Olde Orchard Pediatric Dentistry – A Review

Like most autistic kids, Caleb has always fought us on the tooth brushing. We tried when he was very young, but at that point, we had bigger battles to fight. We were trying to figure out why Caleb lost his language skills. Then came the onslaught of therapies, one after another after another. I was basically a chauffeur for my son and his many therapists. When I finally got home, my energy was dwindling, but still, we did even more therapy together. Families that are still in that circle of exhaustion have no time for precious teeth issues. I know it sounds crazy, but it is true; people who are on the outside looking in don’t understand the burnout that comes with autism.

Thankfully, Caleb is in a place mentally and socially that we can take care of his hygiene. That includes regular bathing (kinda regular), but also brushing his teeth and hair, and cleaning and moisturizing his face twice a day. Caleb has keratosis pilaris, so we use a Burt’s Bee’s facial cleanser and we are just now trying a new serum: Serious Serum.

When we first started brushing Caleb’s teeth, we noticed there was blood in his spit. We checked out his mouth, and yup, he needed a visit to the dentist. His pediatrician suggested we go to Olde Orchard Pediatric Dentistry, and I am so glad that we did.

When you first enter the building, you notice how airy the waiting area is, with a domed ceiling and tons of natural light streaming in. In the middle were these large tree booths that were comfortable, but also gorgeous.

To the right was a smaller waiting room with just chairs and books. To the left was another small waiting room, but this one had a large flat screen television mounted on the wall, interactive toys, and Duplos, as well as more children’s books. Everything was clean and well taken care of.

Caleb had a meltdown the whole ride to the dentist, and then while we were inside the waiting room. The staff didn’t bat an eye – they deal with autistic children on a regular basis and know how to deal with the kids. The staff offered help when I was at the desk, but they let us deal with Caleb until we asked for help. It can be tricky for people to know what to do, but they were really good about knowing when they had an opportunity to help; when the receptionist heard that Caleb loved My Little Pony, she jumped up and put the My Little Pony movie on the television.

Caleb was still crying and whining as we were greeted by the dentist’s assistant and led down the hallway. I have never seen a prettier hallway. Seriously, they even had beautiful wooden tree cutouts with the room numbers on them. Each room has two doors, one for us, and then a slightly smaller door that the assistant and slip in and out of.

We were greeted by Dr. Maxwell, and she was totally chill. She knew how to talk to my husband and me and then how to talk differently to Caleb. She let him touch almost everything, and explained what she was doing as she was doing it. Within minutes, a previously scared and crying Caleb was happily lying down with his mouth open while Dr. Maxwell did her exam.

First of all, they are gentle. Even better: they are super fast. Dr. Maxwell knew how much to get done in a single session in order for Caleb to have a somewhat enjoyable experience; the last thing we want is for Caleb to hate the dentist and dig his heels in even farther.

Not a problem.
Caleb actually asked to stay. He didn’t want to leave the dentist.

Yes, Caleb has cavities, but I didn’t feel judged. I feel guilty, of course, but I also know that I am a good mother and I try really, really hard. Like, really hard. I also didn’t realize how easily Caleb can get cavities; my teeth have extra enamel on them so while they are a little yellow, I have never had a cavity in my life. My husband, however, has worked hard to keep his teeth in good condition, but he has cavities as well.

Dr. Maxwell created a schedule for us in order to come in so that Caleb can have his teeth treated. We opted for 4 short visits using Nitrous Oxide so that Caleb doesn’t feel pain and is more compliant.

After Dr. Maxwell finished her evaluation, Caleb was able to pick out a gift. He chose a righteous mustache that made him look like Mario, so he was over the moon.

I am really thankful to have found a dentistry that knows how to take care of autistic children. I would recommend Olde Orchard to any child, autistic or not; there were plenty of neurotypical children around us.

Olde Orchard Pediatric Dentistry is located in Novi, Michigan, near the Sears at Twelve Oaks Mall.

*Note: I did ask for permission to take photographs of Caleb and Dr. Maxwell during his visit. I also asked if I could review them. They were very supportive, taking a minute to hide any patient data so that no HIPAA violations occurred. I did not receive any compensation for my review, nor was it swayed by anyone.

Michigan Autism Conference, October 11-12, 2018

I know that I said that I was taking a break from the blog because of personal issues, but I am just bursting with ideas.

I was recently in Kalamazoo, Michigan, for the Michigan Autism Conference, and I learned a lot.

First of all, I have learned that every field struggles with their own definition. If I have to listen to one more “what makes us a field” discussions, I am going to rip of my ears and beat someone with them.

At every conference, no matter the field, this comes up over and over again. For a field that is based in behaviorism, I find it odd that there aren’t some strict descriptive and prescriptive behavioral objectives that can be tracked and continually evaluated.

Secondly, everyone loves to talk about sex. It was a popular conversation topic when I was 16, and now at 39, it is still endlessly interesting. The BEST speaker was Dr. Stein on Sexual Expression. She was a very engaging speaker as well as extremely intelligent. She didn’t miss a beat during her presentation; it was obvious that she has worked in her field a long time.

I learned that I am engaging in behavior that will probably have negative consequences down the line. For instance, I have not properly established boundaries with my son. I use the bathroom with the door open. I have always done this because either I had to keep an eye on Caleb or he would have a meltdown if he were sequestered from me. Unfortunately, I have been confusing “closed door behavior” and “open door behavior.” Taking a bath, for instance, should be a “closed door behavior.” He should have privacy, but alas, my desire for his safety has put a hindrance on another part of his life.

I also need to give him the space and time to be alone with his body. He needs to learn about his body and what he finds appealing or rewarding. I mean, boys masturbate in utero, so why shouldn’t they be able to touch themselves when they are older and more self-aware.

Also, children identify with their chosen gender by ages 3-4. To me that is crazy that my son already knows if he feels like a boy or a girl. Also, biologically, women are bisexual. There are so many aspects of this particular domain that are overlooked because the conversation makes us feel uncomfortable. I mean, do any of us relish the idea of explain the birds and the bees to our children?

Thankfully, I have done one thing right: it is important to properly identify your child’s body parts and use the correct terminology: vulva, vagina, penis, and testicles. I have used clear and simple language to explain bodily functions, including po0ping, eating, and menstruation – why would sex be any different?

Thirdly, there is a need for autism advocates. It is not just the autistic children that need attention, it is the family of autistic children as well. The field has a really high turnover rate because while the field can be rewarding, it is also very difficult. It is important for ABA therapists to take time for themselves and be able to relax. This allows for a mentally healthy worker who is refreshed and ready to put in the work.

I learned about The Healing Haven. There they are doing some of what I would like to do. I want to teach parents how to play with their kids. I want to reach out to diverse communities who may not have the access to child care that other communities have. It may sound funny to have to teach people how to play, but not every culture values play. Growing up, my father would only play Connect 4 or Checkers with us – he had no idea how to be silly and play with us. He never got on the floor and rolled around with joy.

There are many parents who want to raise little ladies and gentlemen, and if it works for their family, than great! But, if it isn’t working, finding a new strategy for play as an adult can seem completely foreign. For the sake of autistic children, we need to stop worrying about whether or not they see an adult as an authority figure, and worry about the adult and child connecting on a deeper level. And that connection is best made through play.

The MAC was a fantastic experience, and I was able to go through the generosity of ASK Family Services which awarded me a scholarship for free entrance to the 2 day conference. I have more thoughts, but for now, I’m thinking about Lloyd Rieber at University of Georgia and Serious Play.

 

Hands Are Not For Hitting

When Caleb was between 2 and 3, he started hitting my husband and me. At first, it was intermittent and not really bothersome. Then came the smacking, the punching, and the pulling on hair. We tried so many interventions: token economy, time out, books about hitting, talking about hitting. reminding him that hands are not for hitting when we think he is about to hit.

This is where my post is going to take a turn you probably didn’t expect.

My son hitting me made me realize that I was not over the physical and emotional abuse that I survived from the time I was born until I was 18. In retrospect, the emotional abuse remained a part of my life until just a few months ago when I told my family I don’t want them in my life.

I am a survivor of childhood emotional and physical abuse.

As a youth, I attended Al-Anon meetings and therapy, and there I learned about the probability of me turning out like my mother or father. My father was an alcoholic and drug abuser (everything from pot to methadone), so I had a high probability of becoming an substance abuser; but I was also likely to become a physical and emotional abuser as well. The idea of becoming my father is probably the greatest fear I have had my entire life.

When I was 21, I adopted a cat. I thought that the first step toward trusting myself as a parent was taking care of a pet. I adopted an adorable orange tabby named Murray. He was 4 at the time, and all I was told was that he was given up because his owners had a baby. But, that wasn’t the whole story. I would be holding Murray, petting his head, and we would be purring up a storm when suddenly he would scratch the heck out of my face, arms, and chest. He would freak out on me and, because I had tiny knives cutting me, I pushed him away from me. This happened again and again for a month. Finally, after recognizing that this wasn’t working, I came to the difficult conclusion that I would have to have Murray declawed. After his procedure, Murray would attack me, but I knew it wasn’t going to hurt; I was able to just soothe him and not react as he went ballistic. It was the right choice, because after a couple more months, Murray completely stopped having freak outs. He became my best friend for 16 years until he passed away on December 30th, 2017.

After I was comfortable being a mother to Murray, I adopted another cat. I knew that Murray was lonely, so I got Mina from the local rescue shelter. She was beautiful and tiny and didn’t know how to make a crying sound until she was 3. Murray and Mina loved each other, however I pretty much just put up with Mina. She was a bit evil; she would wake me up in the middle of the night by climbing onto my nightstand and turning off my cpap machine. However, I never hurt her either.

A month before my husband and I got married, we decided to get a dog. Because we knew we wanted to have children (and because that was the kind of dog my husband had growing up), we chose to get a Golden Retriever. We found this amazing breeder in Essexville – the dogs were gorgeous and the family had 4 children who would also handle the dogs. These dogs were all so well behaved and loving. That is where we chose the Light Pink Girl (the color of her collar), Penny.

Again, with Penny, there was no hitting. We would dominate her if she got too rowdy, but really, again, it all seemed so fine.

Fast forward to me, 36, with two dogs and two cats, and I was having to suppress this almost natural reaction to hit my child back. I was horrified with myself. When Caleb stop hitting, I thought I was okay. But I wasn’t.

It wasn’t until January of this year that I vowed to never lay my hands on anyone again. This was harder than I thought. I realized I still had issues. Okay, fine: I had more issues than a newsstand.

Caleb and I started going to therapy at the same time, but we each see different therapists. And I can tell you, Caleb and I are both in a really transformative part of our lives. Caleb is suddenly a brand new person who actually cares about pleasing others, especially his mom and dad. He is smart, driven, creative and happy. He has basically the entire basement and he calls it his “safe space.”

Caleb and I also grew really close this summer. That is when I started thinking about my childhood. I don’t understand why I love my child in a way that my mother and father didn’t love me.

My therapist has diagnosed my father as a sociopath. He was evil. But my mom knew what was happening at home. In a conversation with her over the summer, she posed me this question: Should I have broken up the family and left your dad? That implies that the family was not broken with me being abused.

After my father died, relative after relative came up to me and told me how sorry they were that my dad hurt me. They saw it happening and did nothing, and now that he was dead, they felt freer to talk about it? That is the thing – my abuse was not private. I was often hit in grocery stores. I was hit at family events. I was hit in plain sight of my mother and sister. I even told my school psychologist that I was afraid to go home; I was 7-years-old and nothing happened.  Nobody protected me.

I am learning how to let go of the past. It isn’t easy. Like I said, I’m still trying to make sense of a situation that will never make sense. There will never be any logic as to why I was hurt.

The last email I got from my mother was about her next vacation to New York and working on her sewing hobby. She and her husband are rich, and they don’t help us at all with any of Caleb’s medical bills. My son isn’t even allowed in their home because they don’t want him touching their stuff.

Seriously.

Caleb cannot go into my mother’s home.

I don’t want to go back down that rabbit hole with my mom where we all pretend that everything is okay. It is not okay. I finally have real unconditional love in my life, and it is amazing. I am so thankful for my husband, my son, and my husband’s family.

I’m now 39 and an orphan, which is strangely liberating. I am scared because I have hung on to my mother’s scraps of love for so long; letting go because I deserve better is the only option.

So I broke the pattern.

My mother, who doesn’t like emotions, was raised by my grandmother and grandfather who also didn’t like emotions. My grandpa used alcohol so avoid dealing with anger. Same with my dad’s dad. There was coldness and distance and alcohol abuse.

And I broke that pattern.

Every day I make sure that I tell my husband and son that I love them. And I love them unconditionally. I tell Caleb that he isn’t bad, he just made a mistake. I tell Caleb how excited I am to see him when I pick him up from school. I give him hugs and love on him, but also allow him some private time. I push him academically because I know that he is a smarty-mcSmarty-pants. I say “I,” but I should say “we.” My husband is right by my side, giving him love and stability; my husband is the rock, I am the fire. And together, we work. We make sense to each other and know how to treat each other. We give each other the benefit of the doubt and strive to meet goals together.

I am a better parent than my mom, dad, or sister. In fact, right now, I am kind of crushing it. (I know, have some humility.) We have a new puppy that bites, and I don’t get angry at all. Yes, I still go to therapy and I still need therapy. I am a flawed individual who has overcome a lot to be in the happy, stable place that I am today. I broke the pattern. And that means something.

I Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff

A lot of people are curious how I manage to stay sane. To summarize my household, I have a husband who has migraines and ADHD, a son with autism, migraines, ADHD, and sensory processing disorder, I have an older dog, Eli, who is awesome, a puppy who thinks he is a land shark, and me, the eternal migraine sufferer who tries to keep this house running.

When I think about it, it seems like a lot of stuff to handle, but honestly, somehow we make it all work. I think the biggest issue my husband and I worry about is Caleb’s health – intellectually, emotionally, and physically. It is all about prioritization.

For instance, our leather couch is missing leather from a part of the left side armrest from when Eli was a puppy and chewed everything. He chewed up our new bedstand (which is wooden), all my flowers and flower pots, toys, clothes, and about a million binkies which always showed up in his poop. *gag* At first I would get upset because I had never experienced another animal destroying my property like that. But the problem was, if I let the destruction upset me, I would be upset for the rest of the day. Pretty soon I was always upset. It got to be ridiculous. I couldn’t enjoy my day or my dog (Eli is mine. All mine.) because I was upset.

Finally, I decided to stop being upset. It was really that easy for me – a switch I turned off. I was no longer gonna sweat the small stuff. But, how do we figure out what is small and what isn’t? How do we track and give feedback to ourselves?

For me, the big stuff was a matter of whether or not this had a real impact upon the health and safety of my family. That was the big question, the deep core issue. If the answer was “no,” I would find a way to ignore it, redirect it, or fix it but not get emotional about it.

Some examples of the small stuff:
*getting peed or barfed on
*superficial destruction of furniture or household items
*Keeping a perfectly clean home
*Making the bed, ever.

Examples of big stuff:
*Hitting or any sort of violence
*Threats of violence
*Angry words
*Caleb going to bed before 9pm
*Caleb takes his anti-migraine medication
*Caleb stays buckled in his car seat until I tell him he can get out of his seat.

I don’t expect anyone else to do what our family chooses to do. My mother and her husband are very protective of their home so Caleb is not allowed over. I mean, yes, I find it hurtful, but I have to let it go and realize that maybe to them, the furniture is the big stuff. I have to respect that.

We all have our “big stuff.” For me, it is really important to have a loving home that is cozy, inviting, and not dirty. It is important that we never use our bodies or words for violence. In fact, I tell Caleb and my husband multiple times a day that I love them unconditionally. I stress to Caleb that there is nothing he can do to make me stop loving him. I mean, if he hits me, I give him a time out; the punishment isn’t because I am mad at him but rather because he needs to learn that violence is never okay. And the “no violence” rule goes for everyone in the house, including the dogs.

Another reason that violence is something we won’t tolerate as a family is because I was physically and emotionally abused as a child. I never knew what unconditional love was until I met my husband, and then later, my son. Every dollar, every favor, came with a price; my family tried desperately to control every aspect of my life. I don’t hate my parents or grandparents. In fact, I feel bad for them because I feel like I have learned so much from my husband and child about the person I want to be. I was a lot like my mother, to the point it was a running joke. But, I quickly learned that we were very different; my son comes first in my life, no matter what.

So, yes, I do not talk to my parents or extended family. Actually, the funny part is that the only person in my family that I do talk to is my dad, and he has been dead for 9 years!

My side of the family doesn’t share my values or my priorities. Family get togethers used to include different people yelling at Caleb, freaking out over everything he does. It became overwhelming for everyone involved, including us. My mom and sister and their families live in big, beautiful homes. We are talking crown molding, expensive appliances, more than one bathroom, jacuzzi tubs, etc. We live in a house that is about 1,000 sq ft. Why? Because it is more important for me to be a stay-at-home wife and mother and take care of Caleb than it is for me to work a job and make more money. We live cheaply, eating out maybe once or twice a month. My husband and I get our groceries from Costco and Aldi so that my son can have the gluten-free/casein-free food from Whole Foods.

I guess what I am getting at is that in our family, Caleb comes first. If we have additional kids down the road, they will also be our priority. So, no, I don’t have plates that match, most of our glasses are plastic, and 99% of the stuff we own we got as hand-me-downs. But we have membership to the Hands On Museum (which I really need to write about), we go to the zoo and aquarium, and we buy a ton of books. Yes, I buy used clothing for Caleb, but we also make sure he has a couple Pokemon shirts so that he is happy. (Hint, I have Caleb’s measurements written down. Wherever I go, I take a measuring tape with me, so I measure how long it is, etc. Different brands have different shapes, so this helps a lot when buying used clothing.)

My husband taught me about living on a budget, and now I cringe at the idea of buying name brand anything unless it is for Caleb. I am so thankful that I have people in my life who have helped me becoming a more easy-going person. I probably will never have fine china, but that is okay with me; chances are, I’ll be too busy having fun with my family to notice.

Why I Don’t Care About What Others Think

At my baby shower, my mother-in-law gifted me a puppy that would clip around the chest of a child and a tail that acted as a leash. I was horrified. I believe my exact words were, “She knows I am giving birth to a person and not a dog, right?”

Ah, how smart we are before we have children. I believe I also made absurd statements like Caleb would only get books for the December holidays and that we would never let anything Disney into our house. HA! Oh, and I scoffed at the idea of a family bed. Yeah, I was super smart.

Fast forward 7+ years, and my son has a monkey backpack with a tether. And by tether, I mean leash. Yup, I actually bought him a dog leash that blends perfectly with his backpack so he could have more room to roam. And my son loves wearing his monkey.

Caleb is a flight-risk. When in busy parking lots, I hold on to his hand for dear life. We do have handicapped parking, and we do use it; I can’t tell you how many times I have had to carry a 40lb+ sobbing Caleb out to the car. Also, having a shorter trip from the car to the safe area of the store is reassuring for me.

Caleb started wearing his monkey backpack before he could talk; Caleb didn’t really talk until he was 3, and even then it was slow going. He also couldn’t truly understand the words I was saying; even if I told him a million times to not leave my side, it doesn’t mean that he knows exactly what that means and what mistakes look like. As Caleb’s language expanded, so did his understanding of the spoken word. With the monkey backpack, we both could focus on trying to take in the stimuli around us. We forgot about the restraints.

I cannot tell you how many people have yelled at me about my son and his leash. I have had people bark out windows as they drive by. I have had grown men come up into my face and challenge my parenting choices. I have had so many people roll their eyes at me.

People question what we feed Caleb, because yes, he has a bit of a belly. People question our token economy. People question how much or how little we push Caleb. People question if he should have unfettered access to electronics. People question why Caleb still cannot dress himself. People question why I let my son have a meltdown in the middle of the store and not be mad at him or punish him. People question if we are spoiling Caleb. And I don’t care. I care about what my husband and son think and that is it.

I do care about facts and information. I care about research that drives our parenting choices. I am willing to learn and change, because in the end, what we all want is for Caleb to be successful and happy.

I do ask the opinions of friends and family, but in the end, my husband, Caleb, and I make the final decisions together. Caleb still likes the freedom of wearing “Monkey.” We take walks, searching for Pokemon; having two hands free to play is incredibly helpful.

That said, Caleb is growing and we aren’t needing to use Monkey as much. When we walk in a downtown area, I insist on Monkey; one time eating dinner outside in downtown Chicago, Caleb ran into the middle of the street and all of us had a heart attack. I ran after him so fast, my heart beating out of my chest. My child still doesn’t have the sense to look for traffic before crossing a street. His life is worth more than my pride.

I mention pride because there are many mothers who don’t want to admit that their child is different or needs special accommodations. I grew up in a crazy, abusive, messed-up home and we always had to act and dress like everything was perfect. The idea of it makes my whole body react.

I am proud of my son, exactly the way he is. He works so freaking hard every single moment of his life. When he makes mistakes, you can see the panic in his eyes. There is not a mean bone in his body. Yes, he LOVES to push buttons, but so did I when I was younger. I mean, I was 16 and he is 6, but that just means he is advanced, right?

I guess what I am getting at is:
*Caleb was born at 33 weeks and looked like Walter Matthau

*Because of his time at the NICU, Caleb had a flat head. He had to wear a special helmet

*Caleb has had more meltdowns at Target than I can count
*I have had to chase down Caleb in the middle of Costco, leaving my cart completely abandoned.
*Caleb is very particular about his looks, which aren’t conventional

*Caleb is the king of awkward social interactions. During our garage sale, he was such a pushy salesperson that he actually scared people away!

And I am not embarrassed one bit.

It is true that when you love someone, you have to love all of them. The good, the bad, the ugly – they all come in a wonderful package. So, yes, my child will flap his hands and require a leash and say really inappropriate stuff. But, he is also the kindest, smartest, most creative person I have ever met and I have no doubt that Caleb will have a real positive impact upon the world.

And when in doubt, I just remember that I have to be the role model for Caleb. I want him to see me take the high road and focus on what is important. And that is why I can say that when it comes to how my husband and I raise Caleb, I don’t care what anyone thinks.

 

BTW, you can buy Caleb’s backpack here.

Time on Task

Somehow, between June 18th and September 4th, my son changed. Some of the changes I could see unfolding right in front of my eyes; other changes happened instantaneously. Caleb is more self-reliant,  polite, controlled, and has dramatically reduced his defiant behavior. He walks with my husband and I without running off. He actually seeks out approval by asking to help me. I’m not sure what created the change, but I have some ideas.

First of all, for the first time, I made sure that Caleb and I did “study time” every day for about an hour and a half a day. I theorize that for Caleb to truly know something, he has to practice it for longer than his neurotypical counterpart. Caleb needs to strengthen his neural pathways with repetition, and once those pathways are forged, that information is locked in. (I want to say that I agree with those who say, “if you have met one autistic child, you have met one autistic child.” All I am say is how I see Caleb and how I respond to what I see.)

Another change we made was his token economy system. Instead of just earning stars which can be traded in for books from Amazon, we have allowed him to also save up cash; this money is then used for large trips with the grandparents, such as to the aquarium or zoo.

Finally, we started expecting more from Caleb. He now has to groom himself every morning; we help him, but he cooperates now. I mean, yes, Caleb is going to complain every time I brush his hair, but it is just a verbal complaint. No hitting, no screaming, no falling to the floor. He also participates in chores; he is in charge of picking books up and putting them away because otherwise the puppy likes to chew on them.

Whatever the reason, the change is incredible. It gives me such hope for the future.

I remember having to digest that I had a son with “severe autism.” We didn’t know if Caleb would ever speak, let alone be able to lead a “normal” life. I remember the tears and the fear and I just wish I could go back in time and tell myself that everything would be okay. Back when Caleb was first diagnosed, I read horror story after horror story about autistic children being violent and having to be institutionalized. I knew nothing about autism, other than it was a dream wrecker.

For those of you who are just going through the beginning stages of autism-acceptance, please take heart that it can be okay if you put in the work. There are many studies that show that the greatest indicator of success is time on task. Want to be the best piano player ever? Practice every day for as long as you can. Want to be the best writer, the best rollerblader, the best hot dog eater? Time on task.

Temple Grandin, who is a goddess, suggests that autistic children get somewhere between 20 – 40 hours a week in therapies. Obviously she doesn’t mean that a child go to Occupational Therapy 40 times a week; there are plenty of therapies we parents can do at home with our children. Everything from core exercises, to art projects, to playing games – every exercise has a lesson to learn. How to hold scissors, how to wait for your turn, how to follow instructions – all of these are important lessons beautifully hidden in fun time.

To be truthful, many of my attempts to teach Caleb have failed. It has been through sheer force of will that I have been able to get through all the rejection I felt and still try to help Caleb be happy and interact with the world. It is time on task for us parents as well; I don’t blink an eye when Caleb has a meltdown in public. I attend to his needs by sitting down next to him and telling him I love him (which is what he asked me to do when he has a meltdown), but I also do not give in and let him have whatever sparked the meltdown. I am loving but strict, and I believe you can be both. I am strict about him using the potty or eating well; that said, I don’t regulate his electronic time except for when it is electronics’ bedtime. For me, finding that balance has all been time on task.

I cannot speak as to how other autistic children work or feel or anything – I just know what has worked for Caleb and me. I hope that maybe what has helped us can maybe help others as well.

P.S. I am not a behaviorist, I just sound like it.

I Forgot How Hard I Have to Fight

It is only the second day of school, and I am already getting push-back from Lanigan Elementary. I just called the Farmington Schools Special Education Supervisor, Shellie Cole, because Caleb’s teacher is making him do first grade math; we finished first grade math over the summer. So, now I have to fight for him to be treated as a gifted child as well as fight for his rights as an autistic child.

Why isn’t there a Special Needs Advocate in Oakland Schools? This should not be happening. Right now, Caleb is being punished for being so productive over the summer. And when Caleb is bored (which will happen if you ask him to do simple math) he acts out; Caleb needs the stimulation of thinking in order to stay on track. If it isn’t challenging for Caleb, why make him do it?

Plus, yesterday, on the first day of school, the administration started giving us a hard time at drop-off. Yes, parents are not supposed to get out of their car in the drop-off lane, but my husband was driving and Caleb and I hopped out. Why? Because there were no handicap spaces available and the parking lot was a) completely full, and b) a nightmare with cars going in the wrong direction just to find a place to park. Caleb cannot walk through a crazy busy parking lot while I’m carrying in a ton of school supplies. Why? Because we have to provide all of his food and snacks and whatever comes up because he is gluten-free/casein-free; if we didn’t supply the extra snacks, the school wouldn’t provide safe food for him during snack time or special celebrations. There is a kid in his class with a severe nut allergy; NOBODY brings anything in that has even been processed with nuts. My son’s response to gluten and casein is not life-threatening, so they don’t really see it as important. Caleb has regularly come home with a note saying he ate an Oreo or something.

1 in 37 boys have autism. Why aren’t we coming together as a force to be reckoned with? Why do I have to call administrators and talk to a zillion random Farmington workers and educators just to make sure that my son is given his proper education?

My son has the right to the kind of education that is responsive to his needs. My son has a parapro; it is not like it would be difficult for Caleb to do his own challenging work while other kids do theirs.

I forgot about all this hassle. I forgot how everything is a fight.
I hate fighting.
But I have to fight.
If I don’t fight for my son, who will?
Definitely not Lanigan. 😦