Talking in Code

Does your child speak in code?

When my kids were babies, they communicated with cries, then they graduated to sign language for: milk, more, change (diaper), and ‘all done.’ Then came sounds and words. And then came the tween and teen years, where they have embraced new lingo.

When I was a teen we too spoke in code — whether it was silly languages like ‘pig latin’ or acronyms – LYLAS – Love you like a sis, TTYL – Talk to you later, and CYA – slang for ‘see you!’ As in ‘see you later.’ We didn’t text or email, but passed notes in class and in the hallways because we didn’t have phones or computers to communicate. Our modes were paper, pen, and phone. 😊 We thought we were grown up, even cool in how unique and creative we thought we were.

And here we are today, with my kids talking in new acronyms that I have to decode (IYKWIM was a new one for me – if you know what I mean), reference memes and YouTube stars and other Internet crazed that I’m supposed to be aware of, but I’m not, that come and go at light speed. They too feel like they are unique and creative for finding this way to communicate with their peers. I get it, each generation needs to come up with their own code that lets them relate to their peers in their own way. As you grow, you want to separate from your parents and be your own person, and I can’t fault that. After all, we did the very same thing.

How is your child showing their independence? How are you learning to decode their language?

Talking in Code

Does your child speak in code?

When my kids were babies, they communicated with cries, then they graduated to sign language for: milk, more, change (diaper), and ‘all done.’ Then came sounds and words. And then came the tween and teen years, where they have embraced new form of communication.

When I was a teen we too spoke in code — whether it was silly languages like ‘pig latin’ or acronyms – LYLAS – Love you like a sis, TTYL – Talk to you later, KIT- keep in touch, and CYA – slang for ‘see you!’ As in ‘see you later.’ We didn’t text or email, but passed notes in class and in the hallways because we didn’t have phones or computers to communicate. Our modes were paper, pen, and phone. 😊 We thought we were grown up, even cool in how unique and creative we thought we were.

And here we are today, with my kids talking in new acronyms that I have to decode (IYKWIM was a new one for me – if you know what I mean), emojis, referencing memes and YouTube stars and other Internet crazes that I’m supposed to be aware of, but am not, that come and go at light speed. They too feel like they are unique and creative for finding this way to communicate with their peers. I get it, each generation needs to come up with their own code that lets them relate to each other in their own way. As you grow, you want to separate from your parents and be your own person, and I can’t fault that. After all, we did the very same thing.

How is your child showing their independence? How are you learning to decode their language?

All That is Green

Has your child ever felt overwhelmed?

My youngest son came home from a bad school day. His teacher had sent an email alerting us before the end of the day that our son struggled with an assignment the class was given — to write about how to help the environment.

When he got home I asked how his day was. “Okay,” he said. “Really?,” I replied, “I was under the impression you didn’t have a great day.” He could have asked how I knew he’d had a bad day, but instead said, “I don’t want to talk about it.” “Okay,” I said, “but it’s going to be hard for me to help you if you won’t talk about it.” He sighed, “Maybe later.”

We got some dinner. Once he had food in his belly, I asked if he was ready to talk. He wasn’t, so I gave him a choice. “We can talk about this on the way home in the car, or when we get home, but we are taking about it.” He agreed to discuss it on the car ride home.

He started off, “This is very upsetting. I really don’t want to talk about it.” “What is making you so upset?”, I asked. “The future,” he said. Okay, that’s a broad topic, I thought. “What about the future are you most worried about?” “Well, everything,” he replied. “How does your fear about the future have to do with your assignment on the environment?” I asked. He didn’t say ‘duh’ but he might as well have. “Mom, were not doing enough to protect the environment and it’s only going to get worse. And I mean really, really bad.” Aha, I thought, climate change is showing itself in more extreme weather and there is right to be concerned about it getting worse in the future, but that is true only if we don’t acknowledge the problem and do something about it. “Okay, I think I better understand.” It took some more going back and forth before I fully understood that my son was getting overwhelmed by the assignment thinking he had to figure out how to solve all the problems, versus finding simpler doable solutions that could have a positive impact. By the time we parked the car at home he felt better, was more relaxed and seemed ready to rethink how to tackle the assignment. “Picking up trash, helps the environment. Saving water. Conserving energy. Composting.” I could tell he was thinking.

Getting overwhelmed doesn’t feel good at any age. It’s being about to break down what’s causing into smaller chunks that are easier to deal with. Helping you see the forest through the trees.

I’m glad my son is concerned about the environment. I hope this assignment prompts he and his classmates not only to think about it, but to take action and inspire others (including their parents perhaps?) to join in and do even more.

What are you and your child doing to help the environment?

Bird in the Window

Have you ever seen anything out a window that gave you pause?

My oldest son commented one morning, “Mom, the cat’s looking at a bird out the window.” I didn’t think much of it at the time, though it seemed a little odd this would catch my son’s attention. I went about getting ready for my day and walked down towards our basement, where sure enough, our cat was sitting at the window. Starring at something intently and wagging his tail. What really caught my attention was that he was looking at whatever it was at eye level out the window and not up. I assumed the bird my son had referenced was up on a fence or in a nearby tree. I stopped to see what had caught the cat’s attention. It was a bird, who clearly was having some trouble with one wing. You could see the bird try to fly only to come back down. It was scared and it really didn’t like that it felt trapped in an area where the only thing that separated the bird and the cat was a glass window.

I couldn’t watch the bird suffer. It had fallen into a well by the window and couldn’t get out. I knew my cat would love to catch this easy prey, but I just couldn’t let that happen. My son came over. “So, what are you going to do, Mom?” I stood there for a second and thought I need gloves. I had to dig through some drawers and found them. Then I had to open the window. I didn’t know how the cat, bird, my son, or I would react. I tried to prepare myself for my cat taking off after the bird, my son freaking out, and me trying to get control of the situation. I took a deep breath and slowly opened the window. The bird got as far away as it could from me. It made the saddest cry I’ve heard. I tried to reassure the bird I was there to help, but clearly the bird didn’t understand. It continued to cry. It reminded me of a very frightened child. My heart broke. I was able to get a hold of the bird, and as gently and quickly as I could, I lifted it out of the well and let it go. It took off half running, half trying to fly across the yard. Success!

“Good job, Mom,” my son said. I looked around and saw the cat hadn’t moved a muscle. He seemed content just to watch the spectacle. I let out a sigh of relief. Everything went about as well as I could have hoped.

Going through this experience got me thinking. I felt the bird was there to remind me of something. That life, whether you’re a parent, or a child, can be scary sometimes. And that sometimes you need help, even when a familiar face isn’t around. Sometimes we’re good about asking for help (e.g. when you’re a child and don’t know another way), and sometimes we’re not (e.g. when you’re an adult and think you have to do everything yourself). Was the bird there to remind me to let others in? Or remind me that there are kind people out there that will want to help in a time of need? Can I be one of those people to help a stranger like I helped the bird?

I hope so.

What do you do when you see something or someone struggling? How are you teaching your child to help others?

The Magic of Pets

How do know your child’s full potential?

There are certainly times when I feel like I see or experience my children’s potential. When one of them pushes themselves to do something new or challenging, but a recent comment from my son got me thinking — how do I (or anyone) really understand my child’s full potential?

My family was getting ready to head out the door for some weekend activities when our cat made his presence known. We each acknowledged the cat with a pet, or scratch behind the ears. My youngest son leaned down to the cat and said, “I love how you…” my husband and I were sure he’d finish with understand me, but we’re surprised when he said, “…see my full potential.” It actually made us laugh. My son joined in. Pets do have a magical quality about them, and do seem to understand our feelings and can feel very insightful, almost psychic, when they come to us in times of need. It can sometimes feel like the pet knows you, sees beyond your exterior and really knows who you are and what you need. I can remember an experience I had when I wasn’t much older than my son is now. I was having a tough time with puberty and adjusting to getting older. I remember sitting outside feeling sad, and my cat at the time, who typically was off on her own adventures during the day, seemed to come out of no where and sat by me. She looked at me like she understood my worries and was there to remind me that I was loved and lovable. It was magic. How I miss that cat.

My husband and I sensed our son was experiencing some of the magic pets have. A unconditional love that comes and doesn’t ask for anything in return except for basic needs (safety, warmth, food and water).

I don’t know if our cat knows my son’s full potential but I like that my son thinks the cat does. We all need someone who believes in us, that pushes us to explore and be our best selves. A loving pet is as good as anyone to help someone see the beauty and potential they have within.

Do you have pets? What magic are they bringing to you or your family’s lives?

That’s What Friends Are For

What makes a good friend?

This question has gotten a lot more attention from me as I’ve navigated the struggles my son on the autism spectrum has with making friends. What does make a good friend? Someone who is kind in the moment? Someone who wants to engage with you in a kind and supportive way? There are varying levels of friendship. I think of the friends who have come in and out of my life. I was reminded what a good friend looks like when a woman I have known for years and who I have shared just about everything with asked me timidly, “When was your son diagnosed?” She asked it in a whispered voice, and did a quick glance to ensure no one around had heard the question. While I was reluctant to talk about my son being on the spectrum when I first found out, I have come a long way — I’m happy to talk about it openly, but I remember that feeling of being unsure and uncomfortable, I was picking up on the way she was asking that she was uncomfortable. I responded, “When he was around five,” I paused and lowered my voice, “What’s going on?” She leaned in and said, “I haven’t really talked about this, but my son has spoken a word yet, and he’s two and a half, and we’re not sure why.” I could almost feel her concern. As a parent, when your child seems to have any affliction — whether it is a disease that is tough to treat, or a condition that makes them different than others — it can feel like you are at a crossroads — the childhood you imagined you and your child having will likely not be how you envisioned it to be, and that can be scary. We decided to find a time we could talk more openly. I wanted her to feel comfortable sharing and asking whatever questions she had.

Prior to us meeting, I thought about how I could best show up for her for this conversation. The truth is we don’t know if her son is on the spectrum, he hasn’t been tested and officially diagnosed, but he does exhibit behaviors similar to my son. I could easily jump to conclusions and give her all the information I’ve gained since my son’s diagnosis, but figured that really wasn’t what she needed. She needed to know that everything was going to be okay. Yes, her parental journey would be altered, but it didn’t mean it couldn’t be joyous, it was just going to be different. She asked me to share my story. I shared and then asked her what she was most concerned about. She was very concerned they hadn’t figured out what was behind her son not talking despite seeing doctors and specialists and enlisting the help of therapists and others. The next step was doing a battery of tests to get her son properly diagnosed. “I’m concerned because I need to figure this out before he turns three,” she shared. “What is special about him turning three?” I asked, thinking about how we hadn’t really enlisted help for our son until five. “That’s when it says you have the best chance of early intervention, but we don’t know what he has.” She admitted to spending too much time on the internet and going into various rabbit holes of information that all seemed to lead to a future life of doom and gloom for her son and her family. As she spoke, I was reminded of my intention coming into this meeting, what would a good friend say? I borrowed a phrase we use with our older son, who is always jumping ahead in his life and concerned about his future. I was seeing the same thing in my friend.

“How long have you been a parent?” I asked. “Well, two years” she said, clearly taken aback by the question. “And how are you supposed to know everything, and have it all figured out in two years?” I said. “Well, I guess, you’re right, there’s no way you can figure it all out in two years.” I finished, “Think of your journey like a video game, each year of your child’s life is a level. Right now, you’re on level 2, stay there, don’t try to be on level 5 or 12 or 35. You’re on 2, you’re going to continue to learn and get smarter. You are going to figure this out.” She smiled. Her shoulders relaxed. “You’re right,” she said. “Thanks.” I did end up giving her a few resources that she could reach out to who could give her some sound advice — these resources had been a Godsend to me. As I left our meeting, I thought, I wish I had had a friend or support like this when my son was first diagnosed. There was support available, but I was just too scared to reach out, and I didn’t have any friends talking. I was glad my friend was brave enough to ask. I was glad I could be that support and encouragement. After all, that’s what friends are for.

Are you struggling with raising your child? What does a good friend do to help support you as a parent?

Thank You for Being a Friend

Who is your child’s best friend?

My younger son struggles with friendship. He is great at meeting people where they are as they are, but is challenged making more meaningful connections.

I shared in a previous post about a campfire talk my son and I had about death, and thought we were simply reflecting on some painful experiences of two classmates he had lost (one to illness, one to an accident) and I was helping him deal with, and process, those loses. I didn’t realize, at that time, I was also preparing him for what lie ahead, as my son lost another classmate and friend recently. It was very unexpected and upsetting.

My son’s friend was wheelchair bound and non-verbal, but boy could this child communicate through his facial expressions — whether it was showing joy through a big toothy smile or laugh, or a look of the eye that communicated more than words could say. He made an impact on my son and his classmates. My son invited this friend to his birthday party, and his classmate invited him to his — it was a week away from the party when we got the news that his friend had passed.

My son dealt with it very hard. Understandably so. There was a celebration of life for his friend. We attended with over a hundred others including classmates, teachers, friends, and family. It was a beautiful service with laughter and tears. At the end of the service they asked if anyone wanted to come up to say a few words. My son looked at me and said, “I’m going up. I need to say something.” In this crowd of people my son confidently walked up, took the microphone and said, “He was my best friend. My best friend. I’m going to miss him.” He trailed off and the microphone was handed to another peer.

In the typical sense of the word, this classmate and my son were not “best” friends. Yes, they invited each other to each other’s party, but they didn’t get together after school or even spend much time together on the playground. I asked my son what he meant by best friend. “Well, mom, he accepted as I am.” And I thought that’s what best friends do accept you as you are where you are. And that is what this boy did for my son and vice versa. They each have their own challenges in connecting (whether it was being non-verbal, or being on the autism spectrum), but they could see and appreciate each other better than most.

As we were leaving the service, I couldn’t help but think of this child who was no longer with us and thought thank you for being a friend not only to my son, but many. How blessed we are to have a friend who accepts as where we are as we are.

Who is your child’s best friend?

Cabin Fever

Do you live where there is snow and/or ice?

I have a love/hate relationship with snow. It’s beautiful when it falls, there is something peaceful about it. Yet, when the temperature drops I feel my anxiety rise.

A recent storm happened during the week. As the snow fell, my mind wondered from work and I started fretting about picking up my kids from school. Would the roads be icy? What would traffic be like? Should I head out early? Thankfully, I was able to break away from work and get everyone home safely.

The storm kept my boys out of school for a few days. At first, they loved it. Building a snowman, having a snow ball fight, then coming inside and watching cartoons. They were in heaven for a while, but after a few days their glee turned to boredom. My oldest son even told me, “I hope we can go back to school tomorrow.” You know things are bad when your middle schooler wants to go back to school. 😊

Thankfully the schools were back open the following day. On the heels of this storm, another storm is on its way. You’d think my kids would be happy to have more snow, but they’ve told me they’re ‘over it.’ My sons can’t meet up with friends and do their normal activities. They are feeling restless. They even think our cat has cabin fever (our indoor/outdoor cat hates going out in the snow, but also hates staying indoors all day).

We’re trying to figure out how to spend our time together as we remain home bound. We’re grateful for electricity. We’re grateful for warmth, and a roof over our head. I’m sure we’ll figure it out — whether it’s playing board games, working on puzzles, watching a movie or baking together. I love the time together, but could do without the snow.

Has weather ever kept you and your family at home for an extended period of time? How did you and your family combat cabin fever?

Shutdown & Adults Behaving Badly

How were you or your family affected by the government shutdown?

I think we all were. Whether we were directly impacted — having a government job that ceased to pay, or indirectly — those that rely on the services of those government workers that were no longer getting paid, and for what?

There was a range of emotions our family went through as the shutdown extended — anger (this is ridiculous, people are hurting), disbelief (I can’t believe American workers are being made to suffer over a non-crisis), and empathy (what can we do to help those who are hurting because of this?).

As a parent, the greatest threat to undermining our teachings of morals, values and beliefs to our kids (which is a key part of parenting) is adults behaving badly. And what we’ve seen during this shutdown is adults do just that and in the worst way — digging in and abusing their power for their own gain (saving face, pride or an insatiable desire to win at literally any cost). It is sickening to me when I see other adults do this (no less on such a grand scale) and hard to explain to my kids.

“Why are they doing this? Don’t they know they’re really hurting good people?” One son asked. “That’s a great question,” I replied, “Sometimes people make threats to get others to do something they want. People are fighting against the threat, but the way those that shut the government down are fighting — by not paying people — is actually making our country more vulnerable. As a citizen it’s really frustrating to see what’s happened. Even though mom and dad travel for work, I wish the TSA workers would have stopped showing up right from the beginning. I wouldn’t have liked being stuck in another city, but at least the shutdown would have ended sooner and the tactic the leadership was hoping to use to get their way wouldn’t have worked sooner.”

Yes, I probably over explained but I wanted my sons to better understand the situation.

They seemed to understand what I was saying, but I know that it’s doesn’t help my cause as a parent — every time an adult behaves badly, it tells a child that an ideal we ask of our children to strive for, from a behavioral standpoint, is to be questioned. Why do I need to behave when those much older than I who should be setting the example, and are our supposed leaders no less, do not? And so now my sons have a truer sense for how the real world works. Sad.

How are you helping your child understand the shutdown? How do you help them understand a situation better when they see adults behaving badly?

March with Me

What causes are important to you and your family?

My son came home from school in December and said, “Mom, the Women’s March is coming up in January, will you march with me?” I was so consumed with all the holiday obligations going on, it hadn’t crossed my mind what might be coming up in January. “That sounds great, but why are you so interested in doing the March?,” I asked. “Because our teacher gave us a choice — participate in a event for a cause and write a 300-word essay about your experience, *or* don’t participate and write a ten page paper on the topic.” I could see the choice was easy for him. He certainly liked the idea of the shorter written assignment, and I believe he felt a bit ‘left out’ when I marched in the 2017 March without him. He wanted to see what all the buzz was about.

The buzz was noticeably less this year — you’ve potentially heard about factions in the leadership levels, numbers of people thinking why bother, what’s going to change, and there was a part of me that was asking myself the same questions — do I want to do this? There is a million excuses I could use not to walk — I’ve got other things to do, I’m tired, the weather isn’t great, etc. But of course I wanted to participate, even if it wasn’t necessarily convenient — I needed to set an example for my son that there are things worth fighting for, and you have to show up sometimes (even when you’re tired, have other things to get done, etc.) because it’s just that important.

I tried to get my son prepared for smaller numbers at the March, he had heard me tell the store many times how overwhelming (in a good way) it was at the numbers of people who came out in 2017 and I was afraid he’d be disappointed, “there may not be a lot of folks here, I really don’t know what to expect.” He responded soon after we arrived, “Mom, there’s a lot of people here, what were you talking about?” I shrugged. “Guess I was wrong,” I smiled.

The organizers brought up several speakers who spoke on many topics including equality, inclusion and safety for women, kids, LGBTQ, immigrants, the poor and Native Americans. Several people came to the March because they are angry at our country’s leadership, and someone started a chant against the current administration. My son was quick to point out, “This isn’t about Trump. This is about what’s wrong with our country and what we need to do to fix it.” He wanted to spend less time complaining about the problem and hearing ways people could fix it. I was impressed.

We started walking with the crowd, and the number of people participating and cheering on the walkers, seemed to grow as we walked along the route. The atmosphere was very positive and uplifting, people were angry, but being surrounded by so many people that want the same things — working together, being kind to one another, making things safer, more accessible for everyone — reminded me of the good we have in every community.

We finished the March and I asked my son what stood out to him about the day. “The number of people,” he said. We checked the numbers on the way home. I’d underestimated how large the crowd was. I said probably a few thousand were there, my son guessed around 50+ thousand. The news confirmed over 85K came — wow!

I can’t wait to march again next year. I think the teacher’s assignment to have the kids participate in a cause was a brilliant idea. I hope either my son on his own, or by incentive of his teachers asks me the same question next year. “Mom, will you march with me?” Yes. Yes. Yes.

What cause is important to you and your family? What motivates you to take action?