Oh, the noise, noise, noise, NOISE!

There are plenty of reasons I am grateful that my son trends toward the sensory-seeking side of the spectrum. Many kids struggle with all kinds of sensations, which affect the kinds of clothing they wear, the food they eat, light, sound and almost anything imaginable. Apart from being allergic to eating anything with a soft texture, my son enjoys seeking sensory experiences. Which includes noise.

A very great deal of noise.

There's the yelling, the screeching, the singing (which admittedly is damn cute, especially when he sings "Let It Go"), the screaming, the high-pitched raspberries at 70 dB, and the list goes on.

He had been pretty good about using his "indoor" voice. (Well, the thing is that like his mother, he does not actually have an indoor voice. His vocal volume idles at "air horn. But we'll go with this term.) He was not scaring everyone in the room with his bloodcurdling screams. And then, just as easily as they went away with the beginning of daily therapy, they're back. As of this weekend, the raspberries are too.

Somebody burn some incense or light a candle for my hearing to hold out, because my sight is not that great right now.

On Extinction

I hope I'm not the only one who really struggles with this disciplinary approach. On the one hand, it can be an effective means to decrease any attention-seeking behavior. On the other hand, some attention-seeking behaviors that realistically cannot simply be ignored. Let me mention just a couple:

• Hitting the cat
• Pulling the cat's tail
• Talking about hitting the cat or pulling its tail
• Hitting or pushing another child at school
• Hitting or pushing another child at the playground
• Hitting or pushing a sibling
• Talking about hitting or pushing other kids
• Kicking the wall
• Kicking the door
• Hitting the door to the circuit breaker box (Yeah, you think you can ignore this one. You're wrong.)
• Kicking the window
• Drawing on the floor with a Sharpie (Where did he find that?!)
• Flinging one's shoes out the window

Whew! Once I opened that box, it was hard to get it closed again. Extinction can be such a useful tool. Except when it's not.

23 Survival Tips for Taking Your ASD Kid to a Birthday Party

The conventional wisdom is that kids on the spectrum do not like loud or startling noises. Now, my son is within this range, unless he's the one making the noise. Big, busy parties tend to bring out the animal in him, so I compiled my list of survival tips for taking a kid on the spectrum to a birthday party. Here they are:

1. Abandon all sense of control over what happens to you.
2. No, really. Abandon it. I'll wait.
3. Still waiting.
4. Dress your child. Do not select a conversation starter, since he does not want to talk to these people.
5. Avoid giving him the impression that it may be time to go soon, unless it really is.
6. Tell him it's time to go.
7. Follow him out the door, whether or not you are finished dressing and/or have the birthday gift.
8. Go to the birthday party.
9. Immediately declare that the cake is off-limits for touching.
10. As are balloons for popping.
11. And presents.
12. And anyone else who does not want their stuff rifled through.
13. Stake out a place in the corner for budding meltdowns.
14. Watch as he politely declines to take any food but frosting.
15. Eat the cupcake he mauled, because you don't want to be the jerk who throws a full cupcake in the trash.
16. Take him outside to run around before cake time.
17. Bring him back inside.
18. Keep him far away from the cake.
19. No, that's not far enough.
20. See, he got a fingerful of frosting.
21. OK, that's better.
22. Put him on your shoulders while they sing "Happy Birthday" and blow out the candles.
23. Watch while your ASD kid patently refuses any cake, but eats all of the frosting off of yours.

And there you have it! A simple 23 tips to making parties easier to survive when you have a kid on the spectrum. It's not always a piece of cake. Bourbon helps.

10 Things I've Learned as an Autism Mom

When my kids were really young (i.e. before my son's autism symptoms started coming out), I kinda felt like I was such a lucky parent. My kids were generally well-behaved and kind, and I had no trouble congratulating myself for that. I wouldn't say that I looked down on other parents who struggled with difficult children. But to be honest, I just didn't know. You know that kind of know, the kind that rips your soul in two and stitches you up into a completely new parent.

I expected my son's autism diagnosis to mean that I would learn a whole lot about being a mom of a child with autism. What I didn't expect is how it would shape my perspective as a parent, in general. This is what I've learned:

1. Everybody hates seeing that kid on the playground, at the grocery store, etc. It is a completely different experience to be that kid's mother.
2. The way your kids turn out has more to do with their personality than it does with your parenting style.
3. All kids act like jerks from time to time. Every single one. No one is immune.
4. All kids act wonderfully from time to time. Every single one. No one is immune.
5. There is a difference between helicopter parenting and acting as a child's advocate. This distinction is never easy to make, and practically no one looking from the outside can tell.
6. By saying that your kid will "never do" X, Y, Z, you are not so much jinxing yourself as you are showing the entire world the kind of person you are. And it's not flattering.
7. It is so easy to forget about the little things that drove you crazy when your kids were younger. Some parents are still in that phase, and deserve compassion.
8. Having a child with special needs will kill all the parenting hubris in you. That's good, because...
9. Hubris is the worst parenting flaw you could ever have.
10. Parenting a child with special needs can suck out of you every ounce of energy you have. All the patience. All the care.

Most of this is just embellishment, the things we do or think as parents that we don't really need. When you cast them off, and you can feel it, you become something raw. Something new. A parent who can sort through the bullshit and find new paths that keep things simple and uncluttered. A parent who can empathize with others who are struggling and largely avoid passing judgment. Having a child with autism has broken me many, many times. But each time, I am renewed stronger, faster, smarter. Much like my son.