Who Picks up the Slack for Me?

A dear friend of mine asked me to post this for her as she felt unable to risk posting it herself. Can any of you relate? Can you help? Or even just comment to let her know someone else in this crazy world we live in, gets it.

Image from visualizeus

I recently saw John Elder Robison (author of ‘Look me in the Eyes’ and ‘Be Different’) speak. He was brilliant and inspiring. At the end of the discussion they had a question time and there was a lady in the front row who asked, “I am a wife of someone with Aspergers and my question to you is how does your wife stay married to you?” 

This sounds incredibly shocking doesn’t it? And for a moment I gasped and then I realised that John took no offence to it what so ever. In fact he answered that she did not stay married to him, but he found another wife who did. He answered that for their marriage (the second and current marriage) his wife has a high emotional capacity where his is low and he has the high logic capacity and hers is not as high, so they are a good match. Also that she does not expect things of him that he cannot give, she knows his limitations and they have open communication, she doesn’t get cross at him for things that he ‘should’ know. He expressed regret that he couldn’t help this lady more in his answer and mentioned that he is asked that question often from women all over the world.


I sat there all inspired about how awesome Aspergers is and thought to myself, “yep, that’s so true. Don’t expect things, you need to be specific and ask for them”. Feeling all smug I drove home.


I have a son who was diagnosed with Aspergers nearly 3 years ago... he is 8 now. My husband as a child was diagnosed with ADD but since receiving my sons diagnosis we have figured that perhaps that was wrong and we strongly suspect that he too has Aspergers. I think that the best way to describe the ways in which his ASD (or ADD officially) affect him is that he expects things to be done ‘his’ way. He thinks something and says something and expects that instantly you will understand and agree. There is no grey area, if I have not heard properly or the question is not said explicitly enough for me to understand and I ask for clarification I am met with exasperation! Things are meant to be done a certain way, to do them other ways is met with great frustration.


Rules... not written in stone nor a poster on the wall but rules written in the fabric of his life which we need to comply with. Internal focus, incredibly intrinsic focus. I will stand and listen to a discussion for 10 minutes about something in particular that has happened or of interest...then I start talking and at times he just walks off, or he interrupts or changes the subject. So I stopped talking. Then I am in the wrong for I do not share, I do not discuss things with him.


Questions are asked in statements which come across at times incredibly harshly.”Didn’t you get milk today?” instead of “Did you get milk?” When I point out the different ways these two sentences make me feel I am questioned as to what the difference is? Why should he ask if I got milk when it is obvious I didn’t because there isn’t any there! My thought to that is (it used to be the answer but then the argument following and exasperation at my not understanding his logic and point of view is not worth the time) ‘why even make the statement then if you can see that there is no milk!’


His mother is from the old school of doing absolutely everything for her family. Everything. I admire the loveliness of her home and the way in which she brought them up securely and comfortably with beautiful food on the table each night. I do not admire the fact that her son had developed a preconceived notion that that is the way things should be done for him for the rest of his life (a notion which she told me I had an obligation to do for her son... we haven’t talked much since that day). We married young and despite my voicing the fact that I did not grow up in a house where the woman did everything and therefore would expect him to do things around the house etc, my words obviously fell on deaf ears. Or did not fit his preconceived rules about the role of a wife and mother.


Standing in the kitchen he will say, “just look at this place! It is such a bloody mess!” and then he will turn on his heels and walk out of the room. His plate has in the last year been transported from the table to the bench after dinner (after much nagging to change the before behaviour of simply leaving it there and walking away). I could push and nag to get dishes done, but more times than not the banging and crashing of the plates and cutlery as he does it either smashes one (and it is never his doing, always a cause of the dish or the way I had stacked them) as he expresses his disgust at doing them in much the same way my 6 year old expresses his disgust at packing up his toys! It is not worth the hassle.


The world owes him much. I owe him much and it is my job to make sure that all of our worlds just keep on flowing and ebbing along nice and smoothly. I do all the sports runs and therapy and school runs... I also work. Anything to do with the kids... I do. I am not bitter about this, I love my kids more than anything else and would do anything for them. I love my husband too... but I am not sure how much longer I can be all of their alls.


You see I am diagnosed with depression and have recently had an increase in my meds which has caused a decrease in my coping skills! Clearly there is something in me reacting to them and I am seeing my therapist to discuss it today, hopefully if I change meds I will regain some control... control... which has at times over the last few weeks been completely void in my life. I cannot cope with the day to day. I get through the things that need to be done and then am too exhausted to deal with the things that should be done and well need to be done but if no one is coming over then they can wait.


Dishes, washing, sweeping, vacuuming... housework.


My husband knows of my depression and downward spiral and yet other than trying very hard to regulate himself so that he doesn’t say too many negative things to me he has done little else.


This morning I went to pay for my daughters swimming program through school. The note had been lost under the car seat and we had not paid the deposit for it. She cannot go as a result of this, it is too late. I got to the car and drove off past the school before the tears began to fall. By the time I pulled in the driveway at home I was sobbing. My toddler asked me if I needed to wipe my face and I answered "yes I do honey." My friend is coming here in about an hour and a half to watch my toddler as I go to the therapist and my house is a complete disgrace. I stood at the bench, barely seeing through my tears and feeling like a complete and utter failure and the thought popped into my head...


Who picks up the slack for me when my world is completely falling apart?


That smug version of me, agreeing with John Elder Robison that day and the advice he gave to the wife of a husband with Aspergers, is currently living somewhere else.
Right here, right now I am her best friend, her carbon copy and I am wondering... how do I keep doing this? How do I keep taking the constant negativity, managing meltdowns from all the children and my partner, always trying to do and be everything because it is easier doing that than putting up with the arguments or discussions about it? To leave him feels like a betrayal as he cannot help the way he behaves... but then I think of the therapy I am doing with our son and wonder why it is that he is unwilling to try? If his son can then why can’t he? But to leave feels just as hard as to stay.


Are you married to someone with Aspergers? Are you that lady on that day wondering, how do I stay married in this situation? Do you understand?



on behalf of a friend.

I Had To Have The Sex Talk With My Son And I Lived to Tell About It

I had “The Talk” with my son. We both survived, barely. He is twelve now, and I know what you’re thinking: WHY are you just now having this discussion with him? Do you live under a rock? Don’t you know what kids are capable of getting into these days? Do you want your kid to be a statistic?

Believe me, I get it. But you have to understand…I have tried to have The Talk with my son before this, many times. Each time, he politely rebuffed me.

My son has High-Functioning Autism. It is as the name implies. Some professionals call it Asperger’s Syndrome. It means he has trouble with social cues, reading body language, some processing problems as well as trouble controlling his impulses, like anger. He is easily embarrased, so it didn’t surprise me that he did not want to discuss his burgeoning sexuality with his mother. This is the kid who hides his eyes if I take him with me to mall and we happen to pass the lingerie store. There have been no shortage of attempts on my part to usher him into the ways of the world. He always swore he was not interested.

So when I found that he had been googling, “penis” and “breasts” I figured, protest though he may, it was time. I am a smart woman. I have safe search on, so he didn’t find anything except Wikipedia pages…no trauma. I get that kids, boys in particular, can be curious. I am just thankful that no damage was done! And I am also grateful that I have enough technical savvy to know how to lock down the computers!

So, how do you talk with your son about something you both find highly embarrassing without losing your mind? The answer, it seems, is just do it. Do not make a big deal about it.

Five Ways to Discuss The Subject Without Wanting to Run and Hide

1. Be as matter-of-fact as you can. Lay out the information without a lot of emotion, as though you were tutoring someone who speaks a different language. We are talking autism here. That is, after all, what you are doing.

2. Refrain from idioms, editorializing, and heavy opinion. All of these will be ignored by a kid with autism. He probably won’t get most of them, anyway. It is easy to get “on a roll” and end up losing the kid halfway through the process.

3. Don’t bother asking, “Do you understand?” He probably won’t admit it either way. Just lay out the information as best you can. If you are good at reading your child, you can elaborate if need be.

4. This is a good time to explain society’s views on women, respect, pornography…just try to do it without making the kid feel belittled. Did I like that my son googled body parts? NO. Did I tell him I don’t want him to do it anymore? YES. Did I make him feel like a bad person? Absolutely not. Kids need guidance, and that’s what I gave him.

5. Refrain from what I call “Aesoping” even though it is very satisfying as a parent. This is basically when you say, “I told you so!” Kids learn from their experiences. You can certainly point out the learning, but don’t rub their nose in it. That only serves to make you feel bigger than he is. One-upping a child doesn’t make us better, it makes us bullies. And with a kid with autism, it makes him shut down.

Don’t get the wrong idea. I’m no Pollyanna. It’s not all roses and sunshine around here. I was floored when I found out my son had been …exploring google. It wasn’t easy. But instead of making it about me, and my parenting, and what I am doing right or wrong, I made it about my son. Having a child going through puberty is difficult. I can only hope I have set the groundwork for my son, and that if he does have questions later he can ask instead of looking in all the wrong places for answers.

All in all, it was a painless process for us both. But I have to admit: I am very glad that I only have one son! Somehow, talking to the girls is just so much easier.

Tina has two children on the Spectrum and one who is a quirky teen. Autism Sucks is her brainchild. She also blogs at her personal blog, Send Chocolate Now.

It Clicked

It clicked today. Not that it hasn't before. There have been huge steps, then a step back, then forward, then two steps back. That's autism for you.

But today, the pieces fell into place. She's been struggling to learn to read for a while now. Lately, she's been working even harder on her speech homework and reading simple books. Fat cat. Hot dog. She's read Dick and Jane, and recently discovered that Poppy, our Newfoundland, is the perfect reading buddy. She's become more interested in books, and loves to be read to (though she has loved that for a while).

Today, we sat, waiting for my band class to start. I brought along the book I'd been reading aloud. In it, a group of teenage girls learned to read for the first time. The main character, a smaller girl who felt young and unimportant compared to her peers (hm, sound familiar?) was teaching her older sister to read. On a whim, I pointed to a word.

"I bet you know this word." She recognized it as one of her sight words. "She." She knew the next word as well. "Would." Carefully, she sounded out the rest of the words in the sentence. I helped her sound out the harder words, ecstatic. Later that afternoon, she read an entire page out of the book, with help.

We ended up going to the bookstore that evening. I don't think I'll ever forget the look on her face as she looked at the chapter books and realized that she could read the words inside. Suddenly, it wasn't something that her peers could do that she couldn't. It wasn't something to be afraid of, or pretend she didn't want to do. She could read. She skipped back to the car with her book, and once home, ran around the house singing "I can read!" She wanted to read everything: labels on packages, words from the book, even a birthday card that was on my nightstand. She read me an entire book, Leo the Late Bloomer, about a tiger who couldn't read or write when everyone else could. It was all I could do not to cry. She said later that there were words everywhere and now she could read them. She jumped up and down, still singing, and went to read to Poppy.

When she came back in, she chattered rapidly about anything and everything: the characters in the book, how she felt left out with her friends, how she had friends who moved and others who weren't friends anymore, how she wanted to be like me (yeah, I know. No pressure) and how she was so excited she could read. I wished I could hug her and tell her it would be okay, that it wouldn't be hard. All I could do was hug her and tell her I knew exactly how she felt, how even now I didn't feel like my peers (Prom? Meh. Dating? Triple meh.) It surprised me, definitely. She's very quiet and doesn't usually talk about her feelings, let alone deep, dark fears and insecurities. I wish I had the words to make it better. All I can do is be there for her, ready with hugs and a listening ear (since it would probably be frowned upon to try to knock some sense into nine and ten year old girls). Even with everything she told me, I feel like she has a newfound confidence. As we told her, a whole world has been opened up to her. Later, finishing the book, we ran across yet another thing she could relate to.

"I keep thinking about a tale my nurse used to read me about a bird whose wings are pinned to the ground. Have you heard it? In the end, when he finally frees himself, he flies so high he becomes a star. My nurse said the story was about how we all have something that keeps us down."

Today it clicked. And I know it's just the beginning and it doesn't mean everything is perfect, but I'm finally seeing my baby sister fly and I think it's the best feeling in the world.

JBug is the oldest daughter of Tina, and big sister to two (mostly wonderful) siblings.

Photo via Flickr, quote via Princess Academy by Shannon Hale

How Do I Explain It to Her?

She's almost ten, and she doesn't understand. Why is she different? Why does she still love and need her stuffed animals? Why isn't she interested in boys, or Miley Cyrus or Ke$ha (shudder) or makeup or Abercrombie & Fitch? (not that I would buy her clothes there...ever!) Why is it so hard for her to read? Do math? Talk quietly?

Why do her cousins tease her for things she cannot control?

She's almost ten, and she doesn't understand. Why is it so hard for her to control her frustration, disappointment, anger? Why does she clam up when she gets really upset? Why do her words fail her? Why does she see a speech therapist, reading tutor and feel so "little" (her words,not mine).

She wants to be a big kid. She wants to do the things they do. Sleepovers, going to the movies with friends. After all, she's almost ten. She watches Nickelodeon and the Disney Channel, and though I explain until I am blue, blue, blue in the face that those kids are fictional, their life is not reality, she still aches. For what she doesn't have. Maybe won't ever have.

She's small. She still wears dresses almost always, and has since she was a toddler. It's just what she likes. But she wants to be older, and look her age. She needs help to brush her hair, hates to take a bath. Her self-care skills still need...coaxing.

She's almost ten, and she doesn't understand. Why autism? Why her?

I can't explain it to her. I wish I could. I am in my forties.

And I still don't understand.

Tina blogs here, and at Send Chocolate Now. Autism Sucks is her brainchild. Want to write? email her! autismsucksblog, just add gmail.com

The Guilt of Good

I haven't posted here in a long time. It is because I feel guilty posting when things are good. They are. Good, really good. He is happy, he is confident. The powerful pull of personal growth has changed from a puberty monstrosity to a pleasing maturity. Was it the increase in fish oil capsules (his idea)? Was it the stepping up as we battled the system with his Nanna? Was it the loss of his Nanna? I do not know.

I think all those years of therapy and work may have had something to do with it. I think he is growing up. I think he is happy in his own skin.

I feel guilty posting of this when so many others are struggling. Then I remember. This is not wrong, it is not boasting, it is hope.

Things do change. Sometimes for the better. Usually when you least expect it.

also blogs at Meaninless Meandering from a Madmother

The Second Son

I have a child, a beautiful child. He has only just turned eleven and has been the funny, smart light of my life in the darkest hours. His compassion for his brother has been amazing, as has his tolerance. Until now.

This morning we are rushing to an emergency psych consultation for my second son. Not my first born Aspie, but my youngest... the one that was meant to be easier, happier, less troubled. We are having a tough time lately, my Mum is very sick, our business has suffered and teetered on the brink of closure due to the financial crisis, my oldest is hitting puberty, and I, myself, am experiencing the start of menopause. Whilst the family has been tested I can honestly say the love has not wavered. But maybe the attention has.

He is angry, seriously angry. Boiling over at the most minute things, hairbreath temper trigger. He is threatening to kill himself, and others. He tried to impale a ruler into his larynx a school, he makes threatening gestures to his friends, and at a birthday party this last weekend he told them all he was going to buy a gun and kill them all... and himself.

The really scary part is that he takes no ownership of this anger, these threats. It is always someone else's fault for not doing what he wants, for causing his reaction. We are at a loss, the school is concerned and powerless, friends shake their heads in disbelief.

I am pinning my hopes on this professional man and his history of helping my sons. If he cannot then I do not know where to turn, or what to do. I am scared. Really scared.

This was meant to be my easy child...

CHILD FOR SALE... CHILD FOR SALE...

Now you lot would be racing in here thinking, "Oh my, she's finally lived up to her name and totally lost it. She's giving up her Boy..."  Well, no actually. I could just have well titled this one Organs for Cash, or Lottery Win Needed. Or:

This week we finally had our appointment with the Paediatric Psychiatrist. Yep, the one we teed up three months back. He insisted I have an appointment too. Things he ran through would have taken me ten minutes to fill out on a form. Then Boy 1 is met and spoken too. Surface stuff, though he notices some of the mannerisms, stims and quirks.

We walk out. To pay $490 for the pleasure. Yep. $245 for me + $245 for Boy. Yes, we get a lot of it back via Medicare, but I still cannot help but resent the extra appointment. If there had been a valid purpose/reason, great. But I am not there for revenue raising mate, really not impressed. Makes me question the ethics of someone, and that makes me question if I want them to treat my child. Not feeling positive about this one, that's for sure.

Better run out back to water the tree. Think we are gonna need it.


also blogs over at Meaninless Meandering from a Madmother, and 3 other blogs. Loves her boys to infinity and beyond.

Bragfest...

For those who do not follow my main blog, which I linked to my writing blog, on which I posted 12 year old Boy 1's narrative piece... go HERE , BUT ONLY IF YOU WANT TO. And you know you do. Truly.

Yes, I am very proud of him, and a little shell-shocked.



, very proud mother of Boy 1 aged twelve.

Really Not Good

As some of you who follow my main blog Meaninless Meandering from a Madmother would have seen that yesterday was not a good day, and had started with a not good night. What I neglected (chose not to) mention over there was the incident which triggered the bad night.

I am married to the calmest, most patient man in the universe, Big Boy. All along this autism journey we have been on exactly the same page with our children, agreeing on our methods, making sure Boy 2 does not suffer due to having an older sibling with ASD, believing in the ability of our oldest to grow into a functioning, happy adult. Well, most days anyway. But everybody has a breaking point.

The night before last Big Boy was helping/supervising both boys with their homework. And for the first time in over a decade, he lost his temper and screamed at our children. Not yelled, screamed. Now I am the loud, scream at them person in this relationship. I am the you get your arse moving NOW ranter. They are used to me and my Madmother ways, and usually respond quickly knowing Mummy has reached THAT point where we cannot push her buttons any further and we'll fall into line as if the last thrity minutes of ignoring/whining/arguing/cheekiness had never happened.

 I do think they deserved it. There are times they take full advantage of their placid Dad, and can be downright disrespectful. They just chose the wrong time this time. He is tired, stressed from work, unwell. He had had enough. And he blew.

Don't get me wrong, he did not yell abuse, it was more along the lines of "Enough! You both need to start showing some respect as I'm trying to help you here. This is not MY homework, it is yours and either you stop arguing and start appreciating me being here, or else you can just struggle through by yourselves..." But screamed at top volume of his grown man voice.

The problem is they did not expect it. The issue is that it truly scared them. The sad thing is that it pulled the emotional rug out from under their feet. Boy 1 was devastated, and did not stop shaking and sobbing for the next three hours. Boy 2 was saying "I'm numb. Is it normal to feel nothing? I cannot feel anything..." I am sure he was in shock.

I held them and tried to calm and reassure them both, but it meant a very late night and two boys who would not sleep without Mum lying close. Which is why I ended up on the floor, cold and stiff at 1am in the morning.

My poor, poor boys. All three of them.

How Embarrassment...

For those of you either too young to remember or not of Australian shores, the title refers to the catch phrase of a 1980's icon: Kylie Mole. It was then passed onto another Aussie idol: Effie from Acropolis Now. Google if you don't know...

Boy 1 is not happy. He is reaching THAT age where the hormones are taking over and thoughts are confused. His psych recommended we provide him some factual sex education material, before things went right off the rails.

We had (under his guidance) purchased two books for this very purpose: Secret Boys' Business (Fay Angelo, Heather Pritchard and Rose Stewart) and Making Sense of Sex (Sarah Attwood). When presented with both of these a year or so ago, Boy 1 looked at the covers (being a visual boy), blushed and walked away saying: "Oh no, those are too rude for me!"

Now it was time to try again. He read the first, under protest, and then only because I pulled the old Dr U said you have to card. We then asked him if he had any questions? Blushing, determined not to meet our gazes, he looked down at his shoes, and shook his head vigorously to the negative.

Last Thursday came and so did his appointment with his psych.

When asked by Dr U about his thoughts on the book and its contents... Well, I don't think this will last, but I have to admit to chuckling under my breath when I heard him say in consternation:

"Well, the whole thing is pretty disturbing really."

I'll definitely be storing that phrase in the mind vault for pulling out to use in later years, lol.

is a manic blogger at four blogs. The main two are her general ramblings and her derby blog. Oh, and she is mother to Aspie Boy 1(12&1/2) and Smart-arse Boy 2 (11 in a month).

Free Advice

I want one of those shirts that say, "Parenting advice not welcome unless you too have a child with autism." No, actually, I want a neon sign! I am fed-up with the self-proclaimed experts who have endless streams of advice about my child. One mother of three, jumps on my case about not getting my child out enough. She knows a child with autism who goes out every day. Out, in this case meaning to crowded places like malls and parades and the local pool.

It turns out, the child she "knows" (who is a teenagaer, NOT a two year old)goes to the donut shop with his mother every day. The child comes in, orders his donut and leaves. Sounds to me it might be some sort of social therapy.This same helpful mother also claims that if my child was surrounded by children every day, he would "get used to it." Right. The children she speaks of are her three boys. They are cute kids but they fight violently with one anoher constantly. I'm talking rolling on the floor all out brawls! They do not have autism. They are just underdisciplined. They climb on tables (yes the dining room table too), they yell at their mother and they have even slapped her.

This woman knows my plight. I am a 47 year old adoptive mother of an autistic child. My 57 year old husband has severe COPD and is beginning to exhibit signs of eary alzheimers. I am in the house 24/7 x 365. I go out to take my child to his doctor or to group. I also go food shopping. Where ever I go, my child comes with me. So, he does get out. Other than that I am at home. I get no 5 minute break other than when both take naps. I have lost all my friends. Who wants to be with someone so boring? So, any way, my husband recently started having some serious issues with his COPD. This wonderful woman offered to babysit so I could go to the hospital with him. Didn't she show up with her three children and a friend. Well, needles to say, my husband again had to go alone.

My body feels like it has been put through a ringer. I am tired and so stressed out. My patience are wearing very thin. I am telling people I love to F off! Funny thing, people still come to me with their problems. I used to care. Now, I am too burnt out. I cannot get respite, I can't afford what sitters charge. This is it for me for a long time to come. I just hope that when my husband passes, I will have found some way to be there for him. That is, if the aloneness of this whole situation doesn't kill me first.

Ah, The Holidays and Other Traditional Stuff...

Comin' to my safe haven to vent without the peering, searching, judging eyes. We are on holidays. As WE all know, this is not quite the happy family experience of others. Change is not easy. Being out of even our not-so-strict routine is not easy.

It has been lovely but difficult. The worst bit though has been the catching -up-with-friends-for-meals. Otherwise known as the traditional breaking of bread with friends. We tried it once with HIS godmother. She is wonderful, understanding, and has a boy in between my two. And still doesn't get the FOOD issues...

"You said he eats steak, we have steak..."
Yeah, but it is when it is cooked by HIS Dad, in a kitchen, and even then if there is any dark bits or chewy bits... aah, no.

Then we had dinner with a friend two nights ago. She is very understanding. Her brother has schizophrenia, she lived it. So when he refused to eat the spaghetti bol because it had "too much oregano...", she was amazing. But I was stressed to the max.

SO, at the last leg of our holiday, when I knew limits were getting way beyond stretched, when we had a two or more hour drive there and then another two or more hour drive to here, where we are spending the night, I refused A MEAL with friends... Well, I had really good reasons. I think.

Sadly, because of this they bailed. Even sadder, she is an aide for ASD kids. And my second child's Godmother. We still planned on a couple of hours catch up, just no food involved. Easier, happier, less stressful for all. But somewhere, somehow wires were crossed, or messages mixed, or maybe they just felt we were not doing the right thing by refusing lunch or dinner.

For us it was not a choice, it was the only way we could go without total meltdown. Him and me.

God, this is hard. And impossible to explain to anyone who does not live it.

who rants elsewhere. Frequently.

It is Our Life...

Reading a blog, and a post about the stresses of a mum, I was struck by a comment she made:
"And then I look around me and see how I don't have it anywhere near as bad as some others. And I think I should be grateful that he is healthy, (overly) verbal, mainstream schooled, intelligent, capable, wonderful, loving, helpful and all the other good things that make him who he is .. and I am grateful."  Read here.

It makes me think of a conversation I had with a friend a while back. It was during a very bad time with Boy 1, and I was at my wit's end. And so I talked to a friend.
MM: "I do not know what to do to help him, I am so worried about what he will do."
GF: "Look, I'll tell you something that will help you feel better. Our really good friends have a three week old baby after trying to conceive for years. Sadly, he has a serious heart issue and has to have surgery tomorrow. The risks are high and he may not survive it, but without the op he will die within the next few weeks.
MM: "And why would that make me feel better?"
GF: "There is always someone worse off than you, and it makes your problems seem less in comparison?"
MM: "It is sad, yes. BUT that is NOT MY son, and NOT MY life. It does not lessen what we are going through or help in any positive way. It comes down to what you live with, not what you hear."


We should never have to justify our pain/worries/concerns, or belittle their magnitude in OUR lives. Everybody knows there is always someone worse off than you (and wouldn't it suck to be the one with the WORST life on earth?), but that in no way relates to the emotions of our own lives.


So don't say sorry, or qualify the bad times, we get it. And we are here to listen, not judge.

blogs/rants over at Meaninless Meandering from a Madmother and is wife to Big Boy, mother to Boy 1 (Aspie) and Boy 2 (smart-arse), and daughter to Wise Woman.

Happy Mother's Day To Some Amazing Women!

As they kick and scream, we hold them.

As they face adversity, we fight for them.

As they get older, we hope for them.

As they are, we love them.

We are mothers.

We are fantastic, wonderful, incredibly strong women who are as flawed as the next human, but are as resilient as rock and as rebounding as rubber. We may fall but we always get up and will be by our children's sides as long as we can draw breath.

is also found randomly rambling at her other blogs.

School Blues

This is so very hard. I sit here at just after 3 am in the morning unable to sleep for worry. He is unravelling before my eyes. Two horrific days at school, and Monday was a holiday. I bumped into his teacher yesterday at the local shops, but knew it had been a bad one. Any day when his friend meets you at the gate in tears because she fears he will run away as he threatened is a bad one. The workload is horrific. Three major assignments this week, and the usual homework on top of that. This is Grade 6, for hell's sake... not high school. Others are suffering too, but they do not place the enormous amount of pressure to achieve on themselves he does. The perfectionist, always craving the A's, never accepting less.
His teacher told me a parent has complained about him, and the disruption he is causing. I can understand their concerns, but what the hell are we meant to do? He loves his school and is terrified he may be asked to leave, and yet he cannot seem to control this upsurge of emotion. I think it is time we asked about medication to help with the anxiety, for none of the tools he has are of any use.

I am being tough on him, hard on him, pushing him to use all he has learned over the years to help himself, but am I making it worse? Should now be the time to tread lightly, or will he use that to let go off the little grip he has left?

I do not know how to help my child. I think we are all going to break. God help us.

A , lost and bewildered in the wee hours.

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Tina is the creator and head chick in charge around here at Autism Sucks. If you want to write, just ask! Her personal blog is Send Chocolate Now, because when you have kids with autism, life is survivable, but it takes chocolate.

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Guilt

Guilt:
1. a. The fact of being responsible for the commission of an offense.
b. Law The fact of having been found to have violated a criminal law; legal culpability.

c. Responsibility for a mistake or error.

2. a. Remorseful awareness of having done something wrong.

b. Self-reproach for supposed inadequacy or wrongdoing.


And then there is Mother's GUILT. An altogether far more powerful and irrational emotion. Mother's Guilt means we take on every let down and disappointment in our children's lives as our own. Mother's Guilt (MG) amplifies our feelings of inadequacy and makes us question our judgement. Mother's Guilt is responsible for our self recrimination and our feelings of blame and well, guilt, for our children's issues.


I doubt there is a mother alive who has not questioned herself or uttered those words to herself: "Did I do something to cause this?"


And as strong as we feel at times, there will always be times when the old MG kicks back in and we worry about our choices, our family unit, and especially our different kids.


I am drowning in the sea of Mother's Guilt at the moment. With Boy 1 hitting the terrifying section of the ASD rollercoaster track known as puberty we are facing a whole new set of challenges previously unseen. With me hitting peri-menopause Mother's Guilt takes on a whole new dimension and removes the calm anchor my firstborn relies on during the storms.


Put into the equation a younger Boy 2, only nineteen months behind Boy 1, bearing the brunt of all this emotional turmoil from both directions, plus being chastised at school for things well beyond his control such as arriving late after a horror Boy 1 morning...


And I am drowning in Mother's Guilt. 


Really should not have read "House Rules" by Jodi Picoult whilst in this vulnerable frame of mind. Put into words all my fears for both my children.

also writes at four other blogs including Meaninless Meandering From a Madmother

At least there was cake

I started reading this blog when I first learned that autism sucks. Which was about 3 months before my son, nicknamed Moe, was finally diagnosed. That was almost a year ago. It still sucks.

This weekend we had my daughter's first birthday party. I couldn't stand the thought of more people invading my home (10 therapists a week is enough, thank you), so we had the party at Gymboree. I thought it would be fun and involve no work. I though that Moe would have a good time too. He's into climbing everything right now so that would be good. And he used to love it there when he was a baby and we had time to do things other than therapy.

Well, guess what? Autism sucks because it is unpredictable. Moe had a major meltdown the moment we stepped in the door. Fortunately, none of the other guests had arrived and he calmed down in a few minutes. He spent his time on the outside, bouncing on the trampoline in the corner or running around the edges with a juice box. Didn't even participate when it was time for bubbles or the parachute. For a while he obsessed over the drinking fountain until he couldn't find anyone to pick him up anymore. He exhausted his grandparents who were kind enough to chase him around the room so my husband and I could spend a little time with our daughter who is going to be one year old and deserved a day all to herself. So we could watch her eat her first bite of cake.

We call her Jelly Belly. She doesn't have a lot of friends of her own. We know a lot of people Moe's age, leftover from the playdates we used to be able to attend. They came, and some of them have baby brothers and sisters now, so they came too. Family and old friends came and there was a nice crowd. But any time the group gets together, I'm reminded of how different he is and we are. I'm reminded how much I love three year olds and how they talk and how they follow each other around the room in packs, looking already like teenagers. I'm reminded of how I've been robbed of that time with my little boy.

I'm reminded of how much autism sucks.

Jen writes about life with a baby girl and an almost three year old son with autism on her personal blog, Anybody Want a Peanut? She also really loves cake, something she and Moe have in common. You can follow her on twitter, @wantapeanut.

It'll Get Easier?

When the boys were first diagnosed, people kept telling me, “It'll get easier as they get older.” Obviously, those people had never raised autistic boys.

I am a single parent. I have twins, one high functioning and one low functioning. My low functioning son has run me through the gamit – last year we discovered he is an eloper, after jumping the fence and being found on the 91 freeway. He also jumped his grandparent's fence and was found on the Los Alamitos Army reserve Base. Now 13, he is in the middle of adolescence and has discovered masturbation. Yes, this is one topic where there is no help out there, on the internet or from doctors. People don't want to talk about it, but if you have a low functioning child who is not developed enough to ejaculate, he will pee, and pee everywhere. Behavioral therapists tell us to do social stories, which he memorizes but doesn't generalize. You can't take his reinforcer away – it's built in. We try to tell him that shower time is the time he can do that – the kid takes 20 – 30 minute showers now. Lucky kid - I'm lucky if I get 5 minutes. In fact, this morning, while I was taking that 5 minute shower, he did it again and peed all over the floor. The doctor is raising his prozac dosage, but doesn't have hopes that it will calm his behavior – it might make a 50 year old man less interested, but it's doubtful it will have that effect on a 13 year old boy. But we will try, because at this point, we will try anything. He mainly does this at night, when everyone is asleep, so there's no chance at redirecting his behavior. He will play with himself, then pee over the side of the bed, down the wall, and onto the floor. I discovered this when his room began to smell, but I couldn't find anything obvious – his bed is a loft bed against the wall, and there are baskets of toys and things under it. Only when I got down on the floor did I discover that there was a veritable flood of pee, the carpet was soaked beyond ruin, and the hardwood floors underneath were beginning to get moldy.

As they boys get older, I find myself wishing that just for a day, I had typical kids, and if that wasn't possible, wishing that everyone else had low functioning autistic kids, just so they'd really know what I go through.

written by a mom who wishes to remain anonymous, based on subject matter

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World Autism Awareness Day.

Here in the land of Oz, the sun has risen on World Autism Awareness Day. Also known as Good Friday. A happy Easter to all, and may your awetism filled lives be happy and full of love and joy.

otherwise known as Tanya is an Aussie blogaholic. She has four blogs of her own, but can be mainly found randomly rambling at Meaninless Meandering from a Madmother. A mother of two boys, her oldest son, now 12, has Asperger Syndrome.