A good day all day

Ah yes. It’s amazing how some days are like day and night. After the stress from Tuesday’s events, Puppy woke up on Wednesday with a smile on his face and his squeaks. That’s the only way I know he’s not grumpy. A squeak in the morning is music to my ears. After getting dressed for school he came down for breakfast and asked if he was in trouble and if his teacher was going to be angry. I wish there was a magic pill he could take to wipe away his bad experiences and only keep the good ones. I did my best to explain that he already had his consequences and that he was starting a new day. He took a deep breath and said he was done misbehaving.

He had his final day at middle school and celebrated with pizza and cake.  It was a good day all day. Morning, afternoon and evening seemed to go by without a hitch. He was well behaved, helpful with laundry, did well during his therapy session. He showered before bedtime, and all was followed by the sound of silence.

Although I know that he probably thinks he’s being sincere with his apologies, this is all a part of autism. We've been down this road before and he can go days without a tantrum or cuss word, but I cannot forget that there are constant triggers that even he is unaware of which will take him to another place. It may be that he safely goes on a verbal tantrum; but it’s a possibility that he might be looking to have a more physical connection such as picking up buds or an empty box of cigarettes from the floor. I just hope he keeps safe without hurting himself. 

Tired evening and morning

All went well yesterday...until I picked up Puppy from daycare. When I got to the daycare and waited outside the door for it to be opened I noticed something different. There was a flowerpot with dirt and cigarette buds in it. Once in the truck Puppy started asking, "Mom, can you buy me cigarettes?" And asking why not, and begging and pleading with me to buy them for him.  I can so understand how he may have seen the buds on his way in earlier, then on his way out; and this may have triggered him to think about the cigarettes, it's something that simple.

So we are headed home and talk about bad timing. I had to stop at the convenience store for breakfast items and just as I expected, it escalates to a full blown plead for me to buy cigarettes. He's screaming, tugging at my arm, and making tears to seek out sympathy. I say, "NO" and we get off the truck. He follows me like my shadow would. We go to the register and he keeps both hands in his pocket and just watches as I pay and head for the door. He follows with no more words. We are in the truck and he starts to speak. "Mom, you see how I behave?" He must have realized how he was acting earlier and remembered that his teacher told him she can see him in the truck with cameras. And if that didn't do it, I don't really care why he calmed down, just that he did. As we started driving home he started up again and continued to ask for cigarettes but in a calm tone, all the way home.

Once home he asked to go next door. I didn't allow it because he has already stolen a box of cigarettes from the neighbor and I assumed that was exactly what he had in mind. But the other neighbor was outside so I allowed that for a few minutes.  A few minutes turned into about 45 minutes before he returned home.

He was in a good mood up until I reminded him that we had to get homework done and he had to shower before bedtime. Needless to say, none of this happened the way it had played out in my head. He said a few colorful words to let me know it was a "no go" and headed up to his room. Once there, I pushed for him to shower. He started into a debate about not wanting to and how he was tired and had a fever, etc. I was already tired myself and asked one more time before walking away to ignore his actions.

While alone in his room he was in overload and bit his finger causing injury to it with his braces and the cut was enough to make it bleed. So he calls me over to his room. I walk in to see the blood all over his finger and I remember taking a deep breath to help me continue with whatever came next.

After cleaning up and getting an explanation of how he hurt himself, he begins crying with tears and begs that he has a fever and can't shower. My mind is tired from the debating and I let him change into sleepwear and tuck him into bed. I get the silence I was hoping for...until he starts calling me upstairs again.  He apologizes for his behavior, he promises to sleep and cause no more trouble.

I got my silence again and was already contemplating the morning routine being interrupted by some signs of anxiety and debate as to how he would be in trouble for not completing his homework. But then I cleared my mind and focused on my evening TV shows and went to bed tired as usual.

This morning was a repeat of the visions I had the night before. Tantrums, banging of the head on table and wall, hitting himself with closed fists, and the loud crying with tears were the scene at our home as I prepare my first cup of coffee.  He was nervous as he remembered his behavior last night and begged me not to make him go to school today. After much consoling and some lying, I promised to write a note to his teacher explaining his fever last night to excuse him from homework. But I actually wrote a note telling her how it really went down. We have a deal where whenever I tell her about incidents, she tells him she saw his on the cameras so I am not the tattle-tell and they discuss his behaviors.  I hope it goes well for him at school today. Good luck, Puppy.

Picking up off the floor

Yup, he did it again. Puppy had asked to go across the street to keep the old man company while he worked on his truck. I get so tired of arguing with him that I allowed for a five minute visit and no longer. It seems that five minutes was just long enough for him to search his surroundings and find exactly what he was looking for...cigarettes. But these were not just any cigarettes, they were those metal ones that come in screw parts to make one, probably for persons either trying to quit or wanting to smoke indoors while avoiding the smoke, I don't know.

So he had them in his pockets for about one hour on Monday. He could no longer keep the secret to himself and came to tell me, "Mom, can I talk to you?" I always worry what surprise is going to follow this question. He's a bright kid and begins to explain that they are not real cigarettes and that the man gave them to him. And this smart child makes sure he keeps them hidden in his room while revealing this information to avoid me taking them from him. I convince him that I have no clue what he's talking about and would like to see them. He brings them to me and of course I give him a speech I've repeated so many times before. I clearly see he's not handing them over, they are now his prized possessions. Remember that he is observant and mimics everything, so ripping them out of his hand or screaming and shouting are not the way to go here. I coach him to give them up without success. So our evening routine continues and he is finally in bed.

Tuesday morning he rises with energy and has at least taken my advice not to take them to school. He knows that unwanted behavior will remove him from the classroom on Thursday while they have their Christmas party.  While having breakfast we discuss all the negatives about the cigarettes and by some miracle he decides to comply and he throws the cigarettes in the kitchen trashcan right before the bus arrives to take him to school. What a huge relief it was for me. The sweet smell of success is actually a dirty stinky one.

Knowing my son like I do; I waited for him to leave and went to retrieve them from the trashcan. Their smell is strong and I put them in a plastic zipper bag. I take them with me with the intentions of throwing them away, but not before I take a picture...just for you guys. :)

He had taken off the wrap of one so that it wouldn't look like a cigarette, he thinks things through sometimes.

Now to continue about how well I know my son. We come home last night and he's pacing around the kitchen. Instead of going upstairs to change, I suspect he's up to no good, and I begin washing dishes. Puppy starts to get anxious and even asks me why I'm not going upstairs. Since I'm not leaving he decides to be the most helpful child and asks if he can throw out the trash for me, and of course I let him. I gave him a few minutes and when he didn't return I went to find him emptying the contents on the driveway next to the outdoor trashcan. He's usually nervous when doing mischievous acts and is constantly looking around for someone to see who is watching him. After a minute Puppy saw me standing there. He started cussing like a sailor and told me to "get the f*** out of here" and some other pretty words. I assured him I wasn't going anywhere and was going to wait until he cleaned up all his mess. Puppy continued to empty and search the contents of the bag until it was empty. He was getting even more angrier and confused.  It was escalating and we were outdoors for the whole neighborhood to hear his screaming echos, just perfectly. I saw how determined he was to find them and was prepared to throw out all the contents of the large outdoor trashcan to find them. I told him he didn't find them because I had taken them out and threw them at a convenient store trashcan. I could see he was angry, but glad he didn't have to dig anymore. He gave me a few more selective words and we came inside to clean up. He cried and sought comfort and sympathy because his plan and his needs were not met. I hugged him and consoled him all the time asking him to jump in the shower and wash off all the germs from the trash. It only took about 30 minutes this time and he was showering. The entire evening went by with only a couple of soft hits to the walls with his head. Threats really, but no major tantrums, yea!

So what happened next? He switched his attention to his biceps. And again, after a lengthy talk about muscles he finally marched himself upstairs to bed. I was so tired after all the drama, that I actually slept like a baby.

Damn Obsessions (Final)

Okay, I dragged it out and for some reason I'm not making time to finish this story off.  I'm going to cut to the chase and ignore the details. Here we go.

Puppy went next door in the evening of the 8th to play with the kids since they were in the backyard. The family was cooking out and let him in. There were a few family guests there and all seemed to be going well. I had told Puppy to come home early because he wasn't invited for the cookout and to my surprise he complied and was home around 7 P.M. Then he asked if he could go to his room and rest then shower. I wasn't going to disagree and so the evening ended on a good note.

The next morning he was up at his usual 7 A.M. and dressed. He wanted to go outdoors but isn't allowed to unless I'm watching him. When a few hours went by and we had gone through our morning routines, he comes inside and sits across from me.  He says he has to tell me something and is looking at my face for an expression. I see his eyes moving back and forth as if taking a hundred pictures. I try to make my expressions as exaggerated as possible so he can tell the difference, and he's caught on pretty well. So first of all I'm as calm as can be to make sure he confides in me. Then he hits me with the information that he has another box of cigarettes. He's been picking them off the ground for years. He asks if I want to see it and hands it to me with a grip on it so I need to pull it from him. He quickly says it's his and wants it back. Surprise! THIS box has eleven cigarettes in it!! I can only imagine he swiped it off a table at the neighbor's the night before.

I talked to him about right and wrong and very wrong and super duper wrong. I may as well been talking to the wall because he just kept shaking his head and asking for the box back because they were his, in his eyes. I hid the box during his pacing back and forth and managed to keep it away from him permanently.

My son, the cigarette snatcher, picker upper. This damn obsession is so strong and overwhelming to him. I wish there was an on and off switch. I am open for any advice.

Damn Obsessions (Continued)

So on this Saturday morning of the 8^th, I am having breakfast around 8 A.M. because that’s as early as I was able to drag myself out of bed. Puppy had already fixed himself waffles and milk and was ready to head out the door to observe any neighbor smoking that comes out of their house first. I figured something was up, so sure enough he had run out of paper to use as rolled up cigarettes, so he had gone through my purse and taken four dollars, had rolled them up and taped them as substitutes. But I didn’t find these until later that morning. So let’s just say he was a happy camper because he was getting his imaginary fix on cigarettes.

In one of his check-ups on me, I was able to have him help me with laundry chores, so the entire morning wasn’t lost. However, we had an invitation from Ms. H to attend her son’s birthday party at Chuck E. Cheese at noon. Let’s just say the morning flew by and we were at the party. The only problem is that Puppy has been complaining of chest pains for a few days this week so I figured I better have him checked. With Puppy, it could be anything. It’s not easy to know because he doesn’t have the vocabulary to describe his pain or location very well. He’s been going through so many issues these days that I was thinking it was just anxiety or nerves because it usually comes around the time he’s stressed about something he did. He was looked over by a doctor at a clinic and he guessed it may be heartburn because test results were normal. We picked up our prescription for Zantac and went home.

Boy, this story is really going to drag out since I’m writing early in the morning and not having enough time. Once again, to be continued.

First baseball practice

So one of the support groups I belong to has decided to create a summer activity for our kids but with the help of a councilman, she has received some funding to make it a citywide event for any and all special needs children between the ages of 3 to 21 years to join. Registration was two weeks ago and I saw about 20-30 children were signed up. Practices are scheduled for late June, but there was discussion about making two practice teams, one for those who live on the North side of the city and one for those on the South side. So to get feedback and a division of children and families, there was a quick meeting Wednesday evening at the park not too far from our subdivision.

Batter up! 

I picked up Puppy from after school care and hurried over to the park. There were already about 15 kids there and one coach.  They had set up and were practicing batting and running. Of course we get there and Puppy is all about not wanting to do anything, just sit on the bench and watch. He was complaining about the heat and too many people being there. Shortly thereafter the kids came off the field to take a water break. At this time I talk to him asking him to go give it a try so he can tell his teacher about it the next day. He finally gives in and goes to try batting, and he did great, ran to first and the rest went equally well and smoothly.

    

Puppy makes it to First base.

Second base

Third base...

       

and he makes it home.
Way to go Puppy!

When he was back at the bench he started to get fussy and asking if Ms. H would be coming to meet us at the park. I'm guessing he wanted someone else to see him play to make it valid. I said yes, and all of the sudden he says he can't stand her and doesn't want her there. Don't worry it's not the first time he does this, but it's one of the few times he does it in public. She gets there and he comes close and tells me to ask her to leave and that he's going to have a tantrum if she gets near him. I can't help but roll my eyes because I know this is already escalating into something bigger. Sure enough, he tries to bang his head on the fencing unknowingly that cyclone fencing basically bounces back, so he was disappointed. I looked at him and he started mumbling bad words...and I said, "Let's go."

When he was back at the bench he started to get fussy and asking if Ms. H would be going to meet us at the park. I'm guessing he wanted someone else to see him play to make it valid. I said yes, and all of the sudden he says he can't stand her and doesn't want her there. Don't worry it's not the first time he does this, but it's one of the few times he does it in public. She gets there and he comes close and tells me to ask her to leave and that he's going to have a tantrum if she gets near him. I can't help but roll my eyes because I know this is already escalating into something bigger. Sure enough, he tries to bang his head on the fencing unknowingly that cyclone fencing basically bounces back, so he was disappointed. I looked at him and he started mumbling bad words...and I said, "Let's go."

The entire walk to the truck was just so peachy with him screaming foul language in Spanish. Luckily, no one paid any attention because each parent had their own hands full watching over their own child. Ms. H followed us to the parking lot and we headed home. On route he was still screaming that he didn't want Ms. H to go to our house. The bad words were so colorful with him taking turns in English and Spanish. Then he mentioned he was repeating words another ex-classmate usually says. So I called him by that child's name and he was furious. So now he's banging his fist on the door window, on the dashboard, on the arm rest, and finally it ends with him biting his hand. However, it must have been a really strong bite because he started to cry and yelled it hurt. Keep in mind he has braces and it only makes it easier for him to break skin.

We had made it home. Once he was a little calmer, he looked at me and apologized. He wanted sympathy for his injury. He leaned his head on my shoulder and said he was nervous. What would his teacher say when she sees his hand? What will his consequences be tomorrow? So much goes through his mind in such a short period. I can't imagine the mental struggles he must go through all day.

Of course he then started up again once we got inside the house because Ms. H was now with us. But he just stormed up to his room, closed the door and stayed there talking to himself. This lasted about 30 minutes, but only because I decided to open the door to check on him.  He had been pacing back and forth, nothing more, but he was nervous and he was about to start escalating again. We sat down together and I tried my best to explain that we can't change the past (he doesn't understand past though), so move forward and don't repeat the biting and swearing. He was probably just satisfied with the fact that I did not express anger. Maybe I should have, but everyday teaches me and reminds me that he mimics and he would indeed mimic my anger if he saw it, maybe not today but someday. He politely gave me a kiss on the cheek and started making his way to the shower and began his evening routines, then a sweet "Good night, Ms. H., I love you." and "Good night, mom, I love you."  Another day is now behind us.

Counting again, ugh!

And we’re off again. Nope, it’s not a trip to see the Wonderful Wizard of Oz either. Puppy and I are about to start the counting game again. I’m not looking forward to it, but at least I was able to talk (or rather text) with his teacher and she’s alright with only counting 50 days and not 100 days of good behavior.

And why, you ask are we counting again? Because this past weekend Puppy decided that his wallet was at its worst and he was tired of having to modify it with paper and tape to add pockets for this credit cards. The pockets that had their opening in the wrong direction (vertical, not horizontal) and on the wrong part of the wallet had already been cut and removed by him at one time or another, and now he was just fed up with it and wants to give it up. This happens just about every week. He’ll put it away for a day—or an hour, then pulls it out of his drawer and resets all his cards in it. Then everyone is happy.

But this time he was so upset that he took it upon himself to decide that he did not want to put it away or give it to me to put away, but rather he would throw it in the trashcan outside to make sure it didn’t come back. He wanted the landfill will be its final resting place.  Before I could stop him he was out the door. My first reaction was a sigh of relief. Finally, there was no wallet to distract him. My second reaction was, “WTH!” How was he going to function without it? But it was too late.

I’ll spare you the details of this long, long Saturday and Sunday morning, because by Sunday afternoon he was outside retrieving it from the trash.  And it was “OMG!” The smell was horrendous. I figured it was just the smell from being in the container overnight, so I tried wiping it down with Lysol and stuff. But we didn’t have any luck. It was ready to die, and die we let it. Back into the trashcan it went. Puppy was definitely lost and so confused. He kept repeating how it was his fault and what was he going to do?

His first response was that he would like to have another one…to replace the one he threw away. Um, that’s going back to square one. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple. Luckily, he has good behavior in school and it’s at home that he tries to manipulate me with total exhaustion of pulling me into a debate of the why and why not’s of getting him a new wallet.

Today is Wednesday, and I’m not sure if I will survive 50 days.

Special Olympics, Day Two

I am so happy to report that day two at the Special Olympics went more smoothly.

It didn’t start off that way though. For obvious reasons, Puppy was nervous. The tantrum he had the night before had left its mark on him. He was wearing a band-aid over his injury and now his teacher and the aides will know he did not have the good behavior we are teaching him. But he had to face the day like any other and managed to calm down enough to get on the bus.

He talked his teacher and explained he had the tantrum and in his mind it was old news and not going to happen again…or so he promised…again.

The events were getting on their way, and I hadn’t mentioned that Puppy’s campus is walking distance from the district’s student activity complex.  In fact, he goes there often throughout the year for walks and runs with his classmates.  But today he was participating in the softball throw.  I remember his first competition in this sport, not so good; so glad he’s improving and focusing on eye-hand-coordination. Here’s a picture another parent sent me. He’s waiting for all the students to arrive and take their turns.

Puppy did pretty well. He placed second and received the Silver Medal for his efforts.

Oh the joy on his face. I’m so thankful for my friends who knew I couldn’t be there, and captured this picture for us. But doesn’t end here, there was a celebration dance! And yes, his teacher sent me a picture of this, too.

This was a sweet end to a much better day.  Congratulations Puppy!

And congratulations to Claire for achieving what seems like an impossible task of inserting images.

Another Doctor's Visit

Puppy and I made our scheduled quarterly doctor's visit on April 24, 150 miles away just so we can see a doctor who will take the time to listen and understands my son.  We had company on our trip this time; my older sister also had her doctor's appointment just down the street from ours so we carpooled.

After driving around the Medical Center district of San Antonio and grabbing lunch, then taking my sister to her appointment, waiting until she was done, then heading out to my niece's apartment for a brief rest and leaving my sister there; Puppy and I headed out again to make our 4:30 p.m. appointment.

The place was packed with limited sitting space. But there are several psychiatrists at this center and each one has their own patients waiting in the same lobby. So in various increments the place was packed and then it was emptied again, and repeated. We didn't get in until 5 p.m., but this was not the norm as we are usually in within 10 minutes after arrival. I didn't mind though because we were almost 30 minutes early to begin with. Besides, it's always a pleasant visit when the psychiatrist takes her time to start with reviewing Puppy's file and notes taken, begins asking questions and listens to both of us while showing interest. Puppy has allowed himself to interact with her more often and it makes me feel better. Even though he might not understand what the doctor or I are saying, we are talking about him; and he tries to explain why he did things or tells her that he's keeping his hands together and being really quiet. I suppose I don't remind myself often enough that he hears everything and is understanding that our talks are mostly about his behaviors.

Our conversation took us to discussions about some of the behaviors Puppy has been expressing. I was trying to describe anxiety and nervousness, but she in return gave me examples of the both behaviors and we agreed that what I thought was anxiety, wasn't. Afterwards, we decided to make a minor change in his medications and I will monitor him. 

I started him on the new dose yesterday. I sent a text to his teacher to inform her of the change and she told me he was in a very happy mood, talkative and complying with all his work requests. I sighed and crossed my heart that this continues and this change is all he needed.