21 with Autism

This afternoon at work I was talking to a fellow teacher when she asked me how Kaeden is doing.  This is one of those subjects in which I never quite know how to answer...in general, people want to hear only the good news, the common, "Oh, everything is great!"  However, knowing Kaeden's story and our family history a bit more intimately, many people in our community ask what I would assume to be sincerely.  And it's a difficult question, as I don't have a really good answer.

"He's doing pretty well at the moment,"  I answered.  "He's still in Wijchmaal and has started working at a farm one day a week.  He comes home days in the weekend and that seems to suit all of us best."

The teacher went on to ask how long he can remain in school, and in his home away from home, what his future plans are, etc...and then hit me with some news.

In the paper today was an article about a 21-year-old autistic young man with aggressive tendencies whom lives in the village next to ours.  He also attended Kaeden's school and lived in Kaeden's home away from home.  However, he is now 21, and this demands that his living premises change.  At the age of 21, you no longer qualify to live in Kaeden's home away from home.  And, unfortunately, there is a HUGE waiting list for available resources for these 20-something "kids".  This particular young man's parents were shouting out for any type of assistance they could be offered.  After 13 years living away from home, none of them were able to see a successful future living together.  Yet, legally, it was the only manner.  As parents, we are legally responsible for our adult handicapped children.  Legally, they must have living arrangements.  Functionally, they can't live on their own.  So, what do we as parenst do?  When we have adult children who are aggressive, in addition to being used to living away from home, when they turn 21?  There is no help, no assistance.  We must fend for ourselves and our adult child.  And we start over once again...

I am scared for this coming future we try not to look towards.  I already know that IF Kaeden would come home to live, it would end in disaster...serious disaster...like, death of maiming injury.  It sounds a bit farfetched, but it isn't.  I know, in my heart of hearts, something very bad would come out of this scenario.  But, what other options do we have?

I am frightened of the future.  I try not to let it dominate my here and now, but the truth is that the niggling worry already flls my mind from time to time.  How can it not.  We have 2 years...two years...in which to figure out how to make living possible for all of us, without housing options.  This autism stuff just doesn't get any easier...

We're at the halfway mark in this round with the psych hospital.  Halfway there...

Last night I went to visit my son.  Picked him up and took him out for an ice cream cone.  It is moments such as these that I so treasure with him.  Just him and I doing what any parent and child would/should do.  We walked through the door of the ice cream shop and another man was being served.  He had a huge cone with a ton of ice cream and whipped cream and cherries on top and it made Kaeden's mouth water.  "Mama, that is a big ice cream.  Can I have one of those?"  he asked.  I wanted to say yes, have whatever you want, but I also know that 1) he shouldn't have so much  2) this was a little treat, not something that should cost a days work and 3) he needs to know that I am in control, I have the final say.  "No, Kaeden, we came to get a little treat.  Look at all those flavors they have.  Which ONE would you like?  I'm going to have the lemon sorbet."

We ordered and sat out in the sunshine, the heat of the hottest day of the year thus far hanging onto us.  I asked him how he was doing, what they'd been doing in the group.  He responded with "Nothing."  So, I tried another tactic.  "I see you have a new bracelet.  Did you make that?"

And then the floodgates opened.  He started telling me about the crafts they had done, the outdoor games with water balloons, showed me the blister on his hand from tug of war.  He smiled and laughed and couldn't get it all out quickly enough.  I laughed with him, my smile meeting the smile in his own eyes.  This was what I wanted, what I needed.  Just a regular ole conversation of daily events of mother and son.

We sat there in the sun enjoying our time together.  "So, Kaeden, what flavor are you going to choose next time we come for a cone?"  I asked my boy, my young man.  "Are you going to get coconut again, or try something else?"  I could see the wheels turning as he tried to decide.  "That tasted just like a bounty," he answered.  "But maybe I want to try something else next time.  Maybe we can come enough times that I could try ALL the flavors!"  He looked at me with a smirk, but with light in his eyes, teasing me...

This was all I wanted, all I needed.  This game parents and children play.  This is reality.

Autism and Psychiatric Hospital

Today I have to find mental strength.  It seems so hard to do the past few months as I find myself sinking into some emotional pit of doom, unable to find even enough strength to do the required tasks of the day.  However, this is also a required task, and one of great importance.  But, it doesn't make it any easier to gear up for.

My son has been hospitalized in a psychiatric center for issues he is unable to control due to his autism.  He is no longer functioning in our world as his fear and struggles prevent him from managing on a day to day basis.  And it sounds like he's pulling mama along for the ride, as I am having the exact same issues, without the aggression and violence.

This afternoon we head once again for another meeting with his psychologist, our psychologist, to discuss the ups and downs of our life as a family with autism.  The ups come fewer and further between than the downs, and the worry from this has taken the livelihood from my eyes and replaced it with someone I don't even know.  I look at myself and wonder where the spirited, passionate mother and woman of long ago has gone.  What I see scares me.  I do not wish to be the woman behind those eyes.  She looks back with a defeated blank stare on her face.  She is not alive.  She cannot find happiness.

This is the second round of psychiatric hospitals for our family.  I have major doubts about what they can do to help.  All the time and energy and focus put into helping my child, and I really don't see the light at the end of the tunnel.  I can't fathom finding help for this child whom owns my heart as I think about his thoughts and actions and his manner of living.  And yet, something in me won't give up, won't quit searching, won't quit trying.  He deserves my full attention, my every breath to get him to a place of happiness and success in whatever his path through life takes.  He deserves my undying commitment.

But what he can't take from me, I have learned, is my own happiness and success.  He can't grab onto the gleam of pride and strength in my eyes and turn it into the woman I have allowed myself to become.  He can't take away my own life.  I have allowed that to happen through fault of my own, given in to the power it has over me, this autism thing.  I have allowed it to suffocate me.  I haven't been strong enough to overcome the pain and hurt and fear and worry and sadness.  This isn't about him, but about me.  This is me living with autism.  Not autism in my own head, but the outward effects of having an autistic child. I am at a place where I am no longer willing to give it the power I have in the past.  I want to stand with pride, find the twinkle of expression in my eyes, be one step above this living with autism thing.

Today I will go to the psychiatric hospital where my son is being kept for the coming 9 weeks.  I will go and tell them how autism is affecting me, my marriage, my family.  I will tell our psychologist what I need to beat autism, what I need to do to find my sanity and regain my lust for life.  I will tell her I want my husband to see the life in my eyes, be able to laugh with me again.  I will tell her that I want to be the best mother I can be for my little guy, to have energy to play.  That I want to do everything within my power to help my son find his place in life, but not give up myself in the process.  I will tell her all of this, and ask her opinion on what i need to do to achieve it.

I need mental strength.  I need to be alive.  I need to live, not with autism, but above it.

Meeting of Hope

Tonight we go do some more problem solving with Kaeden's school. Yet another appointment to TRY to help our son. He isn't doing well, and the weight of his unhappiness is falling heavy on my shoulders. My heart aches for my son. I can no longer call him my little boy, at a whopping 17 years old and 6 feet, but he remains my child, my heart.

Kaeden has been reacting (overreacting) very aggressively the past couple of months. He has broken many things, but even bigger, he has also become physically aggressive towards people. When he physically assaulted me, I called the police for assistance. Who wants to make that kind of decision when it comes to her child? But it wasn't a decision I had to make. When my head got bashed into the wall, I knew it was time for intervention. That type of battery I can not accept from anyone, including my son. No, I am unwilling to accept being physically abused, or the abuse of other people. It is inhumane, and respect needs to be learned, whatever the cost.

The cost is high. My son no longer lives under my roof. He is *temporarily* living at his home away from home with a visit home on the weekend. And though his weekend visit home has been very positive and we've all had fun together without problems, the fact is that his behavior problems have moved to new ground: specifically, his group home. School is also a point of disaster. And everyone seems to be losing hope, losing the drive to further help him, becoming lost in a world of what do we do now?

The positive of all of this is that his group home now sees, instead of just hearing about, Kaeden's disruptive behavior, his outbursts and disrespect. His autism. The downside is that they aren't sure how to help him. My loving, sweet, happy kid with meldowns and outbursts has turned into a very unhappy, constantly disruptive, friendless young man. He hates his group home as the rules have become too overwhelming, and he often gets his rewards taken away, while he twiddles his thumbs in his lcoked up bedroom. The other guys living with him are tired of him and his ways, and most have turned their backs on the friendly kid who used to be their friend.

And my son calls me, something I consider a blessing, to bear his soul, cry, scream and curse. I promise him I will do all I can to help him. I thank him for confiding in me. I ask what I can do??? And he never knows how to help me to help him. He, too, is lost. And as I calmly speak to my son, reminding him how far respect goes, hwo we all care about him and want to help him, his tears echo in not only my ear, but my heart. I want to clasp him to me, envelop him in my love...but even that I cannot do and even as my soul aches, my mind is happy that he uses me as his out, calls me to help him through his time of need. And somewhere inside, I regretfully feel comfort in the fact that it didn't happen at home...that I wasn't subjected to his disrespect, his outburst, the fear. That for once, I can be his comfort, his sounding block, the place he turns when the world gets too much.

So, tonight we go meet with the group of 10 people all surrounding my son, doing what we can to try to help him, hoping that one day something will click and he will again become the happy, friendly kid that hates authority of any kind. That kid is easier to work with.

I hope we can come up with a plan. I'd like my kid to call me and say: Hi Mama, I'm having a GREAT day! That we could both (all) find comfort and feel the freshness of the wind on our face...not only that cold, bitter chill.

Wedded Bliss

This past weekend, Kaeden attended a wedding. Not only attended, but took part in the wedding ceremony. He passed out the ceremony books and led people to their seats. Then, during the mass, he read pieces of a story. This wedding, it gave me a little piece of something I can't explain. It showed me that my son has a place in the world, and where that place is. It made me see him as an independent young man, fulfilled.

Kaeden came home and told me his teacher was getting married, and that he could attend the ceremony. He was very excited, animated, happy to be part of something so big for someone so important in his life. I hadn't heard anything about this wedding, so wasn't quick to sahre his excitement. I thought maybe his imagine was taking over, as happens often with Kaed. I didn't want him to get his hopes up too high, so answered with a simple: That is nice.

Then, I received a note from his teacher, outlining Kaeden's duties during the ceremony, what time he needed to be at the church. He told me he was preparing Kaeden and his classmates for their part in his wedding. I was initially a bit frustrated by the news, getting it just 2 days before the date. Really, it's something I should have known earlier; what if we had other plans?

However, as my frustration subsided, I felt a sense of acceptance. Acceptance of and for my son. People in his life, whom are important to him, but for whom he is also important to them. A bonding with teachers, everyday people in the world. It gave me great satisfaction, knowing that this tight-knit little group of which Kaeden has been a part for two years now, really is the tight-knit group I have imagined. A class of five young men all with severe behavior problems, learning disabilities, autism, ADHD, and aggression. A class specially designed to keep these kids in school, to help them find their place in the world. Two young male teachers who hold the group together, acting not only as teachers, mentors, guides, but also as friends. They are not

Mr. Teacher, but Timmeke (an endearing form of his name) and Bossie (a nickname). And this group of seven has become my son's world for the time being. A place where he learns, plays, and fights, but then learns how to control his aggression and anger, how to deal with the emotions leftover from a fight.

When I saw Kaeden, his friends, and his teachers at the wedding (my curiosity got the best of me, I couldn't stay away), I recognized that Kaeden is exactly where he needs to be. Yes, he

needs guidance. He is getting it, from this little group. Maybe the teachers are too young to fully understand, they have no kids of their own, have only been teaching a short while. They are smaller than my son and Kaeden pats them on the head. BUT, they are giving him friendship with a twist- they are in control, they are guiding him. And my son fits in perfectly.

Kaeden got up to stand before the mass of people during the ceremony. He and his classmates read a story, each taking different pieces, all of them having a turn. And I heard that their reading wasn't strong, they stuttered and they had diffculty pronouncing words. They shied

away from the mike making it hard to understand. They sounded out words which were too big to get out in one breath. But you know what? They all did it! And they did it in a place where they were not only accepted doing it, but praised for the good job they did. I cried. Because seriously, how many times will my son be given a job so important and be given the chance to shine and do so with a group of people who accept him completely, for who he is, and even celebrate the young man he is.

I thank these young teachers, and specifically Bossie and his bride, for making their wedding a chance to do so much more than bind them in marriage. They also made awareness of kids with differences, and gave them a chance to prove just how great they can be, to shine before a large group of people, to say: Hey, look at me, I am A PART OF THIS SOMETHING BIG!

This little group, it may be small in size, but it's big in something more important: acceptance. And we could all use them as an example to learn from.

Working Together

I am really proud of my boy tonight. The big one. He came home from school and has been magnificent to be around the entire evening. It's days like today that give me this feeling of comfort. It feels really good.

Erwin and I attended a meeting with his home away from home this morning. We worked together to make up rules and a plan of attack so that we can all work more efficiently together. I think we have reached a really good compromise. The rules at home are the same as at the other home. His punishments are the same as well. It feels good to have finally found a team who care enough to help us make this work. Because it is a lot of work. We all need to give the same information, follow through with the same plan. And even though there will always be slight differences between home and a live-in care center, today I felt this kind of power in knowing what our expectations are, having them hear our input, and getting it all down on paper so we all feel comfortable.

This is the first time I have really felt this way, ever. Even working with this particular group of people, we always had our differences. Today we finally all committed to each other, to make it work for our son, for our family.

When Erwin and I sat down with Kaeden tonight to explain the new rules (morning and bedtime rituals, mostly) he answered by blowing out a big breath of air. "I like this," he answered. "It will be so much easier to have the same rules at home and at school!" And if he's feeling the pressures subside just from hearing our fellowship, I am interested to see what happens when we actually put it into motion. I hope it will work, for all of us. Most importantly, for Kaeden himself, to help him become more independent and trustworthy.

I expect issues to arise, meltdowns to take place. But we're all on the same page, sharing one goal...the goal to bring peace and happiness to our son, and our family. To give Kaeden the security he needs to feel confidence, and the confidence to become independent. What more could I ask?

Tomorrow begins our new system. I am leary, but hopeful. Mostly, I hope that when we falter, when Kaeden doesn't succeed, that we can remain positive, help him to accomplish the goals and be a success. That we can give him the room needed to make it all work. Starting new systems is never easy, but this time we're starting with accomplices...and they want it to work as badly as Erwin and I...and our son!

Good Job Kaeden for hearing us, listening, and agreeing to do your best. I am so proud of the start you have already made. Let's keep it going kiddo! We're going to win this thing, make our family a positive, happy, harmonious family. One we are all proud to say : This is my family!

Humiliation

This was a hard weekend for me. Sometimes they are. It was one of those times when I noticed other people noticing my son. Noticing that he's different. Noticing that even though he looks very "normal" he doesn't quite act "normal". Most of the time I try not to let it bother me, don't notice the second glances or downright stares. But when I am feeling uptight and stressed myself, I tend to notice those little glances or laughs hidden behind a hand covering the lips, or someone shaking their head more. I tend to be ultra-aware of my surroundings and take evrything in, maybe to make up for what Kaeden is unable to take in. And it is very hard for me, as his mom, to recognize people seeing him as being different. It may be a good thing, for others to be faced with differences and come to recognize disabilities, but for me, it's sometimes humiliating. There, I said it. I don't like myself for feeling that way about my own son, but geez, sometimes I just want to fit in and not be the stand out in the crowd. This weekend, it was impossible.

We went to a big nature playground and we were having a lot of fun together as a family. Erwin and Kaeden even managed to play together, joke around, and laugh together without any problems. That alone had me feeling like I was on top of the world. I should know better than to get too enthusiastic, as when I do, my spirit always gets shattered. If I keep my hopes somewhat subdued, it never seems quite as damaging.

After playing in the playground we went to the mini golf and started our rounds. It was a really cool course with different paths than you see everywhere. We were having so much fun when suddenly we caught up to the masses. It was so busy we couldn't even golf, with groups of 7 or 10 or even more ahead of us. I think it stressed my husband out, all the crowds. I know it stressed me out, and I'm sure it was hard for Kaeden. Crowds always are harder for him. We decided to move forward to a path that wasn't taken by groups. Kaeden was worried about this, worried we wouldn't get back and get the correct score. Worried we wouldn't know which path we'd already completed, that the score wouldn't even out in the end. He was correct, because that little happening caused him too much stress and on the following course, he exploded. He laughed when Erwin missed a shot, Erwin got mad at his insincerity, and then it was boom!

Kaeden lost it, completely and wholly. He was cursing and screaming and spitting and pacing and throwing the ball and his club. And all those hordes of people? Yeah, they witnessed it all. The people climbing on the survival course in the trees above us? Yeah, they witnessed it too. People stopped playing as our family became a one act show for all to be entertained. And I stood on, trying to reach my son, reach through his anger, his fear, his disregard for people, and find a way to calm him. But at that moment it wasn't possible. And then, as I looked around me, I realized that Kaeden could seriously hurt one of these people. He was that out of it that he wasn't aware of his surroundings in the least. Eventually, I persuaded him to come with me as he continued to rant and swing the club around ferociously. As we made our way out of the mini golf park, leaving Erwin and Jari behind, he continued to spit, scream, curse and kick. And I was the center of attention, as was my son.

At that point, all I wanted was to get Kaeden to calm down. I needed him to come back to reality, to breathe. So I stopped, spoke calmly and let him rant until I finally saw his eyes begin to clear, his face lose some of the tension. And then, when he said he needed to go walk to calm down, I let him go. That is his best manner of gaining control, to just leave him alone. So I sat and watched people still pointing and makiing gestures my way. And silently cursed them, myself, my husband, my son. Tried to stay calm.

A little while later, Kaeden was by the outdoor swimming pool. Jari and Erwin came back after their golf rounds and Jari went in search of his brother while Erwin and I discussed what had happened. He came running back to inform me that Kaeden was swimming. Swimming? In 60 degree grey autumn weather? Swimming with no swimming trunks? Swimming?

I looked over the fence to see my 16 year old son jump in the outdoor swimming pool in his underwear, his clothes left in a pile by the side of the pool. And I had no clue what to do. I called his name, then demanded that Jari come back by us to get Kaeden's audience away. But he still had an audience. People sitting picknicking were laughing, pointing, shaking their heads, glancing back and forth between Kaeden and I. Tears pricked behind my eyes as I watched thescene before me unfold. I wached Kaeden go down the baby slide into the pool and stand there just grinning.

So what, I tried to tell myself. But it was not normal behavior. So what, I tried to believe. But it was not okay for someone his age to take part in such an activity. Eventually, Kaeden climbed out of the pool, gathered his clothes, stripped down to nakedness, and got dressed, carrying his wet underwear as he returned. I couldn't get away fast enough. I hoped the car would swallow me whole. I was utterly humiliated.

The thing that bothers me most is this humiliation. I should have been more worried about my son than what others were saying and thinking. I should have been so involved in him that I didn't notice the stares and pointing. But I wasn't. I was doing what I had to do to keep them and him safe, to help him find calm, and nobody has any idea. I am certain they know there was something not quite right, but I could have used it as a learning opportunity in place of wallowing in my own embarrassment. Maybe next time. Probably not.

It Hurts

It hurts.

I watch him prepare his bag, fill it with clothes and special mementos.

I watch him write a list of all he is to bring.

I watch him without him knowing.

I watch him, and it hurts.

Do you have everything? I ask

A mama and her son.

Yes, I wrote it all down, he says

And I check his list.

You need your coat I say

And I run out to the laundry line and tear it off

I smell his coat, but his scent is gone, clean with soap and sun and air

He pulls his backpack on his back.

He puts his coat on as I hand it to him

And his hand fleetingly touches mine

A mama and her son.

His touch makes me ache, it hurts

A stabbing pain in my heart

As he reaches towards me for a kiss

A kiss, something you do when you say goodbye

For me, a promise of my love

Tender lips touching

A mama and her son.

It's Saturday night, time to go

The sky just beginning to turn dark

As is my spirit as I hug him to me

His coat and his backpack covering

His body I long to feel in my arms.

It hurts, and tears fill my eyes

But will not fall, cannot fall

I must be brave, have courage and faith

This is best, this is what he needs

Goodbye my son, I love you.

And the door closes as he glances back towards me

Seeing the tears threatening to fall

And I smile, have fun this week, kiddo, I say

And as the latch closes tight, I hurt.

And one tear falls as I turn towards the kitchen

To where there is light

And I make a cup of coffee as I tell myself over and over again:

This is best, he needs this, he wants this

He loves this.

But I need you, I want you, I love you, my boy.

And it hurts.

Tea and Comfort

The house is quiet. All I hear is the sound of the tv as I sit back and tune it out. I have a cup of cinnamon apple tea, warm in my hand, and the smell seduces me, causing me every so often to take a sip. It's a comfortable feeling, sitting here alone, knowing everyone is safe and sleeping gently just where they belong. I have gotten up a number of times to turn out the loghts and head to the cozy warmth of my bedroom, but my eyes are as yet not ready to close. They are enjoying this solitude, this peace.

WE have started a new program with Kaeden, coordinating with his home away from home, as they work with us trying to develop a sense of relaxation for all of us when he is at home. It's quite a complicated system, but last weekend, the first weekend we use dit, was the best we have had in a very long time. I know my kid, and I know he gets a thrill out of new things. I know that the level of comfort we all felt last week is most likely a short-lived happiness, but I dare to hope none-the-less. I would give my life to find comfort and peace coexist in our home, just as I feel now, relaxed and content.

Kaeden desires peace in our home. He desires a better relationship with his dad, sharing life with his little brother as only brothers can, having a mama whom doesn't cry everytime her son actually shines in happiness. He wants things to be better, but just as we ask every day of our lives, he also asks the question "How?"

We are starting with aggression. Kaeden has a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to violent behavior since last week, and as much as I am happy it exists, I am also scared. What happens when that zero-tolerance is crossed? We have a plan, but can it fall into place? Will he have the ability to stop his behavior and recognize the consequence of his actions? Kaeden must show respect for people and material objects. He must show respect to us as his parents by following our guidance if he begains to sway and fail, and he must recognize when he is becoming angry and leave the scene before he explodes. These are not easy feats, and though our first week went flawless and my pride in my son soared, I worry for the consequences that will follow IF he does fail. It has become a habit, common-place in our home. We have turned rather than faced the problem head-on simply becuase we don't know what to do. WE now have assistance, as well as back-up. Will it be enough? Will it give him the motivation to try to stay in control? To learn to show respect?

We must let the other behaviors slide while we work first on aggression. Will we be able to carry on, to let things slide which are really not okay? Will we have the strength to carry through with zero-tolerance? Will we have the strength to show him praise for simple things which aren't really due praise?

This week we all sent Kaeden a card, thanking him for the terrific weekend, telling him how much we appreciated his effort, and in turn his success. I didn't ask anyone to sign it, but simply told Erwin and Jari I had it and was planning to send it. When I stuck it in the envelope, all three of us had written Kaeden a personal note....without my request. I dare to hope, with a shallow wall protecting my soul. I want to break the wall down, but it's not yet time. The hope is high, the spirit strong, and I am comfortable and cozy in my home. My family is secure and safe and relaxed, and as I drink the last swallow of my tea, I finally feel like this plan, this little piece of help, may be what I need to finally be able to breathe. I pray for our success, each and every one of us.

Home Movies

Home movies on the tv. Seems like such a fun experience, bringing back moments in time, remembering our kids as babies, special times shared with those we love. It's an experience to watch these videos, thinking how much has changed since that long past day.

For me, though, home movies are not a piece of magic. I watch those long ago moments and wonder where I went wrong, what more I could have done. When I see my husband and son walking together down a wooded path holding hands, my little boy lughing and smiling and playing and jumping as little boys are supposed to do, it tugs at my heart in a way that nothing else can. It becomes an ache that claws away until inevitably tears begin to fall and I feel failure with a capital F creeping into my every bone. What happened to make those magical moments disappear? How did we go from loving, easy-going family to the point we have now reached?

Yesterday, oma and opa came for a visit. It wasn't a visit that turned out the way we always hope they will. Kaeden ended up throwing a tantrum, to a degree they have yet not seen. The extent of damage one mound of anger and disharmony creates is something that can't be turned around. It stands the test of time, in a manner which we'd rather it didn't. Such behaviors, such words and complete uncontrol, are not soon to be forgotten. The tremebling fear holding their littlest grandson in his own fearful tremor takes a piece of your soul and rips it to shreds. Knowing what is happening, seeing it first hand rather than living it through stories, is not something I can take back, no matter how much I wish I could. Nobody should have to be victim to that feeling of helplessness and pain.

We watched home videos. Erwin asked Kaeden to clean up the tools he used to make a mess in the freshly cleaned porch outside. Kaeden didn't want to and left the room in anger...to his bedroom, where we left him to chill out. When he had enough time, I reminded him he wouldn't have dinner until he was done cleaning up. And then it all began. The disrespect, anger, spitting, threatening. And it wasn't quick to stop.

The home movies played on. Scenes of happiness from another time, another place threw laughter out of the speakers, as screams and crying and dirty words flew presently around our home. The laughter and smiles contined to play on. And on and on and on. Soon, nobody was watching. The air in our home was stripped of life-giving oxygen as we all held our breath. Only the happiness from the tv continued to breathe.

My scared little boy, my angry husband, my hopeless self and a non-existant Kaeden swallowed up in his own little world of pain..along with my in-laws, standing by horrified, wanting to intercede, but me stopping the further round of aggression.

Still the home movies played on. Later in the evening, after a sort of settling had taken place in our home, a calm after the storm, but still lingering, this tension, this secret of which nobody wanted to speak, I sat with Kaeden, the home movies still flashing across the screen. He laughed at the little boy he was, the little kid climbing rocks, his beautiful face covered by blonde hair with a plastered on smile, a smile and a sense of complete joy, which never left him. Kaeden laughed, as the boy on the screen before me and the young man next to me, and I cried. The pain of all that is lost, all that has been swallowed by the passing of time. And the home movies continued to play on.

Chrtistmas Wishes

Christmas is made of magic and wishes and beautiful stories to fill your heart...



Last night, we were all sitting watching The Polar Express...a very favorite Christmas film of mine, which Jari chose. As it was nearing the end, and the kid gets to pick the first gift of the year, Jari says to me: If I could have one wish, I KNOW what my wish would be.

I looked at him and asked, simplÿ, "What?"

He leans over and whispers to me, "I have a wish, but I can only tell you. Not Kaeden and Papa." and he glanced at Kaeden sitting nearby and he put his finger to his lips in a shushing gesture.

We finished watching the film and I told the boys it was time to get ready for bed. Jari snuggled up to me and I could see he had something on his mind. "Jari" I whispered. "What would be your wish?"

My little boy looked up at me, and one lone tear fell from his eye as he wiped it away (yes, really). He pulled me under the blanket with him and whispered in my ear, "If I could have just one wish, I'd wish for Kaeden and Papa to not fight any more."

Though I knew this was an emotional moment, it took me by surprise. While many children wish for toy cars and computer games, nothing could fulfill the wish list of my son more fruitfully than peace in our home, in his life.


Sobs shook my body as I held me son against me. We lay there, in each other's arms, sharing a hope which we both believe can never come true. We believe in the Christmas spirit, in Sanata Claus and Rudolph, but something simple like a happy family is something we dare not dream, though the hope and desire remains fully alive.


I pulled my son's face to mine, looking him eye to eye. I kissed the tip of his nose and whispered in his ear, "Jari, that is the most beautiful wish I have ever heard." With a last tight squeeze, he took off to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.


Christmas is made of Magic. I hope the magic helps my son's only wish to come true, because I am powerless in this situation. It's just a little wish...please make it come true.

Early Intervention

You know, I was thinking about Kaeden and his autism and the very beginning of my life with him after reading a post by Tanya at Teen Autism (www.teenautism.com) about surveying parents of autistic kids. It really made me think...and wonder.

I had no clues about Kaeden's autism until he was about 3. It was then that I started noticing little differences that clued me into something being not quite right. Of course, now that I know he is autistic and I know the signs of autism, there were clues prior to age 3. Things I mistakenly thought were him 'being a boy' or 'all kids are different' or 'he just has a lot of energy'. However, this being said, I don't know that I would have wanted it any other way.

They talk about early detection and early intervention. And though I agree that it helps to recognize that something is wrong, I feel that early detection and early intervention may be a mistake. There, I said it. I disagree with catching autism too soon. Because once it is discovered and detected and intervened, life can no longer just be life. The kid can no longer be a kid, the parents can no longer just be parents. The kid is the kid with autism and the parents are the parents of the kid with autism. And once we have those labels, there is no turning back.

You can argue with me that we sense something all along, or that the child will never be able to be a 'normal'kid, or that the behaviors of the child already have us stressed as parents. And while those are all valid points and real, it is still my belief that kids with autism such as my son (not classic, but higher functioning) benefit from being allowed to be a kid.

When Kaeden was a baby and toddler, he led a life that every other neuro-typical kid lived. He went to daycare, he went to the playground, he took baths with water and bubbles, he got his shots and well child checks, and he made lots of messes. He watched Barney over and over again, he fingerpainted and played hide and seek. He didn't take an array of vitamins or bathe in epsom salts. He wasn't scheduled with so many therapists there wasn't a moment's break in the day. He didn't have PECS to schedule his life. He was just a kid.

I understand why parents take all these steps early in their child's life. I really do understand. We want to do everything we can to help our child be the most successful he can be. But in that quest to help them, I think we sometimes forget that first and foremost our kid is just a kid. All that autism hubbub and everything that comes with it is secondary. It's not less important, but it does distract from the fact that we have this kid...this living breathing little piece of ourselves who wants to play and eat and whines to get what they want.

When Kaeden used to scream when I vacuumed, I didn't understand why. I just vacuumed when he wasn't around. I now know he had sensitivity to sound. The result was the same, whether I knew he had autism or I didn't. We have instincts as parents. We know how to help our kids (to a certain degree). We know when they aren't happy, or when they are aggitated. And then we do what we can do about it.

Kaeden didn't have any autism-related intervention until he was 6 years old. Kaeden is not free of his autism, he is not cured, and he has many signs and symptoms of being autistic at the age of 15. He has outbursts and fixations and sensory overloads. He also thrives on music and sound, obssesses about money, and uses a strict schema for accomplishing tasks. But he is still autistic, just as he was when he was 3 and I first had doubts about issues.

I am glad we didn't have early intervention programs, as it would never have allowed us to have the enjoyment of each other we had without autism lurking in the background. I know many people will disagree, but in my heart of hearts, I stand true to the opinion. I am glad my kid was able to be just a kid, and I was able to just be that kids mom!

Problem Solving

Last week the boys had fall break from school. As is typical, we set out on a Halloween mini-vacation in a bungalow park for the week. This year, Kaeden happily chose to be with us from Friday-Monday, and return to his home away from home Tuesday-Friday. It was a good compromise, one in which we could all live with. It gave us family time, but also a relaxed break apart in a different setting. It was ideal.

However, Friday afternoon we started for Belgium after our week away, where we were to pick Kaeden up at his home away from home at 4pm. The usual 2 hour trip turned into a 4 hour one due to the numerous traffic jams, and you can imagine my fretting when I realized we weren't going to make it in time to collect Kaeden. I tried calling the home, but there was no answer. I tried calling a friend to see if she could pick him up, no answer. Kaeden's cell phone is having some mystery issues (I may discuss this in a separate email, but something to do with using his phone to make emergency calls, as everything is an emergency when it isn't his way...so his service was disconnected) so I couldn't contact him via phone. But, I tried to send a text message and it got through and he used the house phone to return my call.

"Mama, where are you?" he asked me. I told him we were stuck in traffic and had been for awhile. That I wasn't able to make it home on time to pick him up (knowing his home closes at 4). And then, just as I was about to offer my idea of a solution, he came up with one of his own (mine!).

"Mama, should I take the public bus home?" he asked me. "Then we could just meet at home."

When I heard him offer this solution so many feelings flooded throgh me. He managed to come up with this on his own. He found a solution to a problem. He called me to convey his idea. He can use public transport on his own. He is becoming independent. He is making me so proud!

I told him to have his caregivers look up bus times, though both Kaeden and I were sure there was a 4:20 pm bus direct to home. I then asked him to call me back to let me know if it would work out for sure.

The phone rang 5 minutes later. "Yep, mama, there is a 4:20 bus so I'll be home before 5." This coming from MY son! It still amazes me.

I relayed to him that if we weren't home by the time he was, to just wait in the backyard or play basketball until we get there. I told him he could feed the animals if he wanted. I didn't realize we'd be stuck in yet another traffic jam. We were.

I texted Kaeden to let him know, but he couldn't respond (seems he can receive texts, but can't send or call) so I hoped he recieved my message. As we got closer to home a good HOUR later, I texted him again. (Almost there, kiddo! Can't wait to see you!)

As we turned the corner to our house, a whole hour later that the arrival of his bus, and 2 hours later than when we thought we'd be home, I saw my son a scooter in his hands, a huge smile on his face, on the street corner. My heart leaped into my throat. There he was, my beautiful boy...rather, young man...independent, successful young man.

I got out of the car and hugged him tight, for that 2 seconds he would let me, bretahing in the smell of this new side of my son...this thinking, problem-solving person in my midst. And I looked to the sky and said a little prayer of thanks.

Stress Of Autism

Is it possible to describe the great amount of stress that autism places on a family? Each family member attributes a facet of that stress, and as a whole its sometimes impossible to cut even with the sharpest of knife. We are a family of autism. And though our outer cover is that of a perfect family, the stress hiding just under the surface is enough to blow away the force of the greatest hurricane. Sometimes it surfaces.

How can a marriage survive the stress of living with autism? How can each parent bring their ideas and beliefs to the table and allow those to mesh together into one coherent idea? Because as much as a marriage should be strong enough to survive anything, autism sometimes takes a bit bite and spits out the pieces along the way. Two people can be deeply in love, sharing a true commitment to each other and their family, and it is sometimes still not enough. Those moments of fighting for a sense of normalcy, for trying to make it through another bout of autism at its finest, is sometimes just too much. Love can conquer all, I was once told, and even believed. But now that I have lived both sides, love can remain and build and join and deepen, but it can't conquer the fight of autism, the stress of being a member of an autistic family. The mariage suffers. The relationship, still filled with love, loses strength, the fight too much for already weary people to continue the hard work involved. You try to show your interst, to awaken passion, to give of yourself as a partner in life, but all this was stripped away with the last bout of fighting against the stress of autism. What is left to prove your involvement in this marriage?

A sibling, unable to understand what this stress means, how it works against this familial bond. How do I contribute? How can I gain from this ádventure'? When will I be old enough to escape? Who can I trust? Where is my security? Why is everything always about autism? About working around his needs? What about my needs? I love him, but I also hate him. Autism is so confusing. And there he goes again, another fit of anger...more stress...mom and dad fighting...where can I hide? Or should I just act naughty to try to make the anger go away...make them focus on something else?

Autism carried through this individual. Too much happening, too much going on. I can't understand what they want from me. Why are they getting louder? What did I do wrong? Now I am angry...I can't cope. I scream, I hit, I curse. Now they are mad. I know they are mad. They are coming at me. It looks like a storm cloud, coming into my existence. I want it to go away. Maybe if I hit and kick it will go away. It hurts. I have autism. Only my own scream can block out the pain of theirs. They don't understand me. They don't get it. They can't help me.

A Family of Autism. A family of stress. No place to turn. No single escape.

Tight

Terror in his eyes
Teeth bared and a sob escapes
His body shaking
As he reaches for me
Clasps to me
Tight

I can't think of anything
But to get him away
Away from the fear
To stop the sobs
The bared teeth
The fear in his eyes
As he clutches to me
Tight

Down the stairs
The screaming
Kicking
Yelling
Nasty words
Just a distant drum
As I scramble to get him away
Away from the fear
As he grips my shoulders
Tight

His eyes when I dare to glance
Tell me all I need to know
Leave, go away, away from the fear
Give him a promise
As I clasp him
Tight
Security

Broken objects mirror broken hearts
Broken souls
Broken defeated fearful sad
I set him in the car
And he begins again
Sobs, shaking, terror
And I pull him to my lap
Screaming
Kicking
Anger just a distant background drum
Holding him against me
Tight

I promise him it will be okay
As his hand clutches mine in his
Tight
Tears still falling, silently
As I point out the big, round moon in the sky

I see the moon and the moon sees me
God bless the moon and God bless me
We chant together, fearful, unsure
His hand still wrapped in mine
Tight

No, don't go home yet, he begs
And I drive on, worried, fearful, scared, upset
But remembering the terror and unable
To place him in that moment yet again
Fear in his eyes
Trembling as he clasps onto me
Tight

I carry him inside
No more screaming
kicking
hitting
nasty words
Still afraid, clutching to me
Just take me to my bed
And I do, holding him
Tight

And the moon, round and big
And bright in the sky
Isn't peaceful, but looks
instead
like a great
emptiness
Tight
in my chest

As his sleep is filled
with jerks and sighs
I hold him, tears silently falling
On his cheek
As I kiss him
Holding him
Tight

A New Idea

Yesterday found me at another appointment at Kaeden's school. Seven people sitting around the table with notebooks in front of them, folders stacked next to them, pens in hand ready to add to the already huge stacks of papework filled with information about my son. My son. Not some kid down the street, not just stacks of notes and tests and papers, but my son.

Sitting there in that meeting, I realized how far I have come as the mother of my child. I have become harder, more opinionated, stronger. As his mother, I know what I feel is best for him, for me, for our family. Maybe my views aren't always correct, but they are views made out of need, out of love, out of doing the best I know how to do for my child. Always, his life and his future is placed open up in my palm, and I carefully close my fist around it, hoping and praying that I hold onto it tight, strongly, never let it fall.

I spoke loudly and clearly, expressing my worries and concerns. I gave my opinion and held strong onto my viewpoint, even as others struck down my ideas. They may be the experts in the field, but I am the expert on my son. His happiness and his success is determined by how far I push, how far I step out of my comfort zone. He hasn't gotten as far as he has without the strength and integrity I give as his mother. I have been a force behind the success he has achieved. I am the oil that helps his engine run. I need to be thick and dark and greasy.

I listen to what they say, and I accept it all into my mind wholly. And then I form my own opinions based on their advice and expertise. And I add in my own thoughts and experiences and knowledge about my son to form an opinion and a goal. And I push to see this goal met. And sometimes I agree to try something out, give it a chance, in an attempt to further my son's achievements, even if I don't know that it ill be successful, but always willing to try something new. To give ideas a chance, if I feel it has any chance. He deserves all of our ideas and input and trials to find that one thing that works, the one thing that will help him be the best he can be.

Next school year, Kaeden is one of just 5 students who will be entering a new program. A program formed and created specifically for him, and 4 other young men just like him. Kids who have diffculties fitting into the school norms, difficulty learning when contacts prevent them from concentrating. This new program is brand new, based upon a successful program offered in another school, and my son is a guinea pig in the trial. It scares me, but excites me. I offered my ideas, I disqualified some of their input, and I gave them permission to allow my son to be part of this. I think Kaeden will be happy with our choices and decisions. I hope he will be able to prove his success and achievements given freedom within the program. And I think he won't mind being part of this new world opening up to him, a new program designed for him and hopefully working itself out to help hundreds of autistic kids in the future. I hope this decision will be one that helps him to shine...

Kaeden will be the first student to be part of this trial. I'm glad he loves guinea pigs.

Medical Issues

I got an email from Kaeden's home away from home yesterday. I had requested that they start giving him his allergy pills as he was all stuffed up and miserable throughout the weekend, and his pills did manage to offer him some relief. The email was simple, asking if he took pills or drops, but it hit me very hard.

See, my kid, from the time he entered this world, has had numerous medical issues. I'm not sure I understand, sometimes, why one individual is faced with so many challenges. When Kaeden was born he had trouble breathing, very shortly, but needed to be in an incubator none-the-less. When he was about 6 months old, he suffered his first bout of RSV. When he was 9 months old he experienced a seizure with fever which left him hospitalized for nearly a week. And thereafter, my little guy was coontinually in a battle with one ailment or another, his asthma and RSV serious issues which left us hospitalized for months every year. On one of these visits, my little baby actually had to be resuscitated to live.

The doctors offices were our second home, the medications they prescribed keeping him alive with worries about what the side effects could mean in the future. See, he wasn't just on a series of steroids, but series after series, well beyond the indicative amount. But, he was staying alive, taking his breathing treatments and nose cleans 4 times daily like the little trooper that he is. And then, suddenly, he started having major issues with his teeth, where surgery was required to fix them. Was this one of the side effects they couldn't predict from the use of medications? And his skin, so tender and itchy and covered in scales, exzema, was this another side effect? Or was my kid just one of the unlucky ones?

He had to have tubes in his ears from his numerous ear infections, he was one of the kids that actually got a bout of chicken pox from the vacciation, complete with fever and his little body full of dots. He was the kid you would see with tubes covering his little face as he walked, an oxygen tak dragging behind him, a requirement in order for him to breathe. And then, around the tender age of three, having withstood so much already, began his little, mini moments of behavior problems, first signaling to me that there was something deeper wrong with my son.

I had his hearing tested, I took him to a developmental center to see if he was on schedule developmentally. He was kicked out of day cares, and as a single working mom in school, I was the only one there to shoulder these burdens. My parents helped as much as they could, which was a lot, but they didn't live right next door. It was just me and my son.

As Kaeden's behavior issues got more serious, and he was shuffled from school to school, therapy to therapy,we were finally given a diagnosis of ADHD. He started taking ritalin, which helped, but not fully. Give or take another year of issues, and he was diagnosed with Autism. Give or take a few years, add allergies to the mix. Give or take a few years, add Oppositional Defiance Disorder, but not becuase they're convinced he has it, completely, but because it will allow him to have more services...so, I signed the papers...what's one more diagnosis in the life of this child's full account of diagnosis?

Recently, during a sportday at school, Kaeden was having trouble breathing. When I was told, I went into panic mode. I haven't witnessed him having issues with his asthma for 9 years now. The fear that settled in me struck me to the core. Nobody else can possibly understand this fear as I relived all those days in hospitals with my son hooked up to tubes and living in breathing tents. I'm still watching him very closely.

My son, asthma, allergies, ADHD, autism...all the A's. Add in a few more figures and it just seems like this boy of mine has been fighting from the start of his life. And a fighter he is...add another A for aggression. But is it any wonder? Look what this child has been subjected to in his short 15 years here on earth. Could any of us be where he is having withstood so many issues throuhout his short life?

When I give my son his medication, 6 pills in the morning, 4 at lunch, 4 at night, it alwyas pains me. As much as I know that it helps him to function, I'm still, after all these years having to pump him full of medication to help him survive. Just when does a kid get a break? And why, dear God, is one kid the focus of so many ailments? Because as strong as he is, some days it just takes one little email asking which kind of medicine, to send his mom off the deep end. Some days it just aches.

Cell Phones And Autism

I never had a cell phone until December. Even after I got it, I never used it much. Actually, I still don't. However, I do try to remember to bring it with me when I go, and actually get calls and messages on my phone. The majority of them come from Kaeden, who loves his phone and has had it since his 13th birthday.

Kaeden and his phone never part. I'm not sure why he likes it so much, but it's his and it's obvious he is in love. Sometimes it gets annoying as he changes tones and we have to listen to it all for hours on end, but the majority of the time it's just with him and he's happy.

One thing I have noticed is that when Kaeden starts to get angry, he texts me. Tells me he is mad, or is going to be mad, or hates the blankety blank blank teacher. I'm not sure if it helps to calm him by texting, but I have this hunch that maybe it does. When we are home, sometimes he lets me know via text that Jari is bugging him. When I get that message I know to put a stop to it immediately. There have also been times when I have sent him to his room and sent him a text message to tell him he may come out when he is calm. He messages me back that he will come when he is calm. We don't have to have conversation which often leads to more angry words. So, texting seems to have its perks, especially for my son who has issues with anger and aggression. It seems to sincerely calm him, give him space, yet a means of communicating, without spoken words which are difficult for kids with autism.

Further, texting has helped him in his spelling skills. Often I receive a text from him and am amazed that he could write it properly. He doesn't use all the codes that I have seen other kids use, but writes exactly what he wants me to know. Such as this afternoon, when he was on his way home from school, he texted me: Mama, I am coming home now. XOXO Kaeden Or after he got on the bus to head to Judo, he messaged me: Mama, I have to take a different route to Judo. There is a market in the town center.

Maybe it gives him security knowing I am always available, such as in the above situation which can be stressful.

When I reply I keep it short and sweet, but always try to respond. It feels like some special connection with him that I don't have with him in spoken language. I am discovering that his having and using his cell phone is his key to communication, especially under stressful circumstances.

I don't know if any of you other parents of autistic kids have had the same experiences with a cell phone as I have, but for us, it seems to be a positive bit of technology in the autism world. Maybe it's worth giving it a try?

A letter in the car

Our vacation to Germany was wonderful. It seems to me to be one of the best vacations we've had. A great combination of exploration and discovery, but in a relaxed and easy manner. The kids really seemed to get along well on this trip, and seeing them laughing and playing together was good for my heart. There were no major meltdowns and no major problems. It was a typical family vacation and rejuvenated all of us. So, from me, there are no complaints.

However, on the way home, Kaeden had a meltdown. I'm not entirely sure from where it stemmed, other than the boys playing a game and rules changed, and then the game was thrown and from there it all went downhill. I asked Erwin to stop the car, and at the following exit we got off and parked in the driveway of a business. Though I wouldn't call this meltdown one of Kaeden's worse, it ended of fun vacation on a negative note. It's something we have learned to accept and anticipate when something changes (vacation is over, back to home and school), but nevertheless, it still comes as a shock, and still hits you with a blow. Here is the letter I wrote in the car, sitting in the backseat with my son, following our meltdown. I call it ours, because it is never just Kaeden involved, but us as a whole, a family with autism.

Just stopped. I am so angry. Had to get off the highway because my two wonderful kids can't stop fighting. And Kaeden can't keep his hands to himself in which Jari screams like a banshee. So, off the highway to change seats and get them away from each other. When am I going to learn? Even if they promise there will be no problems and beg to sit next to each other, don't do it. It is simply asking for trouble.

So, Kaeden flips out and the thing I was most nervous about was being by the busy road. Cars speeding by as he kicks and screams and hits- I was afrais he would run out there in front of a car. And his mouth- I can't stand listening to how he speaks to us, but most especially to Erwin. The names he calls him are so rude and disrespectful. I actually hate the way they speak to each other, neither of them is respectful, but in this case Kaeden was definitely at fault.

As he it the fence with his belt I demanded he forfeit it before getting back in the car. His tantrum continued and when I moved Jari's booster seat to the front seat and saw Jari just standing there on a rock, off to the side, observing the entire situation unfold. His hands clutched in his pockeets just watching. How do I feel? Sad, sad that at 8 years old this is the only life he has known. But even more so, sad that being this is the only life he's known he still hasn't figured out how to help prevent these scenarios. I don't blame him, not at all, but I can't understand why when he sees such an ocassion arising, he doesn't know enough to stop.

It's often, though not always, clear that Kaeden is ready to explode. Erwin also has difficulty with this, though in his case it is more that he believes Kaeden must obey and must succumb to the rules. I just don't know. For me, I'd rather enforce only when it's something important and forego the fights and meltdowns and the ensuing feeling of sadness and hurt which remains in my heart long after the tantrum has subsided. None of us is right or wrong, I suppose, as we all must do what we have to do to live with autism. In general, though, Kaeden is most calm with me. There are many factors that contribute to that. All I know is that autism is the culprit, and because autism is a part of who Kaeden is, he gets the blame. Should he? I'm not sure- sometimes yes, sometimes no- but even with autism he has to learn to live in the world according to the rules society sets forth. Or we as parents set forth. Or teachers set forth.

Kaeden seems somewhat more controlled when he has a meltdown compared to a couple of years ago, but they still happen, and when he is stilled, calm, and happy again 20 minutes later. my heart is still beating double time, my blood still pulsing hotly through my veins, the 20 minutes a lifetime, a mixture of fear, anger and pain, added to the guilt I feel that all my entire family must go through, each of us in our own way, as a result of autism.

Erwin let me handle things during this episode-he let me take care of business and get Kaeden calmed down so we could go, and for that I am grateful. As we continue on our way Jari is role-playing with his stuffed bear, Erwin driving us home, Kaeden watching a movie as he points out a hot air balloon he sees in the blue, sunny sky above us---and I? I just have tears hiding behind my eyes, knowing this won't be the last time, certainly wasn't the first time, and I once again curse autism as we head towards home, our family, vacation nearly ending, once again autism ending it in the way which is so typical, in the manner of which we have all become accustomed, a change on the horizon upon which autism cannot bear, but must. Life goes on----

And that is my take on our last autistic meltdown. And even so, it was a truly wonderful family vacation, one I will treasure forever, remembering my boys chasing around the playground, their laughter filling the silent air.

Point A to Point B

Kaeden is home for the holidays. It's so nice having him here to share his excitement over all the pleasurable things in life. But, it's also very noticeable in other ways. For instance, in his ability to break stuff.

It amazes me how easily things break in his presence. It seems that all he has to do is look at something, and oops, kapot! But the truth of the matter is that Kaeden is not careful. He doesn't look around him but focuses instead on his one goal, which results in him being unaware of his surroundings. And when he steps on something to get to the one place he wants to be, things get broken in the process.

If Kaeden had the ability to be sorry for his actions, it would be easier. Instead, he immediately puts the blame on someone else. He doesn't grasp the concept that if he tried to be more aware, he would automatically be more cautious. And grasping the concept of regret is completely foreign to his autistic mind. If something breaks in his presence, it's the objects fault for being there (where it should be), or someone's fault for putting it there.

This week alone, two zippers on two separate coats have broken. Why? Well, Kaeden wants to zip his coat, he pulls it without thinking, and wham...broken. The shower head is broken. He pulls it to make the water stream to his liking, but without regard for gently unscrewing the cap first...pull, wham...broken! Playstation...he wants to play. When his time is over, he stands to come downstairs where I called him. He makes the first leap, trips on the cords and pulls the whole unit to the floor...wham...broken!

It is because of this that we try to protect our belongings from our son. It's not nice to have everything always get broken though we've come to accept that it happens with Kaeden around. Still, when a new toy gets broken, or an item we treasure, it's not any less frustrating. So, Kaeden is often not allowed to touch things that belong to other people, which puts a damper on his mood. I can understand this. Still, he needs to first learn to be more cautious. But how?

Autism is a hard thing to deal with. Simple little accidents that most people are accustomed to bloom on the horizon larger than life. When I mention to people that something broke in Kaeden's presence, they think of it as an accident, something out of his control. And it is. An accident. But, accidents can be prevented if we are aware and careful. Sometimes. So, how do we teach Kaeden the responsibility of being more cautious, understanding that breaking things is something he has some control over if he is more aware of his surroundings, that getting from point A to point B takes more awareness than just making the steps? And most importantly, when an accident does occur, how can we teach him that to show regret, to be sorry, makes it more acceptable. That people will forgive easier when you take responsibility for your actions?

This is one of the reasons we worry about Kaeden riding a bike to Judo, or when he considers getting his driver's license we tell him that he isn't ready for that step yet. His surroundings mean nothing to him...only what is in his path is of importance. Just another little thing about autism.