In Appreciation of B.

Lately, in the midst of some discussions about "recovery" and "cures", with some talk of high- or low-functioning kids mixed in, I've had a real chance to think. I've realized that so often I think about the twins in terms of their relative progress. Who has said what word, who can take their own shoes off (neither!), who can stack one block on top of another. It's exhausting. And it's making me feel like a failure at mothering B.

Not a failure, that's too strong. But I try the same things with each boy, in fact B. has gotten more therapy, and their development is so dramatically different.

But starting now I've had enough of seeing B. in terms of what he's not doing yet. I want to enjoy him for his B.-ness. He dances in front of the mirror. He shakes with pleasure when he sees an FBI warning on a favorite DVD. He says a word now and then, for his own enjoyment. He absolutely loves the pool and the bathtub. He finds Angelina Ballerina hilariously funny. When he hears the "Between the Lions" theme, he screams with excitement. He likes to rough-house and jump on the big bed. Occasionally he'll stare into my eyes.

I've read a lot of other moms describing this feeling, but I didn't get it. I was still too new to the situation, trying to squeeze all the floortime I could into their "window". Tonight, I'm content (and unbelievably lucky) to be B's mom, just as he is, and however he ends up being.

Overcoming my prejudices

Lately I have been reading the book "Let Me Hear Your Voice", by Catherine Maurice. I'd heard of it many times, but avoided because I associated it with the words "Lovaas" and "recovery", both of which I have mixed feelings about.

I was immediately drawn in by her writing, and by the fact that she's not any sort of zealot (so far, but I haven't finished it yet), just a very hard-working and loving mom. Even though she gives so much credit to her ABA therapists, I think equal credit goes to her, and all her "incidental teaching". She sang songs and played and talked with her kids for hours every day.

I was particularly moved by the section of the book in which she realizes that her youngest child is also autistic. The huge effort she put into convincing herself that it wasn't true reminded me of myself almost a year ago. I remember staring at each twin thinking, "He just smiled at me, he can't be autistic"..."He is climbing up into my lap, so he can't be autistic" and so on.

It is a little hard to read this book and not think "If I hired enough people, and spent every second getting my boys to interact, could they also progress so fast?" G. is pretty easy to engage, and even seeks me out, but B. spends quite a bit of time doing his own thing. It's hard work to get him interested in things, and it might help if I hired a fresh face to work with him. While I think he should have times to relax and be himself, I also feel like I could use some help from somebody with experience interacting with kids like him.

As far as the concept of "recovery" goes, neither my husband nor I consider ourselves completely "normal", so we've never expected to have kids who were so. To fit into our family, it really benefits one to be, at the least, eccentric. But I do find Maurice's book encouraging, because her kids started out from a point a lot like mine. I feel re-energized, not necessarily to go out and set up an ABA program, but to believe that the songs we're singing and the goofy games we play are on the right track.

Movie Note: Finally saw Little Miss Sunshine, and loved it. I never cry in movies, and I cried all through this one, although officially it's a comedy, so that's a little odd.

Other people are starting to notice

We took the twins to Chik-Fil-A (great indoor playground) this morning, for a chance to interact with other kids, and let's face it, to get out of the house. Jeff (big brother) is at nursery school, and Lori, one of our amazing helpers, was along to toddler-wrangle.

On our last few outings, I've noticed some funny looks, and I'm realizing that the twins' differentness is becoming noticeable to others. I believe we're are entering into a whole new phase of autism-parenting: deciding how much to tell to whom. For a long time I've been relying on saying, "They're very shy", which is true in a very extreme sort of way, I suppose. So far it's not actual misbehavior setting them apart. They have an unusual way of approaching playgrounds, they tend to dance around a lot, especially in front of mirrors, and they use signs rather than speech, most of the time.

It makes the twin situation feel so much more real now that others are finally noticing. For months, it's been me trying to convince people (Early Intervention, their dad, their pediatrician) that there was a problem, namely PDD. Now I find myself wanting to explain to strangers that it's not a problem, it's just the twins being who they are.

Favorite twin moments of the morning:
Murray sitting calmly in a "big-boy" chair at Chik-Fil-A, enjoying his chicken nuggets
Anthony attempting to dance "The Pigeon" with Bert on a Sesame St. DVD

Favorite Jeff moment:
The return of his Captain Feathersword pirate costume (flowered sun hat, sunglasses, rain boots, and a giant feather)