recognition

We went to a Teddy Bear's Picnic birthday party yesterday. The Bean was one of the big kids (it was his friend's little sister's party) and he was happy to play and eat snacks and run around with the little ones and ignore the little ones and play with the big ones. Or simply eat snacks. And play by himself.

Not long after arriving another little guy was playing near me and within about 5 seconds I knew he was on the spectrum. He was making the same noise over and over again. He was flying a car around the perimeter of the back garden and he flew the car past my leg. 

I introduced myself.

He ignored me.

I smiled, asked his name.

He didn't look at me. I told him I thought his car was cool.

His mum buzzed in. Coached him to speak to me. Told me his name was O and then promptly removed him from my company.

Which was fine. I felt patronising and condescending and wise and knowledgable and knew that she was on the same path as me.

Later, when Pass the Parcel was beginning, O's seat got taken by another little girl. He lost it. He cried. He shouted. He pointed at the little girl. He cried some more. His mum was dealing with him in tears, had O's baby sister on her hip, seemed flustered and on edge and embarrassed and placating and stressed and embarrassed. I was down at the little people level and asked O's mum if I could help. I asked O if he'd like to sit next to The Bean. The Bean promptly told me that he didn't want to play Pass the Parcel and went to play on the verandah with some toys. I told O that he could go play with The Bean if he liked, but O wanted to play. O wanted his seat back. It was his seat. The mother of the other girl removed her child, to placate O, but to her own daughter's tears.

I sat down on the verandah with The Bean and told had a chat to him about O. I told him that O was maybe a little bit like him. I said 'You know, how you've got Asperger's. Well maybe O's brain works similar to yours.' The Bean just nodded, said, 'Yeah'.

But then I felt like a nightmare busy body, and apologised to the mother a few minutes later. I said I shouldn't have stepped in, I was trying to help as The Bean has similar outbursts sometimes but that it wasn't my business. I apologised.

She replied, instead, with gratitude for my intervention. She said she'd heard me speaking about being a teacher, assuming, I guess, that that was where my knowledge had come from. I think it's just learning since having a Bean.

We had a quick chat, O's mum was aware of the things that made O 'different' and the stress that he suffered. She was flustered in that she had O's baby sister as well. I told her The Bean had done similar things, that The Bean sometimes reacted in similar ways. We talked a bit more. I didn't tell her that The Bean has Asperger's. It didn't seem necessary. But then The Bean came past.

Looking for snacks.

I then coached The Bean. I introduced O and told The Bean that O liked trucks the same way that The Bean likes Angry Birds (at the moment). I whispered to The Bean that he could ask O about his favourite trucks. 

The Bean sat down, said hi to O, said his name was Harper. O's mum coached O on replying with the appropriate responses. The Bean asked O what his favourite truck was, O proceeded to do a demonstration of a monster truck around the garden. The Bean laughed. 

Later when O was awkwardly trying to join in on the football handballing, when he was hugging kids he didn't know, when The Bean was helping his friend's sister with her new present I saw, literally, in front of my eyes how far my Bean has come. 

He's still awkward with balls. He still can't ride a bike. He still needs his Mama to coach him on what to say when in social situations. But he's brave. He's hilarious. He joins in. He understands when I tell him as one of the big kids, he needs to look after the little kids. That's the responsibility of being older. We look after our friends and we help them. He cares when someone gets hurt (although he might awkwardly laugh at first, but, admittedly, I do that, too).

The Bean is eloquent even though he gets words mixed up. He uses 'infinity', 'definitely', 'ridiculous', 'conversation' and 'characters' correctly but he mixes up 'breakfast'. I know they're not tricky words, but he's six and even his vocabulary makes me proud. He doesn't really care how other people are, in the standard 'Hi, how are you?' convention. But when he asks me how my day was, un-coached, unprompted, I know he genuinely wants to know. When he remembers at night that I had something big or special or tricky to do that day, and he asks me how it went, I am filled with pride and heart sunshine.

And when he asks other kids about trucks because he knows they're a bit like him. When he genuinely tries to make them feel happy, despite the conventions and the expectations, but asking more questions about trucks. 

I just want to burst.


Things The Bean has said:

1. Playing with his friend at Ninna and Papa's house #1:
On the scooters.
*Crash*
TB - from down the footpath: I'm all right, I was just using too much super power.

2. Placebo's new album has been playing in my car, on repeat, for a couple of weeks. I do that... The Bean has been singing a couple of songs around the place, too.
Brian Molko (singing): Look me in the eyes, say that again...
TB: Mama, if he did get locked in the ice, he'd be frozen.

3. At a friend's for dinner.
H (TB's friend) was pointing out at his family and Me and TB whether or not we ate like birds or ate like horses. When he'd finished...
TB: Sometimes birds eat like horses, you know.

4. On the iPad
Me: Can you please turn Angry Birds down.
TB: It's on three.
Me: Can you turn it down to two for a minute, please?
TB: Three is also two, two plus one.

5. Remembering my motivations.
Me: I'm going to go to yoga and then I'm going to do reading with you guys at school.
TB: Is your brain sore?
Me: Huh? No.
TB: Is your brain jiggly? Is that why you need to go to yoga?
Me: Oh, no, babe. Nah, I'm fine, but it's good to do things for your body and your brain before they get sore.

6. After the 7476th conversation about Angry Birds for the week...
TB: How many more sleeps until Christmas?
Me - finger counting: 43
TB:Oh, that's not much, everyone can count to 43!

7. Before the birthday party yesterday.
TB: Dairmuhd and Z's teddy are similar.
Me: Yeah, they are similar. But their fur is a bit different and Dairmuhd has writing on his feet and I think that Z's teddy is a girl.
TB: Of course it is!
Me: How do you know?
TB: It wears pink sunglasses.
Me: hahaha
TB: And Dairmuhd's a boy 'cause he likes dinosaurs.

8. Grilling.
TB: What's this open for?
Me: I'm making you toasted cheese.
TB: No you said cheese on toast!!
Me: It's the same thing.
TB: No it isn't, I don't want my cheese all rusted!

9. Playing with his friend at Ninna and Papa's house #2.
TB - drawing a chalk butterfly for Hannah.
TB: Once upon a time there was a butterfly and her name was Hannah..

See why I just want to burst?

meltdown

The Jelly Bean doesn't really have that many melt downs. They are not as commonplace for us as they are for other spectrum related families that I know of, and for this I am grateful. Not that my experience or their experience is better or worse. But just that they are not the fun part of Autism. They hurt. Everyone involved.

I'm not sure if I've documented the Bean's previous super meltdowns, of which I can luckily count on less than one hand, but a meltdown is much more than a tantrum. It is usually more intense, it is beyond any control of the Bean and when in the old days some outside observer might say he was a spoiled brat that needs a good smack, I just try to breathe through it and calm him down.

The past two major meltdowns have been in relation to his environment. One when we were in Thailand in January, relating to the stability of a pontoon that he had to get on to and one a few months ago when a moth got into the car. Neither of these meltdowns were avoidable and neither of them were by 'choice'. He wasn't not getting his way and therefore 'chucking a wobbly', he was shitting his proverbial pants in all consuming fear.

Until today...

This year was the first year that we did Halloween. I'm not into it. It is all about, to me, in this society, about a consumption mind set that I'm trying every day to avoid. He can't eat the majority of the lollies anyway, as they are filled with additives that make him jiggle and crampy. The plastic, throw away decorations are not my scene and the individually wrapped treats are not good for the soul or the planet. 

That being said, two of the Bean's very close friends were doing Halloween. I'm very close friends with their mum. The Bean got dressed up as Beetlejuice (I had to have some say in the affair) and we went for a lovely Springtime evening walk and the kids had fun and we divided up the 'loot' and that was that.

Until today...

We were at an op shop. He wanted a plastic pumpkin shaped bucket for Trick or Treating next year. I called it.

It is not my thing.

I don't like plastic.

I said no.

And I continued to say no until we left the shop.

I didn't get any remnant fabric to make a beach tee pee out of for the summer.

I didn't get to try on the three summery dresses I had picked up as we walked in.

I said no.

Again.

He asked and asked and asked why?

I told him that he knew I didn't like plastic, that it would break, that he would maybe use it for two Halloweens and then he would be too big or it would be too broken and then if would go in the rubbish and live in the earth for the rest of forever and I didn't believe in that.

Most times he agrees with me on this.

Until today.

He tried to convince me. He promised he'd use the bucket until he was an old man. He promised he wouldn't let it get broken. He promised that this plastic would be fine. He wanted the bucket. He needed the bucket.

I said no.

And this time, I stuck to it.

He started to cry when I paid for a train book for him instead. He started to really cry. I took the bucket out of his hands and I gave it to the woman at the counter.

He started to scream.

We left the shop and he was screaming at me and he was balling his eyes out.

He hit me in the leg. I raised my eyebrows. I got scary calm. I asked him if we hit people.

He screamed at me some more.

I made him sit at the wall outside the shop, in the middle of the street while he screamed.

Not crying.

Screaming.

After an eternal couple of minutes I got him up and bought some lunch. He screamed in that shop, too.

He got in the car, hitting me again on the way.

But he ate.

He kept crying.

And I drove my car.

Scary calm.



Things The Bean has said:

1. Touching a skin bump thing on my calf.

TB: Can you feel this?
Me: Yeah
TB: What is it?
Me: I dunno, it's just a bump of skin. Ninna's got one on her leg, too.
TB: It's all pumped up. It's like leg flat bread.

2. 
Me: What have you been doing in the bathroom?
TB: Nothing.
Me: Go look at your face and your chest in the mirrir.
TB, walking off...
TB: I tried to wash it off!!!
Me: What is it?
TB: I dunno, your paint brush pencil thing.
Me: Where is it?
TB: Um... It was just here. 
Me: Did you put it back in the drawer?
TB: I think it might be down the sink.

3. 
Me: Take that ring off while you're in bed.
TB: Why?
Me: Because I don't want you to fiddle with it.
TB: I won't fiddle with it.
Me: You will. I just want you to fo to sleep.
TB: I won't fiddle with it, Mama. I don't even know what fiddle means.

4. 
Me: I've been thinking, maybe one day we could go on a big long adventure around Australia. For a whole year. And you could take your skateboard.
TB: And my scooter?
Me: And your scooter.
TB: And my bed.
Me: No, not your bed. We'll be camping or in a kombi van or something.
TB: When?
Me: I dunno, maybe in a year or two.
TB: How about the end of the week?

5.
TB: I feel like I'm in a different world when I do travelling.

6. After donating to the CFA shaky tin guys at the traffic lights.
TB: Why did we give them money?
Me - very long lecture about the importance of CFA volunteers and why they're awesome and what risks they take and how their families have to do things without them.. And on.. And on..
TB: And they need food to eat.
Me: They definitely need food to eat. And it's good to donate to people so they can be so helpful and brave.
TB: Yeah. And the CFA needs lots of hoses.

7. Aspie Insight #1?
TB: When I get confused, question marks just swim around my head.

8. Aspie Insight #2? - After a second plan came home with him.
Me: Why do you need another plan for when Mark comes over? Don't you like it when Mark is here?
TB: I love it when Mark comes over. 
Me: So why do you need another plan.
TB: This one will work. I need to stop being yucky to you.
Me: Thanks love. But do you know why you get silly and yucky?
TB: I get so excited and there's too much in my brain and my brain shrinks and plays with all the other brains and you and Mark are talking and I can't remember what you told me to do.

9. Aspie Insight #3? - Post Meltdown, Today.
Me: Are you ok to come with me to the green grocer now? Is your brain quiet and calm now.
TB: Yeah, it's asleep.

10. Aspie Insight #4? Tonight at bedtime.
TB: Do we have time to read a chapter from Charlotte's Web tonight?
Me: Nah, i think you just need to go to sleep, baby. When you have a big thing like what happened today, when you were crying and screaming, you need to have a big rest.
TB: Yeah. 
Me: Are you ok now?
TB: Yeah, when my brain gets like that, it's like there's lots of kids running around in my head and poking my brain and playing.
Me: Like when your brain shrinks and plays with the other brains.
TB: No, they poke my big brain.
Me: Really?
TB: Yeah, and when you say 'no' or something bad happens it makes my big brain crazy. And those kids poking my brain poke your brain, too, and they make you crazy.
Me: Yeah... Good night, Beano, I'll eat you up I love you, so.
TB: I'll eat you up I love you so.