A Look at Lunch

Ian, like all Aspies, is a creature of habit. He thrives on his routine. Changing it in the slightest is at the very least cause for "the look of death" - a squinty, angry stare that means he is really ticked off and you'd better watch out. I have seen it many times and know that I am walking on thin ice when he scrunches his face that way.

His lunch requirements are very specific and must be met exactly, or he does not eat. When he skips lunch, his afternoon - specifically Math class - suffers. As a mother, I hate the guilty feeling I get when he has had a bad day because of the lunch I fixed. In the morning when I make his lunch, I don't even have to ask what to put in it. In fact, he acts annoyed if I do. That's when I get the "Well, duh!" look.

This does not mean he never changes what he wants for lunch. He does. About three times a year. It's a huge event when he tires of what he has been taking. We go through hours, sometimes days of discussions, trying to find something he finds appealing. Last week, he decided he no longer wanted to take cheese burritos. He didn't like them any more. After scientific testing to determine if it was a cheese issue, we concluded it was a combination of boredom and dislike of the brand of cheese I had purchased.

Ahhhh .... but those burritos were pieces of art and very nutritious! I used a very high fiber flat bread called Flat Outs. Each piece has about 7g, or maybe it's 12g .... possible 140g of fiber. A mother's dream for her child who needs help with regularity. Of course, that was counteracted slightly by the cheese, but what can you do? Each piece of flat bread was spread with a very even layer of heart healthy margarine substitute and sprinkled with shredded colby-jack cheese, then rolled into a tight burrito and wrapped in aluminum foil. Precision and beauty all-in-one.

The cheese was a serious issue. It could not be Monterrey Jack cheese and Colby cheese from separate blocks. It had to be the marbled combination and above all, it had to be a certain brand. He could sense the subtle taste differences among brands and would refuse to eat them. Eventually, I found a version of the one he liked, made with 2% milk. Combining that with a small amount of the regular fat version was acceptable to him for a while.

It was NEVER o.k., however, to slice the cheese and place it inside the flat bread. If I was in a hurry or the cheese shredder was dirty and I sliced the cheese, I was scolded after school that his burrito was unacceptable. That's when he would get the "rolled eyes" look and a "Sorry 'bout that sweetie" from me.

Last week he decided it was time for a change. Burritos were out. He thought it would be o.k. to have Spaghetti Os every day. I nixed that. Occasionally, yes, but not every day. Not just from a nutritional standpoint but also from a labor perspective. WAY too much prep time for me. I have my limits.

He didn't want to go back to peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches. Fluffernutter sandwiches were out too. He refuses to buy his lunch because the offerings are not consistent (in his mind).

Finally, he decided on butter sandwiches. I agreed, as long as the bread was whole wheat and the "butter" was heart healthy. Settled.

My mom even bought him a cool sandwich container that will hold a sandwich and two side items and keeps them all separate from each other. He really liked that. Keeping things separate is a big thing for him. I am told by other moms of Aspies and kids with sensory processing disorder, that keeping different foods from touching is crucial to getting food inside our kids. So this container from my mom was a huge help.

All week he brought his lunch bag home with nothing, not even a crumb, left behind. Until yesterday.

I looked at the container that held his uneaten sandwich and asked if there was something wrong with it.

"You put it in the wrong container," he said.

This was true. I had used a plain, red, Tupperware, sandwich -sized container. He didn't seem to mind when it held peanut butter and fluff sandwiches. But the new container from Grandma was "obviously" intended for butter sandwiches.

"Well, sweetie," I said, "your favorite container was dirty. I had to use something else. Shall I save your sandwich for later?"

"Yes," he replied.

This morning when I began assembling his lunch, the sandwich was still in the refrigerator in the inadequate plastic box. I switched it to the new, clean one, filled the two remaining compartments with Baked Cheetos and apple slices, and sent it to school with him. I can't wait to see what comes home this afternoon.

Thankful

My husband and son recently ran some errands together in an effort to bond and give me some quiet time with our daughter. When they returned, Steve recounted a conversation Ian had while they were out.

Seemingly inspired by the newly arriving pumpkins and fall flowers at the grocery store, Ian asked his dad what he is thankful for.

"Well, I am thankful for you," Steve replied.

"Oh," Ian commented quietly.

"What are you thankful for, Ian?" Steve asked him.

"I am thankful for you, too. And my toys."

As they entered the produce department, Ian walked up to one of the store employees stocking some vegetables and said, "I know it's kind of early for Thanksgiving, but what are you thankful for?"

The guy looked at Ian with a perplexed expression. "Huh?"

Ian repeated his question. "I know it's kind of early for Thanksgiving, but what are you thankful for?"

Then the guy looked up at Steve and saw him smiling at this boy who normally does not talk to strangers.

"Well, I guess I am thankful I have a job," was his honest response. A lot of people are feeling thankful for employment these days.

"Oh," Ian said without emotion. "Thank you," he said as he walked back to Steve. The young man returned to stocking peppers.

I don't believe it was Ian's intent to take a thankfulness survey throughout the grocery store to see what the most popular response would be. Lately, we've been talking about the value of things in terms of monetary cost and investment of emotional energy. He wanted to know what people outside our family value.

It goes back to the many times Ian has been devastated that he broke a Lego creation or misplaced a beloved Bionicle. He is emotionally attached to these items because they do what he wants, and he gives them words and thoughts that appeal to him. They are his friends. Losing them brings about sorrow.

When the grief becomes extreme, I have to step in and explain to Ian that these toys only have value to him. They do not love him or feel lost without him. He cannot rely on them for happiness and feelings of self-worth. While I often complain about how much money we spend on the thousands of plastic pieces that are in his room, that does not make them valuable as an investment. They are valuable to him for what they represent, and that is all.

Should he be thankful for his toys? Well, yes, he is fortunate to have an abundance of things that grab his attention and provide him with hours of imaginative play; but I prefer to establish a more profound basis for thankfulness. I want him to understand that we are thankful for things we really cannot see or touch but are powerful in helping us live a happy and fulfilling existence.

Be thankful you have a loving family.
Be thankful for your education.
Be thankful for opportunities to make the world a better place.

Do these things have value? Yes, but each person decides for himself what that value is and how that value is represented. These concepts are so abstract, I was afraid he was not going to understand. And then he went to the grocery store and decided to figure it out for himself.

He was quiet for a while as he contemplated this new information. In fact, Ian was very quiet the rest of the afternoon.

That night as I tucked him into bed, he wrapped his arms around my neck and said, "Mom, I am thankful for you."

Learning from Experts

I spent Thursday and Friday of this week at an Asperger's Super Conference. Four of the world's top presenters on autism, who had never shared the stage at a conference together before, presented their ideas to a group of over 1,000 parents and educators. I felt honored to be in the audience.

Dr. Jed Baker was one I had never heard speak before, but I am very familiar with his books. Ian has drawn tremendous understanding from his pictorial descriptions of how to interact with others. For many months Ian studied that book at night before going to bed. It may have been the reassurance he needed to get through the next school day. Forget studying for spelling tests. Social interaction was the tough subject.

Carol Kranowitz gave me my introduction to the world of autism with Ian's first diagnosis, Sensory Processing Disorder. I must have read her book four times and purchased seven copies of it to give to family members, friends, physicians, and anyone else who needed to deal with Ian on more than just a casual basis. It was my holy book for the first year.

Temple Grandin, notably the most famous person with autism, shared with us her experiences as a person with autism who has become very successful. I enjoy hearing her speak - literally. Her voice and mannerisms remind me of one of my favorite great-aunts, and her humor is typical of what I hear at home. Although her presenation has not changed much over the last few years, she has changed. She seems a little more relaxed, more at ease in the world of parents and teachers who seek her guidance.

Dr. Tony Attwood helps me to accept my children's behaviors for what they are - reactions to an environment they do not understand. He does this with respectful humor that lightens the stress I feel at a conference that floods my brain with information of things I should do for my children. In fact, when I headed for home Friday afternoon, I couldn't wait to see Ian and Ainsley so I could kiss them and tell them how wonderful they are.

Although I often forget the majority of ideas I learn at a conference, a few gems stick with me. One of those is that punishment does not change the behavior of a child with ASD; but using logic will. Helping them see the "smart" solution to a problem works wonders. Depriving them of the activities/things that help them calm themselves does not.

Hugs may be a reassuring sign of affection to me. To my Aspies, they are squeezes that may or may not be pleasant and certainly don't solve the problem. Always ask before hugging.

Turning their brains off for the night is extremely difficult. When they ask me to cuddle with them, it is because they need to feel my touch in order to relax and fall asleep. No matter what important tasks are waiting for me downstairs, nothing is more important than insuring they get the rest they need to have a successful day tomorrow. Cuddle time helps me relax, too. I hope we never outgrow it.