Share this:

Yesterday Drew began working with Connor on his tone of speech.  We are supposed to ignore Connor when he yells or whines, and respond to him when he uses an appropriate voice.  This is much harder than one would think, because I never realized that he whines SO MUCH.

And then I started thinking, “do I whine?”  I decided I would make a conscious effort to speak in a tone that is devoid of emotion hence, no whining, no sarcasm, no ironic observations.  This is killing me, and I find that if I’m not busy pointing out life’s little absurdities, tinged with a soft hue of sarcasm, then I have very little to say.

Now when I speak, I sound like a robot.

I’m dating myself, but I keep thinking back to that robot from the old TV show, Lost in Space.

Instead of the robot voice saying “Danger Will Robinson,” imagine it saying, “Good morning, what would you like for breakfast?”  Or, “Wow, that is an interesting purple velvet pantsuit you have chosen for your attire today” (said to a coworker with an interesting flair for fashion).

It’s just weird.  But since we want Connor to learn what “appropriate” speech sounds like, I guess I should actually model that kind of speech.  If Connor would just learn to be sarcastic and witty, instead of whiney, this would not be a problem.  The sacrifices we make as mothers……

During one of the “trials” yesterday, Connor ended up so mad that he was lying on the floor, crying and yelling, because he was being ignored.  If I have to keep this up much longer, I think I will join him on the floor.

Let's use a grownup voice.

Morons with Grapes

Come on, just try them!

2011 brings us good news that makes me super excited.  We are one of six families that the UT (University of Texas, Austin) Autism Project will be working with.   It’s a great opportunity, and I’m optimistic that we will see some positive results at the end of this six-month endeavor.

One of the grad students will be spending several hours a week in our home, working with Connor using ABA therapy.  While this really impacts our weekly schedule, it is so worth it to make the accommodations for this to happen.  In fact, we’ve already seen positive results.

Drew has been to our home twice to begin working with Connor.  Connor thinks he comes over just to play with him, which is just fine with me.  This past weekend, after playing for a while, Connor came to ask for a snack.

“It’s almost dinnertime, if you want a snack, you can have either applesauce or yogurt,” I tell him.

“How about cottage cheese?”

“No, applesauce or yogurt.”

“Ok, yogurt.  Do you want some yogurt too, Drew?  Wait, we have grapes.”  I was surprised he even thought to offer his “friend” a snack, let alone mention the grapes, since he has always refused to eat them.

Drew said he’d prefer grapes, so Connor brought a yogurt for himself, and the bowl of grapes.  Drew started throwing grapes in the air, and catching them in his mouth.

“Ohhhh, that’s cool,” says Connor.  “I want to try that.”  So Connor starts throwing grapes up, and trying to catch them.  It didn’t go well, but in the process he managed to gobble down about twenty grapes.

I buy grapes all the time.

I eat grapes a lot, too.  But every time I’ve offered some to Connor, he says, “No, I don’t like those.”

“But you’ve never had one,” I tell him.

“Well I could have one, but I won’t like it, so I don’t want one.” 

Alrighty then.

Somehow, it never occurred to me to throw them in the air to eat them.

And just like that, we added a new food to Connor’s very limited menu.  Food has been a challenge since the very beginning, since we began the transition to solids from baby food.  We’ve never been able to figure out if it was a texture issue, or what, exactly.  We just know that expanding his menu has been a pain-staking process, and the hard-ass approach doesn’t work.

As parents, we have been creative in ways I never imagined.  But I just can’t believe that it never occurred to me to throw grapes in the air. 

So now I’m wondering, what kind of fun thing can I do with salad to entice him?

Cracker Barrel Memories

Tchotchke Hell

As Connor gets older and the challenges change over time, it becomes easier to look back on things that were upsetting, and find the humor in them.  Not all things, of course, but there are a few.  I was recently remembering our road trip to Texas.  Just before Connor turned two, we relocated from Atlanta to Austin.  With a child and a dog, it took us 2 ½ days of driving, with frequent stops, to complete the trip.

 

Sometime on day two, we stopped at a Cracker Barrel for lunch.  I can’t even remember where it was…Tennessee, Arkansas, who knows.  We somehow got through lunch with a hyper toddler, and made the usual restroom stop before leaving.  It was my turn, and I hated it when it was my turn.  That means I had to pull a Houdini, and manage to let myself go to the bathroom, keep hold of my child, then get him changed.  Parents of typical children have no idea what a monumental feat it is to use a restroom with an ADHD toddler.  It’s sort of like holding onto a tornado with one hand, while using your other hand to disrobe and complete the task, in a tiny little metal box.

No sooner do I sit down, with one hand holding onto Connor in the large “handicapped” stall, than he abruptly, and strongly pulls out of my grasp.  It was like slow motion in a horror movie, where I flail my arms out, shouting “NOOOOOO”, as he unlatches the door and bolts out.  The kid was like greased lightning.  I still can’t reconcile in my brain how any human being can move so fast, but he did, and out he went. 

The flood of thoughts that can go through someone’s brain in a 2-second span is truly impressive.  If you’ve ever been to a Cracker Barrel, then you know that their entire lobby area is set up like a country store, full of doo-dads and what-nots, all kinds of kitschy tchotchkes made of ceramic and glass.  I could just imagine the crashing of things, the yelling of people, the disapproving looks, the snide comments, the huge bill of poultry-inspired crap they would want me to pay for.  “If he gets through that bathroom door, it’s over, and it will be bad, so very bad.” 

Let me tell you, Big ‘Ol Mama Bear jumped up, yanked up the pants, and leaped out to the door faster than you could blink.  The entire time, I’m calling out “Connor, no, come back here now, Connor, CONNOR!”

I grabbed hold of him just as he was reaching for the exit door.  It was a very close call, but the tchotchkes were saved that day.  As we turned around to go to the sink, an older lady came out of another stall, stopped and looked down with a smile, and said “Well you must be Connor.”

It was a very long road trip.