I have been bested by Minecraft.

It's no secret our new thing in this house is Minecraft.  We held out as long as we could but we finally caved at Christmas.  Santa brought the kids Minecraft.  It was quite a letdown because all we could wrap was an envelope with the authorization code that needed to be entered into the computer to get the game started.  Once they figured it out though they took the envelope and ran with it.

They Ran.

We never saw them for the rest of Christmas.  Come to think of it, we saw very little of them in January, February and most of March.

Since then, we've been up to our armpits in Minecraft.  Every single thing in this house revolves around it.

And that, right there, is the rub.

We've had to find a happy middle ground where the kids are not plugged into the computer all day and life's passing them by.  They, on the other hand, would love to do nothing more than fight zombies and creepers, download mods and watch YouTube videos.

Truth be told, Minecraft is just one little part of the Total Minecraft Immersion.  You have mods, seeds, whole new worlds and maps.  All of them have to be thoroughly researched and examined on the iPad and then you chose which ones you want to download.

And you have not lived Minecraft till you've lived through the videos.  Oh dear God the videos.  They are a thing unto themselves.

We started off with these prepubescent teens, screaming, yelling and cussing every other word.  They would blow up sheep and use TNT and nuke whole damn worlds.  My kids were enjoying it a bit too much so that lasted less than two seconds in this house.

Then we found Mr. Paul.  He's the new man in our lives.  He's practically been living with us since right after Christmas.  His real name is Paul Sores Jr, and I can't tell you the number of night's I've spent with Mr. Paul, waiting for my own husband to come home.

He does the Minecraft videos in a nice, calm manner and he's downright easy on the ears.  That may not seem to be a big deal but when you are listening to these things for hours on end sometimes, voice quality becomes very important.  Trust me on this.

It got so bad at one point, I called the kids to come up and eat dinner.  They wolfed their food down in seconds. SECONDS.  Then, before I had had a chance to sit down to eat my dinner, I was being asked, "Mom, can I go back downstairs?  Can I, please?!?"  I brushed it off figuring if I ignored the question, I could at least get a little something to eat.

I was wrong.

"MOM, can I go back down stairs?!?"  Alex asked almost frantic, pacing, having to have an answer right that very second.

"Guys, I need something to eat.  Please look around you and put your dishes away.  Just give me a minute, would you?"

Well that wasn't even out of my mouth before my cute little kids with absolutely no gross and fine motor skills, found it within themselves to scoop up their dishes, round the bend of the island, turf the dishes into the sink, round the other bend of the island and with the dexterity of a skilled surgeon, set the microwave timer.

All in under ten seconds flat.

I remember standing there thinking, "What in the fuck just happened?  Jesus, I don't think I've ever seen them move that fast, Alex was almost fluid, even.  I could really use this Minecraft thing to my advantage."

And then it dawned on me, "Hey, why did you guys set the timer?"

"Well mom, you said to give you a minute.  I'm giving you exactly one minute.  Well, you now have forty-six seconds."  

So I stood there looking at my older two kids, all of us looking at each other, a three way stare down, going back and forth from looking at them to the microwave timer and back.  I never knew how excruciatingly long a minute, or forty-six seconds, could be until you're in a stare down with your two kids and the microwave.

DING!

And just like that, my older two ran like they had flaming fireballs on their heels, down the steps to the computers, back to Minecraft.  One of them ran around the corner, overshot it and smack-landed in the other side of the wall.  They righted themselves and kept right on going.  I could hear them in excited voices, "Hey lets see if we can get new saddles to ride the pigs!"

Gracie and I stood there looking at each other, wondering what in the hell just happened.

I stood there trying to figure out why in the hell a pig needed a saddle.

And that is one day in our life, living with Minecraft.

And I still don't know why a pig needs a saddle.  I did find out you have to have a carrot though.

Siri is my new BFF

We have homework issues, we have them bad.  By the time Alex gets home from school, he's exhausted, his mind is taxed and he desperately needs a break.  When he gets home I quickly put some food in front of him and let him decompress.  He immediately goes downstairs to his new love:  Minecraft.

MINECRAFT

It is our new thing but it's a whole other post.  Trust me, it's a whole other post.

So anyway, by the time I can get him settled down from school we have to work on homework.  But it's hard.  School takes a lot out of him and most days we do what he can and we leave it at that.

One part of his homework is doing research for each state, a weekly assignment called Spell Across America.  It's the bane of our existence.  He needs to gather information for a particular state and each week the state changes.  He needs things like: the current population, the state bird, state nickname, who the current Governor is and all sorts of other boring and inconsequential material.

He can't stand it.

I can't stand it.

Each week has been horrible.  For both of us.

For him, I've tried bribery, candy, extra Minecraft time, staying up a few minutes later and skipping showers.

For me, I've tried drinking a little, then a lot, meditation, deep breathing, cursing under my breath, counting to ten, then twenty, walking away and coming back.

Nothings worked.  For either of us.

Trying to sit down at the computer and researching each state has been an exercise in futility.  Every time I get an, "Uggghhh....this is soooo BORING.  Why do I have to do this?  If I really want to know this stuff, I'll just look it up when I need it.  Uggggghhhhh......"

And I have to tell him, "You have to do some homework, you have to at least try.  You don't have the plan.  Your teachers and I have the plan.  We expect you to learn about each state.  Don't you want to know about Ohio, where I grew up?"

"Uggggh, Mom, I highly doubt Ohio is that much different than Kansas."  

Damn it the kids right, Ohio and Kansas pretty much suck equally.  "OK, fair enough.  Lets just get this done."

Look, a  pile of pads!

And then one day I was watching him with the i-pad and he was laughing his ass off.  I mean, the kid was literally laughing his ass off.  Snorting, giggling, rolling around on the floor, the works.  I thought he was going to puke from all the laughing. 

And I watched, I just watched...

"Siri, what is the state population of Arkansas?"

"The state population of Arkansas is approximately 2,673,400."

"GAHAHAHA, snort, Oh My God this is awesome!"  More laughing, snorting, rolling around on the floor.  

"Siri, what is the state bird of Arkansas?"

"The state bird of Arkansas is the mockingbird."

"Aghahahgahaha!!!  Oh My God, this is so awesome....SO AWESOME."  Again, more laughing, snorting, rolling around on the floor.

"Siri, what is the state nickname of Arkansas?"

"The state nickname of Arkansas is The Natural State."

"OMG, OMG, OMG, this is awesome!  SO AWESOME!"  More laughing, snorting and rolling around.

Siri was doing his homework.  He was getting Siri to look up his homework and he was writing down the answers as fast as he could.  For the first time since September he was doing his homework and laughing.

He was laughing.

It was unmitigated joy.

No way in hell I was getting in the middle of that.


Note:  I've talked to his teacher and we've worked out an arrangement so that he can use Siri, in moderation.  The key for us is that he does what he can, within his capabilities.  His teachers this year really get him and for that I am grateful.   

I blame it on the root-beer floats.

Last week was a hard week for us.  Filled with meltdowns, angst, and general anxiety, it wasn't one of our better weeks.  Alex had a party in the classroom on Friday, and in hindsight, I suspect all things were leading up to that party.  I kinda sorta knew it, but couldn't wrap my brain around all he was going through.

Suffice it to say, there were too many changes in one day, too much anxiety leading up to Friday, to the party that afternoon.  Long story short, one of the things that put him over the edge was that they were having root-beer floats for the class party.  I didn't know that till we were home that evening and talking.

"Hey hon, how'd the party go?"  I asked, knowing my answer was going to be the shortest one possible....

"OK."

"Well, did you eat something?  Don't you usually have some kind of snack at these parties?"  I knew it was a pretty safe question and one he can easily answer.  It's a straight out fact, so he does OK.

"Mom, they had root-beer floats but I didn't have any.  I was very disappointed in the teachers and the other students.  They were drinking root-beer but I didn't have any.  I didn't think you'd want me to have it.  Mom, they were drinking beer," he whispered, like he was letting their secret out.

He was upset.  He was near tears, exhausted and worn out.  He didn't have a meltdown, he just was defeated, confused.

After a long day, this is what broke me---seeing him that exhausted, the literal thinking and all the anxiety that came with misunderstanding.  He thought it was real beer.  No one told him, they just assumed he knew....now I'm not assigning blame or fault.  I don't think there is any.  Alex is not one to articulate much so I suspect he kept it to himself and when they asked if he wanted any, he just declined.  

I did send in a note to school letting them know what happened and later that night, I explained what root-beer was and how it's good with ice cream.  That it's really not beer and its OK to drink.  

We settled in for the weekend, stuck to our routine and slowly things turned around.  We watched the rain fall, watched the lightening and counted till we heard thunder and made a few of his favorite meals.

And later I asked, "Hey, do you want to try a root-beer float?"  He looked at me, flashed a smile and said, "Ugggh, mom, you know I don't like carbonation.  It makes me throw up."

This time?  He knew what root-beer was.


Note:  Today is Alex's birthday, he will be nine.  I can't believe how fast time has gone!  I'm going to be busy making brownies with chocolate icing, hanging the Happy Birthday sign but no streamers and wrapping the exact Lego's he's wanted, and seen, so there will be no surprises.  Hopefully, it will be exactly the way he wants it.  

I talked to a bunch of third graders...and I liked it.

I went into school the other day to talk to Alex's class about Autism.  Nothing instills fear in me as much as talking to a small hoard of third graders.  Kids---they are unpredictable, they are young and for the most part, they say what's on their mind.

They scare me.

Earlier in the year we had an incident where Alex was bullied and that spurred the question of, "What do the kids know about Autism?  Do they know anything?  Do they even know he has it?"  The answers came back as no, no and no.  The kids knew nothing.

I though that maybe if they knew something, heck anything, there may be some compassion.  They may have some understanding of why he does what he does and maybe with understanding would come some form of acceptance.    

I'll be the first to tell you, I worked with our school to do this.  Our teachers are great and in some ways I am really blessed.  They get it.  They get Alex.  They get me and they are willing to work with the things I suggest.

I had a PowerPoint presentation and from that presentation, I made a book for each child in Alex's class.  I wanted each one of them to have something to bring home so their parents could see what we went over in class.  Truth be told, I did it in the hopes that the parents would know what I talked about, and maybe just maybe, there would be further discussion at home.

A thing of beauty.  

Anyway, it turned out to be really interesting.  And enlightening.  For all of us.  The kids were really interested.  The teacher had told the students on Monday I would be coming in, later in the week, and asked if they had any questions about Autism.  None of the kids new a stitch.  They wanted to know things like:

• Can I catch it?
• How do you get it?
• What is it and where does it come from?

So when I went in last week, we had the presentation on the White Board.  They use this all the time in class and its basically a computer screen on a white board (imagine that) on the wall.  The kids all sat around in a circle eating their snacks and before I could even start a boy asked, "What is it?"

I was nervous, scared and worried.  Alex had elected to stay and listen and I was scared to death he would be upset or have a meltdown.  

"Well, my name is Mrs. Cole and I'm Alex's mom.  I'm here to talk a little bit about Autism.  You all had some really good questions for your teacher earlier in the week.  I guess you should know that the reason why I'm here talking to you about Autism is because Alex has Autism.  Did you guys know that?"

I was met with wide eyes and blank stares and a few kids chomping their Doritos's.  Alex was quiet.  He was in the back of the class and his para was next to him, keeping a close eye on him.    

"So you had questions about how do you get Autism and if you can catch it.  Those are really good questions..."

Still, twenty-three sets of eyes, all wide open, all with blank stares, looking right at me.  It was like looking down the barrel of a gun.

"A person is born with Autism.  You can't catch it.  You just have it.  It's like you have brown eyes or blond hair.  You have what you were born with.  When a person is born with Autism, it means their brain is a little different.  Its just the way a person is born.  So just like your hair or eye color, you're born with it.  It's not good or bad, its just different."

"Let me ask you guys a question, do you guys know the gaming devices, what are they Nintendo and PlayStation??"

They all started talking at once.  I think at first they wondered how an old person like me would even know about Nintendo or PlayStation.  Either way, you would have thought I told them Halloween was in twenty minutes.

They all started talking, "Oh My God, yeah!  We have those at home!  Do you know we have both?!?  You can't play them with each other....my dad says its a conspiracy."  No lie, that's what one kid said.  It was perfect.

All the kids were talking about which games they liked to play and which ones were better....

"Well yeah, OK, lets go back to those two kinds of games.  They both have different operating systems.  They are the same but different, right?  And like the brain, you can't see those differences, they are on the inside, right?  Just like the operating systems of the games---the differences are on the inside."

I had them thinking.  They were really quite and pondering.  The Doritos's were left off to the side of a criss-crossed applesauce set of legs.

"Well, lets say our brains are like those operating systems.  Lets say for this class you all have brains with a Nintendo Operating System, OK?  And let's say that Alex's brain, his brain, he has a PlayStation Operating System.  You guys following?"

Now a lot of heads were nodding up and down and there were a few hushed, "Ohhh's."

"So what that means is this, when your brain receives information from the world, lets say right now--me talking, the lawnmower outside, the hum of the computer, the rattling of your snack bags, all of it---your brain processes it with a Nintendo operating system.  Well, Alex's brain takes all that same information---me talking, the lawnmower outside, the hum of the computer, the rattling of your snack bags, all of it---he processes all that same information....but with a PlayStation operating system.  Ya still with me?"

I had twenty-three nodding heads and dead silence.  I could tell they were getting it, they were totally getting it.

"So what that means is....you all process information one way, and he processes that same information a different way.  It's not wrong, its not bad, its just different."

A hand went up.  "Is that why Alex uses headsets?"

It was like the floodgates had opened.  "Yeah, is that why he wears those things???  Can we see them?  Is that why he wiggles?  And shakes?  And leaves the class sometimes?  Hey, can we try the headsets?"

The kids knew.  They knew he was different, they always have.  They just didn't know why.  And they were afraid to ask, you could see it on their faces as plain as day.  All this time---they knew.

"Yeah, that's it.  His brain processes things differently from you so he responds differently.  So when you see him wiggle or.....you know how he pulls his shirt up over his mouth sometimes?"  And I had the kids.  They all looked around and were a bit uncomfortable here---Alex pulls his shirt up over his face as a stim.  The kids got it, they understood it.  They knew it was weird, it was different, it was kinda sorta not right.  They all knew it but they didn't know what to do or if it was even OK to ask why he does what he does.

"Well with Autism, sometimes the brain can get overloaded.  When that happens he needs a break.  That's when he leaves.  He goes down to the OT room and takes a break.  It gives his brain time to catch up with his body.  He's not in trouble or anything.  His body and brain just need a little extra time to catch up with everyone else."

And that, hands down, was the start of a the best time I've ever spent in the classroom.

I went through why he does what he does and how they can help.  How to be a friend, what to do with him and what not to do.  And that sometimes being a friend is work but in the end it would be worth it.

The whole time I kept my eye on Alex.  I was so worried about how he felt, about what I was saying.  I was outing him.

To be clear:  I asked him before I even agreed to talk to the class if he was OK with it.  I asked if he wanted me to do it and he agreed.  He wanted me to come in and talk to the class, he just didn't want to be there.  At the last minute, that morning, he changed his mind and we all agreed that we would keep to his wishes.  We would do what he wanted to do.  This was not about us.  This was about us helping him and if he was not happy with that, or uncomfortable in any way, then the deal was off.

The amazing part was?  As soon as the kids asked to see his headsets, Alex piped up from the back of the classroom, "You wanna see them?  That would be awesome!  Let me show you how they work...."  He worked his way from the back of the room to the center, with his headsets, and started showing them to the other kids.  And he smiled, a big happy smile.

And in that moment I found hope.

I found hope.

A story about autism and being different from Lizbethcole29

Things we did that worked:

• We respected what Alex wanted, every step of the way.  
• The teacher asked the students questions about what they knew, and didn't know, about Autism a few days prior to me coming in.  I worked those questions into the presentation. 
• I did a PowerPoint so the kids had something to look at.
• The PowerPoint was turned into school prior to me coming in so they knew what was going to be discussed.  No surprises.  
• A booklet, made directly from the PowerPoint, that went home with each child so their parents could see what we talked about.
• Using the comparison of a Nintendo Operating System to a PlayStation Operating System to define the differences in their brains.  For whatever reason, they totally understood what I was saying.  
• We kept it short.  The whole thing lasted 25 minutes, tops. 
• I could not have done this without our teachers and their support and understanding.  

I did forget to mention---around slide 13, where I talk about making friends, I went over "Social Rules" and how they are very difficult to understand.  That with Autism, he often needs help understanding what those rules really are.  It can be anything from standing in line, to playing a game of tag, to getting food from the cafeteria.  That all the rules they understand and just 'get' they are difficult for him.  I tied that back in to the areas where they can help.   

So that's it, I hope in some small way this helps if you are going into the classroom.

That poor juice box didn't stand a chance.

So the other day after school we were driving and I gave Alex a juice box.  This has been our first week of school and I've unloaded our calender.  I've cancelled everything except one activity so that he can come home and decompress.  School's hard on any kid, add Autism and lets just say this week's been a bit stressful.

Today was the day he completely freaked out.  Self combusted, lost his lid, whatever.  He melted down over a frigging juice box.  In the car.

From the back seat I hear all sorts of sputtering and gagging.  Oh Shit.

Apparently I had the wrong kind of juice box.  I deviated from our normal brand of juice and he noticed.  Fuuuuuuck.

"Mom, MOM!!!  I can not drink from this juice box.  I simply can not ingest juice that is 66% juice and 34% inert material."  He's in the back seat of the car, holding on to the offending juice box, flapping and gagging.  Juice going everywhere.

"OK, well hon I'm trying to drive here.  Just put the juice box down and I'll take a look at it when we get out.  Listen.  Listen to me.  ALEX, listen.  I need you to listen with your ears."

I get an exasperated, "What?" from the back seat and a, "No, mom, NO.  I can not simply put the box down.  We're in the car.  Where am I supposed to put it?  I don't want it near me.  I can't have it near me.  I drank some of it.  Mom, I think I'm gonna to puke."

Now if you want to get my attention fast, say those three magic words, I'm gonna puke.  Nothing gets a reaction out of me faster.  There are very few things in this world I well and truly despise and puke is one of them.

"OK, get the bucket if you have to but I tell you what.  I'm not cleaning your puke this time.  New rule.  If you make yourself puke, you clean it."  If I had a dime for the number of times I've cleaned puke in our car, house, pool, where ever, I'd be a bloody millionaire by now.  Or if Alex did the math, I'd have at least, $31.20.  Whatever.

We have an old bucket/Tupperware container in the back seat for this very reason. We moved from a bucket to Tupperware because of the lid factor.  If you've ever sat in a car with puke, you'll know how vital a lid can be.  Trust me.  

Exhibit A.  

"What?!?  I can't clean my own puke.  Mom, THAT'S DISGUSTING!"

"Oh yeah?!?  Well how do you think I feel every time you puke?  Do you think I like cleaning your puke?  No, I most certainly do not.  I think it's disgusting too."

"Well, if I can't puke, now what?  I drank it, I may die. Now what?  I'M GONNA DIE."  He's writhing in the back seat, I'm watching juice fly everywhere, still trying to drive, and thanking Good God All Mighty that the straps on his car seat are holding.

"No, you are not going to die.  No one has ever died from drinking juice.  If people died from drinking juice, don't you think the juice industry would be out of business by now?"

That got him, totally got him off of thinking about his juice induced death, he was thinking, thinking.  And he was calming down.  Just that quickly, he'd calmed back down.

"Well,  Mom.  People can die from drinking water, you know.  There is something called 'water intoxication' and people die from drinking too much water."  He's telling me this, juice forgotten.  Sure, he's flicking his wrists and still worked up, but he was coming back.

From the rear view mirror, I can see the juice has been launched to the floor of the car.  He was looking out the window, still thinking.  Quiet.

The rest of the ride was in silence.  I turned off the DVD player and we just drove.  I kept looking back at him.  He was deep in thought and I just let him be.

When we got to where we were going, Alex asked, "Mom, when we get to group, can I throw the juice in the garbage can?  And next time?  You need to remember the right kind of juice box.  I'm very disappointed in you right now."

Juice box, you are dead to me.  

I watched as the threw the juice into the garbage.  I gave him a squeeze and whispered,  "I promise to buy the right kind of juice next time.  And I'm proud of you, you didn't puke."

He gave me a sigh, a big exasperated sigh, and just that quickly he wiggled away from me.

Don't worry, there's no way in hell I'm going to be buying the wrong kind of juice box any time soon.  Anyone want a case of Fruitopia?

And so it begins...

So we came back from our quick trip, which you totally know I'm going to post on, but right now we're looking down the barrel of the gun called SCHOOL.

We had our annual IEP/meet the new teacher meeting a day or so ago and I'm nervously optimistic.  Every year, our school does this big thing where you gate rush the main doors of the school at 4:30PM.  That's when they post the student/teacher list for the year.  Right after that, everyone goes into school and spends time meeting the teacher, sorting through their school supplies and generally getting to know everyone.

This has always been a mess for Alex.  Let me rephrase that, it's what I call:  A Cluster-fuck of Epic Proportions.

To go into school with every single student, with parents and siblings in tow, is meltdown producing.  To go late in the afternoon is mind blowing.  And to not know what's going?  It makes him sick to his stomach.  Add all the excitement, the bustle, the noise and pushing and shoving and its all too much.  

Our school works very closely with us and for that I am grateful.  I know the teachers took out time from their day to help us, to help Alex.  To those teachers that are like mine--thank you.

We no longer do the massive meet and greet at 4:30PM.  We have a separate meeting a few days before.  I take Alex in to school and he gets to spend about 1/2 hour or so with his new teacher.  They sort out school supplies and they figure out where things go.  He gets to see his desk, where he's sitting and what the classroom looks like.  He finds his cubby, puts his supplies away and this is a big one---he gets to see the classroom schedule.

We just had our meeting for this upcoming year.

His teacher went over some of what they are going to learn this year and you could literally see him take it all in.  "Mom, we're going to learn cursive!  We're going to learn how to write in cursive!  Quick mom, where's my pencil?"

It was quiet.  It was calm.  He was nervous and he stimmed.  He sized up his new teacher and they nervously chatted.  He met his other teachers as well---he has three new teachers this year, so for us, this year is already one of tremendous change.

The first day of school was yesterday.
So far, so good.

He did so well meeting his teachers.  So incredibly well.  Sure, he stimmed and he was anxious and nervous beyond belief but he was also excited.

Excited.

And I'm hanging on to that excitement.  I have a feeling it will wear off sooner than we all expect and we'll be dealing with sensory overload and meltdowns but for right now I'm excited with him too.

Wish us luck.