Posts Tagged "obstacles"

Splitting Hairs

Posted by on Apr 8, 2010 | 4 comments

Splitting Hairs

Like most moms on a budget, I decided I could handle the task of cutting my kids’ hair.  They have curly hair, how hard could it be?

For one, I have no idea how to cut hair.

Secondly, the children who require grooming have two completely different heads of hair.  Lennon has baby-fine, thin curly hair that is often straight, making him look like a small Nick Nolte on a bad day.   Jack has a thick head of unruly curls that are sometimes not curls, and are often chunks that stick out in a chaotic jumble.

And of course, running a not-so-distand third, there is the tiny little fact that Jack is a tad sensitive about people messing with his head.

First, a bit of history.  Jack got his first haircut at 22 months, after I looked at him one day and saw a tiny Leif Garrett looking back at me (for those of you not as ancient as myself, think a male Farrah Fawcett).

This hair was made for dancin’.

Something needed to be done.  At that point in time, I had more sense (and only one toddler and a 5-month-old), and left it to a professional.  We also didn’t know that Jack was anything but “rambunctious.”   He made it through that experience with the cutest cut ever, and I was convinced we’d use that hairdresser again and again and again.

Professional hair. It only looks easy.

I mean come on, wouldn’t you?  That’s a cute kid right there.

Of course we hadn’t taken him to a real salon, mind you.  We went to one of those “kiddie salon and play place” posh joints in Beverly Hills, where the stylist was actually from a real salon and just needed some extra cash or owed someone a large favor.  She was awesome.  She also quit soon after our visit, and the establishment stopped offering toddler haircuts.

So I did what any mom would do after losing her favorite stylist, I let the child’s hair grow.  And grow.  And grow. Until I finally decided on a whim one night that I could certainly remember what the haircut looked like (I have photos!!), and it just couldn’t be that hard to replicate.  I put Jack in his high chair in front of a movie, and commenced the “styling.”  Did I mention I do not, in fact, know how to cut hair?  I felt obligated to document the hatchet job.

Mama is not a professional hairdresser. Obviously.

That’s just the back.  The front was a mess of cowlicks and too-short spots.  I comforted myself with the knowledge that moms throughout the ages have achieved this level of ineptitude, and many children lived to tell the tale.

I once again vowed to leave the hairdressing to the professionals.  And once again, Jack’s hair grew.  A lot.  Like a whole lot.  I let it grow for a whole year.

Surfer dude.

I know, I know.  He looks awesome in those photos.  A rockin little surfer dude.  And if it looked like that all of the time, he’d always have that hair.  But that was fresh out of the bath, and within an hour it had once again achieved Farrah-ness.  What you also can’t see is the child has enough hair on his head to stuff several pillows and still be too big.  In a Los Angeles summer, that’s a hot head of hair.

At this point Jack was 3, and we knew all about his autism and his serious aversion to all things concerning his head.  I did my homework and found a kids’ salon in the Valley who specialized in dealing with sensory-sensitive children and made an appointment.  I made an appointment for Lennon, too, who would be getting his very first haircut.

Not. happy.

He was not amused.

The stylist took over an hour and a half to cut his hair, and did a servicable job.  They had videos, toys and trains, and she explained everything to him as she worked.  She showed him the scissors, used the buzzer on Daddy first (Jack still wouldn’t have any part of it), and let him play with the water spritzer.  But the salon is an hour from our home, and I wasn’t all that excited about the cut.  Lennon could go with his Daddy to the local SuperCuts and be just fine, and I decided, once again, that I could attack Jack’s mop on my own.

I was smart about it, at least.  I started by just trimming when it got unruly, bribing him with cookies for a snip here and there.  I cut it dry, and didn’t even bother with the spray bottle of water that invoked a screeching fit by its very presence.  As we both got more used to the idea, I got braver.  I let his hair grow longer, and cut more style into it.  I even started cutting Lennon’s hair.  I love his curls, and the SuperCuts folks always buzz his head.  I trim around the bottom and he looks like a cute little frat boy.  I give him ice cream or a popsicle, and he’s happy.

Jack always agrees to the haircut, after haggling for a proper bribe, then bails about halfway through the process.  He’s ok with me cutting the top and sides, but cannot stand when I get near the nape of his neck.  Coincidentally, that’s where the bulk of his hair is.  I end up having to beg him to come back to the chair, adding more treats to the bribe, and even then he rarely lets me finish in one sitting.  Quite often I’m snipping and shaping here and there for a week.

I know I’m saving money with Lennon’s hair, but I’m not sure about Jack’s.  I actually think I’m spending more on bribes than I would to drive the hour and pay someone to do it for me in one sitting.

Nowadays I take a perverse pride in the occasional chunk I cut out of Jack’s hair.  I know how hard won the right to get near him with scissors was.  And how many popsicles it took to do it.

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What have you done to your child’s hair?  How do you get your ASD child’s hair done?

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Let’s Talk About It

Posted by on Apr 6, 2010 | 2 comments

Let’s Talk About It

I seem to have violated a social more here.  Evidently, and unbeknownst to me, you’re not supposed to talk about autism.  And in no way, shape or form are you supposed to laugh about it.  Autism isn’t funny.  It’s devastating.  It’s horrible.  It’s a tragedy.

I beg to differ, on all counts.

To begin with, I refuse to be quiet about something that has touched our family.  Pretty much everyone knows my husband was adopted, and the circumstances surrounding his adoption (it’s a pretty interesting story, actually).  I don’t hide the fact that I was married before.  I call it my “training wheels” marriage, and that experience helped me be the better wife and partner I am today.  It also gave me better perspective in choosing a proper spouse.  These are life experiences that have shaped us as a family.

But wait, you say.  Adoption and divorce are events, not afflictions.

Ok, I have terrible eyesight, and have had glasses since I was 18 months old.  David is the palest person on the face of the earth, and actually appears purple in some beach photos.  Jack has autism.

How can I compare bad eyesight and a lack of skin pigmentation with autism?  It’s easy.  Each one is something we were born with.  I can’t change my eyes any more than David can change his skin or Jack can change his brain.  I wear glasses and contacts, David wears sunscreen (and I use Photoshop on our beach photos), and Jack asks questions and looks at things a little differently than the rest of us.  I wouldn’t mess with his brain any more than I’d mess with my eyes (and I have some funky eyes that can’t be corrected with surgery).

Still, there are those who insist that “we just don’t talk” about things like autism.  Why stigmatize the child with labels?  Why put up additional walls?  It makes me think of the wonderful Neil Simon play and movie “Brighton Beach Memoirs,” where all afflictions and diseases are whispered.  Oh my, she has cancer.  Goodness, he had a heart attack.  Ooooohhhh, he has autism.

I argue that whispering about something makes it worse.  When my mother had stage IV breast cancer, we had several rules.  First, you do not capitalize breast cancer.  Do not give the beast any more importance than it deserves.  You will never see me capitalize autism unless it is part of a title or the first word in a sentence.  Second, you do not whisper about breast cancer, you roar about it.  I will not whisper about something – anything – that affects my child and my family so profoundly.  I will roar about it.  Here, there and everywhere.

I will scream it from the highest mountain, I will use the word in front of my child when I talk to you.  I will not shelter Jack from the thing that makes him different and special, nor will I shelter you.  Some people are uncomfortable when I talk about autism, especially with Jack present, but I maintain that is not my problem.  It is not Jack’s problem.  That is their problem.  Anyone who is uncomfortable about autism – or any affliction, disease, disorder, etc. – needs to take some time for self-reflection.  I’m not going to hit the mute button to make someone else feel better.

Autism is not a tragedy for us.  It is not devastating or horrible.  I won’t lie and say I wish my child didn’t have to deal with autism and all of the drama and challenges it brings, nor will I deny that we were crushed when we got his diagnosis.  But that feeling passed quickly, and we moved on.  And we keep moving on.

And you know what?  Autism is some really funny stuff.  We are a happy family and we laugh every day.  I want Jack to know that the thing that makes him different can bring him as much joy as frustration.  I want him to read this someday and know that the challenging times were good ones for us.

I want him to laugh, and I hope you do, too.  It’s ok.  We’re not whispering about autism, we’re roaring.

With laughter.

Autism. In your face.

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How do you deal with people who think you shouldn’t talk about something like autism?

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At The Movies

Posted by on Apr 4, 2010 | 3 comments

We have never taken our children to the movies. We watch films all the time at home, but we have never braved an actual theatre with children in tow. At first it was age and the wiggles that stopped us, but now it’s the fear that at least one of us will be trapped in the lobby with a freaked-out Jack.

There is hope for us yet.

AMC Theatres, in partnership with The Autism Society of America, is now showing sensory-friendly movies for families affected by autism in select communities.  The sound is turned down, the lights are kept up, guests are free to move around as necessary, and children with special diets are welcome to bring their own snacks.  All shows are at 10am.

Click here to learn about the program and movie schedule, and click here to find a theatre near you.

Jack might just get to see Toy Story 3 in the theatre after all.  That is, if he doesn’t run screaming from Buzz Lightyear first.

 

Update: 6/10: Victory!

Victory

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Here’s the movie schedule for the next few months –

April 10 – How to Train Your Dragon
May 22 – Shrek 4
June 26 – Toy Story 3
July 17 – Despicable Me
August 7 – Cats & Dogs 2
September 25 – Guardians of Ga’Hoole
October 9 – The Zookeeper

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How did you get your toddler used to going to the movies?  What ridiculous things did they do on their first trips?  Have you ever taken your sensory-sensitive child to the movies?


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Fears Take Flight

Posted by on Mar 30, 2010 | 1 comment

Every kid has fears.  My nieces used to be afraid of dogs.  Kieran is afraid of strangers and anyone who wants to come between him and his nursies.   I’m sure Lennon is afraid of something, but aside from tofu,I haven’t come across it yet (it’s certainly not heights, speed, animals or chocolate).  Most fears you can plan for, and usually get around or deal with somehow.

Then there’s Jack, whose fears depend on the direction of the wind and the mood of the gods.  Last week Jack loved the movie “Cars,” this week he’s terrified of the tractors.  One day he adores balloons, and the next (after an especially big one pops), they’re straight from hell.

Yesterday we made our last trip to the San Diego Zoo before our membership expires, and both big boys had been excited about riding on the double-decker tour bus.  The same one we’ve ridden on every visit.  Jack has even been building double-decker buses with his Little People vehicles and giving his little trains guided tours of the zoo he built in his room (especially Julia).  The entire 2 hours in the car he was all a-chatter about the lions and tigers and bus, oh my.

Then we approached the bus, and it happened.  It made “the sound.”

“I don’t love that sound.”

And that, as they say, was that.

He wouldn’t get on the bus.  He wouldn’t go near the bus.  He wouldn’t walk past a bus for fear we’d make him get on it.  And when it made “that sound” (the whoosh of exhaust as it departed), he stuck his fingers firmly in his ears and wouldn’t take them out until it was well out of sight.

He did, however, want to ride on the SkyWay.

Jack on the SkyWay

 

Much less scary than a bus.

 

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Have you ever had to change your plans on a dime because of an unexpected fear?  Has your child ever jumped right into a new or unexpected situation?


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Why We Should Celebrate Health Care Reform

Posted by on Mar 22, 2010 | 0 comments

Politics aside, the plain truth is now autistic children cannot be denied health care coverage due to their “pre-existing condition.” 

It’s a good day in America.

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