There Are Bears Everywhere

You’ve probably heard about the man vs bear thing, but in case you haven’t: Women are being asked whether they would rather encounter a bear or a strange man if they were alone in the woods. A majority of women have said they'd rather meet a bear, and this has shocked a lot of men.

There are many reasons women have offered for choosing bear. Here are a few of them:

• A bear’s motives are easier to understand.
• A bear's actions are easier to anticipate.
• No one will doubt you if you say you have been attacked by a bear.
• A bear can't gaslight you.
• You won’t be blamed for being attacked by a bear.
• A bear won’t sexually assault you.
• You won’t have to worry about whether you live in a state that forbids you to terminate a pregnancy resulting from a bear attack.
• If a bear attacks you, it will be punished harshly (i.e. euthanized).
• You don’t have to worry about running into the bear again.

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To be clear, my answer is neither. I would rather have a peaceful walk alone in the woods without experiencing terror. But also, whether I encounter a man or a bear, I’m going to react in a similar way. I’ll feel anxious and a bit sick to my stomach. My heart rate will quicken, and I will get an adrenaline rush. I will avoid eye contact and do whatever I can to put distance between myself and the man/bear, and if that doesn’t work, I will prepare to defend myself. 

But, see, I already do those things when I’m walking down the street or in a parking lot at night or on trails (in a part of the world where there are no bears) or pretty much anywhere that I encounter a strange man when I am alone. Instinctively, I gauge how closely I am being followed and change directions or cross the street or duck into a store if a man is keeping pace or speeding up behind me. I have my keys ready and check the backseat of my car when I get into it at night. I also decide not to do things I want to do, like go hiking alone, because there is a chance it will be unsafe. 

In a sense, women spend their whole lives preparing to encounter (or trying to avoid) bears.

I don’t know, but I imagine it would be hard for most men to fathom this. I imagine that most men don’t understand what it is like to start to learn about bears in elementary school when boys pull up our dresses. Or in middle school when they ogle or touch our budding breasts. Or in high school when they laugh about who is “easy” or refer to our classmates as sluts.

Do men know what it’s like to buy our daughters rape whistles, alarms, and/or mace and to teach them the same things our moms taught us? The list of dos and don’ts goes on forever: Don’t walk alone, especially at night. Always keep an eye on your drink. Don’t go alone to a guy’s room. Don't wear noise-cancelling earbuds when you are out running. Try to get an apartment on the second or third floor but never the first, etc, etc, etc. We have no choice but to prepare to defend ourselves and to follow this impossibly long list because we have friends, relatives, and acquaintances who have been assaulted and then asked why they didn’t protect themselves better.

Being a woman is exhausting for a lot of reasons, but one of the biggest ones is that we must always be vigilant against potential encounters with bears. And, it doesn't matter that a bear hasn't gotten us, yet, because there is always the chance that one will. 

Of course not all men are bears, but enough of them are that we can never let our guard down.

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Listen, I love men. Some of my favorite people in the world are men. But that doesn't change the fact that I live in a world where being a woman is risky and exhausting. It also doesn't change the fact that we still have a long way to go before women feel safe and heard and respected. 

We need the help of all the good men out there. It's not enough to acknowledge the disparities between the experiences of men and women; men need to actively support women by working against the things that make life challenging for them. So, here are some suggestions**:

• Change directions or cross the street if you happen to encounter a woman alone.
• Speak out against sexist or misogynistic language or behavior.
• Listen to and believe women, even when what they are saying seems unbelievable.
• In meetings where their voices aren't being heard no matter how loud they are speaking, echo their statements while giving them credit for them.
• Be the first to volunteer to send emails, organize meetings, serve food, make copies, take minutes, or do any of the other tasks that tend to fall to women, even though that's not their job.
• At home, know when the kids have practice/lessons/school events and get them where they need to go without being asked or reminded.
• Take initiative on scheduling appointments for them.
• Take over the organization of household chores.
• Decide what to make for dinner and do the shopping yourself.
• Be emotionally available for the kids so they come to you with their problems as often as they go to their mom.

Maybe you are already doing these things. If so, awesome! If not and you want to know how to help, this is a good place to start. 

**Obviously, you can take them or leave them.

Breathe Deep

Behavior modification has never been easy at our house. Some kids on the spectrum (mine included) are not motivated by external reward/punishment in the way non-ASD children are. Here's an example of one kind of "rewarding" that many parents do that has NEVER worked at our house. This particular scenario happened in one form or another approximately 1053 times before we figured out what we were doing wrong:

Us: Sky, if you [fill in desired behavior here] today, we will go to a movie after lunch. 

Sky: [Immediately freaks out and does the opposite of desired behavior to the nth degree] 

Us: Sky, why are you doing that? Don't you want to go see a movie? 

Sky: [Intensifies undesired behavior] 

Us: Okay, that's it. I guess we won't go to a movie after all. 

Sky: [MELTDOWN]

Several things were going on here. First, the mention of a highly desired reward increased Sky's excitement level, immediately making it impossible for him to a) process what we were saying and b) fully control his behavior. Second, as soon as we reacted negatively to his behavior and threatened to withhold the reward, the heightened excitement turned into confusion and anxiety. Third, when the result was the loss of the very thing we promised, Sky melted down because he could neither control his behavior nor express verbally what was going on in his head. He ended up simply feeling frustrated and out of control of his destiny.

Like I said, it took us an embarrassingly and painfully long time to figure this out!

We’ve tried a lot of other things with similar (lack of) success. Sticker charts? Forget about it. All three of the kids could care less about stickers. I mean, really. And, yes, we've tried the approach where if they get a certain number of stickers, they will get a prize. It just doesn’t work. They are too interested in the things that drive their day to day interests to be persuaded by some abstract reward that’s at least a few days away. There’s a whole body of literature out there about why extrinsic motivations don’t work well for kids on the spectrum, so at least we know there’s some precedent for this kind of thing.

For the record, the marble jar is the only spin off of this idea that has even remotely worked, and I am pretty sure that’s because the kids help motivate each other toward the goal. We’ve been at it for six months now, though, and they’ve only managed to fill the jar twice (most recently three days ago after months of trying).

 

Three months later, a full marble jar

These days, Stow presents the greatest challenge for us. He consistently wakes up between 5 and 5:45 a.m. and immediately stealthily sets about seeing what trouble he can cause. It turns out that he can cause a lot of trouble during the 20 minutes or so between when he wakes up and when Ren or I are able to shake off our stupors and figure out how to keep him occupied. Recent shenanigans include: 

**painting the bathroom with watercolor paints,  

**writing on our bedroom wall with a permanent marker,

In case you're wondering, rubbing alcohol just kind of lightens the color while also removing the paint.

**breaking every single Lego contraption on Sky’s desk (multiple times), 

**eating several slices of Ren’s not-gluten-free bread, 

He tried to hide his handiwork on this one but the BIG HOLE in the bag gave him away.

**“helping” finish the letter Pink had written and illustrated for Big Sissy, and 

**"seeing what would happen" if he went potty on the floor of his room instead of in the toilet.

THIS is what happens.

Like Sky, Stow doesn’t respond well to heightened emotional responses to his behavior, despite the fact that he’s quite adept at making a person want to respond emotionally. The only chance one has for success when dealing with him is to keep totally and completely cool. Unfortunately for us, most days he seems pretty intent on making sure that You. Do. Not. Keep. Your. Cool.

So, our behavior therapists suggested we simplify things and go back to the five-minute time out. Time outs never seemed to work for Sky, and Pink rarely needed one. And, our attempts at them with Stow were dismal failures in the past. This time, though, the therapist seems to think they just might work. We have a visual timer, which she suggested we use for this. She also told us to find a less exciting time out spot. Apparently, the bottom step is just a little too much fun. (Sometimes it strikes me just how often the therapists we work with are effective not because they offer new-fangled ideas for how to address the various challenges we face but because they remind us to use what we have and go back to the things that didn’t work before because they just might work now).

A little over a week ago, we gave it a shot.

Boy vs. the visual timer, round 1.

It took about seventeen minutes to get Stow through his five-minute time out, but the visual timer and change of location helped him understand time outs in a way he never had before.  It was encouraging.

He REALLY seemed to get it. When I went to take a shower, I found this—

At least I was permitted to shower while in time out.

—apparently I need to learn to be nicer and not put people in time out.

A couple of days after that, I got another time out—

Found this right on the floor outside the bathroom door.

— this time for having the audacity to go to the restroom alone. (NOTE: If I could actually get a 50-minute time out entirely to myself, I would take it every dang time).

The summer after my sophomore year of college, I worked at a lodge on the edge of Rocky Mountain National Park. Every time I had a day off, I filled my daypack and set out into the mountains where I would wander the trails alone until dusk. It was heavenly. In a cabin with no television (and certainly no computer or cell phone), my entertainment that summer was letter correspondences with friends and family back home. A good friend of mine ended one of her letters to me with advice I still try to put into practice today: “Breathe deep the mountain air and save some for the rougher days.”

This mountain air!

For now, the visual timer is working for Stow. If our experience tells us anything, we know this won’t last forever and soon enough we will need to find something else that works. But, I’m going to choose to savor this moment. I’m going to rejoice in the little gift that is time outs working for one kid for just this little while. I hope you can find those moments of respite in your everyday lives, too. Breathe deep the mountain air, friends! Goodness knows we’re going to need it.

60 Simple Steps to Sending Holiday Cards

Step 1: Forget to take a family picture until the very last possible minute leaving yourself with the conundrum of whether you will be sending Christmas cards, the also appropriate Japanese-style new years card, or possibly even Valentine's Day cards.

Step 2: Decide to do a Christmas card and realize you don't have any decent clothes for the kids to wear in a picture. Also, they all need haircuts.

Step 3: Waste three days trying to decide whether to take them to get haircuts.

Step 4: Decide not to.

Step 5: Manage to pull together passable outfits and take the picture.

Step 6: Surprise yourself by taking a decent one.

Step 7: Post all the awesome outtakes on Facebook.

Step 8: Search online for the cheapest possible photo card.

Step 9: Get distracted by a toddler who needs to use the potty and forget about ordering the cards. For three days.

Step 10: Remember you were trying to order cards but realize you forget where you saved the picture.

Step 11: Get distracted by a potty-training toddler again and wonder if he will be in college before he figures it out.

Step 12: Find a coupon for ordering cards online and remember you still haven't ordered them.

Step 13: Get hung up on whether you will wish people merry Christmases or happy holidays.

Step 14: Make the decision based on the color of the graphic and go with the one that clashes least with your kids' mismatched outfits.

Step 14 1/2: Wonder what happened to Joy, Love and Peace, and question whether such things ever existed. (BTW, this is from the card we sent last year since I haven't gotten around to ordering them this year).

Step 15: Place the order and then do nothing for the next several days while you wait for the cards to arrive. Sure, you could go to the post office and buy some nice Christmas stamps. You could even find and update your address book while you wait. You do none of these things.

Step 16: Once the cards arrive, open the box and admire your handiwork. Then place the box in the corner of your desk and forget about it for a couple of weeks. Ignore that nagging sensation that you forgot to do something.

Step 17: Write a blog post about writing Christmas cards. Find it funny that this doesn't motivate you to actually write them.

Step 18: Wait a few days. Move up two levels on Candy Crush.

Step 19: Give in to the guilt and decide to start working on the cards.

Step 10: Get distracted by a Love It or List It marathon and do nothing.

Step 21: Sit down to work on the cards and realize you've lost your address book. (Who are we kidding? The last time you had an address book, you were just out of college. After that, you had the information in your computer, but that was when you lived in Japan, and you didn't bring that computer with you when you moved. What you're actually missing is the stack of cards from last year that you saved in order to send out cards this year.)

Step 22: Proceed to track down the addresses of everyone you can't remember by searching for them on 411.com or calling your mom.

Step 23: Spend at least 15 minutes being totally creeped out by how easy it is to find so much personal info about family and friends online.

Step 24: And an entire day bummed that even though you are an adult your mom is STILL more organized than you are.

Step 25: Once you have the addresses, obsess about whether your handwriting is neat enough to address the cards by hand.

Step 26: Decide it's not but be too lazy to figure out how to do this on the computer.

Step 27: Have an internal debate about whether you want to address people as Mr. and Mrs., Family, or simply by name.

Step 28: Decide that you'd rather not offend anyone by using the wrong title and address the envelopes with no titles at all thereby potentially offending everyone.

Step 29: Write a brief note on every dang card even though you said you weren't going to do that this year.

Step 30: Repeat Step 25, only this time obsess about your writing on the backs of the cards. Hear your mother's voice in your head telling you to write neater and eventually find it impossible to write anything at all.

Step 31: Take a break to look at Facebook and check if anyone has been reading your blog post about writing Christmas cards. Worry that maybe you're the only one who has this much trouble writing Christmas cards.

Step 32: Try to bribe your son into licking shut all the envelopes.

Step 33: Fail.

Step 34: Tell him this is one of the ways he can help you with Santa's job. Convince him to seal a few but quickly send him off to do something else when he starts devising other ways to get the envelopes wet.

Step 35: Notice that 6 of the 10 envelopes he licked before you fired him didn't seal completely anyway and ponder how you can improve the seal.

Step 36: Become temporarily grossed out by the possibilities.

Step 37: Lick all the envelopes yourself, quickly and without swallowing.

Step 38: Wonder where you put your address labels.

Step 39: Find them and realize they only have your name on them.

Step 40: Wonder whether it's appropriate to use an address label with only one person's name for a card from the whole family.

Step 41: Decide you really don't care as long as you don't have to write or lick anymore.

Step 42: Realize you also can't find your stamps and wonder why in the world they aren't with the address labels.

Step 43: Look everywhere for them.

Step 44: Find some old, ugly "Forever" stamps and decide they're as good as any.

Step 45: Wonder if your international stamps are still good.

Step 46: Go online and discover that international postage has gone up by 10 cents again. WTH?

Step 47: Dig through your drawers to see if you have any 10 cent stamps lying around.

Step 48: Discover you don't and realize you're going to have to go to the post office anyway.

Step 49: Give up in defeat and spend the next two hours watching reruns of The Big Bang Theory.

Step 50: Pull yourself together and sit down for the final haul.

Step 51: Write, lick, and stick until every last one of the ragtag bunch of cards is done.

Step 52: Put the finished cards in the car to take to the post office.

Step 53: Forget about them for a couple of more days.

Step 54: Finally remember to mail them when you go to buy 10 cent stamps.

Step 55: Stamp the last of the international cards and drop them in the mail slot on December 24th (if you're lucky).

Step 56: Have serious doubts about whether any of that was really worth it.

Step 57: Realize you forgot to stamp a few when they show up in your mailbox briefly tricking you into thinking you've actually received a Christmas card.

Step 58: Ditto the cards that had the wrong address on them.

Step 59: Vow never to send Christmas cards again and throw away your address list.

Step 60: Go through the exact same process approximately 12 months later.

The Things I Learned and Re-learned While Traveling Internatinoally with Three Small Children

1. When booking a Japanese hotel room online, avoid places that claim to be only for foreigners or at least ask them to send the dimensions of the room you book. Otherwise, you end up with a "triple" room that looks like this:

Three year-old included for scale.

For the record, I cried when I saw this room, but not before Sky had a massive meltdown over its minuscule size. In case you're wondering, the meltdown occurred in the hallway because although he could look inside and see how small the room was, it took time for all of us to squeeze in with our luggage.

2. It really is possible to get three children and a stroller, four rolling suitcases, four backpacks, and a man with a cane on or off the train during the 30 to 60 seconds the doors are open, but it may require yelling.

3. When traveling through Japan during rainy season, you will get rained on, the children will splash you with puddles, and their umbrellas will turn into makeshift water funnels, dropping streams of water into your shoes.

To make yourself feel better, you should have your children re-enact scenes from movies they like.

4. There can never be too many convenience stores.

5. GFCF is not as easy as it should be but also not as hard as you might think. On the one hand, this:

See all the yellow arrows? They are pointing to the clearly-marked list of allergens found in each of the dishes. Most restaurants have this helpful information, so that's good, right? Well, kind of. You see, even though many restaurants are savvy enough to make sure customers know what's in the food, this doesn't actually mean they offer alternative options. I mean, I'm glad to know all of the things my kids can't eat. I just wish there was something they COULD eat. And, if you've spent any time in Japan, you know that asking them to simply remove an ingredient to make it allergy friendly doesn't always work. McDonalds absolutely would not take the buns off the hamburgers I ordered which meant that the kids whined and cried about not being able to eat them. Telling people the kids were allergic sometimes made things worse as there is clearly a protocol in place for making sure that moms of kids with allergies take full responsibility for possible cross contamination. On one flight, I had to tell multiple flight attendants that I understood that my choice to have my kids eat the food was solely my responsibility.

6. You can never have too many KitKats.

Image from: www.mylostintranslation.com

7. I'll never stop missing Japanese-style customer service.

Each time we flew on All Nippon Airways, they gave each kid a toy. They also brought around warm wet towels for wiping our hands, plenty of extra wet wipes for eating with children, and hot soup broth as one of our drink options. Gas station attendants came out to greet us and make sure we knew how to pump our own gas. Hotel and restaurant staff walked us to the door and bowed us away. When Stow hit his head, not only did the concierge bring him ice, but she also checked on his well being the following day and every day after that until we checked out of the hotel. Every purchase was carefully wrapped, and wrapped again and bagged, and at one point, when I told the person at the register I was in a hurry, she called two people to help and still apologized for taking too long to wrap. I could go on, but you get the point.

8. It's still nearly impossible to go to a hot spring bath with a preschooler.

9. You can never get enough bad English. This sign took me awhile to figure out:

I had to read the Japanese to understand they meant no beer or wine and not necessarily no illegally produced, low-quality spirits. I assumed, since it was the Hyatt in the heart of Tokyo, that they probably didn't have a significant backwoods moonshiner problem, but then again, you can never be too sure about these things.

10. If you carry your things through US customs in a cardboard box, you will be searched, even if the thing in the box is a heated toilet seat in its original packaging.

This was not the first time we've been stopped for carrying a box of stuff (link). It was, however, the first time a customs agent laughed so hard at me that he waved us through while clutching the stitch in his side.

It's Been Awhile Since I Made a PSA, So Here You Go...

We've been home from our travels for almost 72 hours, and we've already had a trip to urgent care. The doctor says this is a coin. Stow claims it's a key. Whatever it is, he managed to drop it from his fingers, into his open mouth, and down his throat while he was lying on the ground as I changed him for bed. I didn't realize he had anything in his hands until he gagged and jumped up. I guess the good news is that once something inadvertently swallowed has reached the stomach, there's usually smooth sailing. The less good news is that, to make sure it passes safely, somebody gets to be on poop inspection duty (or should I say "doody"?) for the next one to three days until it comes through. Ren seems bored. I'll let him do it.

But, seriously, this little trip to urgent care reminds me to remind you to be vigilant about your button batteries--you know the ones you use in watches and Hex Bugs. Unlike the gem currently resting in Stow's digestive track, button batteries, when swallowed, can burn a hole into the esophagus and cause life-threatening injury very quickly. When we were in Japan, we saw a news program demonstrate how fast this can happen by placing a battery on a piece of cut hot dog. Within minutes, it had burrowed deep down and out of sight. The nurse tonight said she's seen cases where the kids told their parents what had happened right away, and "They still had a bad outcome." So, here's my PSA: Make sure that your older kids understand the risk and that your younger ones can't accidentally get their hands on a button battery. After all, as our evening adventure proves, it really is pretty easily for kids to swallow things they shouldn't.

Taking the Long View

Last year, I went out on a limb and made a New Year's resolution. I'm not normally one to make resolutions, but I thought this one was a sure thing.

I resolved that Ren would not have any back surgeries in 2013.  Well, we all know how that ended up. And we almost made it, too. November 2013 is pretty darn close to January 2014. What a disappointment! I totally expected 2013 to be the one and only time I managed to keep a New Year's resolution.

So, instead of resolutions, I've vowed to stick to making lists. Lists have helped stave off my anxiety and keep me focused through a lot of life's insanity. Lists help me keep my eye on the essence of what needs to be done. My lists are usually short and uninspired:

• Call the dentist
• Pay bills
• Submit application
• Take kids to gymnastics

But sometimes, they are pure gold. Once, twenty years ago, I made a list called: "Things I Want to Do with My Life:"

• Live near mountains
• Travel or live overseas
• Write
• Having a meaningful yet challenging job
• Get married (maybe eventually) and have kids (maybe eventually)

The list is relatively short and in many ways oversimplified, but the things on it ended up molding most my 20s and 30s. Some of these (like finding a meaningful job and having kids) took awhile, but I eventually managed to cross everything off. Looking back at this list got me thinking that maybe it's time for a new one. So, here I present:

The Things I Want to Do with My Life 2.0

• Be fully present 
• Show as much grace under pressure as I can muster at any given moment
• Treat my body well enough to make it the next 40 years
• Write a book
• Stay married 

Maybe this list of goals isn't as inspired as the first. I suppose only time will tell. I do know that none of the things on it will be easy for me (except, God willing, the last one). Hopefully, as long as these are not New Year's resolutions, I can pull them off.

What Magic is This?

You know what words I never like to hear at 3 in the morning?

"Mom, I feel sick."

Why, oh why, do they come and stand by my pillow to tell me this? They don't need my help throwing up, and I will figure out what's going on soon enough. One day their proximity to my pillow wiill turn out very badly, I just know it.

To be fair, and I'm taking a big risk by saying this, it's amazing I don't deal with vomit more often. Aside from a couple of episodes involving severe allergic reactions to food, on the whole my kids seem to  throw up much less than the average kid. Plus, I've trained the older two to either hit the trash can or make it to the bathroom.  So I know it could be much, much worse. (I also know I've just jinxed myself for at least the rest of this winter and possibly for years to come. It's a risk I'm willing to take so that you can learn from my experience.  You're welcome--even though I might resent it later...)

Whenever Sky is sick, we face two dilemmas that I'm guessing most parents don't face. First of all, we are never really sure he's sick. Sometimes Sky throws up for no apparent reason. In fact, when he was in kindergarten, he threw up approximately once every six days for 6 weeks. Despite all of my sleuthing and all of my attempts to add and remove things from his diet, the hurling happened like clockwork. His school has a "24-hour Policy," meaning kids have to stay home from school until they are fever-, vomit-, and diarrhea-free for 24 hours. I'm all for this practice in theory; it's a great way to reduce the spread of germs. But my kid throws up for sport. If I kept him home every time he did, he'd miss a lot of school.  So, whenever he's sick, I have to ascertain whether he's sick or if his stomach just happens to be out of sorts.

Second, once we realize he is sick, we have to assuage the guilt of not noticing his regressive behavior is health related sooner. One thing I can say with certainty about my ASD kid is that when his body starts to go, so does his behavior. Problem is I almost always realize this after the fact. I wish there was a litmus test I could do when he gets out-of-sync to determine whether impending illness is the cause because I always feel guilty later when I finally figure it out. And guilt gets old.

Anyway, none of that stuff really matters. That's not why I'm writing today. I'm writing this post today to tell you something amazing! Maybe you already knew this, but so far, my informal poll of five people indicates that it is not widespread knowledge.

Are you ready for it?

Are you sure?

Okay, here goes...

Salt water stops the pukes.

That's right. Sometime during the second hour of Sky's stomach woes, Ren went down to the kitchen to prepare a bit of warm salt water for him. When I heard him tell Sky to gargle, rinse, and then swallow a little bit of it, I thought he was insane. In fact, I almost peeled myself out of bed to intervene. Lucky for Sky, after five trips to the bathroom with him, I was too tired to move. Because as soon as Sky drank the water, he stopped throwing up. It was instantaneous. His stomach pains and nausea stopped, and he was able to go back to sleep for a couple of hours. And, you know what else? He didn't throw up again.

I'm sure there's a good scientific explanation. But I don't care. All I care about is that it made Sky stop puking because, really, that's all the evidence I need.

I am curious, though, is this common knowledge? Is this a Japanese old wives' remedy? Or, is Ren simply magical?

On Being a Stepmom

Recently, a few of my friends have become stepparents. Before I became a mom, I was a stepmom, so hearing they were starting on this journey made me remember my first years as a stepmom. When I married Ren, Big Sissy was in junior high. Junior high! Those early years were a big adjustment for both of us, and nothing from that time was easy. It took us awhile to grow into our new roles, and I learned a few things along the way.

There are plenty of websites out there that give great advice on step-parenting and blended families, and if you are really seeking guidance on this topic, you should probably go to those sites. Just like every kid with autism is different from every other kid with autism, so, too, every blended family is different from every other blended family. So, much of what I learned was specific to our situation, but here are a few of the more universal lessons I picked up along the way:

1. The kids didn't choose the situation they are in. 

There's nothing glamorous about going from no kids to having stepchildren. They will use your toothpaste, dirty your furniture, break your dishes, hog your bathroom. You will feel annoyed and cramped and little bit of everything else. Get over it. When you got married, you were agreeing to become a family, a family that not only includes your spouse's kids but that should be focused on them. I'm not saying it's easy; in fact, it can be horrible at times, but you still have to bring your A game and be the parent your stepchild deserves.

2. If you put your spouse in the middle, he will choose the kids. 

He has to, and, really, you should want him to. I don't know what else to say about this except don't put your spouse in the middle.

3. American pop culture gives stepparents, and especially stepmothers, a bad rap. 

Think Cinderella. I can't tell you how many people have gushed over how great I am as a stepmom. I'm sure I make mistakes, and I'm sure there were times I resented the struggle of those early years, but compared to the stepmoms we see in the movies, I'm a saint. And, to be honest, I'm not comfortable with that (See point number 1).

4. You're always the stepparent. 

When push comes to shove, when your stepchild is in trouble, your opinion won't always hold the weight you think it should. There's nothing so demoralizing as pouring everything you have into your relationship with your stepchild only to have your motives questioned when things get dicey. But, it happens. Be patient, be consistent, and be tenacious, and eventually those moments of mistrust will disappear.

5. This isn't the movies. 

You know those heart-warming romantic comedies where the single dad suffers alone raising his kids until the perfect woman stumbles into their lives, filling the void, and helping everyone live happily ever after? This isn't that story. It's not that easy. Between the stumbling in and the happily ever after, you'll have a lot of work, a lot of frustration, and a lot of tears. Chances are, your stepchildren will never figure out how to thank you for all of the sacrifices you made (and shouldn't have to, really). And you'll probably never figure out how to love your stepchildren as unconditionally as you think you should. So, here's what you do: you stop worrying about it. You stop worrying about it and just do the best you can.

Two Years Out: Reflections from an Autism Parent

Two years ago this month, we got Sky's autism diagnosis. As I've said before, I was less shocked than relieved to finally know why life with him was so darn difficult (link). So, two years out, here's what I want you to know about life with autism:

Kids with autism have what's called a pervasive developmental disorder, a term you probably haven't heard unless you're living it. Post diagnosis, I quickly learned how totally appropriate this designation is. Autism impacts every aspect of my son's life--his relationship with food and sleep, his experience in school, what he obsesses about, the way he sees, hears, smells, and feels, how he understands what people say and do. In other words, essentially every point of contact he has with the world around him is impacted by autism. It also impacts every aspect of our lives with him; it’s pervasive because no one in our support network escapes his autism unscathed. Everyone who interacts with him has to have a deep understanding of his dietary needs. They also have to understand how to talk to him so that he can understand what they are saying. They have to know the routine and be able to stick to it. They have to be infinitely patient (especially when he interrupts for the millionth time to explain in excruciating detail a scene from a movie he watched months ago). Most importantly, they need to know what to do if he has a meltdown.

When my son has a meltdown, time stands still. He’s so loud, we couldn’t carry on a conversation if we wanted to. He’s totally out of control of his words and thoughts. When he melts down, I have to drop what I am doing, go to where he is, and try to talk him off the ledge. If that doesn’t work, I have to hold onto him until I can walk him to his safe zone where sometimes (but not always) he can calm himself down. Meltdowns happen when he is overwhelmed, and he can get overwhelmed for myriad reasons. Maybe he didn’t sleep well. Maybe he’s getting sick. Maybe someone said something he couldn’t understand. Maybe Mom is a little tired. Maybe there’s a bug on the window sill. Maybe Sister is singing too loud. Maybe she isn’t singing loud enough. Maybe Dad didn’t answer the question fast enough. Maybe his sock has a tiny hole. The list of possible triggers is maddeningly endless, and there is no way to completely eliminate them. We do our best by maintaining vigilant consistency in our routine and our diet. If it’s not on the schedule, we don’t do it.

When you're handed an autism diagnosis, you aren't also handed an autism handbook. That’d be way too easy. Instead, you're given a list of suggestions and sent out on your own to make sense of it all. In our case, our list said he might benefit from occupational therapy, he should join a social skills group, he'll probably be bullied, so he'll need support in school, and if the sensory stuff gets to be too much, he might need medication. Oh, and don't believe the stuff you read about diet. None of that's true, and if you read it, it might scare you.

It took me awhile to figure out that the person who diagnosed Sky was decidedly afraid of biomedical interventions, though I still have no idea why. See when you have a kid with autism you also unwillingly stumble into two very contentious debates--one is about the role of vaccines in causing autism and the other about whether autism can be "cured" with diet, supplements, and other interventions. Your doctor can't help you understand these debates. In fact, most pediatricians know surprisingly little about ASD and what to do about it. If you're lucky, like we were, you will at least have one that's willing to consider the information you present about these issues and try to refer you to where you need to go. If you're even luckier, you'll find a doctor like our new one who is up on the research and who knows which tests to run and which diets to try and who knows what to do when an ASD kid is sick.

The thing is, there is no road map for any of this. It takes a good year post diagnosis to figure out how to start getting the services you need. In our case, it took another six months to find a good doctor and to understand enough about the diet stuff to embark on a gluten free, casein free, organic diet. It all takes time. It all takes money, and meanwhile, you're still living with a kid with autism.

And you can’t escape your life. You inhabit it every single day with the knowledge that it might not get easier and that the only people who really understand what it's like to have an autistic kid are people with autistic kids. We're like an exclusive members-only club full of people who really don't want to be there. You're lucky you can’t join this club. Please know how lucky you are. My son’s case is relatively mild. He can talk. He doesn't run away or stay up all night. He’s potty trained. He keeps up in school. So, we're lucky, too. I know that, and yet, I can't help but mourn for all we’ve lost to autism.

It’s taken awhile for me to accept that this life is mine, and as I have, I’ve come up with a list of things I want people with “neurotypical” (aka non-autistic) kids to learn from my experience.

Here you go:

1. Know that some things are a lot easier for you than they are for other parents and that doesn't make us bitter or jealous. We just want you to understand things are really REALLY hard sometimes.

2. Don’t judge the parents whose kid is total chaos. Chances are he’s melting down, sensory over-stimulated, or completely confused by the social cues coming at him from all sides.

3. Don’t be afraid to reach out to a family affected by autism. Offer to help. Drive their neurotypical kids to practice. Baby sit. Bring the grown-ups coffee.

4. Educate, I mean really educate, yourself about autism (and don’t use television or movies to do it).*

5 Resist references to Rain Man or that kid from Parenthood. As the saying goes, “If you've met one kid on the autism spectrum, you've met one kid on the autism spectrum." They can all be very different from one another.

6. Don’t bat an eye when you see a kid who's clearly too old for diapers. Believe me, his mom already knows this.

7. Resist the urge to tell a kid she's too old to chew on a baby toy/ride in a stroller/hold mom’s hand/get carried. This may be the only way the kid can get from point A to point B without everything falling apart.

8. Understand that most ASD kids don't "look" autistic (whatever that means).

9. Realize that to some kids a trip to Walmart/an amusement park/the mall/a grocery store/pretty much anywhere can be like running the sensory gauntlet without a sword.

10. Know that even though you can't really understand, you can still help.


For my reflections on year one, click here.


* The HBO movie about Temple Grandin (called Temple Grandin) is the exception. You can also see her TED talk.

Updates

Three totally unrelated updates to past posts--also known as "how to write a blog post when you can't sustain a train of thought."

First, check this out. Santa wrote a response to Sky's letter.

You remember the letter (click here for the previous post):

We dropped it in the red mailbox at the historical museum, and this is what we got back:

(click on the image to enlarge it).

I'm pretty sure this convinced Sky. At least for this year. Thanks, awesome letter writer! You should've seen the sheepish grin on his face when I read it to him.

Second, here's Day Two of gluten-free lunch:

They really liked the waffles. Obviously, I can't keep this pace with each waffle costing approximately a dollar, but at least it will be fun while it lasts. Once the waffles are gone, we will go back to rice balls and octopus hot dogs (Google it. Trust me).

Third, I never did hear back from TOMS. Click here for the story about the shoes if you haven't already seen it.

I don't know about you, but I kind of hate it when my supposedly socially conscious retailer ignores me. Not sure how you can claim to want to make a difference while being totally unwilling to engage with customer concerns. But maybe that's just me. Meanwhile, Frontier Airlines was awesome in handling this (link) complaint. So, fly Frontier, but don't buy TOMS. And, please, feel free to complain to TOMS directly. I have the address if you need it.

My Totally Unsolicited Parenting Advice

A friend of mine just learned she'll start fostering two young girls in a few days--after years of planning and months of waiting, she's now experiencing those moments of sheer terror we all feel when we realize we're about to become parents and we have NO idea what we're doing.

Her story got me thinking about what I've learned as a mom and what advice I have to give (not that she needs it or even that she asked for it). So, here you go. My totally unsolicited parenting advice.

1. Establish routines organically and from the very beginning. Structure is key.

2. It's good to give them choices, but limit the choices to things you're ok giving them.

3. No dyes, no processed food. If you don't have it, they won't expect it, and life's a whole lot better without that crap.

4. Have plenty of band aids, preferably ones with pictures.

5. Don't assign chores. Instead, instill a sense of team and working together for the good of the family.

6. Teach them to see what needs to be done around the house and to do it. Mine come into the kitchen and help get things on the table without being asked. It's heavenly.

7. Remind them how lucky they are to have each other. Sometimes this keeps them from trying to kill each other, but not always.

8. You can really never have too many books, sketch paper, crayons or markers. But you can have too many toys that make noise.

Some of the kids' books. You can never have too many books, but you can definitely have too many skeletons.

And even Stow has his own set of books to tear up read.

9. Praise and encouragement go a long way. So does giving your kids the benefit of the doubt.

10. If you feel like you're completely out of your element and that you're flying by the seat of your pants, you're in good company. That's how we all feel, all of the time. Or at least most of it.

This is what happens when Sky gets his hands on some markers and some paper.

Top 10 Lessons for a New ASD Mom

I'm calling this blog entry "Top 10 Lessons for a New ASD Mom," but I'm not really a new ASD mom. In fact, I've been an ASD mom for 5 or 6 years now. I just didn't know it. Next week marks a year since we got Sky's diagnosis. I've learned a lot of important lessons over the last twelve months, so I thought I'd share them.

Top 10 Lessons for a New ASD Mom

10. We're actually not bad parents.

It's so much easier to see this when you realize your kid is on the spectrum and not ignoring you and doing annoying things just to drive you crazy.

9. When going to case conference meetings at school, it helps to take the following: written documentation, your spouse, a baby (if available), a copy of the special education laws for your state, outspoken fellow moms who aren't afraid to piss people off, a notebook, and your sense of humor (you can't use it there, but it sure is good to have).

8. Sometimes the five senses can be our enemy.

Sky will probably never be much good at sports that require him to run around in a bright gym full of loud voices and echoes. But, on the bright side, he can hear a cotton ball hit the floor two rooms away. Plus, that kid can sing!

7. The best tools are often right under our noses.

I now have a whole new appreciation for surgeon scrub brushes, chewing gum, and just about anything small enough to fit into a little boy's pocket and keep his hands busy when he's walking to and from his desk at school.

6. There are just some people who deserve to be ignored.

These are the people who thought there must be something wrong with Sky but who now refuse to believe the diagnosis and instead imply we are the reason for Sky's problems and are using Sky's "label" to get special treatment for him.

5. Johnny Cash could find a pretty good cult following in kids with sensory issues.

4. Everyone needs a mantra.

Ours is: "It's an explanation, not an excuse." Constantly reminding ourselves of this has helped us keep Sky's diagnosis and all that comes with it in perspective.

3. Social stories really do work despite the fact they have two-dimensional characters and lack a compelling narrative.

2. We are not alone.

There are a lot of folks out there who know what it is like, including some rockin' mom bloggers (and some dads, too) who have helped make this all just a little bit easier.

1. It gets better.

Take Off Your Shoes for Goodness Sake!

One question I used to get asked when I visited Japanese elementary schools was: "Do Americans sleep with their shoes on?" What an absurd question, I thought. That is until I realized the question about shoes, like the questions about guns ("Do you own a gun? I heard everyone owns a gun!" and "Aren't you afraid you will be shot?") can be tied directly to the programs my students were watching on television. When I first lived in Japan in the 90s, the selection of US television programs airing on the national networks was puzzling to say the least. There were a lot of Steven Segal movies, Full House, and A.L.F. For someone desperate to watch television in English after a long day of speaking Japanese, these were slim pickings to be sure. I mean, did anyone ever watch A.L.F.? And can you imagine a whole generation of Japanese viewers gleaning their understanding of the US from these three sources?

Finally, I decided to ask one of the third graders who posed the sleeping shoe question why she thought Americans slept in their shoes. After all, I can understand how Japanese kids would think it was odd to wear shoes in the house, but I couldn't imagine why they had the absurd idea that we slept in them. The kid's answer was simple: "Because, on t.v., we never see people take them off, and we never see where they put them. Besides, they already wear shoes in the house." (And by this last part, she meant to say that wearing shoes inside was already a filthy habit, so why wouldn't they wear them to bed?)

Most Americans know that Japanese take off their shoes when they go into the house. They assume this is to keep the house clean and to protect the tatami mats. They don't quite realize, however, how important taking one's shoes off is to maintaining proper etiquette. Japanese people, throughout their history have been concerned with keeping the pure and the impure separate. Have you ever seen a shrine gate like this?



It demarcates the separation of the unclean larger world from the purity of the shrine compound. That's why just inside the gate you will find an ablution pavilion (something that looks like a horse trough full of water and is used for washing oneself before proceeding).



There is a similar clean/unclean demarcation line in the entryway of the house and a designated space, therefore, for removing one's shoes which carry on their bottoms the uncleanliness of the outside. So, yes, taking off one's shoes is meant to keep the house clean, but no, it's not that simple.

Most visitors to our house here in the rural US don't seem to mind when we ask them to take off their shoes, though there is the occasional disgruntled person who comes with holey, smelly socks, or who is wearing laced-up boots. The problem is, though, that many of our American friends and family don't seem to get the spirit of the shoe-removal habit any more than my Japanese elementary kids understood why and when Americans wear shoes inside.

Here are some common mistakes they make:

1) They don't take off their shoes in the designated area, which is usually a swath of tile or a floor mat just inside the door. Instead, they assume that the entire entry area is like a mudroom and can therefore be tracked with shoes. They walk across the mat, across the carpet, and sit down on the steps to take their shoes off. The space for taking off shoes is almost always limited to just inside the door.

2) They take off their shoes, and then realizing they've forgotten something in their car, they go out in their socks to get it. After all, putting shoes on and taking them off again is a lot of work (she says with the slightest hint of sarcasm).

3) They get distracted and walk into the house with their shoes on anyway.

Now, don't get me wrong, I completely understand where these mistakes originate. After all, our visitors do take off their shoes as requested, even though it makes some of them uncomfortable to do so. So much of my family's cross-cultural existence is about meeting half-way. But the thing is, on some issues, there is no middle ground. There are some beliefs/cultural habits that one or the other of just us has to maintain for whatever reason. In my experience, the challenge of an international marriage (or any marriage, for that matter) is figuring out which of these beliefs/habits is non-negotiable and respecting the resulting boundaries. Sure, it gets old having to ask people to take off their shoes, and there is no easy, non-confrontational way to point out that taking off ones shoes and then getting one's socks dirty by walking outside without shoes defeats the purpose.

Sometimes Ren wonders whether people just lack common sense, and I remind him that we have common sense, it's just that the sense we share in common doesn't cover proper shoe removal etiquette. And then I remind myself that there are just certain times where it won't do any good to push him to see things my way. After all, who's to say my way is right, anyway?

Things You Should Know about Me--or--Epic Procrastination Attempt #2

1. I don't need much sleep.

2. I met my husband in a hospital in Japan.

3. My worst parenting moment: Flying to Japan when Pink P was 7 weeks old, the flight attendant told me I couldn't put her in the bassinet, so after a week of no sleep (due to packing and moving), I couldn't avoid falling asleep while holding her. Next thing I knew, the guy across the aisle was handing her to me, saying, "I think this is yours," and I was like, "Ur..thanks."

4. I started studying Japanese because it seemed hard and I was bored.

5. I played tennis and basketball in high school. I play tennis right-handed and basketball left-handed, and even though the motion is essentially the same when serving a tennis ball and a volleyball, I do one right-handed (tennis) and the other left-handed (volleyball).

6. I have 37 watches including one from China which has a waving Deng Xiaoping and one from Switzerland that has edleweiss and cows (a true Swiss watch!). My most expensive watch is an antique handed down to me and my newest is a G-shock which is solar and has wave receptor so I never have to wind or change batteries again (which is good since most of my 37 watches have dead batteries).

7. I swore I would never marry a Japanese man.

8. I have had two knee surgeries and two broken ribs. Both injuries happened on the same day (May 26) seven years apart. I still feel a little nervous leaving the house on this day.

9. I am using deoderant that expired two years ago. How bad can it be?

10. I like to hike (except when I have just broken two ribs and somehow have to get back down the mountain).

11. My favorite trail is the East Inlet trail in Rocky Mountain National Park out of Grand Lake, CO. Because, look:

12. I once rode a bike 50 miles through the mountains in the rain for pizza. Fortunately, I was able to hitch a ride home with the Pizza Hut waiter, though his car had a hole in the floor board.

13. I have been to 14 countries and 44 states.

14. When Sky started Catholic preschool in Tokyo, his sign of the cross was left shoulder, right shoulder, left butt cheek, right butt cheek, with a little shake of the hiney. I didn't correct him on this for a long time.

15. I can play the guitar, the clarinet, the piano, the baritone, and the shamisen--none of them well. In fact, some would say I can't really play them at all.

16. I drink way too much diet soda.

17. When I taught in Japan, I had my own TV show. Of course, it was for the local TV station which only reached about 3000 viewers and featured farm reports and festival music.

18.  I once convinced a room full of Japanese people that we celebrate a national fart day in the US. This is probably my worst cross-cultural moment. Luckily, most of them were drunk and didn't remember it later.

Random Reminiscences from Tokyo

Since I can’t get back to Japan this summer, here’s a post of random thoughts from my last trip there. (We can subtitle this post: MOE Procrastinates on Her Dissertation)

There nothing quite like pushing a stroller through a crowded train station with a 2 year-old sitting in it singing at the top of her lungs.

Spicy Korean Beef and Mayo Pizza. It is always a long ride home with a large pizza on the back of the bike!

Japan: The only country where a red-bean-paste bun named Anpanman can be a super hero! My favorite thing about Anpanman is that he tears off part of his head to feed hungry victims in distress.

There is nothing like a book on Japanese mothers and the obento lunches they create for their preschoolers to make me feel astonishingly inadequate as a parent.

I can't decide which will disturb my son's pre-k teacher more, his claims that the holy spirit blows his hair or the picture he drew in class of a train careening off a cliff into shark-infested waters.

Towelkets are an interesting concept. Is it a towel? Is it a blanket? It’s neither, yet it’s both.

Japanese women don't tend to leave graffiti on bathroom stall walls. This makes the "postings" in the library bathroom about the height of the door hooks particularly amusing. Too bad I'm not an anthropologist. Maybe then I could figure out why the women who are too short to reach the hooks don't just go to the main office and file a request.

Furtively drinking my diet Coke in Japanese university libraries always makes me feel like a wino.

A machine that washes & then dries clothes automatically is a great idea; too bad it only holds 5 articles of clothing and takes 6 hours to finish a load.

I don't want to know what is in that Puccho yogurt candy that makes it so chewy.

"Moo-moo White Fanta" with its low calories, high calcium, and delicious fizz would not sell well in the US. Carbonated milk, anyone?

It will be a long time before the restaurant manager at the Sunshine City McDonalds gets over the guilt of serving my 5 y.o. a bug in his french fries. Upon discovering the bug, he wept (loud enough for everyone in the restaurant to hear), and when the manager came to apologize, he said through his tears, "I don't like bugs. Only stag beetles. Now I can never, ever eat french fries again.”

I hope to never spend another Saturday at Sanrio Puroland. Think Hello Kitty times a million.

With judicious use of tape and staples, my 5 y.o. has been taking origami to a whole new level at his Japanese preschool. Today he made one that sounds just like a beating heart when squeezed.

Dear Korean Tourist Ladies in Tokyo, Though I am flattered you think my kids are cute, please don't descend on them and start rubbing their heads. Frankly, it makes them think you are very, very strange, and I would hate to run over you with the stroller. Also, it is not cool to bridge the communication divide between us by asking via wild hand gestures whether I am pregnant. I'm not.

Random Advice

ONE:
When writing a dissertation, it is better to either finish quickly (usually impossible) or to have a superior filing system which does not rely on memory alone. Since I started writing my dissertation, I have 1) added 1 1/2 children to my life, 2) entered the bewildering world of ASD and its various interventions, 3) moved 6 times, including two long stints in Japan, 4) seen both of my parents through various medical procedures, 5) started blogging, and 6) consumed more than a thousand cans of Coke Zero. I can't even remember what I had for breakfast this morning, much less where I placed that 2-page article on so-and-so's view of history. And the thing is that I need that article right now to move one sentence further along on my 200+ page dissertation. I also can't find my strand of extremely valuable pearls. But I don't need those right now, so who cares?

TWO:
Whenever possible, avoid going on the kindergarten field trip when 8 months pregnant, especially if the field trip requires three hours on a school bus full of small children singing "Jingle Bells" (out of season) most of the way. I had every intention of riding with one of the other mothers, but when Sky saw that some of the moms were riding on the bus, he absolutely refused to get on without me. It did not help for other moms to point out that they were worried that the excessive bumpiness of the ride (do school buses NOT have shock absorbers?) might put me into early labor. Nor did it help, really, that Sky and I were in a seat surrounded by parentless boys whose moms had decided to drive.

THREE:
Actually, I can't think of a third piece of advice right now...Plus, I just remembered that I logged on to my computer in order to search for the missing article.

Dear Costco

Dear Costco,

I understand the reasoning behind rearranging all the goods in the warehouse every few days to confuse us like mice in a maze; you want us to buy things we didn't intend to buy. This might be a good strategy if it didn't just make me mad. Between your constant rearranging and changing of seasonal stock, I mostly get annoyed. It pretty much makes me want to run over people with my cart full of rice, diapers, soy and rice milk, and toilet paper. After all, a pregnant woman shopping with two small kids really doesn't need any more challenges. Really.

The day was challenging enough. First, there was the hour drive it takes to get to Costco. This was preceded by one meltdown and three last minute trips to the potty. Then there were the multiple debates from the back seat over which CD we would listen to and who was smelling up the car. Followed immediately by a three-year old figuring out how to undo her seatbelt (but not how to latch it again). Then there was the herculean logistical effort involved in getting through the store a) without forgetting something and having to go from one end to the other and back twice, b) keeping my spouse moving past the electronics section, and c) making sure things in the cart didn't turn into a mobile cage fight (thanks, FMBMC for the phrase). And despite the fact your newest rearrangement made things a lot harder than they needed to be, this was a record trip to Costco (I didn't even run over anyone). But getting through the store is always only 2/3 of the challenge. Next was the ride home. And today, it was the ride home that did me in. Ten minutes out, vomit. Tons of it, and miles from the nearest exit. Fortunately, the gas station had both hot water and a recently refilled soap dispenser. And fortunately, I had packed extra pants. Still, it made for a long nerve-wracking ride home.

So, please, I beg you, Costco, quit playing games. Don't make life any harder than it needs to be. I'm sure enough of us spend more money than we intended to anyway.

Sincerely,

Mom on the Edge