It's a Brain thang...

The mind is a beautiful thing.  It's such an amazing organ, with a complexity that is still not fully understood by the top scientist.  Strange, isn't it.  What makes us run, what controls every part of your body is still yet understood.  That in itself is astonishing.  What is even more perplexing is when the mind doesn't work and perform exactly as it is intended to do.  When it undergoes some problem, illness or abnormality, odd goings on occur that can be down right scary.  Issues like Alzheimer's, Parkinson's and strokes can cause the individual not to be able to control their thoughts, their body and the even their present day experiences in the world.  This is horrible.  Unthinkable really.  My biggest fear is to develop one of these conditions, because I can't imagine what life would be like suffering like that.  It wasn't until the other day, when my husband was struggling with a low period from his bipolar that I realized that conditions like bipolar, depression and other mental health conditions are no different, they are scary and the person who suffers is no different than any other "sick" person.  Not wanting it, or even asking for it, yet having to deal with it. 

For some reason, society is a big bully to those who suffer from mental illness.  Crazy, difficult, lazy, rude, odd.....these are all labels that we use when we describe people that have mental illness.  I have even heard people in the medical field describe people that have depression or bipolar in their medical chart as being "going to be a pain in their ass"  or "great, another psycho."  Now don't get me wrong, we use the word "crazy" around here to describe my husband, our house, etc, but what I am talking about is that preconceived discrimination towards someone who suffers from these conditions.  When you think about it, you don't hear of the 5K walk for the cure of depression, of the Gala for Bipolar, like you do for Alzheimer's, Parkinson's, and yes even Asperger's and Autism, a brain issue.  Why?  What's the dillio?  Why is there a stigma with this?  I think its because the illness is not visible in a sense and those that suffer from mental health can be a little difficult to live with.  For instance, sometimes those people with these issues are nothing short of being assholes.  They can be mean, hateful, stressful, jerks who seem like they care about nothing but themselves, or they do horrible things, or they say despicable things and in essence act crazy.  I get it, trust me.  And so, I can understand why we as a society don't want to be so kind with something like mental health.  But on the flip side, they do have a condition/syndrome/disease that is causing their brain to miss-fire.  Is that an excuse for their behavior...sort of.  If your head is not producing enough happy juice, "serotonin" then you are not going to be happy.  The end.  So, therefore, you are not going to by "happy" with others.  It would be nothing different then telling someone with the food poisoning to stop throwing up.  They can't.  They can't control it, and neither can someone with depression or any other thing.  But when you throw up, you clean it up and its over.  But when something is said or done, it's hard to undo.  And its harder to excuse someone for things done when they can function most of the time in their day to day lives or at least survive on their own.  When a person shakes uncontrollable or doesn't know their own son when they walk into the room, that is much more excusable and understandable.  It's more constant and the suffering is visible, tangible.  Depression is not like that, nor many other mental health issues.


I write this tonight because I feel bad.  I feel bad because when we are in the middle of not so nice times, I get so mad at my husband.  I hate what is happening and I want him to stop it.  I want him to be happy.  Why can't you just be happy, I think to myself so much.  And often times, I forget that sometimes, he honestly can't control it.  That I am sure that no one in their right mind would want to feel like that.  And then I feel bad that my husband for so long wanted no one to know that he has bipolar and for years before that wondered why he was the way he was.  I feel bad for those who I know need to get help but don't want that label on them as being "sad" or "depressed" or anything else.  People are going without help just to avoid what people think of them.  That's horrible.

My husband is a great man.  I tend not to write about him as much as I should because I'm a beaming mom of two-cute-as-can-be boys who wants to talk about her kids.  But I need to write more about him to help people understand that bipolar, much like autism, is just one aspect of our lives.  It's not pretty, but it's our reality.  And maybe if I share the funny things he says, or the things that happen to him during his day, it will help to take away the stigma that is attached to mental health diseases.  It will help people to not hear the terms, "depression," "bipolar," or "manic" and think....oh shit, its another wack job.  Instead to realize that these people are your co-workers, your family members or your friends.  You might know someone with these diseases right now.  Maybe instead, when they hear these diseases they will get a strange craving for a margarita......and that would be awesome!!!

Run, Run, Run we Go!

My aspie loves to run.  He has since he could walk!  He can run non-stop for hours, and I am not exaggerating with that.  Many people have commented on seeing my son run that they had no clue that a little one could run the way my guy runs.  It nothing more than remarkable.  I still don't know why he loves it so much, whether its the freedom, the burning off of energy, the whooshing of air over his body, or blocking out the rest of the world, but it does something to him that makes him go, and go and go. 

The other day, while we as a family were out taking a stroll, my aspie and I started to run.  During the run I had two ideas pop in my head.  1.  I have got to get into shape!  2.  We should have a 5K race in honor of my big boy!  The next day, I pitched the idea on Facebook and after getting a great response a charity was born.  With five other awesome women and my husband, we have created a 501 (c) 3, non-profit charity called:   Ross-s-Run!  We will be holding a 5K race, 5K walk/run, and a kids fun run were all proceeds will be going to the purchase of iPads for children on the autism spectrum.

If you are not aware, iPads are an amazing tool for children on the spectrum.  Children who cannot talk can use an app on the iPad that allows them to tap a certain button and speak through their iPad.  Children like my son who have Asperger's can learn how to make eye-contact and learn other social cues from other apps.  Actually, there are so many educational and autistic apps out there that most therapists, teachers and families have started using them with outstanding success.  For more information please watch the video below.



And so, I wanted to announce the launch of Ross-s-Run  tonight on this blog!!!  Please visit www.ross-s-run.com for more information about the event, about who we are and what we are trying to accomplish, to donate (if you don't live by us in the beautiful Southwestern, PA area), to find the application if you would like to apply, and to learn about all the other fun stuff that we will being doing on race day!!  We are also on Facebook at www.facebook.com/rosssrun if you want to stop by there and throw us a like!!  The more people who learn about this, the more money we can raise and the more families we can help!!!! 

Thank you so much for stopping by to read this blog.  It always amazes me how many people read it from all the countries around the world (I'm up to over 40 different countries!)  When more information comes available about Ross-s-Run I will post it under my normal blogs post to keep everyone informed!  Thank again!!

Cheeseburgers and Dipolar

I knew that the day would come when my aspie would begin to talk about him having Asperger's.  That day came a few nights ago during a monumental occasion that occurred that made his dad and I very, very proud.  I also knew exactly what to do when that moment would come based on my own experiences thanks to my parents.

I am adopted.  I have known that fact for as long as I can remember.  My parents decided when they adopted me to never keep it a secret; to always make it a non-issue and to let me ask questions about it over the years as I grew and became more curious.  For me, it's was exactly what I needed.  I remember my mom sitting me on the counter when I was around 5 or 6 and telling me that I was special.  I was special because I was a gift like no other because she and dad could not have children, yet another woman was so kind that she gave me to them.  It was called adoption and that they had adopted me.  I remember going to my friend's sleep over that night so excited to tell my friends my new found nugget of information!  They ewww'ed and awwww'ed over it and then we went back to little girl sleep over stuff.  As the year's went on I did have more questions and they were always them answered honestly and respectfully, and I truly appreciate it to this day.  I can't imagine figuring it out later in life or hearing people whisper around me about some family secret.  Instead, we took it on as our truth and would even have a little family laugh when people told us how much I looked like my mom or dad.  So I knew when my aspie started asking questions or would make a comment that my husband and I would do the same thing for our special gift. 

From the many first person books I have read about living with Asperger's this day was going to come sooner than later.  All these books described  people with this syndrome knowing that they were different from other kids as early as they could remember.  Each stated that they played differently, talked differently, or tried desperately to have friends and therefore realized that they themselves were a bit different.  Each of them said that they realized this around the age of 4, so I knew we were right there knocking on the door of self discovery.  This moment occurred with us verbally though the other night when my son drank from a DIFFERENT GLASS than his normal one!!

Sometimes I feel bad for all the parents out there with "neuro-typical" kids.  They miss out on some amazing, joyous occasions that call for cheers and applause.  You see, in a house with a child with autism, the day that your son can put on his shorts on by himself (at the age of 4, 5, 6, 7...), finally pees on the potty (at the age of 4, 5, 6, 7.....), or drinks from a different glass than the only one he could possibly drink from before is a HUGE occasion.  My aspie usually only drinks out of a Minnie mouse glass I got from Disney when I was six or so.  He does not like the textures of other glasses and will use sippy cups other places, but here its this glass.  AND only juice can go in this glass, nothing, and I do mean nothing else.  But the other night, my aspie ate something spicy.  He did it by accident and his mouth was on fire.  He ran into the kitchen and grabbed my glass of lemonade on the counter and didn't even think of the fact that he was drinking out of something different.  When I realized it, I said, "I'm so proud of you!!! You are drinking our of a new glass!!!!"  He stopped, looked, smiled and said, "I'm going to show Daddy!!!"  And with that he went running into the living room to do it for Daddy.  We hooted and cheered and he ran out of lemonade.  We went and got him more and did this a few more times admiring the pride on his face.  On yet another trip to the kitchen for more lemonade, he said, "Mommy, you are a silly dipolar!"  A what?  "A dipolar" he said again.  "Do you mean bipolar?"  I asked.  "Yeah, a dipolar like daddy!"  And with that I knew he was hearing and picking up on what Daddy and I have been talking about.  See, in this house we use these terms all the time.  Between this blog, the Facebook page (www.facebook.com/bipolaraspergersandmargaritas please like...I couldn't resist), and therapy these terms are heard and used all the time.  Seeing my opportunity I asked, "Honey, do you know you are special?"  "Yes, I know, I have Cheeseburgers!"  "Well, it's called Asperger's and yes you do have it.  You know what that means?"  "What?" still squirming with excitement from his new found glass.  I took his face in my hands, looked him in the eye and said, "It means that you are special because you are very smart and can run very fast!! It means that you are a gift to Daddy and I."  "He said, "Can I have another glass of lemonade?"  and with that the moment was over.  But it did show that he does know.  He does hear us talk.  And for right now, that it fine.  As he grows and has more questions, his father and I will answer them honestly and respectfully. 

Thanks Dad for being a great father!  Your special gift now knows exactly what to do with her special gift!!  For that I am "Eternally Grateful"  (from Toy Story 2.) 

Amazing Teachers....

Even though my aspie is only four years old, he has been in daycare/pre-school since he was six months old and hence we have had the opportunity to meet and have many teachers. Some of them were good, some of them bad and some of them amazing.  The uniquely amazing teachers have the ability to completely transform a child's school experience and therefore I wanted to expand and give tribute to these teachers that did that for my child. 

As my aspie began to get older, it was apparent that he was struggling with his school experience.  I can't tell you how many times I went to the owner/head teachers' office over my son.  Many times breaking into tears because I just knew my sweet son was so different when he was at home vs being at school, worrying that something was wrong.  At that point, my aspie was around 2 years old and I was just hoping it was a terrible two issue.  It was right around this time that we met Miss Trish.  Miss Trish is a beautiful, tall young lady with long brown hair and one of the prettiest smiles you have ever seen.  I knew Miss Trish was going to be good with my aspie the first time she met him.  On their first meeting, Miss Trish knelt down on his level to say hi to him.  She stayed with him until he was comfortable and took him away to play without too much crying.  It wasn't long until my son starting running towards Miss Trish when he saw her and would leap into her arms and she would swing him around.  To me they had an unspeakable connection that I haven't seen him have with anyone else besides his father, my dad and myself.  She seemed to innately understand what made my aspie upset and would stop it before it happened.  She also allowed my son to RUN!!!  He has to run to get out some extra energy and she let him do it!  My son loved her so much that we even asked her on many occasions to baby sit for us since she is the only one that my son would stay with....and he loved to see her come!  If we could have afforded for her to be a live in nanny for us, I would offered her the moon for her to do it!  She is that good.

His next teacher was Miss Nicole.  Oh Miss Nicole!  Miss Nicole is a gorgeous, petite, pixie cut brunette that has more spunk than a stick of dynamite.  She has so much energy that its infection to the kids.  My son was three when he had her and she got to do things that I still can't accomplish.  With Miss Nicole he began to write and use the scissors, make crafts and follow rules.  (He started doing this with Miss Trish and continued it with Miss Nicole.)  It was apparent that my son again was having some issues and Miss Nicole would try things until something worked for him.  He loved going to school and would talk about Miss Nicole all the time.  He still remembers the planets that she taught him, and still tells me that water makes plants grow and Miss Nicole told him that.  Miss Nicole pretty much ran the daycare/preschool that he was attending at that time and when she left for greener pastures, the school felt it deeply.  After she left, numerous teachers came and went none of them remotely came close to the care that Miss Trish or Miss Nicole gave to my son and hence it was time to change schools. 

Now enters Miss Melissa.  Talk about amazing.  Miss Melissa can light up any room that she walks into with her smile and laugh.  My son was extremely nervous going to this new school and so was I.  I knew that for my son this switch was going to be hard on him and I just didn't know what to expect.  But Miss Melissa has that loving mom touch that made me comfortable leaving my crying child with her.  It took some time for my apsie to warm up to the new school, but not to Miss Melissa.  I knew that he liked her when he would accidentally call me Miss Melissa, and would refer to her as his "mommy at school." Miss Melissa was also a big part of our lives because she was the one to point out that he might have something like Asperger's, has helped us in obtaining treatment and has been there ever step of the way through the process.  (Looking back, I have a feeling Miss Trish and Miss Nicole knew this too but he was too young to really say for sure when they had him.)

I have expressed before that my son has only a few people that he really talks to and trusts.  Us, my dad, and these three teachers are on this very short list.  To this day, my aspie still talks about Miss Trish and Miss Nicole even though its been a year and a half since he has seen them.  Miss Melissa of course he talks about nearly everyday given that he sees her two times a week. I wanted to honor them tonight because these three woman have been a big part of my son's life and have allowed him to learn, develop and nurture him outside of our care.  To prove my point on how much my son is attached to them, here are some quotes from my aspie (quotes are not word for word but this is what he meant, for some of them his wording was still lacking due to some speech issues and age):

• Oh you poor darling....you hurt your piggy.  You need a Band-Aid. Do you want me to kiss it?  (Talking to Miss Melissa when she hurt her foot.)
• Miss Trish runs fast like Dash (from The Incredibles).  I love when Miss Trish runs with me.
• Miss Nicole said that I was a good boy today.  Did you know that mommy?
• Miss Nicole sings the clean up song.  (And he still sings it today when he has to clean up his train in order to earn a movie. I think its from Barney which my son likes.)
• Miss Trish plays trains mommy.  Will you play trains with me?
• Miss Melissa is my mommy at school and I love her. 
• Can Miss Trish come over tonight?  (When I said no he said)  Then can I go to school to play with her?  (It was seven at night.)
• Mommy can you put your legs over me?  (While trying to fall asleep one night.)  Miss Trish does and it makes me feel so much better.
• I miss Miss Trish and Miss Nicole.  (He said one day when we passed his old school, followed by) But I don't miss that place!
• If Miss Trish lived with us would she be my other mommy?  (I asked why Miss Trish would live with us and he said) Because then we can play trains and run together. 

Coming from a boy that was mostly talking in movie quotes and is too shy to talk to most people (including his other grandparents) these quotes are a big deal.  Thank you so much for being amazing teachers.  You have made a big impact on my family and for that we are forever grateful to you!  On those hard days just remember that you might have a little aspie in your class that thinks the world of you, even if he can't show it in the "normal" ways.  For all your hard work, dedication, and love that you have given all kids, not just mine, I say, Thank You and the next margarita is on me!!!

***Please feel free to add you amazing teacher stories in the comments tab!  I would love to hear of the teachers that inspired you or your kids!!  You can add your stories here or on my Facebook page!!***

Tootie Butt

Aspie saw this picture and said, "Is that a tootie butt?"

For a long period of time, my aspie hated passing gas.  When I say hating it, I mean if it happened he would scream and cry and run out of the room as if his behind was on fire.  I could never figure out why something so harmless as a fart would cause such grief and agony to my little man.  Each time I would chase after him thinking that maybe something hurt, maybe he had to do a little more than toot, or just to comfort him after such a dreadful event occurred. It wasn't until he was a little older did we realize why he hated doing it.

As you could probably already tell, my family and this blog for that matter is not so PC.  To go a little further, my husband (and me, I have to admit) thinks that blowing wind is pretty funny.  We all do it, its a natural bodily act and therefore it really should not be that funny, but there is something about the unpredictability of it, the variability of the noise produced, and lets face it, those dreadful smells that make it funny.  Not to mention the whole family of lingo that goes with it makes it all the more amusing.  Let's see, there's crop dusting, silent bombs, toot, mouse on a motorcycle, the duck call, the Dutch oven, the bathtub fart, the burning brakes fart, the snart (sneeze fart), and the oh my gosh fart just to name a few.  To be honest, I didn't even realize that there was such a diction to passing gas until, of course, I met my husband.  I am guessing that this jargon is tossed around the Army bases and man caves pretty frequently, but escapes those girly things that us women do and hence we miss out on. Therefore, with my new found knowledge of toots, and with my husbands natural loving of the occurrence, if someone passes gas in our house, we think its sort of funny. 

For most families, a little laughing with farting would not be a problem; however, if you son happens to have Asperger's and you laugh in their direction, its a major deal.  For my son, any attention where laughing is occurring towards him can cause a major meltdown.  Even if its a little chuckle, it's too much for my aspie to bare.  Why?  Because it's unwanted attention.  Since one of his biggest fears is people looking at him, to look at him and then to laugh "at him" is pretty much a form of abuse in his eyes.  When he got older and could talk, he finally started yelling, "Stop laughing!!  I have had ENOUGH of you!"  We would often times just say to him, "We can laugh.  We are not laughing at you.  We are just laughing because it was funny."  This would not change anything, he would still scream and run.  To him, I think our explanation of laughing sounded like the adults in Peanuts, just some squeaky noises that form no real words and so he didn't understand it. 

Now in most "neuro-typical" families, if your kid does not find it funny that you laugh at his farts, you still laugh and move on living your life typically.  In a family with someone with autism, you obsess, or at least this mom obsesses.  I just wanted my kid to enjoy the silly things in life.  Life can be so serious, that sometimes the unpredictable event, like a toot, can just lighten it up a bit.  Plus, there are many things we do daily that are silly.  The baby walked into a glass sliding door the other day...it was funny, he laughed with us.  I slipped in the mud and fell and laughed with the kids.  If he can't get use to us laughing all together, and more so when he does somewhat embarrassing but funny, then that is a social problem.  So, mommy took action. 

Have you ever heard of the peanut butter jelly time song?  If not, play the clip below to get yourself familiar with it.  It's this crazy song that gets stuck in your head for days on end.  This song was popular when my aspie was 1 or so, and so I would sing it to him when we were about to do simple tasks like taking a bath (It's peanut butter tubby time), when we were eating, (It's peanut butter snacky time), and many other silly things.  Therefore, he was very familiar with the song and it is one of the very few songs that I can sing without him having a catastrophic meltdown.  So, in desperate times, I reach for this song and use it.  And so, mommy, being the amazing song writer that I am, wrote the now infamous song in the house of crazies, "Peanut butter tootie butt." I was waiting for the perfect time to release this single, so when Daddy did the deed one night at dinner I saw my opportunity.  "Daddy you have a tootie butt! It's Peanut butter tootie butt, peanut butter tootie butt, peanut butter, tootie, peanut butter, tootie, peanut butter tootie with a baseball bat!"  I sung it like it was the best and funniest thing ever. We ALL started laughing, including my aspie, who said, "Do it again Daddy."  Just so happened that he needed to do it again, and so I sung it again.  My aspie laughed and laughed with the rest of us.  Although he requested yet another on coir, Daddy didn't have it in him and so the moment passed.

A few days passed and I could hear my asie sing something in a muffle.  "What are you singing honey?"  I asked.  "I have a tootie butt he exclaimed!"  "Oh really" I said, gigging to myself.  A little time passed and I heard what he was talking about.  "Mommy did you hear that!  That's my peanut butter tootie butt!" "That's cool honey, that's totally cool."

Of course all things good can backfire, as does the tootie butt song.  In Walmart, and thank God it was Walmart, our baby started passing some gas.  My aspie, in his adult like monotone voice proclaimed, "Our baby has a tootie butt" and proceeded to sing the song.  As yet again I rushed the cart down the isle to escape the many stares and silent giggles that followed.  In our escape I decided that the next thing I need to instill in my aspie are the things that we do at home vs the things we do in public.  Oh boy....