SNSS: Dynamic Family Dynamics

Today's SNSS guest, Kate Coveny Hood blogs at The Big Piece of Cake. And I love going to read her there (even though I get hungry for pastry every time I do) because she is both a lovely writer and a positive force in the universe.

Kate writes about all about her adventures raising a family - 6 and a half year-old Oliver and his 5 year-old boy/girl twin siblings George and Eleanor. Oliver is the "special" child in the family, on the autism spectrum with a PDD-NOS diagnosis. In her blog Kate is smart and funny and reflective in a way that I just love.

While Kate writes about her son Oliver and his issues, her blog doesn't focus on special needs. Rather, it focuses on "family" and sometimes just on "Kate" the PERSON. (Imagine that!)

In fact, it wasn't until I asked Kate to write a guest post for this series that she sat down to actively think about what it means to the twins to have a brother who is different. And here are the results...

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Dynamic Family Dynamics - by Kate Coveney Hood

Often when asked about the level of chaos and drama in my house, I'll say that "I have a special needs child, an explosive child and a girl." That pretty much sums it up.

But let me backtrack a bit.

I have three children - Oliver, my six year old, and George and Eleanor, my five year old twins. And just in case you're wondering - no, that age difference was not planned. Nor was the two-for-one pregnancy. But no matter how dramatic and chaotic it may be, I never lose sight of how lucky I am to have these three entirely unique people in my life - to be able to watch them grow.

Like any other parent, I once looked into my children's newborn faces and dreamed about their futures. I imagined them as happy and healthy kids. So close in age, they would be friends. They would grow up together and then go on to attend college, find careers... have families.

I always knew that they were really just on loan to me. I would raise them, but they would eventually leave to find their own way in the world. And I looked forward to watching it all unfold.

We had some basic expectations for the roles they would play, of course. Oliver would be the big brother, and look out for his not-that-much younger siblings. Eleanor would be a daddy's girl because they all are in my husband's extended family. George would be the middle child - even though he is only a minute older than his sister - and as a loud and demanding infant, he seemed destined to be a handful.

And some of this ended up being true. Eleanor is a shameless daddy's girl and George has taken the term "handful" to a whole new level. But Oliver is not your average, everyday big brother. He is my special needs child.

The twins were born when he was 18 months old. And around that time, it was becoming obvious that he was different from other toddlers. His speech wasn't developing with the lightning speed that I witnessed in other kids. He wasn't as social and trusting. He was more interested in throwing blocks in than he was in using them to build towers.

Years later, after special needs preschool and various therapies, Oliver is sweet, handsome boy with severe sensory processing disorders. He also has an Autism Spectrum label: PDD-NOS (pervasive developmental disorder - not otherwise specified).

The behaviors and challenges that qualify him for a Spectrum label are primarily noticeable in his communication and language skills, but he also has some more subtle problems with motor skills. We've been lucky to find a couple of alternative therapies that have been nothing short of magic as far as I'm concerned. And Oliver is always making progress - moving forward. But it's never fast enough for him to catch up to, let alone keep up with, his peers.

And it's not just other kids his age anymore. Oliver is now officially behind the skill levels of his siblings. Over time, George and Eleanor have become my barometer for what Oliver will hopefully learn how to do.

People are confused by our oldest son because he "looks normal." But they haven't witnessed Oliver's daily struggles with things that have come so naturally to his brother and sister. Like sustaining conversation, understanding the rules in games and making friends. They don't understand why it's George who plays light sabers with the older boys across the street while Oliver plays with Thomas trains in the dirt. It should be the other way around, right?

They also have no idea how incredibly painful this is to watch.

For all of my love for them as individuals - all of my gratitude for their health and happiness - it breaks my heart to see my oldest fade into the background while his younger brother and sister become such stars. To see the babies of the family take over so many of the older sibling roles that should have been Oliver's, by right.

And I know that sounds petty and unfair - to expect that the oldest would automatically be the front man for the band...the leader of the pack. But that's the typical family dynamic, right? And didn't I expect to have a "typical" family? Didn't we all?

So my husband and I have had to put aside some of our new parent dreams and expectations for our children - our family. It was hard. And sometimes I still feel a little sad. I worry.

I worry about the near future when the twins start asking questions about why they can do things that their big brother can't. So far, they haven't. They don't compare our family to others. It seems normal to them that George is the one who complains about Oliver messing up his...whatever it is he's doing (remember - George is my explosive child, and there's always a crisis). Or for Eleanor to act as spokesperson for her big brother when people ask him questions he's not yet developmentally capable of answering.

But as we become less insular and spend more time with the rest of the world at large, it's inevitable that my two younger children will wonder why we're different from other families.

To be perfectly honest, I've avoided thinking about this for a long time. On some level, I've been wishing that Oliver would just become "normal enough." That therapies and IEP reports aside, the kids in our neighborhood - and George and Eleanor - would see him as just another kid. Maybe a little goofy or quirky sometimes - but not so much that he couldn't fly under the radar.

Then maybe someday when Oliver would be capable of engaging in a complex discussion, we could all talk about his personal challenges. Together as a family - with Oliver participating in this conversation about him.

It shouldn't matter, I know. But I just really hate the idea of talking about Oliver to his siblings before I can talk to HIM about everything. I would feel like a betrayal. Like it was now me denying him his right to be the older brother.

I may have to do that someday - but I'm not ready. Not yet.

In a way - these ideas are entirely new for our family. We haven't had to think about them.

So I don't have personal stories to tell about how our children work around the special needs that make Oliver different from other six year olds. As of yet, the twins don't really recognize that Oliver is different. He's just Oliver. And I'm selfishly holding on to that as long as possible with no plan for the future.

Until now, I guess. Until I began writing this and reading about the experiences of other families with "special needs siblings."

I've written numerous posts about Oliver's special needs on my own blog, but this is the first time that I've actually addressed the issue of how those special needs affect his relationships with his siblings. And because I've always taken the Scarlett O'Hara approach of dealing with what I have to today, and leaving the rest for tomorrow - I'm now in uncharted waters.

I love the idea of Oliver being the big brother an taking care of his little brother and sister. But for now, and possibly for a long time (possibly forever) that's not going to be our reality. In a couple of years it may be the younger brother and sister standing between Oliver and bullies on the playground. It's still too soon to tell - but not so far off that I can't imagine that possible future.

Will they stand up for Oliver? I think Eleanor would. As a girl, she has an innate maternal side. She seeks to nurture in a way that her brothers just don't. But George? I don't know about George.

He is so full of enthusiasm for life, that he doesn't always notice other people as he races to grab the brass ring. He means well - but he's a scrapper. He may unwittingly trample Oliver in his efforts to follow the older boys with their war games and skateboard ramps. I just don't know.

But I do know that this is going to be painful at times... and I would be lying if I said I wasn't terrified by the uncertain future. That I didn't wonder how many more of my dreams that future will will steal from me.

But I find great comfort in the fact that some of my dreams are already coming true. My children are happy and healthy. They are friends. They are growing up together. They may or may not all go to college, but each one of them can find a purpose in life - something they can consider their career.

Probably the most important dream I have for them is family. The families I once imagined for them included marriage and children. And right now I have no reason to doubt that this is possible for them. For all of them.

My dream of them all having their own families might actually come true. And it might not. But it doesn't matter because whether they get married or not - have children or not - they will always have each other.

They will always be a family.

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I love how much Kate appreciates and values her son's differences, how she hold the bar high in her expectations for his, and all her childrens' future. Also I love (and am a tad envious of) how much her family functions as a coherent unit, caring about and for each other, enjoying each others company and celebrating their uniqueness. Love.

And now that you have read and fallen in love with Kate too, please follow her home to her blog The Big Piece of Cake. where her tag line reads: "Never settle for a small one, and demand a corner piece with a flower" which I think sums up her wonderful attitude towards life.

Want to get to know her kids better? Start with this loving and funny post about Oliver's lack of love for pants. Then go on to read more loveliness about George and Eleanor.  

Want more? Try this one about her kids' antics, or this one about... pretty much the same, and why they had to lock room doors when they were younger.  Also read this beautiful post about trying to integrate Oliver into an activity with typical kids.

And? If you really want funny? Read this post about her twins birth-day, which includes her water breaking suddenly - WITH sound effects - in a fancy hair salon.

Thank you so much, Kate for sharing your wonderful, very special - and DYNAMIC - family with us here today.


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SNSS: The Bucket and the Mandrake

Today, SNSS is going hyper-local. My guest today, Michaela Searfoorce, is someone I actually met first in real life and not the bloggosphere. (What? It happens!) She lives in my neighborhood and our sons were in the same special needs "challenger division" basketball league. 

Furthermore Michaela is a major force in the New York City Upper West Side Special Needs Parenting community. I had found out about the basketball league at one of the regular monthly informational meetings that Michaela organizes.

Her blog The Foorce (a fun play on her name) is mostly focused on providing support and resources for our local New York City special needs community, but is also a place where Michaela shares some of her personal story from time to time.

She is the mother of three children: 11 year-old James and his two young sisters. James has a rare chromosome defect which has resulted in numerous medical issues, global developmental and physical delays, and labels such as PDD-NOS, Sensory Integration Dysfunction and ADD.

Chances are, if you have a special needs child(ren), they have at least something in common with James. I can tell you firsthand he is a delightful boy with a huge heart and I was always happy when he and Jake were paired up together in basketball practice.

Read on, now, for a glimpse into Michaela's wonderful family, a pair of life-slices that add up to a beautiful thought:

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The Bucket and the Mandrake: Two Small Stories, One Big Lesson - by Michaela Searfoorce

"Mom, help!"

James looked tearfully after the preschooler who was sauntering away with his bucket. Though he is 11 years old now, James is unable to stick up for himself in many circumstances, even with children half his size and age.

After asking politely (meekly, in my opinion) for his bucket back, the boy who grabbed it said "no" and walked over to the other sand area, leaving James to dig around pathetically in the sand with his shovel. I could tell he was upset, both frustrated and embarrassed by his fear of confronting the other child.

"Give James his bucket back right now!"

No, that wasn't me. It was my 2 yr old daughter, jumping down from a nearby jungle gym and charging after the offender. She reached him and ripped the bucket from his hand, yelling "Leave my brother alone. That's his bucket!"

The boy stood there, mouth hanging open. So did I. My daughter marched the bucket back to James and proudly announced, "Here James. Here is your bucket! It's okay!" James wiped his eyes and said gratefully, "Thanks, Margaret."

~~~

"Mom, help! No - don't do it!"

Flash forward to the Harry Potter exhibit in Times Square. I had decided to brave the trip alone while Ryan was at work, and as a consequence was having trouble keeping as close an eye on both James and my 2 year old as I would've liked.

The exhibit was a cool collection of trinkets, costumes and props from the Harry Potter series. James has read all of the books, seen all of the movies, and was even Harry Potter for Halloween last year - I fully expected him to be in love with the place. And he was, aside from some initial anxiety when the sorting hat was placed on peoples heads and loudly started sorting them into Hogwarts houses.

About halfway through the exhibit, Margaret and I were standing by the mandrakes while she eagerly pulled each model plant out of the soil to hear it screech.

For those of you who are not Potter fan(atic)s, mandrakes are small, ugly potted creatures that live in the soil - when you pull them out they emit a cry that renders a person immobilized. Full grown mandrake cries will kill you (don't worry, I'm not ruining a big part of any book!), and in the books students would wear special head gear in order to protect themselves.

So when James saw Margaret across the room, gleefully pulling mandrakes from the soil to listen to their cries, he flew into a total panic. He ran to the far side of the exhibit (self preservation) while screaming, "No! No Margaret! Stop touching them! Mom! Help Margaret! Don't do it, Margaret!"

Everyone froze at the sound of the screams. Tourists young and old looked around the room for "Mom," probably wondering whether this was part of the show or if this large pre-teen was actually terrified of a fake potted plant.

I rushed over and explained to James that they weren't real and that it was okay to pull the mandrakes out, but he wouldn't hear of it. He remained hysterical until we moved Margaret out of danger.

Five minutes later they were both throwing quaffles at quidditch posts. (I don't have time to explain everything about Harry Potter here!)

~~~

I know that some day Margaret will bear the brunt of the "hero responsibility." At 2 years old she already looks out for James in a way that makes me proud.

But, it is my most sincere hope that when she's older she will still be able to remember these times when James bravely tried to come to her rescue as well.

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Reading this lovely post, I found myself once again wishing I had somehow been magically able to provide Jake with a little sister to look up to and after him.
 
And then I read some of Michaela's "Patience and Foortitude" posts on her blog about the challenges of life with a big special needs kid, a toddler and a baby... and I rethought that one.

Having had a little glimpse into Michaela's family here, you should definitely follow her home to her blog, The Foorce, to read more. If you are New York City local, read it all, there's some great resources there. If you're from elsewhere and want to skip the local stuff,, the posts in the "General" category are where you'll find the personal, family ones. 

Start here with this one, about a particularly exhausting evening: Patience and Foortitude, Part 3: Just Foortitude This Time, With Special Guest Appearance By Windex  (and yes, I've finally found someone who makes my often long post titles seem pithy).

Also, try this post about a milestone - riding a Ferris Wheel - that may seem small to some, but we special needs parents know better.  Or this one, a letter of appreciation on James's 11th birthday. 

Finally, if you want further proof of what a supermom Michaela is, read this pair of posts about James's heartbreaking massive "poop incident" at his school (due to his medical issues) and how his mom talked to his inclusion class about it (and answered other questions about James' differences) so that he would be safe retuning to the school, afterward.

Thank you so much, Michaela, for sharing your wonderful son James, and the rest of your lovely, special family with us today.


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SNSS: How Will They Know?

Today's SNSS guest? Has more kids than you do. OK, more than 99.9% of you do. She has seven. Which is why Caryn Haluska tweets as @ihave7monsters and refers to herself as the "Monster Momma" (& her home as "Monster House") on her blog Living with Logan.  

Caryn writes about life with Logan, her 3 year old son with issues (ASD, SPD, seizures & severe food allergies) and the rest of the gang, including Logan's twin who has some SPD issues of his own.

It's a busy, busy household. But one that is also clearly full of love and understanding, if rather shy on peace.

Although she gets some flack for it, she stands by referring to her kids as monsters. It's because she means it like Jim Henson's monsters: adorable and unique.

Her blog's tag line is: "What we've learned as a family because we have the HONOR of Logan being a part of it" and that beautiful sentiment says it all about where she is coming from, always.

So now it's time for me to stop talking and for you to read Caryn's lovely essay about her family, here:

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How Will They Know? - by Caryn Haluska

I sit outside, contemplating the opportunity I've been given to contribute to this series. I think about what to write, while enjoying the cool of a late summer night in Southern Utah, breathing in the smell of flower pots dripping with pansies, alyssum and violets, and listening to the crickets sing.

The stars wink at me as I compose in my head what I will write about my beloved Monster House. This is my sanctuary~ a front porch step late at night, and the serenity nature offers.

It is, in fact, the only time I get to have absolute quiet and “me time.” And it never lasts more than ten minutes. So, I've had my ten minutes, and have come in to write. I'm hoping it comes out as well in print as it did in my head.

Life in a family with seven children, even if they were all NT children, would be hectic. Life in a family with seven children, one of whom is on the autism spectrum, has SPD (extreme non-seeker), seizures and crazy amounts of food allergies is somewhat more than hectic. Add in a couple of older sibs with learning difficulties, and a twin with SPD (total seeker), and things just get more interesting.

To prepare for this submission, I asked the monsters (1-4, as #5 was already asleep) to give me three words each about Logan, in no particular order, with no particular subject... just the first three words that popped into their heads when I said Logan's name. They didn't even have to be polite, as long as they were honest.

The Daddy liked this idea so much, he joined in as well, so I'm including his contribution, too.

#1
Cuddle Lion Logan

#2
sweet
honorable
cuddly

#3
cool
cuddly
soothing

#4
honorable
emotional
enjoyable

The Daddy
Attitude
Daredevil
Smart!!

Logan is his siblings' favorite teddy bear. They fight over holding him, and they cry when he's had enough and wants nothing more to do with them. He can make them laugh, and he knows just how to get them to come running with a well thought out shriek.

He can make them jealous, and he can make them proud, all within the same few minutes. Truly, Logan and #6 have brought all my children closer together.

The first thing everyone should know is: Logan and #6 are the babies. They just turned three at the beginning of the summer. The “older kids,” as we call #1-#5, range in age from 17 to 6, so I am extremely blessed to have a lot of help where Logan is concerned.

Logan's phenomenal progress in speech, motor skills, and other areas is largely in part to the efforts of his older brothers and sisters.  So much so, I have had to put my foot down upon occasion and remind them, “Logan is not a trained monkey! Let the child alone for a bit!”

Certainly, we are not without flaws. There have been occasions where one monster or another would become upset with the amount of time it took to arrange therapies, doctors' appointments, write for the blog, talk to other special needs parents, etc. We have had to squash all the monsters' hopes of having a pet because of Logan's allergies, much to the dismay of #3.

My #4 especially, has a rough time. She kept asking why Logan was the only one I wrote about, the only one with a picture in my blog header; at one point she asked why he was the only one I loved.

She is largely the reason for the blog makeover, and my shift to more posts about everyone. I am proud of ALL my monsters. I never want them to wonder.

As part of an agreement I have with the older monsters, I don't write a lot -if at all- about their learning difficulties. They are my #1 and #2, and they read my blog, along with their friends.

They are so proud of Logan. I think their struggles have helped them be more compassionate and understanding with him. My #2 and Logan have a special bond that defies explanation, and it has been so since the very first time they saw each other.

It's difficult for the older ones, I think. They are old enough to understand the definition of the “R word”, and have heard it said in reference to Logan by small minded people around town. But they just don't understand why the “R word” would apply to him. 

It is hard for them to think of Logan as having any kind of disability. They truly don't see it. At the Monster House, he's just Logan... not autism, not SPD, or anything else. He's their brother. And that's how we like it.

When I told them the other day at dinner that I had a meeting to help the school get ready for him, every last one of those monsters looked at me like I was nuts. And #1 asked the question for all of them: “Why? What's to get ready? He's coming to school.”

We agonize as parents. I question myself constantly, wondering if I'm being as accessible to all my monsters as I am to Logan and #6. The Daddy makes a concentrated effort to spend time with each child one on one after work, though he travels for business frequently and his time is not his own as often as he would like. It is things like this, I think, that causes siblings to lean a little more on each other, and grow closer.

I love watching the monsters together. There are fights, certainly. Far more than I am comfortable with. And there are times that the verbal warfare escalates to physical. We have raging teenage hormones and 11 year old drama queen syndrome.

There are twinnie meltdowns that are so intense I simply am not able to be available to anyone else while they are going on. There is jealousy, and resentment upon occasion. I hate having to say to one monster or another, “I'm sorry, baby. I just can't. I haven't slept. Logan and #6 had a very rough night.” It's all too frequent an occurrence, and I have a physical ache every time.

We incorporate family time with therapy. Most times it works. We have disco floors out of couch cushions. We have crazy fun cutting paper with scissors for no purpose other than, Logan likes it and it's great for fine motor and hand/eye coordination.

We go on walks together while the twinnies learn to ride tricycles. We play around with new “Logan safe” recipes. That rubber bread will go down in family history.

Our largest quality is the ability to adapt. I hope we never, ever lose that.

But I wonder, when it's all said and done... will my best have been good enough? Will they all know that they have special places in my mothers heart, that Logan and #6 are not the only ones there?

And how can I make sure of that? How will they know?

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Reading this post, I just kept thinking about what a gift it is for Logan and his twin to have such an involved, loving family. And I want to hug Caryn and tell her: "Of course they know, it shines through in every word you write."

So now that you have read Caryn here, you are going to go follow her home, right? You will find her at her blog Living with Logan. Try this post, where Caryn shares why she lovingly calls them "Monsters", or this one about how hard it is to grocery shop for (and cook for and feed) a child with severe food allergies.

Want to see the magic she talks about between her big boy #2 and Logan? Look at this post here.  Want to laugh? Read this hysterical post about how #5 became notorious.

Also? You are definitely going to want to follow Caryn on Twitter, and go "like" her on her Facebook page.

Thank you so much, Caryn, for sharing your large, wonderful, funny, loving family with us here today.  


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SNSS: Siblings and the LD Person

And now for something completely different... today's SNSS guest post is by a MAN: Peter Flom, a Dad, who is the father of a child with special needs. But even more remarkable is that he is also, himself, a person with special needs, officially on (the fringes of) the autism spectrum with Nonverbal Learning Disorder (NLD).

He writes about this on his blog, I am learning disabled, where he talks about his experiences in life as someone who is different. He also faces special parenting challenges with his two sons, the eldest of whom is also "on the spectrum."

The other different thing about today's guest is that I did not "meet" Peter online, he is actually a friend in real life. I have known Peter since our sons became friends when they were two and a half; his wife is one of my closest friends. 

Peter is very lucky in that he had parents who believed in him at a time when "different" children were often discarded. When his mother was told told he would never learn anything or have a normal life, and that she should send him away? She ignored the "experts," instead founding an amazing school for special children to properly educate her son. 

And it paid off. Peter is a statistician holding a Ph.D. He is a family man with a wife and two sons, has many friends. "Ineducable?" I think not.

Living with his differences personally gives him a special perspective on the lives of his sons, which he shares with us, with much warmth and humor, here:  

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Siblings and the LD Person - by Peter Flom

Part 1: Me and my siblings:

I’m learning disabled.  It even says so on my blog.  Well, I’m not FORMALLY diagnosed with LD.  That’s ‘cause I’m 51.  MY diagnosis is “minimal brain dysfunction”!  Woo!  Sorta makes you glad your kids are young, huh?  Your kids just have autism or Aspergers or whatnot.  *I*’ve got a dysfunctional brain!  (At least it’s minimal!)

The LD that fits me best is probably Nonverbal Learning Disability.  But I note that (per the book) people with NLD have no sense of humor.  We are ESPECIALLY bad at things like sarcasm which depend on tone of voice.  Hehehe.

Yeah, life for us LD people was even worse 40 years ago and more.  MBD was my FORMAL diagnosis.  Informal diagnosis were things like “lazy,” “crazy” and “stupid” (from adults) or “spazzo,” “retard” and such (from kids).

But some things made it easier.  And some NON-things made it easier too.  Two of the non-things that made it easier for me were my brother and sister.  I got lucky.  One of the ways I got lucky is that they think THEY got lucky.  Not a lot of people would have thought of having me as a sibling as luck. 

My sister (technically, my half-sister, but we have an unhyphenated relationship) was 12 when I was born.  She was an enormously competent 12 year old.  So much so that our mother trusted her to take care of me.

Once, when I was a baby, she took me to the park and was pushing me in a swing.  A woman came up to her and said “WHAT are you DOING with that BABY?!?” and my sister turned to her and said “that baby is my brother, and I am ENTERTAINING him”. 

18 months after I was born, my brother came along.  I was an odd-looking, skinny, cranky, strange acting child.  My brother was a blue-eyed, blond-haired chubby cheeked cutie.  So, everyone oohed and aahed even more over the new baby than usual.  My sister decided she was having none of that! 

No!  *I* was the one.  Until a couple months later when she told our parents that she couldn’t help liking our brother because “he makes himself so charming.” But, nevertheless, I’ve always been closer to my sister than my brother has.

So, there I am, this messed up little baby with this adorable brother.  Recipe for …. A GREAT RELATIONSHIP.  It’s weird how these things work out sometimes. 

My brother and I shared a room until I was about 15. For most of that time, it was by choice. In the apartment where we spent our tweens and teens, there were two rooms for us.  But, until I was 15, we shared one as a bedroom and used the other for other stuff.  And, even after I decided I wanted my own room, we did a lot together.

I helped him with his homework (yeah, well, my dysfunctional brain is good at some stuff, like math and writing).  He provided relationships.  Because I had no friends from 6th to 11th grades.  None.  I think I had one date (and that was a disaster) and I don’t recall any “play dates”. 

But my brother had tons of friends.  He loved being around people.  And people loved being around him, too.  He made himself charming.  And I got to share.

Meanwhile, my sister had gone off to college (but she came home some) and then got married.  She lived for a little while in Lawrence, Kansas, but for most of the time she lived in Chicago.  I used to go visit.  A lot.  Several times a year.  Because it was just a lot easier being in her house than being in my parents’ house.  How many people go to Chicago for Christmas vacation?
 
So, even though for a lot of kids in the autism ballpark, sibling relationships are really hard, for me they were good.  Why?  Well, Calvin Trillin was once asked the secret to his long, happy marriage.  He said “I walked into the right party.” 

That’s how I feel.  I got lucky.  That’s not much help to others, I guess.  I don’t know how my brother and sister decided to put up with me.  But I’m really glad they did.

Part 2: My two sons:

We have two kids.  One is 14.  The other is 8.  The older one is in the ballpark -- that is, the whole AS/HFA/NLD/PDD/NOS/WTF ballpark.

These two boys are very different.  Darling Older Son (DOS) is asocial, stoic about physical pain but very sensitive to noise, has stable emotional states, thinks and cogitates before asking questions, is often lost in his own thoughts, speaks relatively little (although he speaks well), and operates in a narrow emotional range.

Darling Younger Son (DYS) is social, hysterical about physical pain but not overly sensitive to noise, emotionally labile, speaks in what seems like stream of consciousness, shares his thoughts readily, and is given to hyperbole  -- he does not have bad days, he has the WORST DAY in the HISTORY OF THE UNIVERSE; or, sometimes, best day.

Like many sibling pairs, DYS wants to be around DOS much more than vice versa.  Unlike many pairs, DOS is just not able to deal with it.  But unlike some, where one child is in a different part of the ballpark, it seems like he OUGHT to be able to deal with it. 

SOMETIMES he can.  For short periods.  On his terms. 

If he couldn’t cope, ever, at all… well, he would be in a more central part of the ballpark, and farther from us.  But it would be easier to understand, in a way, and easier to explain, certainly.  When a kid is verbal enough to say “Little brothers are OK. Until they learn to talk” then why can’t he be verbal all the time? 

Well, why does a 2 year old want to be alone?  Why does a 14 year old say “I really like a lot of space” while an 8 year old says “But I LIKE sleeping on top of you, Daddy!”?

I don’t know.  People vary.  Including our children.  We don’t have acronyms, we have kids.

We can be thankful for some stuff.  DOS has never been violent towards DYS.  He doesn’t lie about him.  He can make his wishes known with language, even if it isn’t always language DYS wants to hear, or can deal with. 

Will they get along better later?  Probably.  I hope so. 

Siblinghood is powerful. 

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I love how Peter's love for his sons and his endless patience with them shines through here.  One of the wonderful things about Peter is his accepting attitude towards his children, as he says above: "We don’t have acronyms, we have kids."

I can also say, with firsthand knowledge, that far from "lacking a sense of humor," Peter is one of the funniest people I know.  I love his jokes, like this one, about Aspergers.

Now that you have read Peter here, you're going to want to get to know more about him, so go to his blog, I am learning disabled. He doesn't blog often, but when he does, it is always worth reading.

Try the post where Peter talks about his view of autism as a ballpark, or this one, where he lists some things NOT to say to him, or this one, where he talks about thinking so far out of the box, he doesn't even see it.

Besides writing on his own blog, Peter is also a contributor to many other sites including Yahoo's Associated Content, and Daily Kos where he is an active and involved writer and community member.

Finally, you can find and follow him on Twitter, where he maintains two different handles: peterflomLD for his thoughts on special needs and as plain old peterflom for his thoughts on all else, including (liberal) politics.

Thank you Peter, for kicking off June, Father's Day month, with your insights as both a father and a sibling. I am happy and proud to call you my friend.

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