I Feel Your Pain

This is a post that has needed to be written for some time now.

If your kid was anxious or being bullied, how would you feel? Probably pretty bad. Your heart would ache, and though you'd be strong for your child, you would be crumpled inside. You would be heartbroken, yes? I would. It is how any loving parent might feel.

So why is it when a parent of an autistic child expresses their own pain as a parent, she is vilified?

If you are not involved in the online autism community, you are probably confused by this. If you are the parent of an autistic child, you are probably nodding your head. You've heard this argument before.

How can you possibly be talking about your own need for support? It is so much harder to be the autistic person. 

Pain is not a competition

My son's struggles are not mutually exclusive to mine. We can both be hurting, just as we can both be joyous or scared or hopeful or all of the above. I do not deny my son's challenges by recognizing my own.

Moe gets frustrated. His communication challenges make things very difficult for him. And when he is frustrated or unable to tell me that he is hurt, or uncomfortable, or bored, or he doesn't understand why I'm asking him to do something, or not letting him have m&ms at 7:00 in the morning, he can get aggressive. He cries, and bangs his head. He scratches me and bites his hand. He is strong and it is scary.

Of course I know he's hurting. Of course I know it is hard to be him. I am his mother, and I—as much as is humanly possible—feel his pain. I do not know what it is like to be him, but I see his struggle and I would give anything to make it easier for him.

Moe had three stitches in his forehead a few years ago, and, despite the numbing cream, screamed out in pain at each needle poke. I did not feel his physical pain but I will tell you this: if I could have taken that pain instead of him, I would have. It hurt me to my core to hear him scream. I remember that sound perfectly, though Moe has certainly forgotten it by now. This is no different.

Your feelings are legitimate

You are allowed to have feelings.

Let's say that again. You are allowed to have feelings. Not just your kid. Not just everyone around you. You.

Let's get real for a moment. Raising Moe is really hard. We have no real schooling options. We have made a decision to try some pretty serious medications to help keep Moe from hurting himself and others. I worry about Moe's future and the lack of housing options for him as he grows.

And it is really, really heartbreaking and stressful when your child attacks you. And it is even more heartbreaking to see that child hurting his sister, or himself.

So you know what? I get to feel those feelings of fear and stress and heartbreak as they exist. They are genuine and legitimate and no one gets to tell me otherwise.

Feelings are not inherently good or bad

Feelings just are. I can control how I react and use those feelings, but I cannot help having them.

So what?

Why is this important? Why give voice to what might seem a ridiculous discussion to anyone outside of this community? Because these kinds of arguments are tearing apart a community that should be working together. Because when you tell a mother that she shouldn't feel stress or anger or grief, you don't change her feelings, you push those feelings to a place of guilt and shame where they will simmer until they boil over. You deny a father the support and help he needs to be able to put his energy into helping his children. Because ultimately there is no one else. We as parents bear the burden and the joy, the responsibility and the privilege of caring for our kids.

And we're doing the best we can.

Still Blogging

It's been a while since I've blogged here, a couple of months, at least. But since I'll be attending the BlogHer conference in another week, I thought I should post something, so I can still call myself a blogger.

Life is chugging along. Moe had several very rough months. We saw a heightened aggression from him, coupled with some very frightening new self-injurious behaviors. Moe was not only biting himself, but he also started banging his head—hard. We thought it was related to some new molars, but the behaviors continued long after that was done. He gave himself a huge bump in the middle of his forehead. He put his head through the wall. We did everything we could to keep him safe, but when we would stop Moe from banging his head, he got mad and would turn his aggression on us, his nannies and his therapists. Behavioral interventions were not working.

So we made the very difficult decision to try a new medication. This is not a decision we took lightly, not only because medications can have serious side effects. Not only because Moe has such difficutly learning and communicating that we need to make sure he is as clear-headed as possible. But also because we've been here before. Last year, we tried Tenex (as well as the related drugs Clonidine and Intuniv). This was disastrous. Behaviors and sleep got worse. I didn't want to get burned again.

After several months of trying everything else we could think of, we started a new drug, Risperodone. I don't share this information lightly, as it is, in some sense, very personal information to share. But I share it because I have learned from others' experiences, and I hope others can learn from me.

So far, Moe is doing well on the drug. The biggest change is that he is falling asleep on his own, and staying asleep. We are no longer using melatonin, which seemed to make Moe really unhappy anyway. This, in and of itself, is an enormous benefit for the entire family. Jelly is also back to sleeping through the night. She, like Jeff and I, had become accustomed to 3am wake ups.
For the first month or so, behaviors dramatically improved: no more head banging, increased attention, less frustration and impulsivity. But it's not perfect. Moe seems upset many mornings, and the last week or so, we've seen some gradual increase in behaviors. We're taking data, and may increase the dose if necessary.

Most importantly, we found a doctor we like, who knows kids like Moe and wants to help. We are watching for the side effects, the most common of which is increased appetite leading to weight gain (and perhaps some link to increased blood sugar and diabetes). But so far, he's doing okay.
What else is going on? We finally decided on a kindergarten for Jelly and are excited about the start of the new year in just 5 weeks! I cleaned out the enormous amounts of clutter in her room (she saves everything), went on an Ikea shopping spree, and set up a new "big girl desk" area in her room, complete with pink chair, and many pink accessories, as well as an "Elsa blue" lamp. She's growing up so fast, and while each year with Moe seems hard-won, some days I feel I can hardly remember so much of Jelly's life.

I have a lot of things to say about a lot of things: Jelly's evolving relationship with Moe, life at a start-up in Silicon Valley, how we're doing with AAC (hint: we need a new approach), the intense feelings that come with living with a very aggressive child, the insantity of the Bay Area housing market. But this post has gone on too long already.

If you read this, thank you. If you'll be at BlogHer this year and want to meet up, send me an email to wantapeanutblog [at] gmail. I'll be at the special needs MiniCon as well.

Posted with Blogsy

The Uncomfortable Truth

I'm in a Yahoo! group for parents of special needs kids. It is a great group, made up only of parents—no professionals, teachers or anyone involved in providing services for special needs kids. The needs vary in type and severity, but the feedback on local providers, school districts and classrooms is invaluable.

But as with any group that is both varied and on the internet, the occasional heated debate arises. The most recent one erupted over a local event about raising siblings of special needs kids. The event is called "I'm Important Too" and the description includes this line: "Living with a child with special needs is tough on families, especially for typically developing siblings who may sometimes feel forgotten or less loved."

Well, this caused quite a bit of outrage. Sure, the group is intended for parents, but how would it feel if you were a child (or adult) with special needs and read that you were "tough to live with?" Not great, I'd guess.

I will speak only for my family now. The truth is that Moe is very tough to live with. He requires constant supervision, is self- injurious and aggressive toward others, including the dog and on occasion his little sister. I cannot count the number of times I've had to tell Jelly "in a minute, Moe needs me right now" or the things we cannot do because Moe's needs make it impossible. These include travel, playdates, eating out or going to the movies as a family, to name just a few. It is not his fault, but it is reality.

Jeff and I are stressed, stretched thin, on constant alert. We do a lot for Moe because we love him, but also because we have to. Make no mistake, we are not heroes in any way. We have no choice.

And it is hard.

I need, and have found, several safe places (including this blog) where I can say that. And as Jelly gets older, she is going to need several safe places to say that too. She is going to need to shout from the god-damn rooftops that living with Moe can be really really fucking hard. I'll even allow the swearing. Because it is, and no good will come from sugar coating that. She needs to know that she is heard too.

She also needs to know that we love Moe despite the fact that it is hard. We love him for who he is. His life has value and brings us great joy. But living with him can be difficult, and she is not a bad person for feeling that way, if she does indeed feel that way. Perhaps she won't.

News broke of another case of a mother who killed herself and her adult autistic child. These cases are heartbreaking. They also bring out the rage of a heartsick disability community, who blame the portrayal of autistic people as "hard to live with," as leading to a mindset that accepts these murders as okay. They believe that the parents and the media make these murders excusable by painting the act as somehow understandable or the autistic person's fault. It is neither, of course.

But I do not believe the answer is to hide the fact that autism can create a terrifying existence for some. I do believe that the media, lawmakers, families, insurance companies, policymakers and autistic self-advocates need to know that keeping these kids safe means keeping their families safe too. It means shouting loud and clear that for some living with an autistic family member can be hard, even near impossible. So impossible that some parents see no other option but death.

Because there is no safety net. Not for these kids and not for their parents.

Moe is almost seven years old, and he's a small kid. But he's strong and someday he'll be too strong for me to handle. We are working hard to help Moe get the communication skills to tell me why he's mad or frustrated. But if I'm no longer able to keep him safe, or his sister safe, or myself safe, what do we do?

Someday, for one reason or another, Moe will not be able to live with me and Jeff anymore. So tell me. Where will he go?

This is not a rhetorical question, one that I hope to have many years to figure out but one that nevertheless weighs on my mind and doesn't seem to have any good answers. But maybe, if I shout my pain as loud as I can, if I tell everyone that living with an autistic child can be really, really tough, someone might help build those safe places. So we all can be loved and cared for. Moe especially, but the rest of us too. We all have value.

So I say it again. I love Moe with everything I am. But living with him is really hard.

It may be uncomfortable to hear. But it has to be said.

Read also a related post I wrote last September: Making Positive Changes in the Wake of the Stapleton Tragedy

The S-Word

Friday night was one of the worst nights of my life. It wasn't the worst; I was with my brother the night he died. No one was injured (much). No marriages were ended or houses destroyed. But it was a night I hoped would never repeat itself, but has, to some degree, every night since.

I wrote a post about what happened, a play by play of the seven hours that Moe spent screaming. I decided that maybe such detail was better left for a private journal entry. Toward the end of the piece, however, I wrote this:

And this is where I will say what I try to avoid saying. Sometimes, autism sucks. I know that is hard to hear, and I am not trying to offend anyone. But it is our truth right now, and I dare say Moe might agree with me. For some, autism may bring great gifts alongside the challenges. But not here, not today.

I've spent the last few days trying to decide if I would post that statement. On the one hand, I know that many are offended when someone says "autism sucks." On the other hand, it was exactly how I felt.

Autism isn't just a disability. It is the very lens through which autistic people view the world. It is, to put it most simply, their brain. There is no Moe with autism and Moe without autism, so if I say "autism sucks," I am really saying "Moe's brain sucks," ergo Moe sucks. And how could I, as Moe's mom, the person who loves and cherishes him more than any other person in the world, think that, let alone say it out loud?

The flip side of that, however, is that autism is, for Moe, quite debilitating. After all, what is autism if not a disorder? We parents are often criticized for focusing only on the challenges of autism, and not the gifts. But without the disability, what is autism? In other words, if someone had all the "gifts" of autism (say, for example, Temple Grandin's astounding visual thinking skills), but none of the deficits, would she still be autistic? Can you ever separate the person and the disorder? Different people will have different answers to that question.

Moe's autism makes him unable to sleep. It makes him aggressive. It makes him unable to speak or clearly express his wishes, causing immense frustration. I can only guess that if Moe were able to make all of those challenges go away, he would. If behavior is communication, what does his scratching and biting say, if not "this sucks?"

But I cannot say what Moe thinks. I can only say what I think. And I think autism is really, really hard on our family. On days like today, when I've slept only three hours, I love Moe but I do not love autism. The idea that I cannot hold those two opposing views in my mind at the same time is someone else's construct. Not only can I make that distinction, but I do it every single day. I have to.

Scratches from earlier today

I have to believe that it is not him, but autism, that makes him grab fistfuls of my hair at one in the morning. I have to believe that it is not him, but autism, that makes him kick me in the chest when I change his pull-up. I have to believe that it is not him, but autism that makes him bang his head on the hard floor until we're worried he will really hurt himself. 

It is autism that makes him unable to sleep or speak, or use the bathroom, or play with his sister, or go to school. It is autism that makes it so that he can't say "Mommy, I love you."

I have to believe that he would if he could.


Because that is how I keep doing what I'm doing. That is how I get up every morning no matter how little sleep I've gotten and give Moe a hug and a kiss and get to work helping him be everything he can be. That is how I keep moving forward, fighting every single day for more for him, for more than just "appropriate." That is how I live in a house you wouldn't believe, with locks on every door, unable to even have curtains because Moe has pulled them down. To live in constant fear for his safety, now and forever. 

If I am going to be able to love Moe and fight for him, I need to be able to, once in a while, shout to the universe that "autism sucks!" and not be filled with guilt that it must mean I don't love my child. Because I do. Some days, that love is the only thing that keeps me going.

My beautiful boy

I am moderating comments, so yours will appear after approval. As always, respectful disagreement is welcome.

Some Things Take A Little More Time

The last time I took Moe with me to pick Jelly up from school, he had a major meltdown--the worst one ever. He pulled another child's hair, and I had to drag him, screaming and scratching, out to the car. The teachers were wonderful and helpful, but I was both broken and mortified after this incident. And so, so sad.

That was last summer, and I haven't taken Moe back to Jelly's school since. This incident was one of the primary reasons I have help in the afternoons. Our nanny picks Jelly up from school, or stays with Moe so I can get her.

But last week, our nanny was sick and Jeff couldn't get Jelly, so I took Moe. I didn't have a choice.

When Moe was a newborn, I, like all new mothers, had no idea how I was going to go about my day with this little baby. How would I go grocery shopping? What if he had to eat or be changed when I was out? I resolved that I would not be scared of my child. It sounded funny, but that is what I had to tell myself to get out of the house. I will not be scared. And that is how I did it. We tried new things. We went to the store and playdates and music classes and it was all okay.

But as I drove with Moe to Jelly's school last week, I was scared. I tried to tell myself not to waste any emotional energy on fear of what might happen. I told myself that Moe is a much different kid than he was last summer. Everything would be fine.

We got to school, and Jelly, of course, wanted to show me a million things. And Moe loves Jelly's school. He wanted to run around and see everything and generally wreak havoc. But he can't be trusted there, and so I have to hold his hand. He started to fuss and complain.

This is exactly how it started last time. Moe got mad that I was keeping him from playing and started to melt down. He was frustrated, but there wasn't anything I could do about it. This time, I knew enough to get out of there quickly. Jelly understood that she had to come with me, and we avoided a major incident. But it was close.

Moe has come a long way. He is learning to behave and communicate without aggression much of the time. But this is one situation that he is still not ready for.

Two Baths and a Shower

I kind of hate weekends.

By Friday, it is clear that Moe needs a break and I do look forward to having Jeff around, but the lack of structure on the weekends does not work well for Moe. He gets bored, but also has trouble occupying his time. He doesn't want to be engaged in an activity, and even when I can get him to sit down and do some puzzles or Mr. Potato Head, it's for all of about 2 minutes. The iPad can keep him occupied for maybe 15 minutes before he starts to overload.

Frankly we are at a loss as to what to do with him. Outings are exhausting, though we try as much as possible. Yesterday we went to a pumpkin patch. Jeff spent 45 minutes chasing Moe around, resting only when Moe stopped to play in the straw. At one point I found some pumpkins that were very bumpy and Moe sat and played with that for approximately 37 seconds. I tried to pose the kids for a picture during that time, at which point Moe grabbed and scratched Jelly's arm, and that was the end of that.

So we took a drive up to another town about 15 minutes away and stopped at my favorite of the 30 or so bubble tea places within a one mile radius. We all got watermelon juice and listed to Jelly complain about why Moe got to ride in the stroller and how she was "having a hard time" walking. Also, Moe pulled gum off the bottom of the table and stuck it in his mouth. I was shockingly unfazed by this.

We got home and started a bath for Moe. Jeff finished up, got him in his pull-up and let him have some down time. And by "down time" I mean time to go in his room, take off his pull-up, climb into bed and spread poop all over. Jeff put Moe in the shower where he acted like he was being water-boarded and I took care of the sheets and other cleanup in his room.

Moe, once again clean, was this time put into a pull-up and his zip up the back pajamas. Jeff and I were finishing up cleaning when we went to check on Moe, who was now in the kitchen (the gate to which is merely a suggestion at this point). He was reaching up to the counter with his hand in a tub of margarine, out of which he had clearly just eaten a large scoop. He looked like he was both about to puke and take another bite.

We turned on the TV, hoping that might keep him still for a few minutes while I made dinner. Moe sat down nicely to dinner, but I couldn't stop smelling poop. The boy still stunk. So after dinner, it was back to the bath, this time with a pretty serious scrub down. Meanwhile, I returned to his room for another round of cleaning, sprayed everything with Lysol and opened the window. Once again clean and jammied up, the boy returned to his room, where I caught him seconds later by the open window, covered in something. My heart sank as I thought it was more poop, but became overjoyed when I realized he was only playing with dust that had accumulated on the window jamb. He was kind of covered in this stuff, but at that point I decided it wasn't anything a baby wipe couldn't handle.

Besides, by that time I'm pretty sure we were out of hot water.

Explanatory Fictions, Behavior, and Sensory Processing

Many people with autism are also diagnosed with Sensory Process Disorder (SPD). Much like autism itself, diagnosis is not always clear-cut. We all, to some degree, have some sensory sensitivities or proclivities. But true SPD is more than that. We know from people who are capable of describing such things, that some people do process sensory "input," like lights, sounds, and touch, as well as movement and awareness of body in space, differently than people without SPD.

I don't know if Moe has SPD. I'm sure if you asked our Occupational Therapist, she would say unequivocally yes. If you ask our ABA Director, he might deny such a thing exists. And herein lies the challenge.

Moe is a sensory seeker. He loves to play with water and have his back rubbed and feet squeezed. He is calmed by swinging and gets riled up by spinning. He will occasionally do things like pull the grass and watch it fall very closely to his eyes. Everything goes in his mouth. He likes stronger flavors than most kids his age (spicy or sour) and seems to have a fairly high pain tolerance. As I write this, he is screaming, not out of any or frustration, but because it is a new "stim," or so it seems from the outside.

But how do we know he has a processing disorder? We do know he has severe language impairments. Without language to process the world, what is left but the senses? Moe can touch and taste and explore with his body. It is what he understands. He cannot connect to others with conversation, but when someone rubs his feet, that feels good and he likes to keep that going. That seems perfectly reasonable to me, not like a disorder at all, in fact.

Moe does have some sensory sensitivities, especially to the dog barking and to the sound of his little sister crying. His sensitivities are not extreme in that he can recover from them fairly quickly when the noise stops, but he is clearly bothered by those sounds quite a bit. I am too. Those two in particular make it very hard for me to concentrate. If the dog is barking, I find I absolutely cannot continue a conversation I'm having. I don't go running from the room, but I am also older and able to regulate my reactions better. Now I don't know if Moe and I fundamentally process sounds differently, but it is hard to diagnose a disorder based on hating two of the most annoying sounds known to man.

I mentioned the word "regulation." This is something Moe has quite a bit of trouble with. He can get very excited very quickly, and sensory input is often helpful in calming him down. A lot of what we do in OT is related to these regulation and calming strategies. Moe can also be quite impulsive. But again, without language or the sense that there socially acceptable ways to behave and not behave, and no way to ask for things beyond the few gestures and sounds he has, the line between sensory processing and behavior becomes blurred.

And this brings me to something I've come to learn about Moe, and about why so many of the techniques we've tried in the past with him may not have been successful. It is very easy to attribute Moe's behaviors, like grabbing, pulling, and biting, to "sensory needs." In his classroom, they would give him things like weighted vests, fidget toys, and chewies when he was acting out, especially during activities like circle time. And sometimes those things helped and sometimes they didn't. And when Moe used a "replacement behavior" like chewing on a pillow instead of a person, they claimed success and moved on. But they weren't addressing the fundamental issue.

How do I know that? Because it didn't stop the behaviors. In fact, it may have increased them. Imagine if you were trying to tell someone that you didn't like circle time, or didn't understand what was expected of you, and they stuck a heavy blanket on you. You might, for a moment, think, "this blanket is really comfortable." But then you'd realize that you are still in circle time and you still don't understand what you are supposed to be doing. And then you would be even more frustrated.

Sometimes, it seems Moe is unable to control his actions. He lashes out or spins wildly in his hammock swing or screeches, and I think he can't help himself. But by working this summer with some talented behaviorists, I've learned that he can. For example, Moe will often get aggressive when getting ready for bed. I could believe that when he is over-tired, he cannot regulate his system, and the deep pressure input he gets when he grabs me is his way to try to calm down. Or I could believe that he doesn't want to go to bed, and is acting out because that is his only way to communicate a pretty complex need. Or maybe the truth is somewhere in the middle. He's overtired, feeling cranky, and is hitting because he wants me to know that he doesn't like how he's feeling.

What I do know is that with the right motivation, Moe is able to control his response. If, for example, I let him have his iPod while I'm changing his diaper, he is calm. It is not just that the iPod gives him a place to focus. He will be acting out, and I can say "do you want phone? Show me nice hands." He will immediately calm. I can then say "please lay down." He will lay down immediately. I hand him the phone and we get through the diaper change quickly and easily.

I am not denying that Moe has trouble regulating his emotional response. I don't deny that he is a sensory seeker or that sometimes he gets so frustrated or overstimulated that a sensory approach is the right way to help him calm down. But we, as well as many who have worked with Moe in the past, have probably downplayed or misunderstood the behavioral component to his actions. We used what our ABA director called "explanatory fictions," applying a sensory approach to a behavioral situation, and as Moe gets older and his needs are becoming more complex, as he is asked to do more and has more reason to try to get out of completing taks, we are figuring out better ways to both motivate appropriate behaviors and attempt to extinguish inappropriate (aggressive) ones.

Posted with Blogsy

And Back Again

When Moe was two, he had 25 hours a week of in-home early intervention. At the end of that difficult year, I said I would never do that again.

This summer, we had Moe in a 30 hour a week in-home ABA program. I agreed because it seemed like a way to jump start his learning after two years of being enrolled in a preschool program with very little progress. And it was only ten weeks. At the end, I said I would never do that again.

And now, just three weeks later, I am doing it again.

It has been a hard three weeks that has affected all of us. Moe had a rough transition back to school. Behaviors that I had hoped would taper off after returning to a regular schedule escalated. We drove 50 miles a day to school and back, and each day on pickup, the report was the same: "Moe had a rough day." We added a dedicated aide. We adjusted Moe's daily schedule. We hoped it was just a transition period.

And this weekend, we made a decision. We took Moe out of school.

Of course, we consulted with a few people first. Jeff and I observed the class. And we could see that despite some really positive aspects, it was not going to suit his needs. They weren't set up for him. He was unhappy, in Moe's perfect storm of both bored and over-stimulated. And Jeff and I, through our research on schools last year, through the ups and downs and assessments and evaluations and so very many therapies (and therapists) have gotten good at knowing what is working for Moe and what isn't. Moe may simply not be ready for a classroom environment.

Moe had a good summer with his in-home ABA program. So for now, we are going to continue with this. As the end of summer approached, we considered whether we wanted to continue on or send Moe back to school. We thought the program would be a good complement to an afternoon ABA program. And even though Moe wasn't able to weigh in on the decision beforehand, his behavior told us he wasn't happy there. And we decided to listen to him.

I am nervous. It means I am, for the third time, going to be with Moe almost all of the time. He can be challenging, and I get the brunt of his frustration and aggression. Part of me thinks that if he is not ready for a classroom environment, isn't that exactly where he needs to be? How else will he get ready? But he really learns better at home in that one on one environment. He does great with repetition, and discreet trial type learning (though I know this isn't for everyone). And Jelly is the perfect typical peer for him, willing and eager to participate.

This time, it is different. There is no end time, no number of weeks or birthday that will mean back to school. But that also means no deadline. We will do this as long as it is working for Moe and go back to the drawing board researching schools for when he's ready.

This is the Right Thing, even if it is also the Hard Thing. But once again, I am left wondering if there will ever be a place in this world for Moe.


 

Posted with Blogsy

Always Moe

I haven't been writing much these days. I want to. I want to keep a record of everything that has been happening. We're chugging away with getting Moe a new placement for next year. Lawyers are involved. Moe's ABA program has started. We've added more speech and OT for the summer.

But every night, when I sit down to write about it, I can't. Sometimes there seems to be too much to say. I cannot sum up. Other times, I am so exhausted I can barely keep a thought in my head, let alone write a coherent sentence.

But often, when I sit down to write, I have one crystal clear thought.

How are we supposed to keep doing this?

Moe, despite the language gain that I wrote about, continues to be aggressive, impulsive, and often completely out of control wild. It is beyond frustrating. Moe didn't have any ABA this afternoon, and in the course of a couple of hourse he broke a clock, took his diaper off several times, pooped in his swing, grabbed the dog, and swiped my glasses off at least three times. We had some fun water play outside, but he also spent a lot of time out there climbing the air conditioner and pulling handfuls of dirt out of my plants.


In other words, the same things he does every day.


I don't know how to teach him that these things are not okay. Time outs don't work. Redirecting doesn't work. I try to keep him engaged and he scratches or tries to bite me. Nothing seems to work to curb the behaviors for more than a few minutes. I don't like to yell at him but sometimes it seems it is all I can do. It doesn't help anyway.

I was so over his behavior that around 3:30 I put both kids in the car and just drove around for a while. Moe seemed relaxed and Jelly fell asleep. It was the only break I had all day.

I should take it day by day. But the voice I hear just keeps asking "how much longer is it going to be like this?"

I can deal with different. I can deal with delayed. We used to talk about getting Moe "back on track." No more. This kid is so far off track that we don't even know where the rails are anymore. That's okay.

But the aggression. Impulsiveness. Lack of sleep. Breaking things. Ripping books. Grabbing at anything in sight. Always afraid the next time is going to be the time Berkeley has enough and bites Moe. Always on alert. Always looking for triggers. Always interrupting Jelly to check on Moe.

Always Moe.

Summer Moves Along

We are at the end of week two of our ten week summer break. That's one fifth--twenty percent--done. Not that I'm counting. (Side note: anyone know how to get an em dash in Blogger?)

We decided not to send Moe to the extended school year program at his school. I still don't feel comfortable writing publicly about the process we're in, but I will say that we have wrapped up over six hours of IEP meetings and have not yet signed the IEP. Moe hasn't made the progress we believe he is capable of, and so this summer we want to do a more intensive program with him, including 1:1 ABA, speech and OT.

I am both nervous and excited about this. It means many more hours at home. I am having flashbacks to the lonely, scary first year after Moe's diagnosis. But it is what he needs right now, and we are going to make it happen.


ABA hasn't started yet, so I've had a lot of time with Moe. He is doing okay. He is still showing many aggressive behaviors, his sleep is off, and he is having a lot of sensory regulation issues. But this week was better than last, in part because Jelly is back in preschool three days a week. I've realized how much easier it is with Moe when it just the two of us. I can actually take him out of the house. We can play in the backyard. He gets the attention he needs.


Moe and I went grocery store. I dragged him along to a number of errands, which included many times in and out of the car. We can use the iPad without Jelly climbing on me to see. I realized how much attention Jelly requires, and that neither of them are getting enough from me. I am not saying this to be tough on myself, but it is true. If they had each other to play with, things might be different, at least at home.


But it isn't just attention Moe needs. He needs behavioral instruction that I don't know how to provide. Being out and about isn't always as easy as it was the other day. Yesterday we went to pick up Jelly at school and she was on the playground. Moe, of course, wanted to run away, but I couldn't let him. Jelly was on a bike and didn't want to get off. And all I could do was restrain Moe and plead with Jelly. Nothing terrible happened, but these moments are exhausting, no one is happy, and it is time to get some help. Behavioral support for Moe is on the way and I'm looking into getting some babysitting help for Jelly.

Aggression Has Returned Just in Time for Summer!

I am an emotional wreck. For one thing, I have a cold. It started off as something pretty minor, but has only gotten worse, fueled, I'm sure by stress and lack of sleep.

The last day of school was hard, even though this year was really tough. Moe met very few of his goals and even regressed in a number of areas. Despite that, or maybe because of it, it was hard to say goodbye.

Moe has once again become quite aggressive. He fights almost any time we try to interact with him, especially for things like diaper changes, which obviously happen several times a day. It is 8am, and I have already been scratched across the face and had my glasses pulled off. I just updated my contact lens prescription so I don't have to deal with that last part anymore.

His behavior has been gradually getting worse. For the last few months, he's been fighting us at night when we get him ready for bed. This has been incredibly annoying, but I do believe it is functional: he is telling us he doesn't want to go to bed. Unfortunately, when Moe stays up too late, he gets really wild and out of control. We have tried doing calming activities or allowing him to "get his wiggles out" at this time, like taking a walk, playing outside or taking a bath but nothing seems to work. We don't know what to do, so for everyone's safety, and because Moe does so much better when he gets enough sleep, we put him to bed. An hour later, we go in and change his diaper, then he'll usually fall asleep for good somewhere between a half hour and two hours later. This is the routine every single day.

But over the past couple weeks, Moe's aggression has gone beyond bed time. I don't know why. Perhaps he's feeling sick as well, though he doesn't have the same symptoms I do. Perhaps he's picking up on other stresses in the house, as we enter into our round three of our IEP meetings. Perhaps he hasn't been sleeping well and is just tired. Or maybe he just thinks it is fun to hit me.

But I can tell you one thing: I hate this.

I hate always having to position myself between Moe and Jelly because I'm afraid he's going to hurt her. Twice recently, he has grabbed her hair simply because she was the closest thing available.

I hate being constantly on alert, worried that Moe is going to break something or hurt himself or run away. I dream about losing Moe. I see him running away and I can't get to him. (These have replaced the dreams I used to have about my brother. My dreams are not very hard to interpret.) I wake up most mornings with my teeth clenched.

I hate that I can't walk across a parking lot without Moe dropping to the ground ten times.

I hate that I have to spend hours and hours preparing for meetings with the school. That I have to negotiate for my son's education. That we have to hire a psychologist and an educational advocate just to convince the school district that Moe needs a new placement, even though it is clear that the class he has been in for two years isn't working for him.

I hate feeling guilty that I wish this weren't my life. I have so many things to be thankful for but they all seem overshadowed by these challenges. I want to be planning summer vacations and getting Moe ready for kindergarten. I want to be able to bring the kids to visit their grandparents. I want my kids to be able to play with each other. I want to hire a babysitter and go out to dinner and not have anxiety attacks about it.

Acceptance is hard when we're all struggling so much.

I want this sweet little boy who is curled up on the couch playing harmonica to stop making it seem like I'm lying about what a terror he is.

We are making changes. My mom is coming down this week (thanks mom!) to help while I have both kids at home. Jelly goes back to school next week, and Moe's summer program will start. This IEP stuff will be over one way or another. But as Jelly said to me the other day, "I don't want to be sad. I want to be happy."

Jelly Makes Her Mark

Today was Jelly's last day of her first year of preschool. I wanted to make a big deal of it, help her say good bye to her friends and teachers. But I also had to pick her up a little early, in order to make it to a small end of year celebration in Moe's class. As I walked to Jelly's classroom, I noticed a piece of paper sticking out of her folder, the words "Incident Report," peeking over the top.

I wasn't too concerned. I assumed she got hurt, but since they hadn't called during the day, I knew it couldn't have been too bad. I glanced at the page. "Jelly bit another child..." I had to read it again, thinking that couldn't be right; someone else must have bitten her. Nope. Jelly bit another kid in a skirmish over a toy.

Jelly has been very possessive of toys lately, but she has never once tried to bite someone. I was - still am - shocked. Of course I can't help but wonder if it is my fault. She's been battling control over everything lately. Recently Moe, in a moment of frustration at Home Depot, grabbed Jelly's hair, catching his nail on her nose and scratching her so she bled. Has she started imitating Moe's bad behaviors, even though of course we try to stop those? Is this yet another attention getting behavior?

I know this happens with preschoolers. I have been down this road before with Moe, but of course that was a much different situation. I even said to my mom, "she's supposed to be the easy one."

And that is when it hit me. Parenting--all parenting--is hard. Typical or special needs, all kids need guidance and care and time. All kids need to grow and mature and learn lessons. Little Jelly has been so far ahead in terms of language development that I often forget she is just barely three.

Frankly, we've all been off our game lately. We are sleep deprived and fighting colds and possibly seasonal allergies. There is a new and completely stressful drop-off and pick-up procedure at school that requires me to walk both kids across campus among the swarm of kids at the end of the day. I have been preoccupied (since February!) with Moe's IEP, getting him new services and figuring out this summer. And as the year wraps up, and things are still very much in limbo, I've been an emotional wreck, only made worse by Jelly's frequent 3 am wakings and Moe's exhausting relapse into aggressive and unregulated behavior (though also more attempts at some communication). Did I mention our master bathroom is gutted?

And tomorrow is Moe's last day of school.

My Excuse

I have so much to blog about but just have not been able to. Some things, like the details of our latest IEP, I can't write about now. Other things, I would love to write about, but the kids really do require constant attention. Here's a snippet from today.

1. Jelly is momentarily occupied watching TV.
2. I hear a noise from Moe's room. He's on top of his bed, messing with the blinds. He's already broken one of the strings so he really can't be up there. Oh, and he could fall. I get him down.
3. Moe runs from the room. I start to make dinner which will take all of 5 minutes because I'm just reheating leftovers. Moe starts asking (pointing to the gate) to come in the kitchen. I notice he has a dirty diaper.
4. I bring him to his room to change him. He's wild, tired, and hungry and starts grabbing and kicking me. I know he's trying to tell me he wants to be eating, but I'm so flippin' tired of being kicked every time I change a diaper.
5. I get through it, and nearly trip over the dog who insists on being in the way whenever there is any commotion. I make it back to the kitchen.
6. Plate the quiche and and the chips I didn't eat at lunch. (Surely, I will lose at least a pound for that, right?) The chips entice Jelly to come to the table. I go look for Moe.
7. He is once again on top of his bed. I get him down. On the way back to the dinner table, I notice Jelly's shutters are open, and the valance is messed up. I see Moe has somehow gotten the finial off. I suspect he's been working on that for days. I pick it up and put it "someplace safe" for when I can get a step stool or Jeff gets home. It's probably already lost.
8. Safely at dinner, I get exactly 23 seconds before Jelly pushes herself back from the table. She gets down to retrieve her new Dora bathing suit which she has been carrying around all day. She climbed back up and asks to be pushed back in. I get up, and push her in. "Jelly," I tell her, "don't get down again."
9. She pushes herself back from the table. I push her back in. Repeat 1,000 times.
10. "Jelly, no more chips if you push yourself back again." It works!
11. Moe gets down from dinner table. I make him sign "all done." I feel like I've done my job.
12. I hear Moe on top of the bed tent. I trip over the dog. I get Moe down from his bed.
13. He comes back. I slice an apple so we can work on using a picture card to request more.
14. He doesn't want any apple.
15. Jelly starts asking for tape. I tell her no. She asks. I tell her no. She asks. I tell her no. Sheasksitellhernosheasksitellhernosheasksitellherno. She wants tape to cover a staple sized hole in the baby gate. I tell her she can have one piece of tape if she stops asking. She is quiet, but I can tell it is really hard. It is worth it for the 30 seconds of silence.
16. I trip over the dog looking for the tape. I give a piece to Jelly.
17. Moe is spinning wildly in his swing. I decide he needs a bath. I trip over the dog.
18. Jelly hits me while Moe is in the bath and I am writing this. She gets a time out, which involves taking away the Dora bathing suit.
19. I think I hear Jeff pulling into the garage. There is only one question left. Beer or wine?

All Kids Do That

My friend Jill at Yeah. Good Times. has been running a series of guest posts on her blog called "All Kids Do That." The background to this series is that often autism parents write and tweet about their challenges, and well-meaning friends and followers come back with "all kids do that." And this bothered her.

This is Jill.

So Jill decided that rather than getting defensive, she would try to educate people on why and how certain parenting challenges are different for those of us with kids on the spectrum.

With this weekend's start of President's Week (or "ski week") already putting me into a mild panic, Jill is featuring my post about why Time Off is hard.

So head over there, and give us some love!

A Very Long Break

Two more days.

On Tuesday, life returns to what passes for normal around here. School will start. I will wake up on time, pack lunches, get kids dressed and fed and out the door.

I cannot wait.

This has been a difficult break for us, probably the hardest one yet. Moe's aggressive behaviors increased throughout the break, reaching a peak on December 26-27. For those two days, it seemed every interaction we had with Moe involved him grabbing or pulling us. He went after the dog repeatedly. We would grab his hands and sharply tell him "no!" but often he would just continue to come at us, over and over. One time he just ran up to me from behind and pushed me. He grabbed Jelly when they were riding in the double stroller.

We couldn't figure out why, only that it was constant. Was he sick? Just bored or missing the routine of school? Were these outbursts sensory in nature? Moe wasn't sleeping well, but we couldn't tell if that was the cause or another symptom.

Things have gotten a little better over the past few days, and we learned that a softer response tends to extinguish the behavior faster.

Jeff also installed Moe's Hanukkah present, a hammock chair/swing that Moe took to immediately, and has been a perfect respite when things are overwhelming, relaxing spot to hang out with a book, and excellent sensory replacement for banging the rocking chair repeatedly against the wall. The installation was a big project, involving things like joists and eye hooks and, in what may seem like a non-sequitur but was actually crucial to the process, walking through setting up WiFi at my in-laws' house.

We also feel pretty strongly that this aggressive behavior is not just sensory in nature like we originally believed, and was so often the case with Moe in the past. There is still an aspect of that, as when he's overly excited, and wants to calm down. But there definitely seems to be an attention seeking component as well, as if he's telling us "Hey! I'm excited!" or "I'm bored" or even "feed me." He's figured out that this "bad" behavior gets a response, even if it is a negative one (which to him, may not seem negative at all). If this is the case, it would be a very good thing.

Back in August, when I wrote about Moe pulling hair at school, his old teacher, told me "aggression is interaction."

I'm starting to believe her.

An Unsavory New Habit

Moe has developed a new habit. He's been spitting. He doesn't spit at anything or anyone. He just spits on his fingers, then wipes it off on whatever is nearby including his shirt, the wall, the window or the sofa. Yuck.

I'm not sure exactly when it started, but it has been at least a month. I think it started around the time he started school this year. The good news is Moe doesn't seem to be biting or chewing as much (though he still puts everything in his mouth), so it seems this fun new behavior has replaced the old fun behavior. At least a little bit. For now. You know how these things go.

I've started meeting a few moms for breakfast occasionally, and we discovered last week that this habit seems to be going around. A number of the kids have been spitting. They've also all been screaming the same high pitched scream. We all think it is our kid who started these lovely behaviors. But I'm pretty sure it was Moe. At least it's some form of imitation. Who says our kids aren't paying attention?

The spitting is definitely a sensory seeking behavior, though I'm not sure yet if it is the oral or tactile input, or both, that Moe likes. I also haven't been able to track yet if it happens more during certain times of day or activities. Our OT suggested giving similar tactile input, like finger painting or playing with shaving cream, to see if that helps.

I'm considering trying the brushing protocol again to see if that helps. We already incorporate oral input into Moe's sensory diet, like giving chewy and crunchy foods and giving smoothies through a straw. Does anyone else have any experience with this? I'd love to hear what has worked for you.

Our First Target Meltdown

As you know, I have one typical child, as well as one with special needs. Watching Jelly, my typical two year old, gives us interesting insight into what a standard developmental path looks like. Although I do think this firsthand knowledge would have been helpful before Moe came along, because he is so delayed, they are sometimes quite similar, especially in terms of emotional development.

But they are also quite different. So many things come easy to Jelly, especially in terms of her motor development. When she wants her body to do something, for the most part she can just do it. Moe has to work really hard even to make a fist for a fist bump. He's only recently become fairly proficient at taking off his shoes, and can't put them on himself, where Jelly has been able to take shoes off and on for many months.

The biggest difference is their language development. Jelly has always been slightly ahead of the curve verbally, easily speaking in full sentences, and is working on concepts like when to use "ing" (as in Mommy is typing), and prepositions (in, on, behind, etc.). She practices these, speaking in sentences, and adjusting when they don't sound right to her. I'm not teaching her these things; she just picks them up. It's how most of us learn language, and it's fascinating.

You might think that this makes Jelly a much easier child to raise. Certainly her ability to say what she wants is very helpful. But Jelly is only two, so although she can talk, she isn't yet rational. Nor does she have patience. Very small issues or delays can turn into major tears, although she is getting better with concepts like "first, then" (as in, first we change your diaper then you can watch Dora).

I read often about the epic meltdowns of our autistic kids, often in sensory overloaded, and very public, places like Target. I've been lucky (excuse me while I go knock on some wood) that Moe is generally very well behaved when we're out and, as a sensory seeker, usually loves to be in bright, noisy environments. But I was still quite surprised that Jelly was the one who indoctrinated me into the Target meltdown club. My membership card should be arriving any day.

I was with Jeff and Moe, and the trigger was some perceived injustice around a hat that Moe had and Jelly didn't. She whined and complained for a while. When Moe was finally done with the hat, Jelly got to hold it for a bit. But I wasn't planning to buy it, so when we were done paying for the rest of our things, I gave the hat back. That was the last straw, and Jelly lost it. She was riding in the cart, otherwise I'm sure she would have thrown herself on the floor in perfect tantrum form.

It was also just about lunch time, and I'm sure that didn't help, but we couldn't go home because some people were coming to see it. So we decided a quick lunch was in order. We wanted fast, so we stopped at Carl's Jr. on the way home, thinking some fries and smoothies would help. Bad idea. This was the slowest fast food place ever. It took about 20 minutes from the time we ordered for them to bring our food. They weren't busy, nor was the food any better for taking that long. Moe and Jelly whined, cried, and/or screamed the entire time. It sucked.

The only saving grace was that Jeff was there. If I had gotten home and explained how Jelly had this horrible meltdown in Target, he would have sympathetically said "that's too bad" then moved on. At least he got to experience this particular hell right along with me. Lucky guy.

Trusting Your Gut and Solving Behavior Problems

Last week, Moe had a few rough days at school. I attributed this to a rough transition back to school. He's been tired from the long day and had a couple of sleepless nights. He can get really grumpy when he's tired and people try to make him work. And school, although fun, is also a lot of work.

Moe's wonderful teacher from last year read my blog post about his recent aggression, and reminded me that something probably set him off. One comment on that post suggested we request a Functional Behavior Assessment (FBA). Since it was only the second week of school, and because it had only been two rough days, I didn't think that was appropriate yet. But it was a good reminder that there are tools to help us learn more. We don't ever have to just shrug our shoulders and hope it goes away.

An FBA, for those who aren't familiar, is a structured observation of the behavior over time. We start with the ABCs of behavior:

• Antecedent: what happened before the behavior began?
• Behavior: the behavior itself
• Consequence: what consequence did the behavior have?

For example, Moe pulled a child's hair. His teacher said that they had a long circle time and Moe was probably  frustrated with having to sit still for that long. So the antecedent may have been a long circle time. The behavior was pulling a child's hair. The consequence was Moe got pulled into time out. 

But if we looked at this over time, we might learn something different. In the above example, Moe was sitting at the end of the circle. We might find that Moe is more likely to get frustrated when it takes longer to sing goodbye to him, so we can adjust the antecedent to put him at the beginning of the circle, thus avoiding the behavior. Or we might find that the issue is only when he sits next to a particular child. Maybe that child makes a noise that bothers Moe, or he touches Moe, so simply separating them solves the problem. Or maybe the pulling has nothing to do with the other kids, but is a sensory need, so providing a therapy band on the chair (a trick our OT just taught us) or using a lap pad could help provide input if he does get frustrated.

We can also adjust the consequence to make sure an undesirable behavior isn't inadvertently reinforcing the behavior.We might find that Moe is pulling hair to get attention. Obviously we can't ignore an aggressive behavior, but we can be stoic in the way we respond. Or maybe Moe just wants to be out of the circle, and he does it so he can go to time out. By sending Moe to time out, we'd actually be encouraging Moe to pull hair again, since he got to leave circle time, exactly what he wanted.

In Moe's case, I had another thought. As I was writing a note to his teacher about some other things, I had a realization. Moe's lunchbox has been coming back almost full every day. He comes home and devours the entire contents. When Moe is hungry, he is very grumpy, and without words to express "feed me, dammit!" he gets very frustrated. We ran into this last year when I realized that our weekend meal schedule was about a half hour off from the school schedule. Simply adjusting our schedule at home made things much better.

I asked about this. Did Moe seem like he didn't want to eat at school? Or, since snacks are highly structured and they work on making requests, asking for more or help and sharing, perhaps they were asking too much of him at snack time? Bingo. His teacher said that Moe often takes a long time to make requests so snack time is over before he's eaten much. She said lunch is more about nutrition, and they aren't as demanding. But I know Moe needs those snacks throughout the day to keep him going.

I told her that Moe gets very frustrated when he's hungry, and asked that they figure out a way to make sure he eats more during the day. Because he loves to eat, snack time is a great time to work with him, but if he's not eating at all, that's a problem. Maybe they need to dial back the demands until he's better at it. (They are going to start using pictures of his food to help with choice-making, something he is good at.) Or maybe they ask for 5 spontaneous requests, but then give him free access. Or maybe give him bigger portions at each request. These are all small adjustments that could lead not only to reduced negative behaviors, but also to more successful learning at snack time, and a happier child who will be more receptive to learning throughout the remainder of the day.

Yesterday, his teacher reported that he ate better and he had a much better day. I hope it continues.

Learn more about Functional Behavior Assessments and how they can help you and your child. You can also use the concepts behind an FBA to solve behavior problems at home by charting the ABCs of your child's behaviors.

Hands are Not For Pulling Hair

I found a parking space in the lot at school this afternoon, which meant I could get out and wait for Moe with the other moms Jelly likes to get out of the car too. She is perhaps a little too comfortable at Moe's school now, so I am constantly trying to keep her close to me and out of the way of the many parents and kids filing out of school.

This is not the kid whose hair Moe pulled.
But he's just as angelic looking as this girl.

Moe's class came out but I didn't see Moe. One of the classroom aides said he was still in the room and would be out in a minute with his teacher, Ms J. I figured she was changing his diaper or putting his shoes back on for the umpteenth time.

When they finally came out, she said "it was a rough day today." She then told me that Moe pulled a classmate's hair (the cutest, littlest boy's adorable red curly hair). Apparently, he's been getting more and more aggressive in class.

My hunch is that Moe is having a tough time adjusting going back to the full school day. He's been tired, and like me, when he's tired, he's on a short fuse. When Moe is frustrated, he needs that deep pressure input to calm down. So he bites or grabs or pulls. It used to be that he would bite a chewy or a toy if it was available. Then he started sometimes going after the closest adult, especially if that adult was the one causing the frustration. He's never gone after other kids before.

But a couple of days ago, Moe hit Jelly. He didn't punch her or anything, just kind of played the drums on the top of her head for a second. It surprised her, but nothing more. We didn't think much of it, as it wasn't even directed at her specifically; she just happened to be in the way. But now it sounds like other kids have also been at the receiving end. Today, Ms J said they did a slightly longer circle time and Moe was probably tired and wanted to go home. "If only we could give him the words," she said.

I'm trying not to overreact. On days like this, I start to feel that I keep losing more of my sweet, fun, happy, go-with-the-flow little boy and that nothing we are doing is bringing him back. I know that he is growing and changing. I know lots of little kids can be aggressive. I can even tell myself that frustration is good - it means Moe has an opinion about how he wants things and might even get motivated enough to use some words. But this type of behavior is scary, and the only thing I can think right now is "I don't want this."

Last month, we were approved by the regional center for some one on one behavioral therapy services. I got in touch with the provider today and scheduled our intake appointment for later this month. I am thankful for this help, although 12 hours a month doesn't seem like much. I have such a huge list of things I want to work on, from adaptive (self-help) skills and toileting, to safety concerns and aggression. I don't even know where to start.

What is so frustrating about Moe's autism is that I never know what is coming next, but there is always something. The issues just seem to pile one on top of the other. In addition to the aggression, we're dealing with spitting, screaming (a high pitched blood-curdling screech that I'm sure has caused me permanent hearing loss), putting everything in his mouth (including leaves and flowers when we're outside), as well as the constant taking off of shoes, and the things we've had for a while like running off, taking off his diaper, stealing food, and generally getting into everything. That's not to mention the "regular" autism stuff: issues with regulation, inconsistent sleep patterns, lack of speech and communication, and fine and gross motor delays.

We came home from school, and Moe crashed on the couch, all giggles and smiles. Jelly is currently chasing him around the house, imitating everything he does, and shouting "come one Moe!" and he doesn't seem to mind. I hope tomorrow is a better day, but for now I'm soaking in this little bit of happiness. I might need the reserves later.

Guessing

Autism keeps you guessing. Behaviors come and go, progress ebbs and flows, and we're always trying to keep up.

For example, a couple of days ago, Moe decided to climb into Jelly's crib, and now he's been climbing in there any chance he gets. That crib has been there, in the exact same place, for two years and he's climbed into it maybe once before. So why the sudden interest? It is anyone's guess.

Meal time also keeps us guessing. Moe is a little bit of a picky eater, but not like some kids. But on any given day or week, I have no idea what he'll eat. Our go-to favorites, like macaroni and cheese, will suddenly be pushed away like I just put a bowl of gruel in front of him. Bananas have come and gone and are now back again as a staple.

And of course, Moe's sleep schedule always keeps us guessing. Not only have we had to experiment with schedules, melatonin and routines to help Moe fall and stay asleep, but we've had to keep up with what trouble he might get into during that time. First, we had to put up the crib tent to keep Moe from running down the hall at 2am, then we had to figure out how to keep Moe from taking off his diaper and pajamas, and most recently, Moe managed to actually wedge himself in between the crib tent and the outside.  What will he do next? It's anyone's guess.

But I can't wait to find out.