Sunday, April 29, 2012
Saturday, April 28, 2012
What if he didn’t have enough money in his budget to get what he wants?
I’d like to sit on the bed next to him before he falls asleep and tell him what he did that day that was really great and what he did that could he work on, and have it mean something. Have an impact. A real heart-to-heart. A tête-à-tête. A meeting of the minds, as it were.
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
|Yeah, that's me. Except I was foaming at the mouth.|
I was like a Chihuahua Macchiato
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Tuesday, April 24, 2012
During the bad years, Conor would wake up in the middle of the night and be aggressive. I don't have much to say about that (not thinking about that, la la la la), but worrying that your older son is going to attack your younger son in the middle of the night isn't conducive to a good night's sleep. Just ask your doctor.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Here, I drew it for you. I call it The Jugglenast: combination Juggler and Gymnast--
And then to try to climb down off the balance beam, pick up the dropped ball (juggling all the while), and climbing back up again? Damn near impossible. No, dropping a ball isn't an option, I suppose.
I'll just have to keep juggling harder.
Friday, April 20, 2012
Wednesday, April 18, 2012
Many times, Conor's tantrums begin with a lot of perseverations about an obsessive topic. (Perseveration is the "repetition of a particular response, such as a word, phrase, or gesture, despite the absence or cessation of a stimulus, usually caused by brain injury or other organic disorder".
Yeah, organic disorder. And all this time I thought organic was supposed to be good for you.)
Anyhoo, you can be obsessive about something and not talk about it all the time... Conor.
(Right? Right? Right?) Denying the obsessive request or ignoring the perseveration can lead to tantrums, like the one he had on Saturday night.
Ok, I didn't say it like that (obviously), but I did say no to the request and the firestorm ensued. (Yes, I know, supermoms, that this request sounds sweet and nice and generous, and oh, isn't that so cute that he has a girl he likes, he wants to make a mix tape for her but trust me. We've been down that road before and it ain't pretty. I'll explain why at a later time.)
So... I was supposed to put together this social story to explain the changes to Conor but I was too busy jet-setting about the planet with Brad and Angie and the explosion happened before I got my act together. (Designed by Carol Gray in 1991, social stories are short stories "written or tailored to an autistic individual to help them understand and behave appropriately in social situations." We use them to explain things that will happen as well, so technically, they're not truly "social stories." Just a story, I guess.)
I emailed our behaviorist about the tantrum amidst my tears, and she asked me back about the social story. Oh, yeah. That. Um, I did kind of maybe sort of say I would put the social story together perhaps maybe? You know, after Brad and Angie and the kids left?
Anyway, I finished the social story and I thought that I would share it with you. It's pretty self-explanatory. Conor will sit down with an adult and read through it once or twice a day to really cement the message. It will be coupled with the new protocol and token board (taking out the old iTouch-specific token board).
This, of course, does not change the behavior protocol and token boards that specifically address the aggressive and self-injurious behavior. Oh, good golly, no, wouldn't want to mess with that, no sir.
Sorry, you might want to get your reading glasses out. Couldn't make them any bigger with my cheap scanner. Conor's behaviorist on the NBU created a template for the stories, and I just change the text and the characters.
Monday, April 16, 2012
kicking hitting biting pinching punching eye gouging head banging scratching property destruction disrobing eloping
Here's just a quick taste of what it felt like. You wanna play rough? Ok. He really gets going around 0:20.
I like to pretend I’m all strong and shit, you know. I am autism mom,
You would think, wouldn't you, that after all these years of these truly awful tantrums that I'd get used to them. That I would be unfazed, cool, calm, like a cucumber.
Nope. Oh, I pretend I'm all bad-ass. "I heard Conor had a tantrum," my sister said to me on Sunday. "Yeah, whatev," I replied, all James Dean. Or, since I'm a woman, like Linda Hamilton as Sarah Connor in The Terminator. She wasn't fooled, but she didn't press it.
|Yeah, like that.|
I try to be strong. I try very hard. But really, I'm starting to question whether I'll ever get used to these firestorms. Conor's had behavioral problems now (read: tantrums) for almost half his life.
(I'm including the years before he regressed, of course. Since he regressed, well, over half the time, realistically.)
So I just wonder... am I ever going to get over it? Should I be able to? Be able to just wipe my brow, look at my husband, and just say... whew, that was a bad one.
What would it mean if I did?
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
“TURN THAT THING DOWN! IT’S TOO LOUD! THIS IS THE BUSINESS CENTER, THAT’S NOT OK! THAT’S NOT OK! AREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ME? THAT’S NOT OK, THAT’S NOT OK!”
Conor liked to play with the volume very high.