The New Face of Artsy Seattle Mama

It's been a long while that I've left this blog lie dormant but I think it's time to bring it back and bring to it the new life we have -- not only of balancing art and career and parenting  but adding the autism diagnosis into the mix.  I will need this blog to help me process all that, and hopefully there will be things helpful here to other mammas and daddas of autistic youngsters.  To introduce us to the new face of the blog, I've copied here the text of an email I recently sent to a few trusted colleagues who are also parents.  It presents the balance I try to strike.

Hola.  Maybe part of what follows is just venting, but hopefully not much.  Most of you know my three-and-a-half year old is autistic, and I have been really fascinated recently with how this new life has started to affect my teaching.  I also think these thoughts can be of interest for ANY parent of typically developing kids as well, because we are always calling into question the never-attainable balance of our lives and we probably wonder why we do this.  Here is my list of the shitty stuff, the awesome stuff (for context), and the ways my teaching has shifted, composed over the past several days.  I thought a few of you would find value in it.  Hopefully I’ll continue evolving my list and find better ways to articulate what I learn from my son.

The hard parts:

1. My son does not say "I love you" unless you tell him to, does not hug unless you tell him to, etc. 
2. He can't answer a simple question like "how are you", or anything other than a yes or no question. 
3. He can tantrum for hours.  Sometimes in the middle of the night.
4. He can refuse to pee until he can't hold it anymore and just wet his pants.   He can refuse to poo until the middle of the night when his body can't hold it anymore.  Often accompanied by tantrum.
5. He doesn't play with toys.  He analyzes them and moves their parts.  He will push a car or a train, but won't imagine where it's going.  He won’t build a train track.
6. He demands attention from adults at all times, but has severe anxiety around other kids.

8.       We're exhausted.  We're isolated.  Sometimes the whole family is in tears.   Unless you're in it, you really don't get it. 

9. We often can't have a conversation with him in the room, because he'll tell us not to talk and start freaking out.

9. We can't just call up any old babysitter and go out.  We can't plan a vacation the same way you might.   My expectations for daily life and life goals have shifted dramatically, partly because of the need to have such a predictable schedule and routine.

10. I question my parenting skills and my identity ALL the time.   It feels like I know nothing, and progress is so very slow, so I don't know if I'm being effective at all. (but simultaneous to #4 in “awesome”)

The awesome parts:

1. My son has a great sense of humor and we can just die laughing from a tickle fest, from turning regular phrases into songs, from jumping around the house.

2. We are forced to be present in every moment and focus on the little improvements and celebrations of each day.  He poured imaginary tea for a little girl at the coffee shop.  He started doing hand motions in circle time at preschool.   Such major breakthroughs.

3. He puts my face in his little hands and looks at me with love even if he can't put it into words. 

4. We are constantly in a "beginner's mind" about parenting and we discuss openly our questions and frustrations and our thoughts about the books and lectures we digest.  We are learning every day, and devoted deeply to this journey.  It’s great to feel so much more knowledgeable than just a few months ago, and definitely more than a year ago.

5. Hudson will jump up and down with pure joy if you offer him peanut butter and jelly, and he will shout "pea-nut butter and jell-y!" in time with his jumping.

6. Watching potato bugs and bees for hours.

7. Throwing rocks in the lake for hours.

8. Knowing that we are automatically stronger, more patient, more compassionate parents than most people out there.

9. He knows how to take his plate to the kitchen counter.

10. Sometimes he actually won't throw a tantrum if you tell him we're out of raisins, and he will actually accept an alternative.   Those are awesome days.

How my son makes me a better teacher:

1. I fully understand the need for breaking down skills into small (really small) steps, and for presenting information in visual, written, and verbal formats (simultaneously!)
2. Students with focus issues ACTUALLY can't control their brain the way some people can, and I never truly believed or understood that before.

3. I am willing to be much more flexible with students and their accommodations.   My overall understanding of the diveristy in brains has expanded.

4. I’m constantly reminded of the importance of praise and of "catching" good behavior that we want to continue.  I’m more interested in giving rewards/reinforcers.
5. My understanding of discipline is much stronger than it used to be. 
6. My willingness to talk to parents about their kids has increased.
7. I know how important even small chunks of learning and practicing can be, no matter your level of cognition. 

8. I am understanding the importance of routines for all kinds of learners, not just autistic kids.  My willingness to be direct and explain “the right way” has increased.  Sometimes black/white is necessary.

9. Connecting personally with students one-on-one rather than through the group dynamic of the classroom is becoming even more of a priority. 
10. I find myself getting more excited over smaller victories in the classroom, and more willing to celebrate them.  With that comes a deeper compassion  for the exhaustion students feel when school is just relentless. 

If life and work flow into one another, this is my contribution to the discussion.

The bilingual "experiment": two-year-old Spanish-English

"Agua, agua...!"  Hudson found one of his favorite things on a walk.

One of Hudson's mainstream pediatricians referred us to a language specialist earlier this year.  The packet of paperwork alone that came in the mail in order to go through with the referral was laughable, and we were afraid they'd just tell us to stop the bilingual life.  Recently we were at an appointment with a naturopathic pediatrician and they recommended starting to give him a supplement of cod liver oil every day because of its high DHA content, good for the ol' brain development.  And they said we should check in with a pediatrician in six months.

It's clear that Hudson is not saying "I wanna go slide" like some other two-year-olds at the park, but I have been reminded that many times boys will develop speech more slowly than girls, and I am reminded of so many anecdotes of children who didn't speak well until they were three or four and suddenly they popped out sentences like nothing ever happened.  The adults and older kids I hear about this happening to are exceptionally intelligent humans.

So, what's a mamma to do?  I don't know.  Give cod liver oil, talk a ton to my kid, get him interacting with other kids, (though most communication among toddlers I see is just shouting anyway), and try to relax.  It's hard to admit that your kid is different.  All I can say is at least so far, he's not different in a way that's costing us thousands in medical bills, or seeing specialists (yet). 

The important thing is that he is developing, albeit slowly.  He can make two-word combinations now, which he wasn't doing just a few months ago, and he even got three words together the other day:  "adios abuela cama" after we put away grandma's inflatable guest bed.  He said it like this:  "adio aba pama" but that's good enough for me.  I accept.  And every day he is repeating new words and sounds he hears us say.  Even if his speech is "horma horma horma" to ask me for his favorite song about ants (in English), I respond with "¿Hudson quiere la canción de las hormigas?" and I'm pretty sure that's the right thing to do rather than constantly respond to his partial words and sounds right off the bat just because I do in fact understand them.  He needs to hear what sentences are even if he can't make them.  He's also doing a great job of labeling items and their color, as well as other basic adjectives like "grande" or "pequeño".   He's working at differentiating "m" and "n" sounds, as well as other similar consonants like "t" and "d" even though he can actually make all those sounds.  But new stuff is happening every day.

We'll see how this all shakes down.  At 28 months, he is certainly "lagging" but I refuse to freak out and see a specialist quite yet.  His vocabulary is growing every day in English and Spanish, and he's even developing words that we have no idea who taught them to him, they just show up like magic.  Pretty cool.  Different kid, but very, very cool.

A day in the life: Things to remember come January

I do partly want to make sure I have some detail on how I spend my summer days so that I'll remember what this feels like and not despair when I am sitting through a dark January day when it seems like I am on a clumsy yet pressured track of work/parent/work/parent.  I also partly want to be sure I reflect on the importance of leisure and art in a larger philosophical sense, and to engage in the conversation that I see in books like Imagine, Drive, and in the New York Times about how are lives could be if we just relaxed.
I have given up on waking up early.  It's hard enough to do that during the school year.  Instead I've been allowing myself to stay up late (like right now) and spend time reading and writing for a couple hours before bed.  That way I can wake up with H in the morning and be forced out of bed but I've still gotten some self-expression into my daily cycle.  We have a slow morning and will alternate between reading books and taking care of business like getting dressed, making breakfast.  Breakfast is the only meal H will sit down at a chair for, wear a bib, and calmly eat until he is done.  Still sleepy I guess.

Then we have a "morning adventure" of some kind, but I always make sure we're out of the house around 10 going somewhere.  Beach, wading pool, community center, hiking... I make sure I have snacks for snack time, which is usually actually an early lunch.  It's a bit beyond snacking when we sit down to munch together.  The goal is to have an 11:30 snack and then lunch around 1pm, but sometimes those both get squished together to around noon. 

Naptime always happens either in the car on the way home or in a stroller walk - we have given up on trying to take naps in bed.  That is just two hours of rolling around and then grumpy kid for the rest of the day.  But the blessing of naps is the free time for mamma.  H will sleep for about two hours, and this gives me time to read, write, stretch, play music, watch Spanish drama online, etc., whatever my need is for the day.  Essentially, I get to binge on all things artsy almost every afternoon.  I was commenting to Ben that it feels amazing to even have mental capacity for all these things I'm interested in, whereas during the school year I tend to stare at the wall when I get home and if Hudson occupies himself for a few minutes. My brain is just fried.  I'm hoping that will change now that I'm a little more comfortable with my new school, but still the difference in how I function during the summer is pretty remarkable.  I find that even when H is not napping, I take advantage of spare moments much better - reading a magazine page here or an arts calendar there.  And I do it without feeling stressed or obligated, the most important thing.  "The Busy Trap" was an article in the NY Times that struck me -- and it's very in line with other things I've been reading recently -- by reminding me it's possible to be productive, ambitious, and profound without being "busy".  Huh.  Let's try it.

The events I've gone to in the evenings over the past month have also increased - our ability to plan ahead and get out plus my ability to go out on a weeknight has greatly expanded our options.  I went to see the B'shnorkestra  which is Sam Boshnack's project, at the Royal Room with my sister, and it was fabulous.  I have known Sam for years and love her dearly but that has no influence on my opinion that her music is freaking amazing.  It's crazy rhythm and jazz solos and original melodies and a great instrumentation for a 14-piece orchestra of musicians from across many genres.  Freaking amazing.  I have also gone to a reading of the Monarch Review contributors at the Third Place Pub with my dear friend Rhona, which was a great variety show of verse and story of all kinds from a great variety of local writers.  It got so many little ideas stinging the inside of my brain as I listened, and that's the best feeling.  I also went with Ben to see the  Caminos Flamencos show that toured up to Seattle from California a few weeks back.  We were able to say hi to other flamencos in the audience, many of whom I haven't seen in months, and we were mesmerized by the flamenco on stage.  The talent and the quality of the show were impeccable.  Jason McGuire is clearly one of the best guitarists in the country, as Ben told me he would be. 

I've also been taking ballet classes this summer and will be starting up a new round of flamenco classes next week.  All of these are things I may have to say goodbye to during the school year, but hopefully Ben and I will still get our regular dates.  We're planning to go to the Capitol Club on Tuesday night, which definitely won't happen during the school year.  Tonight we have a babysitter scheduled from 6-8pm.  What we will do or where we will go is undetermined, but so long as I can have a drink, look into my husband's eyes, and quietly tell him how much I love him without getting interrupted by a tiny plastic helicopter being flung past our heads, it will be a worthy event.

Wading pools, bathroom windows, and babysitting

 

I learned several things today.  In no particular order:

1. Always bring toys to the wading pool.  You need some goods to barter otherwise you're going to have the schmuck toddler who runs around stealing other water toys with nothing to give in return.  Also, don't eat all the snacks before the lifeguard calls all clear for chemical treatment.  Yesterday I literally had to tackle Hudson to keep him from running into the water while she treated it and all the other kids seemed to wait so patiently, not kicking and screaming.  I had that kid.  However, today I had food to hunker down with, and in the quiet I could hear some other toddlers screaming... perhaps I just couldn't hear them yesterday over Hudson's own noise...

2. Never lock the door without keys.  Our front door can be locked by turning the switch on the handle on the inside and then pulling it shut behind you.  Not cool if you've accidentally left your keys inside.  What's even less cool is when you get to within a block from home after walking in the midday heat from the Green Lake wading pool to realize you don't have keys, and figure that they must have fallen out at the lake so walk back in the heat to look again in the grass and ask the lifeguard, only to find nothing, because, of course, they are in your living room.  Back at home, and with toddler finally waking up from his nap (spent entirely in transit in the stroller to and from the lake twice), the only option is to grab one of Ben's painting ladders from the side of the building and set it up next to the bathroom window.  Distract toddler from trying to climb with you.  Try not to think about the chain of events that will ensue if you fall and land on either the concrete outside or the mass of tile and porcelain surfaces inside.  Try not to break the towel rack even though it seems to be the only thing between you and a concussion against the bathroom counter.  Cheerfully say hi to toddler as you appear from the front door as if nothing happened, except that you are considerably dirtier and more out of breath than when he saw you last.

3.  Have the babysitter come early.  But try not to have your ride show up too.  Hudson cries whenever anyone comes over, whether I'm staying or leaving.  He just assumes I'll be leaving.  We don't have enough friends come over to hang out, we only have babysitters.  (Although Hudson actually got used to his Aunty Sarah the other day.)  So, the babysitter came fifteen minutes before my departure and Hudson was just coming out from behind my back where he was hunkered down with his sippy cup, playing some very coy peekaboo, when my ride to the poetry reading came and his anxiety got all riled up again.  I almost might have been able to say goodbye without tears.  But you know, I will take it as it is, because at least he bawls because he loves me and is attached healthily.  Within fifteen minutes he's fine and playing enthusiastically. 

What a day.

Create.

Parenting is the biggest creative challenge I've encountered yet.  The writing challenge, the choreography challenge, those are far less intense and seemingly endless, and in many ways, less real.  Though I do love them, let's not forget that.

When I feel like I've found a parenting solution it directly impacts a human being, my son.  I also love finding something close to a solution for a line of words.  But I never really know if that's a solution or just something better than what I did yesterday.  If you get down to it, that's the same thing, really, it's all just looking for something better than the day before.  Yup.  Can I get Hudson to not throw a tantrum right now... can I get him to eat his dinner... can we play something other than wheel-spinning and actually keep his attention...

I can't wait until he gets a bit bigger when we can really start doing arts and crafts.  When we can really start drawing, and making sculptures, and making sand castles... It's going to be great, and that will definitely satisfy my need to keep creative even when I can't sit down to write any thoughts for hours or days or weeks at a time.

I'm reading Imagine by Jonah Lehrer, our faculty summer reading, and it's doing a great job of helping me realize how many ways I don't stretch my creativity and my brain power.  I had very much the same sensation when I read Poemcrazy a few years ago, though they are actually quite positive sensations because I come away determined to do more, and also satisfied with the knowledge that I can in fact cultivate creative thinking in myself and those around me.  Travel, go to coffee shops, talk to more neighbors, allow myself to be under the influence (within reason) and get out into the arts world to be exposed to other people's creativity.  These are all important lessons I'm getting.

Mostly, I'm learning to take advantage of time even better.  To take a day and a half to write a blog post is okay if that means I am actually using every five-minute piece available to me, and if it means that on the whole I'm writing more.  I'm learning to observe more closely and narrate not just to Hudson what's going on in the world around us, but to myself.  I think it's all connected.  Hopefully all this will help me stay creative as a parent as the years go on...