Dead Hummingbird

Tough morning. Daddy is out of town. Mom forgot to set the alarm. We woke up just as Josh's bus was about to pull up at our house.  I tried to keep my voice mellow and subdued but I think I ended up sounding serious and intense.  "Girls, Mommy made a mistake and forgot to set the alarm.  I really, really need your help right now!"

The girls picked up on Mom's stressed out tone of voice and scrambled out of bed.  They were very impressive in this mini crisis getting themselves (and even helping Josh) to get ready. Someone got Josh a glass of water.  The other one gave him a very crispy piece of toast. Teeth were not brushed thoroughly and we all had crazy hair but we were only 5 minutes late heading out the door with breakfast in our hands. It was a miracle of morning productivity yet it was clear that we were all adrenalinized and on the brink of snapping at each other any minute if anything were to go wrong.

Do you know what gave me the most energy in the midst of this flurry of activity?  It was the fact that Josh smiled through the whole thing.  My son's super power is that he does not pick up on other people's emotions.  Yes, that's often a downside in social interactions but in moments like these, when negative or stressful emotions are swirling around, it can be so helpful.  Josh woke up happy and was blissfully clueless that others were not.  He was glad to be awake and no one was going to take that away from him.

Unfortunately, we opened the front door and found a dead hummingbird at our doorstep.  I think one of the girls might have even stepped on it's little dead wing as she went out. Weeping ensued. It was like a little handful of cuteness and beauty had been crushed right in front of us.  They demanded that we give it a proper burial right then and there. We three females all felt the spike of sad, negative energy in the moment.  Aya.  What to do?

"Girls, girls, please.  I am begging you.  Can we deal with this later?"  I gently placed the hummingbird's corpse in what I called a "special resting place" under a purple bush in my front  yard.

By some miracle, the girls were both able to choose to be redirected.  Josh was already in the car, munching on an apple and smiling broadly for some unknown reason.  At this point in my life it is such a beautiful thing that at least one of my children is pleasantly resistant to being infected by the negative energy or emotions of others.  He does not get pulled into the panic or anger or sadness of the people around him.  He is just where he is at.  I find that sort of wonderful.  

I want to be someone who can smile and remain happy even when people around me are not.  What is the secret to not getting sucked into other people's stress or negative emotions?  Short of having autism, my guess is that the answer is to become a person who is deeply rooted in peace.  I don't even know what that would look like but I want it.  I want to have a spiritual and emotional force field to the destructive and dark vibes that swirl all around me in my day.  

Sometimes life hands you a dead hummingbird on your front door on a day when you are already running late.  Some days are just like that.  The next time I have one of those days, I am going to picture my happy, apple eating, emotionally unfettered son and try to remember that I do not have to sink into heaviness and despair.  It is possible to be free and happy even on chaotic, dead hummingbird days.  

How to Help Your Typically Developing Kids Love Their Special Needs Sibling

I’m as desperate as the next mom for my kids to get along.  My girls are one year minus three days apart and pretty competitive for airspace and attention so I pretty much pray desperate prayers every day for their relationship.  But I have a special hope that my girls will love their brother in a free and unburdened way when they grow up.  After all, God willing, their relationship with him will last longer than mine.  I realize that every family is different but here are some things that I am learning about how to help foster love and bonding between typically developing kids and a sibling who has special needs.

1       Create and reinforce a culture of snuggling. 

When my husband and I became adoptive parents, we were taught about the significance of “skin on skin” time to bonding so we tried to maximize touch and hugs whenever possible.  In the early days after we brought our adopted babies home, my husband used to rip off his shirt whenever he could and hold them close to his chest.  

Nowadays we try to get some time together in jammies as a family on Mom and Dad’s California King sized bed as much as we can during our precious, lazy weekend moments.  Sometimes we read quietly.  Sometimes someone will read a book aloud.  Sometimes Josh will request a song that we sing part of and he sings part of like "He'll be coming 'round the mountain . . ." or "This little piggy".  Josh will ask to sing or say it over and over until I have to put a stop to it in order to not lose my mind.

Being autistic, Josh has a limited tolerance for being around other people, especially when the girls were more wiggly and vocally eruptive.  But Josh appreciates the sensory input of this kind of family time.  He loves having his head and face rubbed and getting to smell his mama’s hair so he’s willing to be us for short periods of time.  Whole family snuggle times are some of the happiest times in our life together. 

The other day, Hope and I woke up inexplicably early and so we decided to invade Josh’s bed to snuggle with him.  Touch is a nice way to connect, especially with a mostly non-verbal person.  After a few blissful minutes, Hope said to me, “You know what, Mama?  When I grow up, I want to marry someone who can help me take care of Josh.”  I told her how much I appreciated that and that I expect that there will be a lot of people in Josh’s life who will help to take care of him. And then I smiled and almost cried for the rest of the day.

2       Debrief stressful moments.

My husband and Hope were out of town for Halloween this year so it was just Josh, Anna and me left at home to take on trick or treating.  We had plans to walk around our neighborhood with one other family.  Everyone had been prepped with the knowledge that Josh might not make it walking around in the dark with crowds of other people around.  Indeed, he lasted about 7 houses before having a major crying, screaming meltdown on the sidewalk.  (He was unhappy that I wouldn’t let him eat every piece of candy immediately upon receiving it.)  The other family graciously offered to take Anna with them while I walked Josh home.  Anna was very motivated to stay on the mission of pursuing a more ample stash of candy so she was willing to go without me. 

Later, at bedtime, I asked her how she felt about Josh’s public meltdown and having to trick or treat without a parent with her.   Her emotions were complex and layered.  It was good to get to talk about the evening in retrospect.  In the end, she seemed to come to a place of satisfaction and declared it the “best Halloween ever”.  I think that getting some space to talk about how it was for her enabled her to ultimately focus on the good parts and let go of the bad parts.

3      Try to give each child their own special times. 

I am aware that Josh and his needs invade a lot of Hope and Anna’s lives.  They have both spent more than their share of their lives being schlepped along to Josh’s medical or therapeutic appointments.  There are a lot of things that our family can’t do because of Josh.  Their brother often takes more than his fair share of their parents’ attention. 

I have found that it’s important for my girls to each have special time where they get to have our undivided, undistracted attention.  For example, this year each girl got to have their own small birthday parties (In the past we’ve had a larger, joint one because their birthdays are so close together).  Significantly, their brother did not come.  He would not have enjoyed Anna’s soap making party or Hope’s movie watching party anyways.  But the critical piece was that I was able to fully focus on the birthday girl each time without needing to make sure that Josh was not overwhelmed or eating non-food items when we weren’t watching. 

For the past two Easters, the girls have received gift certificates in their Easter baskets for a special overnight with one parent at a local location of their choosing.  This has been a special way to get to have experiences that the five of us could never have because of who Josh is.  Anna and I went to a small amusement park about an hour away.  Hope and her dad explored Alcatraz in San Francisco.  Both trips were definitely good deposits into the love tank.  Both sets of us came home with a sense of overflowing with stories and affection to spare and share.  

Well, those are a few of my ideas thus far in our journey.  Do you have any other suggestions for us?  We are eager to hear your ideas and stories. 

Sand, Saltines and Consequences

The other day I walked into Josh's room to find that he had taken an entire sleeve of saltine crackers and had crumbled them up into fine, sand-like granules all over the floor of his room.  Playing with sand has always been a favorite activity for Josh.  Particularly, he loves to watch sand falling through his fingers.   He could sit for hours lifting a handful of sand up to eye level, watching it fall, then laughing like crazy. It must be wonderful and beautiful in a way that my non-autistic brain just can't understand.  I let him do it at playgrounds and at the beach because it makes him so happy and it keeps him busy while his sisters are running around.

While I'm glad for Josh's ingenuity in recreating this beach-like scenario in his own bedroom, I have to admit that I was livid when I found the cracker crumbs covering the floor in his bedroom and his bed.  The moment I walked into his room, Josh must have known that I would be upset.  Before I could say anything, he echoed something I have said in exasperation many times, "Ohhh, sweetie!" (except with a more loving, compassionate tone than what was about to come out of my mouth).

Now, usually, when I find a shocking mess in Josh's room (in the past it was poo on the walls or coffee poured into his desk drawers) I usually get him out of the way and use my massively pumping adrenaline to power me through a vicious, dragon-mama cleaning process.  Miraculously, this time I had the presence of mind to make my son deal with the consequences of what he had chosen to do.

I took a deep breath and said, "Josh, you need to clean this up."

"No" my almost-adolescent said to me.

"Yes, Josh.  You need to vacuum."

Josh sat there silently, not looking at me but clearly waiting to see if I would really make him face the consequences of his mess.  He has never used the vacuum before because he has had a strong negative reaction to the sound of the vacuum.  Along with lawn mowers, blenders and crying babies, vacuums have always been his auditory kryptonite.

I took his hand and walked him to the garage.  I pointed to the hand held mini-vac.  He knew exactly what this meant.

After he tried the mini-vac on his carpet (which didn't work) I made Josh go get the regular big vacuum.  I'm proud to say that we cleaned that room up without my ever touching an implement of cleaning.  I just gave verbal prompts or pointed and waited for him to figure it out.  It took a loooooooooong time but he did it!

Through this experience, I realized the following things:

1)     I still do way more FOR Josh than I need to.  I do things reactively, just to get them done when I should be letting/ making Josh do things for himself.  I need to curtail my motherly impulse to do things for my child and make him learn to do it by himself.

2)     All children (even kids with special needs) need to learn that there are consequences for the messes that they make.  If we don't give them some sort of immediate consequence that they understand, they will keep making those messes.  Since Josh is going to be living with me for a lot longer than when he turns 18, I am very motivated to train him to stop making messes like this.

3)     Josh can accomplish things that I often don't imagine him being able to do.  I had no idea until this day that he could handle the auditory challenge of the vacuum noise.  I wouldn't have guessed that he could wind the cord back up onto the back of our vacuum.  Josh can figure out how to get the vacuum back to the garage and he totally knows where it goes.  I could have gone a long time without realizing these things because I always do the vacuuming in our house.

So now, there is one more chore that I can get help with around our house.  A stumbling block has been turned into a stepping stone to something new!

What to Do When You are Anxious about Your Child

Recently, I went to a seminar on the topic of "The Future of Housing for Autistic Adults".  It was free and being held about five minutes from my house so I thought, why not?  This could be helpful information just to keep in mind as I think about my eleven year old son's long term future and I've got the mental bandwidth today.  Oh, how wrong I was.

As soon as I walked into the auditorium, I realized that I had made a mistake in coming with so little emotional preparation. The anxiety covered the room like a thick layer of peanut butter.  Parents of adult individuals with disabilities had that familiar look of exhaustion and desperation.  The few people that I tried to interact with at the refreshments table seemed to be carrying a thousand pound burden with them.  As the panel began to discuss, things went from bad to worse as the panel members (governmental leaders and activists) ping ponged in their presentation from defensiveness to bitter anger about the current housing situation for adults with developmental disabilities.

I tried to concentrate on the information that I was gleaning from the handouts about the history of housing for the developmentally disabled in our state and understanding the complex system of power and bureaucratic authority in this realm.  However, I couldn't block out the disturbing and disrespectful ways that the people on the stage were interacting with one another.  I found myself upset and, more than anything, anxious.  What does this mean about Josh's future when I can no longer take care of him?  Am I going to have to deal with a broken and dysfunctional governmental system that won't help me to meet his needs?  Am I going to be able to have any service providers that I can trust?  The anxious thoughts swirled around in my head until I finally decided that I needed to get the heck out of there, spilling coffee on my neighbor as I scurried out of my row.

In my almost 12 years of being a mom, I have observed that it is very natural to struggle with anxiety now and then about things having to do with our children.  After all, we have responsibility for these creatures and, whether your child has a disability or not, they all have complex needs and challenges.  The road ahead is fraught with danger and threats.  Our children have weaknesses in their bodies, minds and character.  We worry about what this might mean for them in their future.  To some degree, anxiety causes us to engage, to think ahead and to fuel us to solve problems.  Some might say that anxiety is a blessing.

Yet there are times when we see anxiety for what it is, a way that we say to ourselves, "This dark scenario that I have for the future is too scary,  too big, too bad for anyone to handle, including God."  At the root of anxiety is a belief that God's love for us will not be powerful enough to give us a good future and that we need to be in control.  Ultimately, unchecked anxiety will not be a useful tool but it will rule over us, crushing our peace, joy, and trust for God and other people.  Anxiety feeds on itself and on our anxious behaviors.  It will make  our minds unable to rest, our souls unable to worship freely and our bodies unable to function properly.

Therefore, as a veteran in the battle against anxiety, I would like to share with you some wisdom about how to not let anxiety rule your life.  When you realize that you are gripped by a dark scenario about your (or your child's) future that does not include the hope of God, I suggest the following:

1.     Talk to someone.  Tell someone exactly what is making you anxious.   Don't rehearse it over and over.  Don't chew on it like cud.  Just get it out of the warm, moist environment of your own head and let the antiseptic power of fresh air and sunlight start to do it's job on your anxiety.  If you don't have someone to talk to, journal it out.  Just get it out.

2.     Pray.  It doesn't have to be complicated.  I like Anne Lamott's suggested prayer, "Help!"  If you are too anxious to pray, ask someone else to pray for you.  At the root of prayer is the declaration that we need help and that we are not in control.  This is an excellent place to start.

3.     Give it over to God.  When I am feeling anxious, I often pray with my hands open as a sign that I am giving to God the heavy things that I am holding.  I also find it helpful to name the thing that is burdening me and praying out loud, "God, I give you my fear of ____" or "I want to trust you with ____".  It's helpful to renounce our perceived control over the uncontrollable things of life and to hand it over to God in a specific way.  Another word for this process is "repentance".  This word does not have to do with "burning in hell" as much as "letting go".

4.     Repeat.  Any significant spiritual and emotional process is usually not "one and done" but rather a process of continually relinquishing.  If the anxiety comes back, repeat steps 1-3.

5.    Remember, your child belongs to God.  Go.  Look at your child or a picture of your child.  This gorgeous person was made by God and is, right now, being parented by God.  His love for your child eclipses your own. Your job is to do your best to nurture and provide for this child but you will have limitations . . . big, fat limitations.  Your task is to do the best job that you can do while being a human being.  God gets this.

6.    Commit to living a non-anxious life as much as you can.  Take time to rest.  Take time out of the swirl of life to make simple plans for moving forward.  Feed the your soul with messages of God's love for you.  Today, I did this by cutting some roses from my garden and putting it on my desk just for me.

7.     Locate areas of avoidance and seek out help and accountability.  I find that avoidance and anxiety are dance partners.  For example, I have an ugly, mean ol' stack of papers on my desk right now that I am avoiding (out of the anxiety that I have about them) yet it's presence daily fuels my anxiety.  I have shared about this stack of papers with two friends who are praying for me and supporting me as I try to clean out patterns of avoidance in my life.  I'm taking one step at a time and it's working.

8.   If anxiety is having a long term, immobilizing grip on your life you may need to get help from a professional like your doctor, a therapist or a pastor/ leader of your spiritual community.  If you find that anxiety is affecting your sleep, eating, relationships over time please do not be afraid to address deeper needs of your life with more significant resources.

By the way, I am highly aware that battling anxiety about our children, our lives, our future, anything is not a simple eight step process. It is truly a battle.  But it's a worthy fight.  Don't give in to anxiety. It's a rabbit hole of darkness and you don't want to live there.  We were not meant created to walk in anxiety but in dependent trust in God.  He cares about you and He cares about your children. He has a good future for your life if you can trust in Him with it.

Finally, I would like to remind you that anxiety is not love.  One mom shared with me that after her child got very ill, she stopped sleeping for days embracing vigilance as a sign of her love for her child to the point where she sacrificed her own health.  God spoke to her that she does not need to prove her love for her child or to prove that she's a great mom by giving herself to hyper-vigilant worry.   I've known and prayed for many children who have been very adversely affected by the leakage of their parents' burdensome anxiety.  We don't love our children by being anxious. We love them by trying to walk in spiritual health and freedom.

How are you doing as you battle anxiety in your life?  What are you finding to be helpful?

A Fashion Eye for the Special Needs Guy

It has come to my attention that some of Josh's pants are too short.  How tempting it is to just let that be and ignore it.  I'm not good with hemming and I hate buying new pants.  After all, he doesn't care.  One nice thing about the combination of autism and intellectual disability is that my son is not at all self-conscious about how he looks.  He could wear the same thing everyday, covered with red pasta sauce and paint stains from art class and be absolutely fine.  Remember, this is a child who is okay if every article of his clothing is put on backwards.  He's all too happy to use his shirt, his pants or his hair as a napkin at any meal.   Most days, Josh comes home from school with incredibly, mysteriously messy clothes.  

We are not a high fashion family.  I mostly wear warm fleeces, jeans and clogs; sort of a uniform of a mom who is too tired and frenetic with the day's fat list of things to do to put much attention to her own fashion expression.  My girls are downstream in a very abundant flow of hand me downs so I pretty much never buy them clothes save underwear and tights.  Recently, I've been letting them pick out their own clothes which often results in some very (ahem) creative outfits usually encompassing a combination of orange, red and pink all at once.  

But as I consider my ultra rapidly growing eleven year old boy who is completely dependent on me to determine all of his clothing choices, I wonder, "How important is it for a child with special needs to be well dressed?"  

I am well aware that clothes can become an idolatry and a money pit.  I am amazed and a bit appalled at how much money can be spent on children's clothing, clothing which will be outgrown or permanently stained in seconds.  In our town we have a little mall which houses several boutique children's clothing stores.   In one of them one can find a t-shirt for a 4 year old girl tie-dyed in pink and magenta with bling in the shape of Hello Kitty faces across the front for $59.  I just don't get that. 

However, I remember going to some sort of seminar years ago where a parent on a panel gave a grave warning which basically boiled down to this, "You're kid is going to look odd enough just for being who he is, don't let him look weirder by not paying attention to what he wears."  I thought that this was an excellent point and have tried to remember this as the years have gone by.  Therefore, I am most committed to spending money and attention on clothes for Josh of all of the people in our household.

I know other parents of kids with special needs whose kids have tactile sensitivities which force them to buy clothes from more expensive brands that have extra soft fabric and seamless clothing such as Hanna Anderssen, Soft Clothing or Sweet Lemonade.  I think you have to do what you have to do and pay what you have to pay to get your kids to wear clothes that work for them.  Thankfully, Josh's sensory challenges do not get expressed in this way.  He's willing to wear just about anything that I have him put on. 

Sadly, I have also observed kids in Josh's special education classes who have inappropriately fitting clothes or who smell because they have not bathed often enough.  One special education teacher told me about a child who had been sent home in the same clothes and diaper that she came back in the next morning.  I think that it's just too easy to disregard the appearance or personal hygiene of a child who is not aware of how he or she is being perceived by others or is not able to express what he or she needs.  I get that given the tremendous amount of work to care for with meds, therapies, help with toileting etc. that our kids need, it's very easy to take short cuts when it comes to appearance and grooming but it's still important that we don't.  

My main priority is that Josh's clothes are clean, well fitting and decently in style.  I want to make sure that people take Josh seriously as he's out there in the world.  I feel a little shallow saying this but I want his clothes to communicate that he is a person of great value, presence and dignity.  I know that nice clothes to not make him so but I want others to remember the great worth of my son that might be masked by his disabilities.  

What are your thoughts about kids with disabilities and appearance?  

Disney Magic Interrupted

I've noticed that the magic moments in life are only magical if they are framed and taken out of the greater context.  For example, this photo of my daughter Hope and me captures a truly "Disneyland magical moment".  Leaving sister Anna and Daddy on Main Street to nab a good viewing spot for fireworks, Hope and I raced to the back of Fantasyland to take in the "It's a Small World" ride.  The day we had chosen to be at Disneyland happened to be the first day of the month-and-half long holiday season in the Magic Kingdom so Small World was decked out in holiday lights and featured some special outside shows while you wait.  Our expected 25 minute wait was cut short when they opened a new loading line, allowing us to get right onto the coveted front seats after standing in line for only about 5 minutes. Yes!  Hope had already been on this ride earlier in the day with her dad so her fear of the unknown had melted away and her enjoyment of the ride was exponentially greater.  She jabbered on throughout the whole time guiding me through all of her favorite parts.  (It turned out that every room was her favorite room.)  As we snuggled together and took in the sights, Hope sighed and said, "I love you, Mommy."  It was a scene straight out of parenting heaven or a Disney advertisement.

Soon after we exited Small World, the fireworks started.  We watched them from where we were, which was not a bad location, although not the supremely desired "right in front of Sleeping Beauty's castle" spot.  It was Hope's first time actually seeing live fireworks as we've never let our kids stay up long enough to watch them in July.  They were pretty marvelous to behold, filling us with a sense of awe, beauty, power and just the right amount of fear, sort of like a really good experience of God.  As the fireworks show came to an end, the Small World mall starts to "snow" little snowflakes made of some sort of soap-like substance as the song "White Christmas" and the sound of jingle bells were heard throughout the park.  Hope was absolutely elated, her delight expressing itself in a twirly dance as she caught the little white bits of joy her hands.

Magical, right?

Yes, except for the fact that a few hours before this magic moment, I almost threw up in the midst of an  everlasting, claustrophobic line of people at the Jungle Cruise attraction and had to lay on a bench on Main Street in the fetal position for 2 hours while Alex and the girls went around together.  Alex, Hope, and Anna had had a bout of stomach flu or food poisoning a few days before our trip and, while it looked like they had completely recovered (enough to down several hand dipped corn dogs each), I feared that maybe it was my turn to have a tummy problem.

Disneyland is not for the faint of heart.  It seems that moments of irritation, being overwhelmed and snapping at the ones you love are givens at some point in a long day in the Magic Kingdom.  During my fetal position rest time, I overheard many a parent completely losing it on their beloved children.  I heard many a child having complete thermonuclear meltdowns even though they had been given $15 balloons to hold and larger than life sugar-based snacks.  Disneyland may be called "the happiest place on earth" but it's also a place where the dark side of the human heart leeks out at some point or another.  We were not immune to that reality.

And the clincher was getting a text message while I was watching Hope dance in the manufactured snow from Josh's caregiver (back at home) that Josh was spiking a fever.  Subsequent texts and phone calls confirmed that not only did he have a fever but he was throwing up as well.  As I've written in previous blogposts, this can mean emergency hospitalization for Josh if he is not able to keep his meds down.  I immediately knew that it was not an option to let my carefully organized "Josh care team" deal with this level of complexity without me there so I caught the first flight that I could and returned home the next morning.  I left Alex to shepherd the girls through the second day of our Disney adventure.

A part of me is tempted to say to God, "Really?  It seemed like such a good thing to take this vacation with just the girls.  I thought through this trip from about a billion angles.  I spent about 50 hours prepping for this trip.  There are seven pages of instructions that I typed out and posted on my fridge for people to use as they take care of Josh.  Of all of the days that Josh could have a fever and throw up, he has to do it at the end of our first of two days at Disneyland?"

But you know what helped my heart?  I came home to this.

My deep thought of the day is that if you want to experience joy and wonder, you can't expect it to come on a full day of complete perfection and happiness.  You have to accept that it will be a 3-7 minute snapshot in the midst of the realities of normal life.  It will be a twirly dance in magical snow an hour after laying on a bench in the fetal position and a few minutes before hearing that your other child is seriously ill and you need to get your butt onto the next flight home.  That's how most moments of joy comes in this world, in small packages.  If you focus on the negative stuff, you will never savor the good stuff.

I don't know the full meaning of why our vacation went the way it did but I do know this:  I love this boy and I would do anything for him.  I'm glad that I came home and we are having a quiet, restful day together.  The fever and vomiting are gone but he's clearly tired and needy.  I'm feeling tired and needy too and I'm not sure I would have been able to keep up with Alex and the girls on this second day given where my stomach is at.  Snuggling with Josh on my bed is also a magic moment and it's the one I've been given for now.

Yelling at Your Kids

Ok, you parents out there, are there any of you who never yell at their kids?  That was a rhetorical question.  If that's you, I don't want to know.

Actually, there was a time when I did wonder how mature, thoughtful, spiritual people could ever yell at their kids.  When Josh was about three years old, I remember talking to a fellow mom who was really struggling with yelling at her kids.  She was a little depressed and her husband travelled a lot.  She confided in me, assuming that all parents struggle with yelling at their kids, or losing their patience in their own way, now and then.  At that moment, I realized (but didn't say to my friend) that I had never yelled at Josh.  Sure, I cried, I despaired, I stressed, and I yelled at my husband but I never yelled at Josh.  It seemed impossible to yell at a severely intellectually disabled child.  Yes, he frustrated me plenty but he has such an aura of not being able to help himself that I found it easier to not let my frustration out on him.  And not having ever yelled at my only child, it was easy to think that I was just not "a yeller" and never would be.  After all I loved my child and was committed to compassionate, sensitive parenting in a safe, calm environment.

Then I had typically developing children.

My daughters are lovely people.  They are bright, charming and often delightful.  However, typically developing children have "normal" characteristics that Josh just never developed.  They try to manipulate situations.  They experiment with lying.  They speak disrespectfully.  They blame and compete with each other.  It turns out that these are things that take quite a bit of intellectual capacity to be able to do.

I've realized these are some of the things that really push my buttons and cause me to lose my cool when I am stressed. I am definitely no longer someone who has never yelled at their kids.  I don't think I'm a chronic, out-of-control yeller but I definitely could work on my tone just as much as my girls need to work on theirs.

Recently, I've been trying something that seems to be helping me.  I just respond to everything they say with "I'm not sure.  I'm going to have to think about that."  Or I just say, "I don't know."

"Mommy, you promised that we could watch TV!"

"I'm not sure."

"Moooommmm, Hope took my toy!  I want it back!"

"I don't know...."

Jim and Dr. Charles Fey, of the Love and Logic institute, call it "going brain dead" and it's one of the strategies that they suggest to help parents to stay calm in the midst of stressful situations.  They tell you to find a simple, neutral mantra like "that's so sad" and just say it over and over again, especially if your child is trying to draw you into arguing with them.

My girls don't love it when I respond that way but at least I am not adding my own emotional fuel to the fire.  It creates some space and some time for everyone (including me) to mellow out and not argue or yell.  Most times, coming up with a good argument only amps the situation more whereas a statement like "I don't know" slows things down in a helpful way.

I think that it's ironic that what I am finding useful in my parenting to me is to become a little bit like Josh and be intellectually impaired (or at least, disengaged) so that I might be emotionally wiser.  And the truth is, when things are heated, I often really don't know what to say or do.  But I do know that creating a brain break for all of us is a gift.