I take it all* back. I am terrified.
Universe, please watch over and protect our bumbling, quirky, not-so-grown-up, growing up children as they head back into the fray.
Thanks and love,
Full Spectrum Mama
* http://fullspectrummama.blogspot.com/2015/08/middle-school-prayers-revisited.html
Showing posts with label asperger's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label asperger's. Show all posts
Sunday, August 30, 2015
Tuesday, August 12, 2014
HEAVEN
Robin Williams - who anecdotally was on the autism spectrum - was someone I've long seen as an Aspergian role model: someone I could point to for G as a person who was successful on his own terms, perhaps even because of his differences.
I was surprised by how sad and shocking I found his suicide.
I was one of many. A friend posted a recent-ish (2010) interview in the Guardian in which Williams' struggles to connect and succeed socially were striking. The interviewer stopped short of making fun of his accents, obsessions and tangents...but the undertone was perceptible.
Tonight at dinner, G began reading aloud in an exaggerated robot voice. I know people have told him he sounds like a robot. At that moment it hit me: perhaps Williams was using his multiplicity of voices as my son was using his robot voice -- essentially as an alternate or cover-up for his own quirky cadence.
I wish Robin Williams felt accepted and heard just as he was. I hope if he's in heaven it's a wildly, happily neurodiverse (and wildly, happily diverse diverse) place; I hope - if what happens is that we come back - that he comes back in a context that **unconditionally** accepts and celebrates him; I hope if this life was all there was for him that we learn from his pain.
I hope younger generations feel that their own quirky, heavenly voices are valid, worthwhile, beautiful. Because they are.
Love,
Full Spectrum Mama
I was surprised by how sad and shocking I found his suicide.
I was one of many. A friend posted a recent-ish (2010) interview in the Guardian in which Williams' struggles to connect and succeed socially were striking. The interviewer stopped short of making fun of his accents, obsessions and tangents...but the undertone was perceptible.
Tonight at dinner, G began reading aloud in an exaggerated robot voice. I know people have told him he sounds like a robot. At that moment it hit me: perhaps Williams was using his multiplicity of voices as my son was using his robot voice -- essentially as an alternate or cover-up for his own quirky cadence.
I wish Robin Williams felt accepted and heard just as he was. I hope if he's in heaven it's a wildly, happily neurodiverse (and wildly, happily diverse diverse) place; I hope - if what happens is that we come back - that he comes back in a context that **unconditionally** accepts and celebrates him; I hope if this life was all there was for him that we learn from his pain.
I hope younger generations feel that their own quirky, heavenly voices are valid, worthwhile, beautiful. Because they are.
Love,
Full Spectrum Mama
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
OH! THE ____ SCHOOL?
Pardner is a chef and recently texted me during dinner
service about a nice family that was at the restaurant. He said he’d been
observing them, from his open kitchen, and he thought the teenage son was “very
lovable” and “probably had asperger’s.” He mentioned that the kid had told the
server that he wanted to come back and visit the chef after dinner, and was
hoping that was okay with Chef. Pardner being a cheery and accommodating
fellow, it certainly was.
An hour or so later, Pardner texted me again. This time he
told me that the father of the teenager had turned out to be “a jerk.” When he
came home (late – argh), he told me more about what had happened. Apparently,
this Dad hadn’t let his son visit with Chef, and had been short with the
server. Somehow over the course of the meal, his personality had changed.
I was really surprised, but I was also sleepy.
In the morning, I asked for more detail. It turns out that
the server, a well-meaning and sweet person who has some experience with
children, had engaged this family in friendly conversation. When she found out
they were not local, she’d asked why they were in the area and they’d said they
were looking at schools.
“Oh!” she said. “The ____ School?”
The ___ School is a school for children with special needs.
“Well, there you go,” I said, feeling a little sick to my
stomach for that family.
“What?” retorted Pardner, completely dumbfounded and
baffled.
“You don’t even get it, do you?” I replied, nicely.
Shut the Front Door.
Imagine you are a family. Maybe you have a child who is
“different”…but you want that child to have every opportunity. So you take them
out to a fancy restaurant. Part of you, hypothetically, is praying that your
child is not disruptive in any way. Another part of you feels that your child
has as much right to be in a restaurant as anyone else. Part of you, again,
hypothetically speaking, celebrates your child EXACTLY AS HE OR SHE IS; another
part (probably much smaller but still there, okay?) desperately wants your
child to fit in, to be accepted, to be able to “pass.”
So you are eating your dinner. Maybe it’s been an intense
day with interviews, maybe with wondering if your child is “too different” or
“less different” than other kids at the potential school. Maybe you just want
to eat some ding dang dinner in peace. And your chipper, cute, 20-something
server just – out of the blue, basically; trying to be “compassionate,” or
“knowledgeable,” or whatever - busts
out with her “understanding” information.
Because, obviously, your child needs to go to the “Special”
school, right????
“Really?” Pardner asked, after I explained this to him
through my tears. I felt so bad for that poor father, and the kid, who’d been
pigeonholed, albeit by someone with nothing but good intentions. “Hmm. He
didn’t leave a very good tip.”
“See?” That was the final proof for me. Even though that
server had done her best vis-à-vis her actual job, and probably deserved the
great tip she usually would’ve gotten, her presumption had not served anybody
well.
Love,
Full Spectrum Mama
P.S. The ____ School is a fantabulous school. That's not the point.
P.P.S. Please also see "ON WRITING" for an update on this post!
P.S. The ____ School is a fantabulous school. That's not the point.
P.P.S. Please also see "ON WRITING" for an update on this post!
Monday, January 23, 2012
Full Spectrum Mama - II
Disclaimer: I am not a medical doctor, neurologist or psychiatrist. I am a Ph.D., but in sociology. This is all from my own speculation and observation. So let me explain a bit more about how I think this Full Spectrum makes sense.
One lens through which to observe this spectrum is that of relationships. Those in the “normal” area of this spectrum want to connect and are able to do so, more or less, on a “normal” level and in a more or less “normal” fashion. Those closer to the ends of this spectrum I have devised can seem less interested in connecting, while those somewhat closer to the “normal” center, such as those with mild attachment disorders or Asperger’s syndrome (please note: such labels are only acceptable and useful insofar they serve as tools for us, NEVER weapons) may connect in less-effective ways. Both of my children want very much to connect, but face major challenges in doing so in a healthy and successful fashion.
Z sees and knows everything. Within an instant. She is the ultimate skilled observer. She can read people better than anyone I know and determine pretty quickly what she can get out of them and how far she can push them. She is compelling, convincing...profoundly, brilliantly manipulative. She is always, always up to something or making a plan. One of my best friends calls this her “continual boundary-testing.” Being as she is – have I mentioned this? – incredibly cute, her acolytes are legion.
Figure 1: Z’s Art (at age 6)
Observe the precision and focus of this piece: Is there any doubt that this child will one day be the ruler of the known universe? Or at least that in +/- 6 years she will be demanding to know why I dragged her away from China to this third-world, second-rate country?
She connects, for sure– relentlessly! What she wants includes total attention at all times and possession of all potentially desirable, valuable or edible items in her vicinity. She will do whatever it takes to obtain these items. Why? I think partly because she didn’t get to make the connections she needed in the first year of her life. She self-soothes through control. My job is to set firm boundaries for her so that she feels safe – and can spend her energy on other things!
Figure 2: G’s Art (at age 6)
This is entitled, “The Evil Robot.” Note the friendly smile.
G, having had the luxury of having all his needs met from birth, and being of a naturally unacquisitive nature, is deeply uncalculating. He would give someone he just met his most precious possession. And it is surprising how many people (to be fair, more children than adults) are willing to take a precious possession, when offered with a smile and very detailed description (“This is my dual-deck-super-nature-power-booster-deck! I made it for you with grass- and steel-type Pokemon! The top card has multiple moves to take down all opponents! Especially evolved water-types!”). Eager to make friends, he throws himself into every interaction at the top of his voice and with all conversational options – emphasis on Pokemon and Legos -- on the table. He is almost entirely unable to read social cues that are more subtle than a sledgehammer. So boundaries are equally important for G so that he can act within the bounds of “acceptable” human interaction and actually Be safe.
As I have mentioned, these two, being so different, need two completely different parents in one: a Full Spectrum of parenting. At the same time, and parents of all sorts I know you feel me, it often also seems that each needs the entire parenting capacity of at least one parent just to get through the average day. Luckily, Full Spectrum Mama is occasionally up to this mighty task! Though not always.
For example, picture us at the grocery store. If Full Spectrum Mama’s attention lags from her children a little too long, say, while in the produce aisle dreaming of gourmet meals that are probably not going to happen, the scenario might look like this: here is G, extending his hand and introducing himself to some eye-rolling fellow ten-year old, “Hi! My name is [full name]! I like Pokemon and Legos!” And here is dear little Z, stuffing those gross, orange-flavored Tums into her pocket. See, it looks like candy and Z doesn’t yet read, despite being a total genius. Her considerable mental prowess is mostly devoted to her adorable kindergarten domination project.
I keep a vigilant eye on these two…except when I don’t. Then I see the eye-rolling ten-year old turning around and sneering and mimicking G’s slightly-off cadence to his smirking ten-year old companions. Then Full Spectrum Mama marches over, using incredibly good judgment, and tells those kids they are “Cruel and I hope some day someone treats you like that so you can see how it feels!” Meanwhile G – who, thankfully and let’s admit, characteristically, has not noticed any part of this sordid exchange – has gotten lost an aisle away and is calling, very loudly, “Mamaaaaa!!!!!”
Later, at home, I catch Z with the Tums and, after a lengthy exchange (in which the victor is unclear), get her to fess up. I try to handle it in what seems to be the best way by returning to the store and offering to pay for the Tums with Z in hand. Z, with the most sullen, flat expression imaginable, refuses to speak to the clerk – who, of course, thinks she is just the most adorable girl child ever, which she is -- and throws a marathon tantrum that lasts well into the night.
Well, I needed those Tums anyway!
Love,
Full Spectrum Mama
One lens through which to observe this spectrum is that of relationships. Those in the “normal” area of this spectrum want to connect and are able to do so, more or less, on a “normal” level and in a more or less “normal” fashion. Those closer to the ends of this spectrum I have devised can seem less interested in connecting, while those somewhat closer to the “normal” center, such as those with mild attachment disorders or Asperger’s syndrome (please note: such labels are only acceptable and useful insofar they serve as tools for us, NEVER weapons) may connect in less-effective ways. Both of my children want very much to connect, but face major challenges in doing so in a healthy and successful fashion.
Z sees and knows everything. Within an instant. She is the ultimate skilled observer. She can read people better than anyone I know and determine pretty quickly what she can get out of them and how far she can push them. She is compelling, convincing...profoundly, brilliantly manipulative. She is always, always up to something or making a plan. One of my best friends calls this her “continual boundary-testing.” Being as she is – have I mentioned this? – incredibly cute, her acolytes are legion.
Figure 1: Z’s Art (at age 6)
Observe the precision and focus of this piece: Is there any doubt that this child will one day be the ruler of the known universe? Or at least that in +/- 6 years she will be demanding to know why I dragged her away from China to this third-world, second-rate country?
She connects, for sure– relentlessly! What she wants includes total attention at all times and possession of all potentially desirable, valuable or edible items in her vicinity. She will do whatever it takes to obtain these items. Why? I think partly because she didn’t get to make the connections she needed in the first year of her life. She self-soothes through control. My job is to set firm boundaries for her so that she feels safe – and can spend her energy on other things!
Figure 2: G’s Art (at age 6)
This is entitled, “The Evil Robot.” Note the friendly smile.
G, having had the luxury of having all his needs met from birth, and being of a naturally unacquisitive nature, is deeply uncalculating. He would give someone he just met his most precious possession. And it is surprising how many people (to be fair, more children than adults) are willing to take a precious possession, when offered with a smile and very detailed description (“This is my dual-deck-super-nature-power-booster-deck! I made it for you with grass- and steel-type Pokemon! The top card has multiple moves to take down all opponents! Especially evolved water-types!”). Eager to make friends, he throws himself into every interaction at the top of his voice and with all conversational options – emphasis on Pokemon and Legos -- on the table. He is almost entirely unable to read social cues that are more subtle than a sledgehammer. So boundaries are equally important for G so that he can act within the bounds of “acceptable” human interaction and actually Be safe.
As I have mentioned, these two, being so different, need two completely different parents in one: a Full Spectrum of parenting. At the same time, and parents of all sorts I know you feel me, it often also seems that each needs the entire parenting capacity of at least one parent just to get through the average day. Luckily, Full Spectrum Mama is occasionally up to this mighty task! Though not always.
For example, picture us at the grocery store. If Full Spectrum Mama’s attention lags from her children a little too long, say, while in the produce aisle dreaming of gourmet meals that are probably not going to happen, the scenario might look like this: here is G, extending his hand and introducing himself to some eye-rolling fellow ten-year old, “Hi! My name is [full name]! I like Pokemon and Legos!” And here is dear little Z, stuffing those gross, orange-flavored Tums into her pocket. See, it looks like candy and Z doesn’t yet read, despite being a total genius. Her considerable mental prowess is mostly devoted to her adorable kindergarten domination project.
I keep a vigilant eye on these two…except when I don’t. Then I see the eye-rolling ten-year old turning around and sneering and mimicking G’s slightly-off cadence to his smirking ten-year old companions. Then Full Spectrum Mama marches over, using incredibly good judgment, and tells those kids they are “Cruel and I hope some day someone treats you like that so you can see how it feels!” Meanwhile G – who, thankfully and let’s admit, characteristically, has not noticed any part of this sordid exchange – has gotten lost an aisle away and is calling, very loudly, “Mamaaaaa!!!!!”
Later, at home, I catch Z with the Tums and, after a lengthy exchange (in which the victor is unclear), get her to fess up. I try to handle it in what seems to be the best way by returning to the store and offering to pay for the Tums with Z in hand. Z, with the most sullen, flat expression imaginable, refuses to speak to the clerk – who, of course, thinks she is just the most adorable girl child ever, which she is -- and throws a marathon tantrum that lasts well into the night.
Well, I needed those Tums anyway!
Love,
Full Spectrum Mama
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