Red and the Circle of Life

Red is dead. Finally.

Red was one of Ian's pet fish. He was so-named for the red cap on top of his head. We all loved him because he was different from the others. Perhaps he won a special place in my heart because I felt sorry for him. He was tormented and abused by Tink, the larger goldfish bully of the tank. Tink used to ram Red into the rocks or against a wall of the tank to keep him from eating before she had her fill. Yes, even fish have a pecking order, it seems, and I have a soft spot for the underdog - or would it be underfish in this case?

Before Thanksgiving, a full five months ago, Red contracted dropsey, the fish version of edema. The bloating, air bubbles, and water retention in his body were severe enough to cause him to float upside down. Although we tried several methods of treating the condition, none were successful. He would get excited whenever I would walk near the tank because he knew I would reach into the water, turn him right side up, and hold him in my hand for a few minutes so he could eat. Still, he seemed to adjust to his new way of swimming and seeing the world, despite the fact that he was continually getting larger from excess fluid.

We prepared the kids early on that Red probably wouldn't live long. After a while, they stopped believing that Red would die, because he just kept on going and seemed fine to them. But yesterday, when I went into Ian's room to wake him up, I found Red had finally given up the fight. I didn't want Ian to start his day off with this kind of news, so I got him out of the room quickly. Better to give him bad news after the school day than let it affect his performance.

In the afternoon I told the kids. They seemed disappointed, but not terribly hurt. We got a zippy bag and put Red in it. Ian and Ainsley took turns carrying it to the trash can behind the house. I lifted the lid, and we all said, "Good-bye" to Red as we dropped him into his temporary grave.

And then, standing in our driveway in the spitting rain, the three of us cried over the death of an upside-down-swimming fish.

It actually felt wonderful . . . I know that sounds terrible, but let me explain. This was the first time both of my children understood the finality of death. It is such a difficult concept to comprehend, and probably even harder to accept. Ian was sad for a while, worked through it, and has moved on. Ainsley, on the other hand, misses Red. She mentions him each day, but the frequency is decreasing.

I am glad the kids are having this opportunity to practice grieving the loss of a fish. I don't want their first experience with death to be that of a human family member or friend. They need to understand that grieving is o.k., and that I am here for them. Ian seems to keep a lot of it inside and then let it explode later. Ainsley lets it all out at once, and then again when she remembers the loss, and then again...and again...and again. Ian finds that annoying.

Today after school, Ian and his friend Jack will begin cultivating a colony of Sea Monkeys. The circle of life will start anew.

Oops, I Did It Again!

A couple of weeks ago, Steve and I figured out that pure sugar in the form of cotton candy in the hypoglycemic body of our 7 year-old son is not a good combination, especially when you add the third element, Asperger's Syndrome. One would think after experiencing the night of wicked terror, that this would be an easy rule to remember and adhere to.

OK, so we're not real good at the remembering part. When things are going pretty well, we sometimes fail to cross-apply the evidence to similar situations. Tonight we failed big time!

Because Ian bought his lunch at school, I had no way of knowing how much he had truly eaten because there was nothing to bring home in his red lunch sack. I am fairly certain he ate a chicken nugget or two and an entire piece of chocolate cake. It's probably a reasonable assumption that he skipped the fruit and veggies. After school he was wild. I made a huge bowl of popcorn for him to share with his friend, Jack. Jack and I ate most of it.

Before leaving to go out to dinner, he had a couple of graham crackers. Ainsley gave him some jelly beans. He had a few more chicken nuggets and some lemonade for dinner. The puzzles on the bag they came in were far more interesting than putting food in his mouth.

Then we headed to a fund raising event at Ainsley's school. The place was noisy and packed. Steve noticed right away that Ian felt uneasy, so we tried to get out as quickly as we could. I don't know why I felt it was necessary to participate in the bake sale. Probably because one of my dearest friends had baked a cake for it and I wanted to see if it was still there. Ian bought some chocolate chip cookies, and Ainsley selected a cupcake. At that point, I was still somewhat oblivious to the turmoil going on inside my son.

When we got home, he fell apart. It was a little different this time, in that he seemed to be smiling, with occasional giggles, as he screamed and kicked, and curled up into a fetal position. Steve was convinced it was an act. I was too at first. We teased him a little to see if we could change his reaction, but he really didn't seam to be hearing us. My gut told me this was getting serious.

Finally, I started putting things together in my mind. His strange behavior this afternoon, what he had eaten - the lemonade was not the sugar-free kind he is used to, it was the really syrupy kind - his anxiety, all pointed to something more than just an act. I brought him some cheese and whole-wheat bread. As he at the snack he seemed to become more alert and able to communicate coherently. He was exhausted.

Ian climbed into bed without brushing his teeth and without a story. Sugar hopped up next to him. She always knows when someone needs her unconditional love. Ian asked me to stay too, so the three of us snuggled for a few minutes. Then Ainsley came in and decided to join the love-fest. Steve showed up momentarily and sandwiched us in tight. All five of us on Ian's twin bed. Now THAT'S a FAMILY HUG!

I have vowed to make certain I know every morsel that goes into that child's mouth until he is able to monitor his nutrition for himself. And I will teach him what sugar does to his body and to know what foods contain it so he can avoid them. He is smart enough to understand. I just need to find some brilliant way of making him WANT to learn how to take better care of himself. He has to take responsibility for it.

Now, how do you help a kid develop a sense of responsibility when he thinks like the cartoon Calvin and Hobbes?

Then Came Brussels Sprouts

Yep, I really put them to the test this time. I got brave and gave 'em Brussels Sprouts. This may well have been one of the dumbest food ideas I have had in recent years. Steve really put on a show trying to convince the kids this was the best vegetable he has ever tasted. He even had me convinced.

We dissected a sprout to gain Ian's scientific interest. He thought it was cool, but not edible. Ainsley just said, "they are gross," and that was the end of it as far as she was concerned.

I loved the tiny cabbages when I was a kid; but I have to admit they are not in my top 10 veggies any longer. Maybe not even the top 20.

Oh, well. It was worth a shot.

Dry Salmon, Raw Carrots, Burned Rice, and Edamame Beans

No, that isn't the title of Laurie Berkener's latest children's song. Although, my two would be the first to learn the words and start singing it in the tub.I am embarrassed to say this is what I served my family for dinner tonight. It was not one of our better meals. The salmon would have been wonderful, but the griller was distracted by a girl taunting her brother and got caught up in refereeing an argument. The remaining mediocrities were my doing, and I have no excuses other than bad meals happen.

The remarkable thing about this dinner, however, is that Ian ate almost every bite on his plate. At first he scoffed at the salmon; he always does. But lately, he has been willing to take a bite or two. This time, he ate five bites and admitted that it wasn't bad. He ate an entire baby carrot, which normally he won't touch unless it is cooked. He even ate several spoonfuls of rice, his only comment being, "it's crunchy." Edamame Beans are a favorite no matter how they turn out because they are fun to pop open and make a big pile on the plate. He loves them.

For a boy whose favorite and most frequent meal consists of waffles and turkey bacon, this was quite a jump. Certain things must be prepared certain ways, and if they aren't cooked to his preferred specifications, there is usually no way he is going to consume them. Even more surprising is that a child with the typical taste sensitivities of most kids on the autism spectrum, willingly - and without argument - ate foods he would normally refuse.

I hope this means many things. First, I hope Ian is becoming more flexible in his food choices. There is a good possibility that this is true, because he is becoming more willing to buy his lunch at school every week. When I fix new things at home, his hesitance to try them is more easily worn down by our rule that he must try one bite.

Second, I hope Ian is beginning to realize that his mom is a good cook and isn't going to feed him something terrible tasting or bad for him; nor would I force him to eat something he just couldn't stomach. Even though I long for the days when I could put any healthy food in front of Ian and watch him enjoy every morsel, it seems his maturity is going to get him back to that point again. . .someday.

And third, I hope this means the beginning of the end of the food battle. We have tried not to make it one, but when your child's brain is starving and you can't convince him that he must eat, eating becomes a war of wills whether you want it to or not. Perhaps he has realized that he thinks more clearly and feels better when he eats regularly. He'll never express it in those terms, but in the back of my mind I think that is at least some of the impetus for the change.

I know I say this a lot, but each day I see tiny changes in him that make me so proud of how hard he works to make it through the day and to understand the weird people he lives with. Earlier this week he realized how important it is to have a good friend, and that sometimes friends hurt each other's feelings. The hardest part is not necessarily the act that caused the argument. It is admitting that you both made a mistake and apologizing to each other. And then things go on, just like they did before. Maybe a little better.


Earlier today he rode his scooter while we walked the dog for half an hour. Occasionally, he would stop and rest or have Steve or me push him for a few feet. But he went farther than ever before and never complained about how hard it was or how tired he was getting. Not long ago he would have given up after a couple of blocks. today he went almost a mile.

As each new realization hits Ian, whether it be an expansion of his dietary intake, the deepening of his ties to people outside our home, or accomplishing something difficult, his face softens just a little. Old anxieties get pushed a little further away. New ones, of course, will appear in time, but I feel confident in his ability to make it through these challenges and feel proud of himself when he does.

Tea for Two

Last evening, as I was beginning to cook dinner, the kids began their ritual of camping in front of the pantry to nosh on everything within reach. They grabbed a box of water crackers and asked for some cheese. Then, instead of heading for the television, they went into the formal dining room to have a tea party.

They used Ainsley's china tea set, beautifully decorated with butterflies, dragonflies, and ladybugs. For the first round, I filled the teapot with water and carefully poured the cups at the table and served them. The kids clanked their cups together and said, "Cheers!"

Before long, they were both speaking in British accents and behaving quite proper. We practiced our good tea party manners as they made sandwiches with their cheese and crackers. This can be a challenge when cracker crumbs fly across the table after one bites into a "sandwich". They took it all very seriously and were extremely polite.

Next, Ainsley decided that in order for her to be a proper lady, she must be dressed appropriately. She went purposefully upstairs and returned a few minutes later. She glided gracefully down the winding staircase wearing her glittery pink dress-up skirt, crystalline (plastic and rubber) princess slippers, jeweled rings on four fingers, green Mardi-gras beads around her neck, and the aqua and orange Hawaiian tank top she had been wearing before she blossomed into Lady Tasha.

Ian, being such a gentleman, pulled her chair out from the table for her, and I scooted her back in. (The chairs weigh more than the kids do!) The tea party resumed and they began telling a story of some sort while I began making tortillas to go with dinner. Then Ian took off for the play room and returned with an armful of their largest stuffed animals. Each was seated in a chair around the table and given a napkin. So they, too, could have some tea, Ian retrieved an assortment of plastic cups we have managed to collect from restaurants in the area.

This was getting to be quite a production. We were all speaking proper English and being so polite to one another. I wasn't sure I was in the right house. The kids proved to me that they really DO know how to behave in a civilized manner. I'm not sure who impressed me more - Ian, with his charm and eloquence, serving all of his friends and making sure everyone was taken care of; or Ainsley, who brought forth her soft, delicate side - the side that sips gingerly instead of gulping and dribbling, takes tiny demure bites instead of shoving a fistful into her mouth. They DO have good manners. They just choose not to use them at the family dinner table. Grrrrrrr.

We are going to have to work on this. Maybe it was the genteel accent that brought it out. If so, we may have to adopt a new way of speaking in this house.

A Conference YOU Should Attend

I received the most wonderful piece of mail today - a conference announcement for the following:

Autism & Asperger's Syndrome
April 26 & 27th in Dallas, TX
Keynote Speakers:
Dr. Temple Grandin
Unwritten Rules of Social Relationships
Thinking in Pictures and other wonderful books on autism

Carol Gray
Creator of "Social Stories"

If you have read my blog for any length of time, you know that Temple Grandin is someone in whom I hold the highest regard. She has been autistic all of her life and has become highly successful in her field of expertise. She also chooses to share details about her life with autism so those of us who have been pulled into the spectrum can better understand it and help our loved ones achieve their own full potential.

Carol Gray's social stories concept helped us reach Ian in a time when our learning curve was at its steepest. Social stories were the one thing that helped to connect our world and his. We would still be struggling with the basics if not for this approach.

Go to the Future Horizons website and sign up NOW!!! It is a wonderful opportunity. American Airlines is home to D/FW, so flights are plentiful. Most other airlines also fly to D/FW; and Southwest Airlines flies to D/FW and Love Field.

And if you decide to attend, email me. We'll do lunch!

Marty Strikes Again

I love children's movies, especially the ones that include a few jokes for the parents to keep us laughing and following the plot. One of my all-time favorites is Madagascar. Bear in mind that I have never actually seen this movie with my eyes. I have only heard it about 700 times while driving around with my kids in the car. Still, it's a scream.

Some of the jokes in this flick, however, can come back to bite you on the butt if your children repeat them around those who have not experienced either the comedic rantings of Chris Rock or watched Madagascar.

Case in point:

This week I entered my first art show. It was exciting and excruciatingly painful all at the same time. Having complete strangers view and critique the paintings that have a little of my soul in each of them bothered me more than I thought it would. I didn't sleep much once my art was in the hands of other artists and jurors.

At the awards reception, Ainsley sat on a chair next to my mother, munching on chocolate covered pretzels and gobbling cheese squares as fast as she could. I stood on my toes trying to see and hear what was going on at the front of the room. A woman with a very delicate voice and no microphone was presenting the awards.

Eventually, most people had stopped shuffling, coughing, and whispering. At that point it was quite apparent whenever a cell phone rang. At least five people received calls during the ceremony. I was really starting to get ticked off about it when my own phone alarm sounded to remind me of something I was supposed to do at 6:00. It was very embarrassing.

That wasn't quite as bad as when Ainsley decided to add to the moment her own humorous interpretation of Marty the Zebra by shouting,

"Excuse me! Your biting my butt!"

The elderly man standing in front of me turned around and glared at Ainsley, then at my mother. I sidestepped a couple of feet away from them both so it wouldn't look like I was with them. And as luck would have it, the meek little lady announcing the winners, called my name just in time for me to high-tail it to the front of the room and get even further away before anyone could accuse me of having a vulgar child.

Self Sufficient, When He Wants to Be

The other day, Ian came home from school in a wonderful mood. He read a book for a while, played with some toys, got rowdy with his sister, then decided to hide from me in the pantry. While he was in there, he must have decided he was hungry. He emerged with a loaf of bread and peanut butter. After setting these on the bar, he retrieved a butter knife from the silverware drawer and a large plate from the dishwasher (which held the dirty dishes from the day before).

He then proceeded to make himself a HUGE peanut butter sandwich, sans jelly or marshmallow fluff. And then he ate the entire thing. It was an amazing thing to behold. He was proud of himself for deciding what he wanted and being capable of making it. I was thrilled to know that I can now say, "Get it yourself, dear" the next time he asks for a snack.

A dear friend of mine once told me that her mother's philosphy about raising children was this: If she did her job right, they would one day leave her.

Ian has taken his first step in that direction. YEEEEEEEEE-HAW!