Mr. Busypants: Author, Illustrator, Book-Binder, Schedule Follower

These days Mr. Busypants is all about scheduling and order. You could say he's a bit obsessed. It's pretty typical that a kid with autism would require order, but compared to other kids and the stereotypes many conjure up in their minds, Mr. BP is pretty easy going; his one-track mind can be redirected. Usually.

Just before Halloween, Mr. BP starting talking about his birthday party; alhough he wouldn't turn six until January, it was on the forefront of his mind. Rather then be stalked with endless questions about when his birthday would be here, I gave him a verbal schedule using events as markers.

First Halloween
Then Thanksgiving
Then Christmas
Then Alex's Birthday party

I even added in
Then Airplane
Then Marco Island

For the remainder of the year and into January, this is the schedule he'd live by.

Around this time, Mr. Busypants also stated writing his books. It started out when one afternoon I pulled out my recipe cards. They were these old, ugly cards from the 70s that I probably found among the remains of our first home in Berwyn. There was one particularly ugly card that was lined with vegetables on the botton left corner. Mr. BP grabbed a stack and got to work on his first book: DNSR BC (Dinosaur Book). It went like this:

DNOSR NO TO HOS (Dinosaur on the house)
DNOSR AT NO T0 HOS (Dinosaur ate on the house)
DNOSR BROC NO TO HOS (Dinosaur broke on the house)
DNOSR GOB NO TO HOS (Dinosaur good-bye on the house)
WFDNOSR TOU (The end with Dinosaur book)

Within a few days, Mr. BP had four books: First DNOSR BC, then RMBW BC (Rainbow Book), then FIS BC (Fish Book), then HBO BC (Hippo Book). He seemed statisfied with his four-volume collection. Each book is written on recipe- or notecards, fully illustrated with crayons, and bound with 3-5 staples (I'm always careful to ask how many beforehand). Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas came and went and we were counting down to Mr. BP's birthday party. Like any typical kid, ass the party drew closer, Mr. Busypants grew anxious and excited. Every night when the sun went down, Mr. BP would mourn with great disappointment that today was not his birthday and every night he'd go to bed hoping the next day would be the day.

I went to great lengths to explain to him that his birthday was X-days away, but nothing got through to him until I created a schedule. I pulled out a piece of paper and created a one-column table with every line representing a day. Then we talked through the schedule:

Monday: first bus, then school, then Rainbow Center (speech therapy), then bed
Tuesday: first bus, then school, then bed
Wednesday: first bus, then school, then church, then bed
Thursday: first bus, then school, then bed
Friday: first grandma's house, then church, then bed
Saturday: then Mr. BP's birthday party.

Now this is a chart he understood. We even changed things around a bit, like on Monday afternoon it was 3 schools, 5 beds, then Mr. BP's birthday party.

Every day after school he'd rush to his schedule to cross off bus and school and in the morning he'd run down the stairs in search of a pencil to cross off bed from the day before. On Wednesday night we didn't go to church, so I had to convince him that this would in no way impact the coming of his birthday party and that we could cross it off his list anyway.

Now during this time we were still anticipating airplane and Marco Island. In fact, Mr. BP became very attached to the rails of a K-Nex roller coaster that he got for Christmas and declared to me in late December that he would be writing Roller Coaster book after we returned from Marker Island. Not now, he'd tell me. "First airplane, then Marker Island, then Roller Coaster book."

He was true to his word. When we got back from Marco Island, the first thing Mr. BP did was write ROOCSB BC. And then he just exploded with activity. Every night after school he'd come home to write a new book: ALOIGER BC (Alligator book) and MOGR OEIELD BC (Marco Island book) to commemorate his trip. He wrote BBE BC (Baby Book), which was about a naughty baby that was not Miss Chattyshoes, and books to represent every kind of vehicle out there.

To date he has over 25 books. We haven't even been home from Marco Island a month! His teachers at one point asked me to try to get him to play more and write less because he's approaching over-stimulation at school. They think he's just reached a point where he's learned so much that he can't process much more new information. I try to encourage playtime, but Mr. Busypants has decided that he will bring order to his life through writing--much like his mom does. Gotta love that!

And so every day, he writes a new book. Some of them are about things he likes. Others are rewrites of old classics read in school (like the TE LIL PEG BC or The Three Little Pigs Book) or things he learned about or did. He brings them to school everyday in his Book Truck, which he modeled after the Valentine Mail Truck he made in school. He reads them to anyone and everyone--whoever will listen. His collection has grown to the point that I bought him an index-card box to store them. He often often checks to make sure he has them all as well. He lines them up in the order in which he wrote them and if anyone is missing, we search until its found.

This kid continues to exceed my expectations. Everyone else's too.

The Incredible Cookie-Dough-Eating Hulk

One of the biggest struggles we have with Mr. Busypants is his diet. The kid won't try anything new! Here's a history of his eating:

Age 1: Mr. Busypants is eating all baby food. The only things he didn't like are Stage 3 and that nasty "meat" that Gerber packs into those tiny little jars. As we transitioned to regular food, he took a liking to French toast sticks but not waffles. He at FTStx every morning for about 2 years. Other notable dietary delights:

He tried his birthday cake.

He refused all fruit

Mac-n-cheese was a favorite.

Mozz. cheese sticks

Spaghetti pie and a couple other noodle shapes were acceptable (yes to wagon wheels, no to spiral pasta)

Canned green beans and carrots.

Cherrios

Milk, but only white. Some juice, but not much. Lactaid or soy milk ok.

Chicken nuggets (Aldi brand, Wendy's, BK, McDonalds)

Around 18 months there's a shift.

• Mac-n-cheese was a favorite. First any brand (Easy Mac, Kraft Original, Annies). Then only Annies.
• Mozz. cheese sticks (on and off)
• No spaghetti products, canned green beans or carrots.
• Cherrios
• Milk, but only white. Some juice, but not much. Lactaid or soy milk ok.
• French toast sticks still ok (original or cinnamon).

At the 3 subject becomes increasingly more picky.

• French toast sticks--no way!
• Mac-n-cheese--can melt cheddar cheese into it if he's not looking.
• Cherrios Cherrios Cherrios
• Milk, but only white. Some juice, but not much. No Lactaid or soy milk.

His diet didn't change much through Kindergarten, although he took a break from Annie's Mac-n-cheese and when we re-introduced it, he would only eat Kraft. For a while, I could just throw the ingredients together hap-hazzardly. More recently; however, unless it is made to the exact specifications of the box (and even then sometimes its unacceptable) he will whine: "Ooohhhh! It's different." Nobody is quite sure what it's different means; we simply understand that on occasion, for no particular reason, it simply is.

Mr. Busypants, over the years, has developed an obsession over cookie dough. It's like crack for autistic Kindergarteners. No kidding! We do cookie dough two ways: 1) I buy the Pillsbury mix and we make it; he spoons it out to his heart's content. 2) Pre-packaged Pillsbury pre-made cookies or, if available, the pre-made cookies with the holiday stamp in the middle (soccer balls, pumpkins, Christmas trees, snowmen, hearts, four-leaf clovers, Easter eggs, and flags.) Either will do.

Recently I noticed he developed a greedy, addiction-like, all-consuming need for cookie dough. I'd get the package off the top shelf and he'd raise his arms and pull me down until that dough was in his reach. Then he'd greedily rip open the box and stuff them in his face, stealing as many as he could before I wrestled the box from him.

It changed him. He is mild-mannered Bruce Banner most of the time, but when that cookie dough surfaces, he becomes as green as the Incredible Hulk.

I tried to use cookie dough for good. I really did. I'd make the mix and then break up Flintstones vitamens with a meat hammer, then mix 'em in. The one time I tried that, he walked right up to it and within a half a millisecond declared: "It's different." It's like he could smell the difference down the hallway.

Most food these days is subject to a sniff test. Mr. Busypants trusts no one and can never be too careful.

Stangely enough, he does have some areas where he lets his food guard down. For example, at school he developed a taste (finally) for chocolate milk. I rejoiced, thinking I could sneak more stuff in chocolate milk. I was even surprised that he tasted (and liked) my chocolate Slimfast, so I tried Ovaltine--nope--and Carnation Instant Breakfast--It's diiiiifffffferentttttt!

And Go-Gurt is his latest love. Oddly enough, he'll eat any flavor of those sugar-infested, flurescent, tubbed delights. Any other yogurt and you can take a hike. Yogurt Cherrios are acceptable as well.

Now his sister, Miss Chattyshoes, never met a meal she didn't devour into those chubby little cheeks. She'd knaw my right arm off if that was the only available meal. She eats anything and everything and she likes just about all of it. She also likes her brother: both to emulate and aggrivate. The other day Mr. BP left his French toast sticks unmonitored (those re-appeared into the diet in early Kindergarten), and she was there lickedy split. And as she slowly brought a fork full of those sticks to her chubby little face, she waited for the fireworks.

Mr. Busypants didn't disappoint.

I have so much more to say on this subject. I'm sure it will be an entire essay in the Mr. Busypants book. But that's about all for now.

The Worlds of Miss Chattyshoes, Elmo, and Me

Yesterday was a good day with the kids. I had to get Mr. Busypants up. I found him with his entire body buried inside his fish duvet. All 24? (I'm losing count) of his books--the ones he wrote, illustrated and bound--were inside. As part of our routine, we had to gather them all, put them in the order in which they were written (yes, he knows even if I lost track around book 11), and stack them safely in his Book-Truck, a little truck made of construction paper that resembled the Mail-Truck he made for his valentines the week before. He carries his Book-Truck around so much that it's practically laminated with packing tape used to mend and reinforce areas of wear.

Books 2 and 3 were missing, so I found myself crawling inside the duvet in search of those books--there would be no getting ready for school until every book was retrieved. I found them pretty quickly and we resumed our ordering. Unfortunately, Small Group book and Marco Island book were missing. After a thorough search of his room, Mr. Busypants found them under the bed. Whew! Then it was off to our morning routines until the bus showed up. Today was Hat and Sunglasses day at school for Spirit Week, so Alex wore a gigantic Mexican sombrero. He fought it a little, but when he came home later that day, well, I think we're going to have words this morning about not wearing it today (it's Crazy Hair Day today).

By mid-morning, Miss Chattyshoes was getting a little stalky. Just as I was about to call my neighbor J, she called me. MisS CS was so excited to see her best little bud M. At first, the two of them stalked us (we had food and coffee). This is still new to me. Alex never stalked. He was a pretty content-to-hang-with-himself kind of baby. You put him by the TV and he'd watch Baby Einstein. You put him by his megablocks and he'd move them from one end of the room to the other. And forget about baby proofing. He just wasn't interested. But with Miss CS, everything is fair game.

The girls did disappear after a while (the food was gone). They ended up upstairs. We heard the occasional noises and chit-chat from upstairs. The girls were clearly occupied, which can be scary. But hey, we were alone to talk, uninterrupted, and get a refill on the coffee, uninterrupted, so we took our chances.

We got the girls through lunch and right to naptime before J and M left. It was perfect timing; the Elmo DVD was in the last scene, so Miss CS and I could sit down and watch, giving her the illusion that she watched Elmo before naptime. This girl loves her Elmo. Earlier that morning when I was on the phone with Scott, I got a double dose: Miss CS was watching both her Elmo DVD and her Elmo Live doll/robot thingy. Crazy/annoying. These days it's important that Miss CS goes to bed happy because I fear with enough anger and distress, she could figure out that she can hike her chunky little foot up and climb out.

Naptime, of course, is sacred. I get caught up on all my school work, which is absolutely vital to a working SAHM. Today naptime was bookended with dates with M. J called me just as Miss CS was beginning her post-nap chatter in her crib. M was still sleeping, so we came over while J picked up her six-year-old R.

On the way over, J gave me the "never mind, she's up." We came anyway. The first thing Miss CC said to me when I got her from her crib was and emphatic "Mommmmmyyyyyyy!" The second thing she said was her version of M. And now that she knew she was going to see her little buddy again, well, I wasn't getting in the way of that.

The girls were delighted to see each other again. They spent quite a bit of time on the stairs, giggling and meowing at the family cat. Soon they made it upstairs and the first room they explored was big sis's. We made our way back downstairs just as Mr. Busypant's bus arrived, so I went and got him; he was excited to be visiting the neighbors as well. He was even more excited to hear that we were going to the athletic center for Splash and Play.

Splash and Play is a program sponsored by the Special Rec. It allows kids with special needs to partner with a volunteer, who takes them swimming for an hour. It's $30 for like 10 weeks--a total steal. I almost feel guilty because Mr. Busypants' needs aren't THAT special, but hey, it's one of the few perks that comes with having a kid with autism, so I might as well enjoy.

The week before I had promised Mr. BP that we'd go early so he could play in the playcare center. For $2 an hour and some me-time, it's well worth it. So both kids played while I worked on my book proposal, then I transferred Mr. BP to the pool and then finished my Bible study.

At the end of swimming and playing, the kids were starving and tired--just the way you like them at 6:15 at night. I sang the Miss Chattyshoes has Chubby Cheeks song most of the way home to keep her happy, then it was dinner and bed for her and dinner and play for Mr. BP.

Overall it was a great day with the kids. Got lots done and had lots of fun. What more could a working SAHM ask for?

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The Word Doesn't Change the Kid: Autism 101

Miss Chattyshoes is interested in all things potty. The other day she stood over the toilet to say "bye-bye" to its flushing contents. Suddenly her nuk poped out of her cheeky little face, instantly sucked down to the point of no return. Perplexed and concerned, she pointed to the toilet and begged for "ki-ki."

At this young age, Miss Chattyshoes is already declaring her independence. She does so in many ways, but the most obvious is her reaction to peer influence. One of her best buddies is M, a neighbor from across the street. M is 7 months her senior and full of words and wisdom. For example, we've been calling Miss CS's nuk a nuk for 18 months. She spends one day with M and her nuk is now a ki-ki. The same goes for her sippy cup, which was just that: a sippy cup. But M calls it a ba-ba, so now Miss CS calls it a ba-ba.

This has been an exciting time for Scott and I. Miss CS is so active and engaged in ways that Mr. Busypants was not. And 21 months. That's a magic age for us. It was when we first acted on the differences we slowly noticed in our little man. At 21 months we had him evaluated through early intervention. At 21 months, several therapists agreed that Mr. BP needed services. At 21 months, I became fearful of the word autism.

What I knew about autism came from two sources: the movies (specifically Mercry Rising and Rain Man) and a film we watched in the 6th grade (so bizarre that I even remember this particular film) that described autism as a condition where the person was lost in his own little world and behaved like a chimpanzee. The other tidbit I knew of autism (or thought I knew) was that one day a toddler was talking and engaged and seemingly the next his social and speech skills were lost.

This was autism to me.

And so I began working through my fear that one day my baby would wake up and be mentally, emotionally and socially gone. With me, Mr. Busypants had a boisterous laugh that filled the house. We spent hours running around our house in Lisle, circling through the kitchen, dining room and living room, hiding and seeking, stomping and giggling. With others, he was stoic and serious. When the word autism re-entered my vocabulary, fear as I had not yet known it came as well.

It took a while to work through the anguish. For me, the first step was recognizing what autism was and what it wasn't. The DSM-IV defines autism as

(I)
a) impairment in social interactions marked by a lack of eye contact, facial expression and social gestures. CHECK.

b) impairments in communication manifested in a delay in spoken language and (later) repetitive language and a lack of spontaneous make-believe play or social imitative play. CHECK.

c) restricted repetitive behavior patterns, interests and activities including preoccupation with balls and matchbox cars (CHECK), inflexible adherence to routines and rituals including but not limited to eating French toast sticks every morning two years, throwing a sippy cup and all unwanted food off the high chair tray, being hypnotized by spinning objects such as ceiling fans, and flicking objects such as door stops for extended periods of time (CHECK CHECK CHECK CHECK). Stereotyped and repetitive motor mannerisms including head shaking, picking up every stick within a 2 mile radius at the playground, and general Monk-like behavior (think 2002 series appearing on USA about an obsessive-compulsive ex-cop who solves crimes) (CHECK).

DSM-IV does NOT describe autism as:
(a) futureless
(b) hopeless
(c) relationshipless
(d) joyless
(e) speechless
(f) loveless

In a nutshell, the word did not change the kid.

Mr. Busypants is spectacular. You need only look into his eyes to see the wheels turning--the thinking process is like a roller coaster ride. Fast, intense, thrillseeking. It's all there in those bright, blue eyes. He sees things we can't. He organizes. He engages. He responds. He follows through to completion. I fall short on all of the above on a semi-regular basis.

From the early age of 21 months, Mr. Busypants had a facination with water. He couldn't hear me scream his name two feed away, but turn the bath tub on three houses down and he was there in a flash. Part of that fascination extended to the toilet. A week into our new Aurora house, he too "broke" a toilet. Though Miss Chattyshoes hovered over her daddy in the master bathroom as he dilligently retrieved her invaluable nuk, I mean ki-ki, from this vital household fixture, Mr. Busypants had dad replacing the first-floor toilet after flushing a mega-block.

This kid is larger than life; he thinks big.

And we have a name

After careful consideration, I've decided that Miss Chattyshoes is an appropriate name for Jorie. For those who see her on a regular basis, the name is quite obvious. Jorie chats nonstop. The amount of vocabulary that she's been able to acquire blows me away. Granted, most of her words are for foods, which she is quite fond of. Nonetheless, she has words for all kinds of objects.

As for the shoes, well, it would be an understatement to say that she's obsessed with them. No kidding. I have to put all shoes away. Otherwise she wants to wear them. Or she wants me to wear them. She gets angry when she clomps around in daddy's flip-flops, tripping and losing them along any path she takes. And good luck getting her to bed without shoes on. Yes, she even sleeps in her shoes.

It's been a while

Wow! It's been a while since I've blogged. I used to/kind of still blog on xanga, but life has changed and gotten busy; that's not an outlet I use so much anymore. For years I blogged about my son, Mr. Busypants, who was diagnosed with autism just before he turned 3. That's what this blog will be about: the adventures of Mr. Busypants and his sister, Miss Chubbycheeks. My first goal is to come up with a new name for Miss CC; one that is more flattering and better fits her personality. This was a temporary name given to her soon after birth. Now that she's 21 months old, she has all the charm and character that Mr. BP had when he was named, which was around the same age.

Well, that's it for now. Elmo will only babysit for so long.