  After all that, our kids come home from school and teach us a few more words your neurotypical kids taught them...

9.)  We're on the alert for any moving target.  We're constantly evaluating and re-evaluating our surroundings, watching for you!  We're ready for you and your assaults, and we've heard them all before.  You don't honestly think you're going to be the first one to tell us there's something wrong with our kids do you?  No shit Sherlock!  Believe it or not, I thinks so too!  So does his school, his paediatrician, his speech pathologist, his child psychologist and family doctor!  Mind yer own beeswax laddy!  Get yer panties out of their bunch and move along!  'Cuz if you don't, I may 'ave to lay da smack down on your rootie poo candie a$$.

8.)  We are exhausted.  I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap as a child!  We've endured countless sleepless nights due to stress, depression and a kid who just won't go to sleep no matter how many Melatonin you give him.  How is this your problem?  Well, statistics show that lack of sleep can cause seizures, hallucinations, psychosis, etc... and if this is the case, no court of law will imprison us for whacking you aside the head for your stupidity.  Automatic temporary insanity.  Booyah!

7.)  We are fast.  I'm not kidding.  As I sat on my patio in the summer, I saw this kid running around outside with no clothes on and thought to myself "who's kid is that?"  Then it dawned on me...  THAT'S MY KID!  I learnt that day that I can run across our back yard, tackle the little monkey in five seconds flat, and dress the squirmy commando kiddo in two.  If I can tackle my super fast boy, trust me, I can get you too.

6.)   We are tenacious.  Popeye described YOU best:  "I've had all I can stands, I can't stands no more."  WE, on the other hand, don't have a choice.  We keep going and going and going and going like the Energizer Bunny.  Giving up is NOT an option.  So you see, we can out run you, out talk you, and beat you, to the very end.

5.)  Sarcasm and wit are our personal defence systems (well, definitely mine anyway) against drama, ignorance, whining and stupidity and we're (again, at least I'm ) not sorry for it.  "I've had all I can stands, I can't stands no more" applies to US in this circumstance.  You will most likely be told off in a way no man's been told off before...  You will learn new phrases you wish you hadn't.  Trust me, it's not gonna be pretty.

4.)  We're not like "normal" people.  Whatever that is...  We used to be.  I used to cry when people, including Dayton's school staff hurt my feelings or made me feel like a bad parent.  Not anymore.  Now I just get mad and don't care who I offend.  I remember when I wore nice clothes, you know, dress pants, dress shirt, leather this and that, pretty frilly things, jewellery, make up, nails...  I used to go out with my friends and barely stayed home.  Now I live in my yoga pants and tee shirts, no joke.  I wear yoga pants ALL THE TIME.  I don't think I even own a pair of jeans anymore...  Oh, wait... yes I do...  the dryer shrunk them...  And my friends?  Yeah, I left those behind as well as family members who had a "problem" with my son.  If you come over unannounced, there will be toys from one end of the house to the other, dishes in the sink, sticky table and counters, and laundry to be done.  Seems some people have a problem with that.  I used to be like that too, so I forgive you.  But if I have to chose between you and my son, or house work and my son, my son wins hands down.  So does his floor time play, which we do from 4pm to 6pm, have supper do homework and go to bed.  So you see, my time is limited.

3.)  We are strong.  I bet you've never seen a small guy have a fit of rage and know he could take you.  My lil'man was three years old, just had his adenoids removed and tubes placed in his ears.  I was told to enjoy my "quiet weekend."  When we got home, he got a little crazy, so I told him to go to his room.  Within three minutes, he tore his bedroom closet doors down...  big, huge heavy doors that took me half an hour to drag from his room to the basement laundry room.  But I did it, all by myself.  On the second thought, maybe I should let him take you on!

2.)  In case you haven't figured it out by this point of my post, we're already mad!  I mean mad cow mad.  Super rage about to burst from the seams kind of mad.  We're mad at God (yes, I know, how dare I?  What kind of a Christian am I?  Ummmm.... an honest one?!) for ripping us off, for not giving us a choice in what and how much we can handle.  We're mad at Him for giving our child autism.  We're mad at the doctors that didn't diagnose our kids early enough so we could get the help that they desperately need, because here in Winnipeg, there's so much bloody red tape to get through, I don't think even our beloved Premier Greg Selinger knows how to get through it, he certainly doesn't seem to know how to answer his phone.  I wonder if he can tie his own shoes?  We're mad at the educational system failing our kids, letting them fall through the cracks...  Do you really want to be the one who makes me go postal?  "Do you feel lucky punk?"

1.)  Let's just say that I (I mean we) are amazing and just leave it that.

Consider yourselves hugged,

Lou