BooYAH for Babysteps

You know those crazy stories we have all heard where an unsuspecting woman gives birth without realizing she was even pregnant?  I kind of relate to that woman now.

Last Saturday, September 16th, Gizmo and I successfully completed the public access testing required for a dog to become a certified service dog.  The test is used to demonstrate that I am capable of handling the dog in public and that the dog demonstrates manners appropriate for public access.  He had to be exposed to food in a public arena without attempting to take it, remain sitting while I walked away, stay calm when other animals entered his space, and demonstrate many other skills.  Gizmo handled the entire test beautifully, and I was so happy for him!  We returned to the parking lot and our trainer, Rob, gave me some pointers in loading and unloading Gizmo. He then handed me the leash and said, “He’s ready to go.”

“Ready to go?  As in ready to go home – to my house – permanently?”

Indeed.  After discussing some financial arrangements and other details, I loaded up Gizmo and started my drive home in a shocked stupor of thought.  I knew this day was coming but had not prepared myself.  I was completely unprepared.  The house was in its usual state of shambles – a state that I guess Gizmo may as well become acquainted with sooner than later – and I was unsure how hubby and Luke would react.  I didn’t know how I would react.  I’ve never really had a real pet – aside from a couple of strays taken in and loved for a short time.  This guy was literally going to be a new member of the family, and we had nothing prepared to welcome him.

With no small amount of trepidation, I unloaded Gizmo and took him into our home to wp-image-933974955meet his match.  Although Luke has met Gizmo before, we have not done much training directed at bonding the two of them.  As I brought them together, Luke threw his arms around the dog’s neck in a nose-to-nose death grip; his eyes lit up playfully and he puffed out his cheeks in his typical greeting to a loved one, then screeched, “DO YOU WANT GIZMO TO DO A BLOWFISH FACE?!”

What do you think, Rob?  You down for training this dog to make a happy blowfish face for the man?

We still have a lot of work to do.  Gizmo is certified as a public access service dog, but we will still need regular, professional training sessions to help us integrate him into the family.  Our greatest accomplishment with the new team is that Luke is no longer trying to poke Gizmo’s eyes out!  Booyah for babysteps!

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We Fart!

In my childhood visions of motherhood, I would come home to a clean house and happy children who would lovingly greet me with joyful hugs and kisses.  Yesterday, I came home and was greeted by Luke, who ran into the kitchen the moment I walked through the door and excitedly declared, “We FART!!”

Why yes, son, we do.  I am so happy that you have learned this exciting new concept.

This is just the latest in a string fun, new summertime discoveries:

After listening to his parents speak in church, he came to the sudden and quite vocal realization that, “We don’t pee in the freezer!”  (And, yes, he did try it.)

20170713_205600If he wants to get Mom’s attention, a sure fail method has always been to sample a variety of nonfood items.  This summer, however, Luke has kicked it up a notch above just rocks, dirt. and dried up manure.   Those are just so old school.  He knows that if you really want a reaction, you have to get creative!   Try some bird poop off the headstones during a visit to the cemetery on Memorial day.  A long, deep swig of teal acrylic paint (dumped into a cup for easier drinking) lacks creativity but sure generates a nice little Mommy tantrum.  Need a little protein?  How about a large, fresh, juicy slug from the raspberry patch? mmmmm!

I can honestly say that my childhood dream did not include having this conversation with my legitimately worried four-year-old daughter at bedtime:

“Are you sure about this, Mom?  Are you sure this toothbrush hasn’t been up Luke’s butt?”

“Yes, I’m sure, darling. I throw those toothbrushes away as soon as he brings them to me to smell.”

Ah, the real-life dreams of motherhood: dreams of those beautiful days when I am greeted only by the innocent and excited declaration that, “We fart!”

 

 

Unfortunately Fortunate

3476Fortunately, I have a sweet ten-year-old son with autism.

Unfortunately, a significant manifestation of his autism is a glaring lack of impulse control.

Fortunately, Luke discovered a love for building vehicles out of wood kits.

Unfortunately, the wood must be painted.

Fortunately, Luke loves to paint.

Unfortunately, I turned my back.

Fortunately, he only emptied two containers of acrylic paint.

Unfortunately, black and John Deere Green do not match my kitchen floor, even if the footprints tracked around it were kind of cute.

Fortunately, Luke knew this had to be cleaned up and tried to do it by himself!

Unfortunately, he’s not very good at it yet.

Fortunately, he obeyed immediately when I told him to go wash up in the bathroom.

Unfortunately,  a brand new container of hair spray was left out on the container.

Fortunately, he left the hairspray alone.

Unfortunately, he opted for the Vaseline instead.

Fortunately, he washed his hands.

Unfortunately, he unloaded the entire Vaseline container into the sink drain.

Fortunately, Luke recognized that he needed to change his painted clothes.

Unfortunately, I have not done laundry and his backup pair of shorts was not clean.

Fortunately, he looked for his gray shorts.

Unfortunately, he looked by dumping out all of the clothing in the laundry room – both clean and dirty.

Fortunately, he found a pair of pajama bottoms as an adequate substitute.

Unfortunately, his search resulted in a 3-foot-deep sea of laundry.

Fortunately, I don’t mind folding laundry.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know the water in the bathroom was still on.

Fortunately, my husband heard it.

Unfortunately, Vaseline makes an amazing hydrophobic plug.

Fortunately, I am very experienced in flood cleanup.

Unfortunately, water was already pouring from the ceiling in the basement, filled the vanity drawers, and created a very effective wading pool in the bathroom.

Fortunately, I now have clean drawers.

Fortunately, laundry is now all sorted and clean clothes are folded.

Fortunately, my kitchen floor got a nice wipe down.

Fortunately, I love my son!

In Case You Ever Wondered . . .

Anyone who knows me well knows that I am a bit of a Facebook junkie.  I love sharing bits of my life with family and friends I am unable to see or talk to regularly.  However, I have noticed that I often use Facebook as a vent for the frustrating days we have with Luke and seldom do I really share what a beautiful soul I have the honor to raise.  For example, Luke has developed a new attraction to cutting things up.  Here are a couple of pictures that I posted to Facebook:

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Last week: my knitting cord cut and ripped out of the sweater I was working on, my earphones

 

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Today’s casualties: my sweater, hours of work on a crochet project, charger cord, and his little brother’s prized Valentine box

I am so quick to share the aggravating moments, but often fail to share the sweet ones.  So, in an effort to counter all of my whining posts, I want to share this beautiful one.

Last Saturday was almost magical. Luke was a sheer delight to be with. He painted all the pieces to the wood tractor with very little support. He was so patient and even waited for one coat to dry before putting on a second coat. After all the pieces were painted, he used screws and a screwdriver to assemble it. All I did was start it through the hole. That project took a couple of hours and he was so attentive and excited about it.20170225_155444 After we finished, he found some pics of tractors we had printed out and spent the next few hours painting them. It was a beautiful and magical day – almost like a window opened to the sweet little boy trapped in a generally uncooperative body. 20170225_155332.jpgLest anyone ever think otherwise based on my frustrated posts, I adore my boy. I love him with all my heart and just yearn for more days like these!

Left or Right?

Left or right?  I sat at the intersection pondering the lasting consequences this decision would have.

It was December 2015 – a particularly harrowing month to be living with Luke.  Luke does not just enjoy summer, he requires it to be happy.  He needs the movement outside to burn off energy and soak up happy emotions.  By December, with both exercise and vitamin D limited and Christmas chaos and candy abundant, Luke had become completely unmanageable and violent.  One day, Little A – then three and still very small for her age – tripped as she bopped along with the kids coming in from school.  Without warning, Luke was at her side, stomping on her head and laughing uncontrollably.  He probably only landed one or two hits before my teenage boys saved her, one tackling Luke, the other blocking her from the blows, but the image was seared into my brain.  My little girl suffering under the feet of her much larger brother who mindlessly acted on every passing impulse.  He was growing so quickly; how would I ever protect her when I no longer had the older boys to intervene – when his body looks like theirs? Six feet and 200 pounds of uncontrolled emotion was a fear that I just could not imagine.

Life at school was not much better.  Although we had hit the jackpot of loving talent in a new behavior interventionist (BI), Erin, the special education teacher simply did not have the temperament to handle my volatile boy.  Whenever Erin was gone, his behaviors with the teacher escalated.  He knew how to push her buttons and did so freely.  Breaking away and running from her, pushing and hurting other students, intentionally ripping breaking his classmates’ eyeglasses, dumping and breaking school supplies, smashing the box that holds the fire extinguisher.  After enduring months of his abuse, the teacher finally broke.  She just could not work with Luke any more.

I am not sure the specific event that led to the drive I was on with my Luke.  I know it had been another rough day at school and he would.   not.   stop. screeching – the fingernails-on-a-chalkboard screech that just grates on sanity.  In desperation, I loaded him into the van; it was the only activity that had ever reliably calmed him.  We drove and drove and drove.  Slowly the screeching faded into wimpering and then to blessed silence.  As I pondered our situation, I became completely and helplessly overwhelmed.  Endless drives day after day simply could not continue, but it was our only calm from the storm.  Suddenly, a thought came to me that promised to protect the people I loved and end the endless frustration. . . .

I have struggled with depression, probably, since I was a teenager.  I have had suicidal thoughts for a good part of my life, but these thoughts were always outside the boundary of my reality.  They would pop up unexpectedly without provocation, but they were not my reality.  I am a happy person; I would not ever DO the things that just popped into my head.  This day was different though.  I suddenly had a moment of complete clarity – a solution to this unsolvable problem.  If he only wanted to drive, then we would drive.  Just up the highway from our house the road rounds a corner that is precariously close to a rocky ravine.  As a kid, I was terrified of rounding that corner, but on this day, it seemed like a small ray of light.  It would be so easy to just keep straight.  We would leave this problem behind us, together.

It was in this frame of mind that I stopped at the intersection near home.  With puffy eyes and a broken heart, I pondered my direction.  Left or right? Left would take us to a permanent solution.  Right would take me back home to endure more of the never ending screeching and violent, destructive meltdowns.  I turned right; that option would still be there on another day; it would always be a choice I could make later.  I will make it through this night first.

I was scared: scared that I might actually do something that would hurt so many people I love;  scared that I had moved the ever-present suicidal thoughts from the buried corners of my mind to the forefront of conscious consideration.  My rational brain knew it was stupid, but my emotional brain just kept reliving the option.  Was I going crazy?  How could I trust myself to take care of Luke when I had actually considered this awful thing?

While dropping Luke off at school the next day, Erin and I were trouble shooting possible triggers and solutions for the behaviors we were seeing.  Next thing I know, words were tumbling out as I recounted the previous evening’s experience.  I am not sure what I expected – perhaps a horrified gasp or a stunned reprimand.  What I didn’t expect was her calm response, “Shanna, I would think you were crazy if you didn’t have thoughts like this.  Look at what you are going through.”
Erin’s background is in social work; she has helped truly troubled souls move to a better place.  She has more love for lost souls than any person I have ever known.  She has known and loved people who have actually followed through on these haunting thoughts.  Her reassurance that I was not a failure or a danger to my son buoyed my spirit and gave me hope that this was just a passing valley in a vast and beautiful landscape that was unfolding.  It was a reminder that we are allowed to suffer in order to more fully experience joy.  Yes, Luke’s low times still bring me great sorrow and concern, but I cling to the knowledge that my boy will be back; other days will be brighter, and my view will be all the more beautiful for having known the darkness.
Left or right? I chose right.

 

Danger: Life-Changing Decision Ahead

“If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading” – Lao Tzu

This is the basic thought that has pushed me to a new idea – an idea that I would have considered ludicrous even a year ago – Let’s get a dog!

I have long held the mantra: I’m doing a good to keep my kids alive; I cannot be responsible for a pet.  However, I am beginning to wonder if keeping the kids alive would be easier with the addition of a service dog to our family.

I have been mulling over the idea since last summer when Luke developed the delightful habit of breaking away from me to go treasure hunting in the parked, frequently unlocked, cars of every parking lot we encountered.

The chiropractic patient/unsuspecting owner of a little green Honda  probably didn’t expect to find his bag of sunflower seeds happily scattered like confetti over the seats and floor boards of his nice, clean car.  And I hope the owner of the minivan in the Walmart parking lot was not really thirsty as Luke had downed half of the opened can of Coke before I could get Little A out of her car seat and catch up to pry Luke out of the strangers van.

Perhaps the scariest of Luke’s parking lot escapades happened when he bolted while I was loading his sister into the van after speech therapy.  He busted across the parking lot aisle and threw four or five small folding chairs out of the back seat of a car parked at the adjacent dentist’s office.  He squirmed and tugged at one arm as I tried to return the chairs with the other.  With a desperate lunge, he broke away and darted back across the aisle just in time to leap onto the hood of a moving vehicle.  The young couple in the car unleashed a barrage of vulgarities that still ring in my ears every time I pick him up.

Yesterday, I took Luke for a ride in his new garden cart.  He enjoys looking at all of the vehicles around the city and evaluating their potential for hitching.  Amid a particularly interesting inspection of a pickup with a camper already hitched, my boy spotted a row of wheeled wonderfulness under the eaves of the owner’s home.  In a flash, he was past the gate, maneuvering their ride-on tractor to be hitched to a trailer in their back yard.

After no small wrestling match I was able to get my boy reloaded into his cart.  On the short walk home, he broke away repeatedly.  He turned on sprinklers, uncoiled hoses, and relocated wagons at several neighborhood homes.  Just as I was beginning to wonder how I was ever going to get home, a friend drove by, picked Luke up and drove him around the block a couple of times while I ran the wagon home to meet him.

“If you don’t change direction, you may end up where your heading.”  I am not sure that I like where we are heading at this point.  I want my boy with me, in my home, with people who love him and help him out of that love; not in a facility where staff will manage him out of duty.  But Luke’s increasingly large stature and dangerous behaviors are forcing us to unpleasant considerations for the longterm future.  With a properly trained service dog, perhaps Luke and I could both enjoy a simple walk or trip to the grocery store again.  The dog would be tethered to Luke and trained to sit when Luke tries to bolt away, providing an anchor until I can catch up.

The dog would serve as a constant companion for Luke.  It would warn us when Luke is in danger or doing something stupid like lighting the toaster on fire.  In an ideal world the dog would be a friend to cuddle with at night, so Luke could sleep on his own and hubby could move back into the bedroom with me.

We met with a local trainer who showed us several different breeds that we might consider for Luke.  It is such a huge decision that would require new commitment of our time and resources to be trained to work with a dog effectively.  I never envisioned myself as a dog owner; I don’t know how to be a good dog owner.  However, I never envisioned myself as a special needs parent; I don’t know how to be good at it either, but I am figuring it out.  Maybe a change in direction will change where we are heading.  My head is screaming, Danger: life-changing decision ahead!