Scant Words

Morgan

Round cheeks
Small eyes
that grow large
once in a while
Hands gentle
hold mine

Garret

Face angled
to the sun, moon
and stars
singing
Fingers long
flick,
touch my face
softly like wind

Morgan

wordless yet
intent spills
this morning, he sits beside me
says,
"Mmm- mah,"
and then none
Small eyes
grow large
Hands gentle
touch my arm
hold my Heart

Garret

in the dark
head rests in the crook of my arm
scant words
says,
"Aaa-peee,"
I bring him close
my Heart
sings.

Living and Breathing Poetry

"Garret, do you want bread?"
"Wuh-er." (Water)

"What color would  you like  to use this time?"
"Yeyow." (Yellow)

"Bwed," (Bread) he asks of me.
"You ask Ate (Caregiver) to toast bread."
"Ah-teh, bwed."

Many years ago, he wouldn't even look at me in the eye for more than a second.  Verbal language was absent. But now. Now is different. Now is better. Now is so far from where we began. Now he speaks to me. He responds to me. He tells me what he wants albeit, singly.  One amazing-sounding word at a time.  

I think about how I love and write poetry. I wish someday my boys could understand it, could come to love the intricacy and magnificence of language both in its written and spoken form.

The irony of my life does not escape me. It in fact poses greater questions that I ask myself everyday:

As a mother, am I willing to let go of the kind of language I love so much and embrace another form of language, one that goes beyond any written or spoken form, one that is in its purest, most elemental form?  And how will I speak to my boys in a way that they will truly understand?

As a mentor, teacher and in other roles in my life, the questions stand. And the answer remains unchanged everyday even in the most trying ones--

Yes, with all my heart. I will let go, embrace and speak  the language devoid of any unnecessary abstraction, metaphors, and flowery words. I will nourish them with the language that is simple, clear and direct to the point.

Over the years I find gifts of insight-- Elegance  in simplicity. Poetry in clarity. Beauty in a place where the intended meaning of the speaker and the understanding of those who hear the message come together effortlessly.

In the years to come, if my heart is wide enough and willing to expand some more, more insights abound waiting to be discovered just like the words that my dear Garret slowly and wonderfully unearths. Just like the pieces of understanding my feisty Morgan unravels.  One amazing miracle at a time.  Perhaps the most precious treasure I will find is that I will realize,  if I haven't already, that my boys are living and breathing poetry all by themselves and that my wish has already been granted long before I expected it to come true.

Autism Proof

I never thought the day would come when I would be explaining to my son why I spanked him. But it did. And for me, for us in our family, this is another milestone achieved. It's not so much as me explaining to him why I had to do it as it is he understanding my explanation. As in really understanding the events that led me to him spanking him. And perhaps truly understanding the most important reason of all.



Garret is 8 years old. He has single words now here and there. A-koo (Apple), Ana-na (Banana), Graesh (Grapes), Fish, Skweh (Square) among those that are more or less consistent, clear and unmistakable. Two word-phrases still elude him though. Conversations, all the more. But I haven't lost hope. If there's one thing I still believe, it is that one day, my little prince and I will be talking under the sun, the moon and the stars non-stop. One day. And I could just imagine the things we would talk about. Or maybe I will just gape in wonder at him when the time comes and he will be doing all the talking.

Language is expressive and receptive. There can be no true language without both. Expressive language obviously can be measured by how much a child speaks and how he speaks, uses the words, etc. Receptive language, on the other hand can be partly measured by how much a child expresses himself. And this is where the discrepancy happens, I believe. Because so much of what a child understands does not necessarily translate into verbal responses. After all we have what we call "choices". Even at a very young age, children begin to practice making choices, choosing what to answer. Yes or No. Cake or Ice Cream. Blue or Red. Behave or misbehave. And it seems, as they grow older, mental mapping, reflection, pondering, processing any input from the environment all the more contribute to the quantity and quality of verbal responses and behavior, of course. I would love to cite a reference for this paragraph but I think I do not need to because these few sentences are products of what we all experience. Common sense, you may call it, don't you think?

So back to the point of this blog post. Two nights ago, I spanked Garret. Our newly-cropped ears Dobe, Riley was trying to play with him, licking him as he went out of the room,which Garret does not like. So he pinched the ear of Riley. I called his attention once. Still he did not heed my reprimand. He pinched Riley's ear again. This time I swatted his bottom with one firm smack. He looked at me, went to our room and hid under his pillows. His papa called to him. He refused to approach his father. He sobbed quietly, looking at me like it was my fault he was crying, which of course was understandable. It went on like this for 10 minutes or so until I couldn't take it anymore and approached him. He was lying face down. I did the same beside him and put my arm around his back. I stroked his hair and said, "Garret, I spanked you because you did not listen to mama. Riley's ears will get hurt if you pinch it. And I have to spank you because you have to learn to listen to what mama says." Or something like that. I tried to make my words really simple and easy to understand. He looked at me, tears in his eyes. I continued, "Mama spanked you because Mama loves you." At this, I left him alone to process everything I said. After three minutes or so, he stood up and joined Morgan jumping on the bed, smiling slowly as if nothing happened. And that was when it struck me, as in really struck me-- Garret understood me. Really understood what I just said. In his own non-verbal way. Actions do speak louder than words ever will. He understood more than any two-word phrases and sentences could ever measure. But more than anything, I was amazed at the thought that what I said got through to him. Somehow beneath the seemingly sound-proof walls that autism builds around the world of my son, my words were autism-proof. I connected with my son on a different level, and he connected with me. And that meant everything. Because just when I was up to my neck with self-doubt and on the brink of losing my patience and perhaps some parts of my faith all together, a breakthrough like this happens.

So what have I learned from this? Three things: One, language is more than just spoken words. More importantly, it is seen, clearly seen in what is not said. What I say, what I do, my little prince is taking it all in. As Morgan does. They understand everything that goes on around them in their own way perhaps even in a more hypersensitive manner. They may have autism but they may be more in tune with life than I am. So this is a note to self in my other aspects in life as well. I have to be more sensitive to body language, facial expressions, subtle nuances that people I interact with, communicate with me. Sometimes, words only serve to cover what is the truth.

Two, even if I begin to lose hope and question if any of what I'm doing as a parent is ever working, even if I forget the one true thing that gets my boys through, the one powerful force that nothing could ever surpass, the Universe does not forget and somebody up there is just taking it all in as well. And when the time is right, he / she tells me, shows me in his own verbal and nonverbal way as well, like saying, "I did not forget. And here it is, what you need. I may have had to postpone some miracles so you would learn the value of patience, discernment, reflection and gratitude always. And I did this for no other reason than because I love you." Well, what do you know, my stubbornness and know-it-all attitude is also given a firm smack on the bottom.

And three to wrap it all up in one tidy neat bow: Love, what I have for my boys, what the Universe has for me unconditionally, is autism proof always. :)

Dinner, Speculations and a Dose of Reflection

I have some hesitation in writing this particular post. I fear I may be too judgmental of parents or families who have neuro-typical kids. And that I may be contradicting my own mantra of refusing to criticize my neighbor until I have walked a mile in their shoes. But then, when I think about it, when will I really get to walk a mile in their moccasins? Literally? Never. After all we are given different life circumstances and resources to go with it. I can only imagine and speculate what I would do if I were in their situation. Pretty much like everyone else, I think.

What I can do though is to bring out memories of my neuro-typical childhood and upbringing, examine my own values and philosophies borne out of my present circumstances and create a scenario and solution had I been given other parents’ predicament. The predicament I am talking about?

My partner and I were out for dinner last night and beside our table was a family finishing their meal. This was the scenario—the father and another adult, the uncle perhaps and the mother were talking animatedly, exchanging stories, etc. There were three kids—all boys. 2 were most likely in their teens and the youngest probably 9 or 10 years old. The 9 year-old was busy eating his food. The older boys were busy. Busy playing games on the iPhone. Both of them were crouched over, silent and totally engrossed in what they were playing. There was no conversation exchanged. When it was time to go, the father announced a faint, “Let’s go.” The two older boys stood up, but their heads still on their respective iPhones, even while pushing back their chairs. Still no words uttered. Not even a “thank you, Dad or Mom for the dinner.”

Or maybe they said thank you in the car…attention still focused on the game on the cellular phone. Or maybe they didn’t.

I thought to myself when they left the restaurant, “ What a waste of time and money. And the boys! Wow, they have postures of a 90 year old man all hunched over.”
So why this post? I think maybe because these are the times when I imagine myself in the shoes of “normal” parents. And how I imagine it to be! So if you would be so kind to allow me my “musings”.

If I were in their shoes, when I take my children out to dinner, NO PHONES ALLOWED. ONLY TALKING—face to face. What to talk about? ANYTHING! Under the sun. And eating of course—enjoying the flavors of the dish served on the table.

If I were in their shoes, I would ask endless of questions to my kids. If they get annoyed by my constant pestering, I would pester then some more just to elicit a meaningful response so we can have a meaningful conversation.

If I were in their shoes, I would encourage my kids to ask questions. Endless questions. I know some parents complain how they tire out answering their kids’ questions to the point of annoyance. Again, I can only imagine. But maybe if I were in their place, I would stop the barrage of questions only when it is time to sleep. Even if my answers would eventually turn out to be silly, maybe I wouldn’t mind and maybe they wouldn’t mind. I know it would feed their souls as much as it would their intellectual abilities.

If I were in their shoes and the kids ask me why the sky is blue and the sea green, the sun bright yellow, gleaming and glaring and the rain comes pouring out in torrents and why the stars twinkle in the night sky, I would surely answer them to the best of my ability until they are satisfied until the next question pops in their head.

If I were in their shoes, I would ask them how their day went, who’s going out with who, what’s the latest fashion trend or computer game or television show or what’s trending nowadays, What or who’s following, etc... And when they do answer, I would listen, really listen.

If I were in their shoes I would encourage my kids to ask me questions about my life, how I came to be, my parents—their grandparents, how I am the mother they see everyday. I would tell them my story. The stories of their lolos and lolas (Filipino for Grandmother and Grandfather), their ama’s and angkong’s. (Chinese for Grandmother and Grandfather) I would tell them my dreams—accomplished or yet to be realized, lessons learned along the way and experiences that could never be bought or taught in the classroom. Even if they seem to be uninterested, I would make them be interested because there are lessons to be learned and values to be taught.

If I were in their shoes, I would ask my kids “What do you want to be when you grow up? What do you like to do? What are your dreams?” And it would not matter if their answers were silly or not. What would matter to me is that they spoke of their dreams. And they have stories to tell.

If I were in their shoes, there would be hundreds of stories to tell, even thousands. And my kids would hopefully learn to look people in the eye when they speak, confidently and sure of themselves because they are more than what meets the eye. They have stories to tell. Real ones. And they know how to communicate it to the world.

So anyway, enough of my musings. Let me wrap it all up with this—If only I were in their shoes. But I am not. My life is a whole different universe. My boys are worlds apart from theirs. And I am not saying, my boys are any less than theirs intellectually. They’re just differently-abled. But here’s the thing about being different, we live in one and the same world. What I do know is that in our world, to be able to communicate—to speak is essential for survival, and not just to voice out one’s needs for food and water. Because we are social beings, we thrive on relationships. No man is an island. And for relationships to even begin is to learn how to make a good conversation, to tell stories, whether real or fiction. And how do you expect a 14-year old to establish good relationships if half the time, his body posture is crouched over a gadget? They are able to speak. Let them speak, even if it would annoy you to bits. I know I would. If only I were in your shoes.

Over and above all my speculations of what I would do if I were to walk a mile in other “normal” parents’ moccasins, I have come to accept that Autism has given my kids a language of their own. A language that goes far beyond words and semantics. A language that speaks volumes louder than words. I have learned to see the beauty of it. But most of the times, it creates hard challenges for us parents, and most especially for our boys as they strive to live in our world…as you can only speculate and imagine as well. This is why for them to even utter a single word is absolute heaven for us. This is why if I were in your place—parents with “normal” kids, I would be grateful every single minute that my kids can speak… and not only a single word, they can speak stories, volumes and volumes of stories that emanates from their heart, minds and souls.

So maybe, when the times come when your kids pester you relentlessly with their questions, and you get annoyed, maybe what you can do is to imagine yourself in my shoes and in the shoes of all the Autism parents out there and to speculate what you would do if you were to walk a mile in our moccasins. Maybe then, this time, you would react differently to your kids. Maybe you would realize how blessed you are to have kids who can express their thoughts, feelings and emotions in a clear understandable manner. And maybe then, your kids will be able to set aside the iphone for a dose of good conversation with you. Maybe they will have better postures this time around, sitting straight and relaxed looking people in the eye. Maybe this time when you eat out, the bill you pay for dinner and time spent with your kids will be well worth it.