Certainty

Uncertainty is hard for some people with Asperger's. Whether it's the simple fact of not knowing or not having an answer that is precise enough to satisfy his or her need for exactness is hard to say. Sometimes, I'm sure it's a bit of both and less about the ratio between the two.

For my son, the areas where certainty cannot be compromised center around his social network - of all things. I know. I've been told thousands of times that people with Asperger's are socially delayed or that they somehow aren't as aware of social mechanisms. I'm starting to think that's a bunch of bull because my son's sense of social context is astounding and very developed - especially for a teenager. He just goes about gaining it from a completely different perspective. Maybe from a place that we don't recognize therefore we dismiss it.

Jackson needs to know where his younger brother is all the time. He needs to keep track of where his extended family members are. Are they at work? Is it their day off? Are they traveling and if so where and when will they get there? He just isn't comfortable unless he's sure about where everyone is.
Last week, Jackson's younger brother got sick. He went to the doctor and still wasn't getting any better. He was really sick with a high fever and flu symptoms for almost a week. Jackson was 'uncertain' to say the least. He would ask questions like, "When is he going to get better?" or "Is he going to die?" He needed to know - to be certain  - that his social network (the one that centers around the existence of his younger brother was and would always be intact.

For years prior to this my oldest son was physically incapable of letting his younger brother (age 12) go outside to play with his friends unless Jackson (age 15) could either, a). hear them in the yard or, b). see his brother with his own eyes. If his brother went to a friends house for a sleepover, Jackson would call his brother at least every five minutes to check on him - to make sure he was okay, that he was where he was supposed to be and to be certain that his brother wasn't in any danger. (After all, you just can't trust any old parent simply because they're a parent.) Somehow, my oldest believed that it was he who allowed the youngest to leave the house - albeit with a cell phone in hand - and interact with children other than his brother. It was a huge concession on the oldest's part - or so he thought. He would much rather have ridden his bike over to see for himself - to be certain - every 15 minutes if necessary.
He didn't care that this made life very difficult and embarrassing for his brother. His perspective and his certainty were all that mattered to him. His brother is that important to him. And Jackson would move mountains to be 'certain' that his brother is happy and close by.

So . . . what I'm wondering is how this young man with Asperger's - the one who is supposed to be socially inept in some way - is able to have such enormous outward concern for his brother. A concern beyond what most teen aged siblings either typically express or ever admit to in any social platform. And as well, that he is able to do so out loud, in public, with an almost venomous empathy and devotion and without any reservation or pretense. How is he so able to be so social and be so good at it when this is supposed to be the area that he struggles with most.
Maybe it's not him who struggles to communicate socially, but me who has been struggling to understand his methods.

Sleep

Enough seep is like emotional salve. It makes all the difference. This is true for most people, but for Jackson - it's the most critical aspect of protecting his schedule. He's not buoyant or flexible with regard to sleep. If he gets shorted, more coffee or tea cannot possibly make up the difference. Only more sleep will help. Without enough sleep, he has trouble coping with much. He's rigid, demanding and insufferable.

They say that sleep is when your brain recharges, reboots, and categorizes everything that happened during the day. For Jackson, getting enough sleep is critical because his brain does actually seem like a crash site when he doesn't. The pieces don't fit together anymore and everything comes out mangled.
It's almost like - when he doesn't - he's immediately thrown into a retrograde of emotional energy. He comes apart, can't control the connection between his words and his thoughts and is no longer able to remember what he's learned with respect to social conventions.
A few nights of good sleep will put him right back where he needs to be.

Jackson has never been one to say, "My stomach hurts" or "I'm tired!" When he was really little, the only way that I had even the slightest clue that he was sick was . by the way he acted. Even then, the changes in his behavior were so minimal, sometimes I missed it or attributed it to a behavioral response instead of a physical symptom. What parent wouldn't assume his or her two year old was acting weird by having a temper tantrum and instead think, "I wonder if he has an earache?" Only when the consistency of the change in his behavior was noticed, did I put two and two together and get him to the doctor. Parent-peers and family members would look at me like I was parenting with something comparable to a Ouija board when I would respond to remarks from teachers regarding behavior issues at school with,"Okay, looks like we need to go to the doctor and see what's going on."
If it weren't for the fact that I was right every single time - I'd say they were justified. But Jackson and his need to keep away from the edge was so good at covering up and or dismissing the outlier that is 'illness' - I had little alternative.
If he would have only been so kind as to run a fever, or throw up, or start coughing, but he didn't. Not once.

Virtual Security Blanket

We made it through a holiday. From my son's perspective, I'm sure it was difficult than enjoyable but not completely bad. There were extra family members staying at our home that demanded our routines be rearranged or even obliterated. Sometimes, entertaining company means that we don't entertain ourselves and life can get boring. Especially for someone who's mind needs so much more stimulation than everyone else's. 'Relax" is something that my son still has to work very hard to do.
We ate foods that we don't always eat, things that smell different and have textures that we had never tried before. We even went to a 'stranger's' house to visit people I've known since I was a child, but haven't seen in almost as long. My sons have never met them before. Everything was different.
The boys did great! Both of them; the younger protecting the older and guiding him through the social graces of interacting with kids much younger than he is. It's funny, how the younger will take time to teach the older in public, but in private will mercilessly pester him about his peculiarities.

For Jackson, going to the house of a stranger is uncomfortable to say the least. He biggest concern is; 'Will they have a wireless network?" which loosely translated means, "Will I have my security system in place?" For Jackson, the Internet is as close to his security blanket as anything. And I suppose, if I think about it, it really is a sort of 'blanket' albeit an ethereal one. The Internet provides him a comfortable, quiet place to go when he's feeling vulnerable, in jeopardy or too overwhelmed by the newness of his immediate surroundings to cope. As well, he is able to access this familiar space, this coverage, this comfortable space in some fashion from almost anywhere he may be or may ever go. He's always got it with him. It's perfect, He doesn't have to remember where he put it down last or look for it too hard. He knows it will be there for him. The Internet is like a virtual comfort zone that exists in a language he understands. As well, it has the capacity to answer the barrage of questions that only he can come up with as quickly as he can think them. No human can equivocate this. It's a 'home' when he's away from home.

I used to do battle over the Internet. I used to insist that he 'turn it off,' or 'do something else.' I simply wanted him to be able to walk away from his computer or his iPhone and I never understood with such clarity (as I did yesterday) just what this cyber-thing means to him.
Of course, I tried all the wrong strategies to help Jackson be comfortable in new places or away from home for any length of time. None of them really worked, because they didn't address his need to have something familiar with him in a way that he can manage and that doesn't make him appear to be too 'odd' or 'extreme' when he's in new social situations.

Again, Jackson has found his own way and insisted that this be something he's allowed to navigate. Again, I am in awe of his ability to adapt in a world that sometimes makes very little sense to me, let alone to someone who views it from an entirely different perspective.
Again, I've learned that the best way to help Jackson mature and make sense of his world is to be confidant in his ability to determine how best to go about that - to let him find his way and accept his choice - understanding that I don't know everything and his own sense of self is usually far more intuitive than mine.

Holiday Anxiety - Asperger's Style

The Holidays can be difficult for kids with Asperger's. Some people call them 'Aspie's' but my son doesn't really like this. Have you ever asked your child how he or she prefers this be labeled? Mine prefers; no label. You might be surprised at their answer. I thought Jackson might like to know that there was a community of people that he 'fit' inside of as well as a community of people that would willingly accept him as he is - a gifted, very intelligent and unique individual. I forgot that he's also a teenager and very typical in many respects; most important that he doesn't want to stand out as different than his peers. So, when I absolutely cannot think of another way to describe it - I use "Aspie", but I know he doesn't like it.

Most kids with Asperger's have difficulties coloring outside the lines, so to speak. Especially where food choices are concerned. My son is no different. Really, he is no different than any one of us. Everyone has food preferences and differentiating preferences so applying them only to those with diagnosed differences is really wholly unfair. For example, I don't like eggs -or bananas or tofu for that matter. Oh, and shellfish. So I would hate for someone to insist that I try to eat any of these items simply to appear 'normal.' We don't ask this of non-Aspies so why do we ask those with Asperger's?
With that said, I have to qualify that sometimes those with Aspergers's have preferences that stretch the bounds regarding food. My son can't stand the sound of people chewing, but I noticed that in restaurants, it's not as big an issue. Why? When I asked he told me that the background noises (kitchen activities and music) typically drowned out the sound enough that he can tolerate this unavoidable dinner or meal aspect better.
We play dinner music at home now. Works great!!
As well, my son has some more irrational food preferences like: No visible particles (parsley flakes or pepper) in sauces - or better yet - no sauce period, no chunks (visible pieces of onion, green peppers or the like in rice or pasta dishes. Croutons in salad are okay though.), no textural abnormalities (lumps in mashed potatoes and charred, browned exteriors due to barbecuing, frying or roasting or orange juice with pulp), anything with vinegar is definitely out (salads, pickles), and no nuts in anything. So with the holidays coming up, foods like stuffing become a nightmare because they are an amalgamation of everything he doesn't prefer.

We've been invited to a Thanksgiving Pot luck this year. I'm nervous about how it will go. How he'll be received and respected and how my hosts will react to him. There will be many people he doesn't know in a place he's not familiar with. He will likely be asking when we can leave for most of the evening. He won't 'know' what's in the food because I won't have made most of it. Worse, he will likely wholly but unintentionally insult someone by his reaction to at least one item placed before him. I'll end up bringing a few things that he will like to be sure there's something for him other than bread and butter.

So the task before me becomes two-fold. I will have to bridge the gap between informing my hosts that I have a son with Asperger's - a condition they will likely neither understand nor be able to empathize with - and respecting my son's wishes not to be made to feel a foolish, unusual kid in front of new acquaintances (there might be teen aged girls there). It's true, the minute I inform anyone of my son's differentiation - even if it's an attempt by me to help them understand and know him better - be able to accept with greater capacity, they will wield this information like the Hubble Telescope vigorously looking for other areas and markers within his personality that they can use and apply that will accentuate him as different. The result will most likely be that they will see him as a different human instead of seeing him as a alternate human. They won't remember that no one 'fits' the human mold well - even themselves. My grandmother used to say that, "One size fits all means it doesn't 'fit' anyone." She was so right!!! I will socialize less, check on him more and won't really relax until we are able to leave.

As the holidays unfold and most people stress about time tables, travel, gift-giving and the like. I will be buried under pretences of acceptance, community, family, routine and good will. The best gift I could ever receive would be that people see my son for the wonderful, considerate and truly remarkable person he is and stand in awe of the person I know he will become - regardless of whether or not he likes broccoli salad.

I bet no one else will be keeping track of what the other guests food preferences are with binocular-accurate attention.

Death of Emotion

Dealing with death is never easy, even for the most socially apt and sophisticated person. No matter how intuitive a person is . . . no matter how skilled they might be socially . . . talking about death is always difficult. There's never an obvious good thing to say - except "I'm sorry" which falls drastically short.
You would think that a young man who everyone tells you has limited or not as sophisticated social skills or has 'trouble relating to others' would be the one who struggles with this most. In my family, Jackson was the one who handled it better than any of us. Myself included. Last week, the kid with the Asperger's led us all to a clam and rational place.

My grandmother died last week. She was 92 so it was not a huge shock, but she was in excellent health and extremely vital mentally, so it was a huge shock in that respect. She was my son's great-grandmother. They knew she loved them very much and they loved her in return. The biggest surprise during one of the most painful weeks of my entire decade was Jackson's kind, empathetic and simply attentive responses to those around him he believed were grieving. Yes, he was controlled. Yes, he was factual, but in the whirlwind of pain and emotion that any death creates - his clarity was like a security blanket. He logically asked what we needed to do and called multiple family members every day to check in - to make sure they were okay.

The last time we saw her was in August. My son reminded me that he was so glad he had the chance to see her. As I spoke about her body being transported to the place of the burial he reminded me not to be sad - because she wasn't there, she was in heaven - where it was better and she wasn't alone. As I fight back tears while I stumble through dinner, he reminds me that everyone dies - it's part of life.

Once again, my son has taught me so much about how to get through life in one piece, make sense of the events around me and communicate inside a tornado of emotion. Never have I been so thankful for my children.

Dentist

The Dentist has always been a fearful experience. I honestly believe it is for everyone because, when you think about it, who actually likes having someone scrape metal objects against their teeth? It's just not ever going to be fun or in any way even insignificant. It's a horrible experience.

For my son, it's no different despite the fact that he has had more than his share of dental work. Along with his Autism or because of it - nobody actually knows, he has a genetic abnormality. One of his chromosomes is missing the end. The displays that this particular deletion can cause is the enamel on teeth to be either entirely missing, form with holes in it or be very thin. For Jackson, it was the latter of the two, but not very severely. Certainly severe enough that he has always had a close relationship with the dentist.

When he was about three, I was severely chastised by a pediatric dentist who scolded me soundly for letting Jackson sleep with the milk bottle he patronizingly assumed that I allowed him and which had subsequently rotted the enamel off his teeth in spots. It wasn't until ten years later that we discovered that his dental issues weren't the result of my negligent parenting, but a less likely and more destructive chromosome deletion.

Thankfully, I fired that dentist for insulting me and immediately took him to another. Dr. Harold Simpson in Richardson, Texas. I cannot say enough kind words about this dentist, his staff, his willingness to work with the issues that matter to Jackson and take the time to understand from a medical perspective how best to treat Jackson as a pediatric and now a young adult patient. In short, he treats Jackson like a person, not a kid and is never patronizing or dismissive.
Most of Jackson's dislike about the dentist is anxiety-driven. He would have the same reaction to any dentist. Aren't we all the same in this respect? I know dentists makes me anxious. So when Jackson called me last Thursday afternoon from school and said, "Mom, I was chewing on a pencil and my front tooth broke off" it was my turn to have an anxiety attack. I immediately called the dentist - who agreed to see him right away somehow understanding how nervous Jackson would be. Since it was a surprise visit, there was no time to pre-medicate or treat my son's anxiety issues as we normally do. This made Jackson even more nervous, but the dentist handled it. He spoke plainly and slowly, gave Jackson some choices which allowed him to feel more in control of the environment and was done in just a few minutes.

My son doesn't like anyone touching his head, let alone stick their fingers in his mouth. But in true Jackson form - he headed straight into the anxiety - eyes wide open. No Novocaine, no painkillers, just questions, patience and acceptance.
Which is more than I could say for how I might handle the same situation would it were me.

You want me to what?

Halloween is not an 'Autism-friendly' holiday. There's just no way to make it that way.
The dialog that has inevitably taken place every year between my oldest son and I goes like this. At least - this is how I believe he hears my directions and requests and how I understand his responses.

• Put on some really annoying clothes - School clothes are a big enough battle for me. There's no way I'm dealing with a costume.
• Wear a hat or a mask, it's part of the costume - No way! Are you crazy? I can't stand anyone touching my head for any reason (hygiene, haircuts, weather protection) There's no way I'm wearing a dumb hat to get candy I don't like.
• Go to every stranger's house you can find and knock on the door, but don't go in - Why again?
• When they answer, scream "Trick or Treat!!" - Why can't I just tell them to give me candy?
• Say these "trick or treat' words which imply that you are requesting a choice that you don't actually have a say in -  Why can't you just ask for candy and be clear? 
• Don't tease the dog (if there is one) - How is this not the most fun again? You should try it. It's funny!
• Don't ask them what type of garage door opener they have - Again, I don't care about the candy. What I'm interested in is data, "The brand, you idiot, be specific!" 
• Don't ask them about their computer - What?!?! Are you speaking English?
• Don't tell them their clock is off or ask if you can wait at their door for 73 seconds because you want to hear theirs chime at the hour. (The other kids behind you waiting for candy are not going to bother you.) Of course, you've noticed it! - But I really don't care about the candy, the clock is MUCH more interesting. Even more so than the resident.
• Then you get candy - which isn't they kind you like. And yes, you have to take it even though you hate anything with artificial coloring in it - NO!
• Don't be scared, all the decorations are fake - How do you know? There's a possibility that they might not be.

And we haven't even gotten to the parts about why carving pumpkins is disgusting and or my pleas that he go with his younger brother simply to accompany him.
We haven't even gotten out the door and it's a battle.

Nope - Halloween is not for my son. Unfortunately, there are some holidays and celebrations that simply don't mesh with the symptoms and bumper guards required when you live with another who is on the ASD Spectrum. So, it's a choice. What and or how much do I have to force him to try to learn to do?

And you know what I keep coming back to? People with ASDs are not the only inhabitants of this earth who choose to participate in the holidays they enjoy and to avoid those they don't. I have known perfectly normal individuals that simply don't like Thanksgiving - so they go on vacation every year to a place where it's not celebrated. Easy enough. Why does it have to be any more remarkable that my son with ASD makes a similar choice?
Sometimes I believe we spend so much time and get so entirely enveloped in attempting to force these kids and others with ASDs into our conventional societal mold that we forget that they can and should be allowed to enjoy cultivating the individuality inherent in themselves. We forget that nobody is mainstream while we try in vain to make them be just that. So what if he doesn't particularly like or understand Halloween? I don't particularly understand why we celebrate the annihilation of an entire indigenous population (Thanksgiving). But, I've been trained to celebrate it anyway and every year, I'm as conflicted as the year before and I behave in this silly superficial manner and try to concentrate on the fact that I am with my family instead.

Wouldn't it be nice if people actually stood behind their beliefs and had the guts to say, "I don't like this"?

Again, my son is the one teaching me - not the other way around.

So simple.

The Edge of Existence

Take the edges off everything and make it completely homogeneous and this is how my son likes it - everything that is. Toast, steak, clothing, relationships, emotions, weather, meals - you name it and he likes it better when there are no outliers.

I'm learning to understand, but more important, appreciate this type of perspective. The middle of something is usually where the facts are - the bones of it so to speak. The edges of ideas are often where the stray concepts are, the notions that 'might be' less likely to explain things and the parts that really don't represent the majority. Whether that's a condition, a consensus or a concept, the middle has no rough edges that can taint the rest.

I'm getting used to my son's habit of removing the edge of the toast. I'm stopped trying to 'nicely brown and crisp' his fried chicken because watching him skin it at the table isn't very palatable not to mention - it's bad table manners. I no longer grill his hamburger for the same reason. Watching him try to 'shave' the char-broiled-ness off his is really more than I can take some nights. When he was little - he wouldn't eat the ends of the french fries. He also won't eat Icee Pops without smashing the crap out of them with the back of a wooden spoon first - so that the insides are transformed into a uniform slush as opposed to icy on the inside and melted near the outside.

I made Spaghetti for dinner last week. The sauce was a home made Bolognese version with vegetables and meat. I knew beyond all doubt that there was no way in Hell he was going to eat it. I always have to keep a jar of his favorite, homogeneous, "no-lumps or things" style sauce. We had company for that very informal dinner and my guest chastised me for preparing something different for Jackson.  In vain, I tried to explain that it was simply easier to do it this way than try for the ten millionth time to convince him that eh will not notice the two specs of parsley detectable in a half gallon of sauce.
In the middle of that conversation, I had an epiphany. I wondered? "Why am I apologizing to a someone who is obviously a virtual stranger regarding both Jackson's innate nature and the manners in which his particular Autism Spectrum symptoms are displayed?" Instead, I should have been asking her if she might like to reconsider staying for dinner if it made her so uncomfortable that she felt she needed to offer parenting instructions clearly outside of her realm of expertise.

At the middle of this issue is not Jackson's seemingly irrational notions about food. We all have ideas about what we prefer and what we don't. At the middle is the idea that I am his parent and it is my job to make sure that he gets enough food to satisfy the needs of a teen aged boy. At the middle is the idea that I don't like tofu so I don't eat it. At the middle is the idea that Jackson doesn't like 'specs' or 'lumps' so he doesn't eat them.

I guess when you look at things from the edge it's hard to understand what's in the middle.
I truly believe that most people spend their time gazing from the edge and never have enough courage to venture out into the middle.
Thanks to Jackson, I have and I get it now. He is SO right!!

Watch Me

My son has always - since birth - attempted to live life in a more structured environment than this planet provides. The tenuous-ness of his immediate surroundings are just not enough assurance for him. The laws of nature might be the only gauge that he can truly rely on. This said, 'Time' is his friend.

He learned to tell time at a very young age - around four. It wasn't difficult at all to teach him this abstract concept that most kids struggle with well into their third and fourth grade years at elementary school. I simply explained how a clock worked and what the increments around the dial represented. It instantly made sense to him. Jackson 'got it' before he started kindergarten.

He like time because it moves at a steady pace - regardless of what's going on - never slowing or quickening to accommodate anything. It's reliable and predictable.Two things that are very important to my son. And two things that he has enormous respect for. The fact that others don't or can't simply confuses him. As well, he can monitor it's progress by the simple act of wearing a watch. He monitors everything!
Because he loves time, he loves clocks. All types of clocks. Our home is filled with clocks of every sort as well as those that no longer work because he played with them. He doesn't have the heart to throw them away. He has clocks that chime, clocks that play tunes, Cuckoo clocks, Glockenspeil-type clocks, digital clocks, analog clocks, battery operated clocks, electric clocks. The clocks that irritate him the most are those that have second hands that 'jump' from one second to the next instead of passing around the dial in a continuous sweep of motion because time doesn't 'jump', it's an effortless and continuous motion. He wants the clocks to represent it accurately  - like it really is. Some clocks require that he wind them which is somehow okay - it gives him something to monitor. As well, there's a drawer full of watches for when he's not at home with his clocks. His clocks are as much a part of him as his red hair. He never takes off his watch and he always wants a new one.

When he was very little (age three or four), as a way of introducing himself to people, he would walk up to a person and grab his or her wrist (if they had a watch on) and check their time setting to make sure that it was accurate. If it wasn't, he would immediately point out the adjustment necessary.
I remember one occasion when he did this in particular. He was going to afternoon kindergarten class. We had just walked to his school and we were waiting outside for the teachers to unlock the doors. As was usual, there were other Mom's waiting with their children. Jackson grabbed a woman's wrist and told her that her watch was five minutes fast. She attempted to explain that she had set it that way on purpose. Of course, my son asked. "Why"? The woman explained that she set her watch fast because she was always five minutes late and was trying to figure out a way to be late less consistently - in other words, she was trying to fool herself into believing the time was later than it actually was.

My five year old son, in all his wisdom, looked her straight in the eye with an incredulous expression and said, "Why don't you just leave five minutes earlier if you know you're always late?" The woman looked at him and then at me with the same insulted yet epiphany-generated expression. She was speechless for a full two minutes.
Even at the young age of five he understood the boundaries between conditions that could and could not be manipulated. He knew you couldn't change time no matter how much you might like to.
As a result, communication in our house sounds different than it does in the outside world. I cannot reply to a question of his by saying, "In a while" or "in a few minutes." He needs, "at 8:37pm" or "In 7 minutes" because anything less exact might as well be nothing at all for all the good it is meant. Some adults still haven't learned to identify and respect these boundaries. He's right. Subjective answers really don't have any explicit meaning. There is no tangible data in expression like, "a while ago." What does that really mean? he wonders, "How long is 'a while' if it can have more than one definition?" -Smart kid.

Daylight Savings Time is approaching. For Jackson, there is no such thing, because it's just like the woman who tried to fool herself by setting her watch incorrectly - only in this case, the entire population decides to be ridiculous at the same time.
He wants to move to Arizona where he believes people have more sense. The same kind of sense that he has taught me to have - because I have been able to 'watch him' - literally.

The World is Full of Tshirts and Not One of Them is Mine

I'm sure mornings can be fragile for kids with ASDs. They are a time to re-establish routine, to make sure that the laws that governed the previous day still exist and that the speck of control that was perceived has not drifted away like the images in a dream.
Mornings that go well are a critical piece in forming an entire day that goes well.
In our house, we have learned to protect them. Because when my son has a crappy morning, the repercussions can last for days, turning everything sour.

Sleep is the most important ingredient to a good morning. Trying to function on less than eight or nine hours of sleep - for my son - is tantamount to trying to get Windows 7 to run on a Mac. It just doesn't work. The operating system is there and all the hardware is connected, but nothing makes any sense.

Oddly enough, shirts seem to be the key to a successful or completely disastrous beginning. Who knew shirts could create such a tenuous environment? My son might a drawer full of clean tshirts and nothing about that means that he has anything to wear. In this way, he is a completely normal teenager!! The problem is further down. They might not be 'right.' Or they may no longer 'fit' the mood.
Apparently, there are 'weekend shirts' which are different from 'sleeping shirts' (although I can't perceive the difference) and there are tshirts that he tried, but simply can no longer deal with. Then and only then do we get to the 'school shirts.' The smallest group and the most critical of any.

Shirts cannot be too bright - like yellow. They cannot have any stitching on them - at least nothing that penetrates the fabric that would be palpable from underneath. They have to be some combination of blue and red. No decals. Nothing that will make one area of fabric a discernibly different texture than another area. Tshirts have to be slightly too big - when you're growing an inch a month, this is really difficult to keep up with. Most important, they have to 'feel right.' This is the criterion that I have been unable to quantify. Sometimes, when I'm having trouble understanding 'right' it helps me to define 'wrong.' Unfortunately, I can't define either in this case. Some days I believe that accepting the boundaries of my son's choices is most difficult because I have no other choice but to resign to blind faith and total submissive respect where his clothes are concerned.
This would be hard for any parent, but it's something that I have learned to do. Let Jackson be Jackson.
It used to be that it made absolutely no difference to my son what anyone thought of his clothing. In fact, all through the second and third grade, he wore a shirt and tie to school. It was how he was comfortable.
Now, I have to make bargains just to even get him to wear long sleeves. (They get in the way of his watch.) No matter the temperature, he's in a tshirt.

It's true, there are times when both me and his younger brother feel like Jackson's needs rule the roost - so to speak. But I don't think they do. I think they're just more obvious because they disproportionate.
For most of us, given a choice of a drawer full of tshirts, we would choose one. If our favorites weren't there, we would choose an alternative. This is the point at which my oldest can't navigate. He can't choose an alternative, because to him - the aren't any. The only viable alternative is to not go to school (only because I won't let him wear a dirty one from the hamper).

Here is the difference as I see it. For my son, making choices about clothing is difficult. When you add that he needs to make these choices in an environment that he is truly uncomfortable in - aka "Mall" (loud noises, crowds, lots of distractions and lots of people) it's no wonder he picks anything. He's learned that I won't be satisfied until he makes a choice. He does it just so that we can leave and go back home where he's comfortable. At home, in the confines and security of his room, he can decide about his tshirts - chose those that won't create even more distractions during his day.

Gee! This sounds like exactly what we all call 'shopping.' The difference is that when we shop, we're able to say, "I don't like this one because . . . ." and fill in the blank. The fact that my son can't verbally, but knows instinctively is the ONLY difference.
So what exactly is it that we get so frustrated with as parents of these teens? It's us. Our ability or lack thereof to enter their world and understand their thoughts and how they make decisions. This is why I try to just Let Jackson be Jackson and know that he will choose what works for him and not what works for me. For him, a dirty shirt that he's comfortable in is better than a clean shirt that bothers him. It means the difference between being able to concentrate in Physics class or not. It's that simple. As well, who am I to decide what 'feels wrong' to him?
If you can, try to imagine all the decisions you make in a day having the same weight, the same level of importance. For my son, I am beginning to learn that in the same way that he treats every one equally, he treats choice equally. None are less important than any other. So picking out a tshirt is no less critical than deciding who to talk to. Can you imagine what this is like for them?

My advice is: When you find something that works, buy a lot of them. Who says he can't wear the same shirt  twice in a week? If it's clean and identical to another he wore previous, is the world really going to stop spinning?

My son is almost an adult. He does chores, he earns money, he prepares food. He will soon learn to drive. I certainly wouldn't let my son choose MY clothes for the day. That would definitely make for a bad morning.

Cheerleaders use FaceBook

Communicating with people who have ASD's can be difficult. Our social norms dictate that we have to learn to write letters - by hand and on paper. For most of us, these days, hand-written letters only arrive on Birthdays and at Christmas in the form of cards. Even these are sometimes pre-printed with a holiday message, maybe a family picture will be included and the addresses are a mail-merge gift from the God of cyber functions. Homework is all available online in eFolios but we insist that it be completed in pencil and on paper, kept track of and returned. We use Sony Readers, iPads and Kindle devices to read for pleasure to such an extent that the publishing industry is crumbling under the weight of flat screens. However, schools must use textbooks - with pages. There's probably an irrevocable contract to purchase them keeping some publisher barely in the black. Despite that eBooks, are easier to update, less costly to distribute and don't get lost or eaten by dogs, we insist on conventional printed and bound books for all students.

So why are we as an educating society so hell-bent on insisting that people who really don't like and are not comfortable with using paper, pencil, ink and White-Out (let's face it - we need it) use those same methods to communicate that even the adults who supervise and teach them don't like much? Especially when we know what the problems is? Is it really those with the disabilities who cannot learn here?

My son communicates better electronically. I've known this about him for 10 years now. At the age of seven, and despite the fact that almost everyone told me not to - they were afraid for his cyber-identity-safety - I established for him and email account, an IM identity and a FaceBook page. Almost as immediately as they were available, he began using the IM tool at home to ask very simple questions and initiate basic communication with me that had up until then been non-existent. Can you imagine how thrilled I was that my son was asking normal questions like, "What's for dinner?" instead of coming into the kitchen and plunging his hands into what I was making so he could feel it and know if he was going to like it or not?
I gotta tell ya - I didn't give rats that he was technically too young to have a Messenger account of his own - or be on the internet unsupervised. He was communicating - and appropriately. He was asking a question one time only and retaining the answer instead of becoming hopelessly distracted by the unspoken communication my face was providing.

Jackson is now 15 years old. FaceBook has made talking with peers go from indescribably uncomfortable to completely normal. For the first time in his entire academic history, he is asking to be removed from resource classes and be placed in general education curriculum classes because " . . . none of my friends are in special ed."
Hallelujah!!
You just can't ask for anything better than that!
And the icing on the cake is that after explaining why he is in resource classes instead of general education classes and what he needs to do to get out of those classes - he's motivated. He's talking to his teachers (using email) and really trying to find ways to make progress and where his education is concerned.

I have always known that Jackson will live his life according to his own agenda and priority. He will live with his choices and make very few apologies for them along the way. He will find ways to communicate that work for him as well as for the general public. He will do this because he is Autistic - because duplicity makes no sense to him - because the world doesn't offer him the same courtesy so why should he? - and because cheer leaders are on FaceBook and he's 15.

You just can't ask for your son to behave in a way any more 'normal' than that.

A Mom's-Eye View

I ran across this post today in a blog that I had never heard of. Her words reminded me that while I fundamentally believe in research to gain access into the mysteries of ASDs, I don't long for a cure. What I really want is to understand - to learn ways to cope, to learn ways to communicate that will make sense - to my son. I want to understand his perspective or gain some perspective through his eyes.

If he were cured, he wouldn't be the person he is today for as much as he is Jackson - he is fabulous and I wouldn't change him  - at all - not for anything.

YouTube Rockstar

My son got an email yesterday - from YouTube!
They were writing to inform him that his video had received so many hits and positive comments that they would like him to join their AdSense campaign and begin earning money from his posts!!

Here is a link to his video.  PS3 update video  It's received almost 5,000 hits and loads of positive feedback!!

We have completely different reactions - my son and I. When he told me about the email, I was simultaneously not surprised at all (Of course they did. You're a genius with computers. Duh!) and quietly ecstatic (Yay! My son's a genius and I'm so proud of him!). To be outwardly exuberant would have cemented Jackson's never telling me about another accomplishment again. I tried to be stoic about it and it was extremely difficult. And he was brilliant in accepting my praise and adoration despite his almost compulsive resistance to any hugs or physical displays.
His modesty is virtually unshakable regarding his talent because he doesn't see it as the talent that it truly is.

My son simply does not understand why everyone doesn't have the instinctual insight into how computers work that he does. This capacity is so entirely innate in him that to be otherwise would be like asking any other person to think about what it would be like to go through life without the ability to breathe on his or her own.

I hope he pursues this. I hope he makes more videos. I know that he will - do something incredible that will leave me astounded, thoroughly impressed and incredulous as to why I'm surprised by his genius. As well, I know that whatever he does will be on his terms and will be nothing I might have expected, but something that makes complete sense because it will be of his own design - something I never would have conceived and couldn't possibly - because my brain just doesn't run on the same operating system as his. Thank God!

"I feel better"

You just can't imagine how the simple words can change your world. Most clinicians agree that Autistic children don't have the insight or ability to connect a voice with their emotions to enable any communication where feelings are concerned. So when my 15 year-old said, "I feel better" the other day hearing those words was like a dam had broken. Instead of the disastrous flood that was expected, I imagined a parched earth finally inundated with cool, clear water. Growth might finally be possible where it hadn't been before.

"I feel better" was how he described dealing with the stress of having to start high school, moving to a new environment and forgoing the independence and surety of his bike for the unreliable means of a school district bus. After months of pre-transitional stress and weeks of learning new routines, new faces, new issues  - new everything - he 'feels better.'
He's growing up. He's learning to deal with his environment. He understands that he can use the way he feels to discover areas he's uncomfortable with and then resolve to change and manage what he can. As well, he's realized that this applies to relationships as well. He plays with the idea of how his actions affect how others react to him.
For a high school boy - could you really ask any more? Some grown-ups don't even make it this far.

Produce Bag Ties

Taking my son to the market is no fun, but I have to. He's almost 15 and he needs to learn to shop. He wants to push the cart, but refuses to drive as though it were anything but a bumper car ride. He doesn't like to wait while I look and compare. He ALWAYS picks up a handful of bread or produce ties and balls them up. I find them, frazzled, sometimes stripped of most of their paper covering, rusted and frayed in a ball in the dryer. They look like a tiny bunch of barbed wire in the aftermath of a nuclear blast. Normally, beyond obtaining them and destroying them, he keeps them in his pocket and never thinks of them again. But not to get them is impossible. I don't think he's ever left the store without a tie-ball.

He loves the self check aisles. I hate them. He's good at comparison shopping but not so good at thinking about what he needs other than the exact items we came to the store for. Occasionally, he'll ask for some Humus. He always asks for sushi - and Coke - oh and cheese, bagels and butter.

Teacher Phone Call

My son is 15. Rarely, if ever, does he talk about peers, classmates or any other type of social acquaintance from school, camp, the neighborhood or anywhere except his brother.

Yesterday, I got the surprise of my life. A call from one of his teachers asking my permission to move Jackson's seat in class. Normally, he sits up front because his attention can wander - especially if the topic is a chore or something that doesn't involve computers, but this was a computer class. I had no idea what was going on, so I asked.

It turns out that my son wanted to "sit next to a friend" so he asked the teacher (nine times in 20 minutes) if his seat could be moved. I cannot explain how overjoyed, pensive, excited and skeptical I was all at the same time.
Normally, my son keeps entirely to himself. He will occasionally related stories of classroom antics to me or describe the odd behaviors of his classmates. But never has he said anything that connects the word 'friend' and himself in any way. I'm sure this is in part because he's been hurt. He has tried to be friends with others only to be ridiculed and relentlessly teased once he was in close social proximity. Kids are so mean! Because of this - he stays clear. It's a practical response.

I hope he's not being set up again, but I'm so proud of him for trying again. He's so much stronger than I ever was at that age.

I Choose 'Not Normal'

School starts tomorrow. Yay!! and Boo!!

Yay - because it means that the boys will have something to do all day that won't involve irritating one another simply because they're bored with every other activity. Boo - because we're all going to have to get used to our new schedules. We'll have three to juggle this year as opposed to two like last year.
My kids will be at different schools and I will be at a different job (with any luck - more on that later).
In any case, we're all going to have to be a little more flexible.
It's funny. Each of my sons has a very distinct approach to getting ready for school. Naturally, they are polar opposites. One feels he needs to make sure that he doesn't show up wearing anything he wore last year. That would be a sure indicator of a complete lack of progress. The other flatly refuses to make any noticeable changes to his appearance or his wardrobe for fear that his peers would have social ammunition they might hurl at him for no apparent reason. I drew the line at the 'no haircut' tactic.
It must be hard - to be different and have everyone in the school know it. Rumors spread and kids are mean. Can you imagine? I got teased relentlessly as a teenager and I wasn't clinically different. I just wore embarrassingly thick glasses that were broken (one arm missing) for years, didn't have a stitch of clothing with a worthy designer label, was too smart to be cool and too shy to be noticed by anyone and still the ridicule was relentless.
Ninth grade is hard. a new school. A much bigger school. New teachers, new culture, new expectations, new demands and the creeping idea that maybe a fresh start could create a new history. . .  one that wasn't so prominent in the eyes of the social gate keepers. For my son, the expectations are high and the demands on him will be even higher. He'll try to overcome some of his historically 'Autistic' behaviors and act 'normal'. I just hope he doesn't choose the variety of 'normal' that includes teasing anyone and everyone who's different or has a detectable weak spot. I don't think he will despite that the temptation will be huge. But I'd rather have a school full of kids who mind their own business, get to class and ask a million questions than a group like the one I believe he might be walking into tomorrow because 'normal' in High School usually means 'not very nice.'

The Bravest Coward

We made it through the trip, the flight, the train, the bus, the unknown - barely. We wouldn't have if not for the staggering and indefatigable bravery my son possesses.
Most people, when faced with situations that are uncomfortable or that cause the slightest degree of anxiety, will shy away. They might try to distract themselves or make whatever is causing them pain less noticeable. They commit to useless activity, they perform ridiculous rituals, they take drugs to calm them when they feel so out of control that they cannot trust themselves to maintain composure. Not my son.
When he's afraid, feeling unsure or in a situation that causes his anxiety to rise, he dives in further. He refuses to be occupied with anything that doesn't fully immerse him in the exact condition that is causing his unrest. He needs to know more. He tries to think his way out of his discomfort. Can you imagine having the bravery to do the same?  -Never mind the stamina that it takes to pay attention to something that you don't like for hours on end and until it's over? I cannot. I simply cannot. It's too easy to 'turn off' the conditions that I don't like. So much easier.
For a few years, I've watched him do this and wondered why he can't simply divert his attention. I have even asked him directly. He says, "I can't, Mom. I don't know why. I just can't."
Earlier this week just before boarding a flight bound for Milwaukee, my meteorologist son discovered that there was a tornado watch in the Wisconsin area. I have to admit that when I heard this news, even I was a little stricken. Other passengers in the waiting area for the same flight were likewise more than a little concerned - grown men! My much younger teenaged son doesn't handle bad weather well at home let alone asking him to endure the possibility of having to fly through it. In fact, flying is his least favorite mode of transportation with the exception of boating - which he flatly refuses to participate in. He was so nervous! And in order to deal with his anxiety, he spent the entire flight searching for information from any source possible - when necessary he consulted the same source multiple times. The fact that he'd already asked had nothing to do with the fact that he still didn't have enought information. He bothered all the flight attendants, the pilot, other passengers . . . he asked them all. "Are we okay?" "How is the weather in Milwaukee?" "Is this amount of turbulence normal?" "Have we stopped going up yet?" "Have we started the decent yet?" "How much longer is it?" He asked them all so many times  - because you can never be sure when information will change. As well, people are unreliable as providers of factual information. He's right.

What he really would have liked would to have been able to check the FAA website, the NOAA website and the airline website to coordinate his own data. But it only would have eased his anxiety marginally. He still would have had to ask - over and over. Choosing instead to wrap himself in his hair shirt of potential travel disasters that would drive most of us mad.
He was really nervous, but not once did he lose his composure. Not once did he emit the slightest simper or wail. He spoke clearly. He was quiet. He was completely rational in the face of his greatest fear. Instead of breaking down or hiding within himself, he chose to become intimate with the very out-of-his-hands condition taking place around him thinking that if he were more familiar with what was making him anxious, the less there is attributable to the unknown. The same type of situation that most rational adults choose to pretend doesn't exist when faced with the same.

We are home now. The return flight was only less anxiety provoking because there was clear weather. There was still a flight or two in front of him. But the whole experience left me wondering which of us was the braver coward. The one in denial or the one trying so hard to understand what he can never know - when will something unpredicatable happen? Because it will somewhere, at some point, to someone.
Now . . . who's the one with the emotional disability?

Travel plans

Summer is here and that means my kids want to travel. Invariably the younger wants to go on a cruise and the older stubbornly and flatly refuses. They bicker, negotiate and in the end we neither stay put or go cruising.
My oldest simply cannot handle the idea of getting on a boat. It's funny, I have pictures of him in boats when he was really little, but ever since the age of about eight - he won't go near climbing into anything that floats.
As near as I can tell, it all started one summer when the boys attended a YMCA Summer Camp. Part of the activities was canoeing. I thought it sounded great. Granted, the lake they went canoeing on was about the size of a postage stamp and all of three feet deep, but they were meant to go. Apparently one of the 'teams' of kids capsized. My youngest says it was great fun. They all got wet and muddy and simply got up and walked out of the pond. My oldest had been scarred for life (both were spectators to the event). Ever since then, he refuses to go in any boat.

Flying is little better, but he understands that it's necessary if you want to travel whereas floating isn't. This summer's flight was a two-leg trip to the East Coast. The connecting airport had 'weather' - a worst case scenario for my son.
He's a bundle of irrational nerves on a good day. A Tornado Watch just sent him beyond his emotional edge.
The second half of the trip presented it's own issues like flying in the dark. Conditions that would normally excite the average traveller just add to his anxiety level. I feel bad for him.
Flight attendants certainly don't do a lot to help ease his mind. While I'm certain that there are plenty of older passengers who have flight anxiety. It's more socially acceptable for them to take a few pills or simply get drunk. My son refuses to take medication to help him cope. Instead, he chooses to immerse himself totally in the stressful environment that surrounds him - getting to know every nook and cranny until it's familiar. He's so brave!! Most of us would beg for a distraction, try to sleep, listen to loud music, try to read - anything to take our mind off it. Not my son. He faces whatever is stressing him out full on. It makes him uncomfortable to do this, but it's his way. He has to know what he's dealing with.
If the flight attendants only knew how strong he truly was maybe they wouldn't be quite so condescending and rude when he politely asks for the fourth or twentieth time. "How much longer will we be in the air?" or  "What is our altitude?" or "Do you know where we are on the flight path?"
What's wrong with these questions? Just because the plane is full of a bunch of brain-dead, obsequious passengers - he has to become one too?

I'd take a plane load of bravery in a crisis over a bunch of ignoramuses any day!

Summer: an unexpected love-hate relationship

Summer is difficult for my son. Despite the fact that he loves summer vacation, sometimes I honestly believe that he does, because he's been taught that he should.
For most people (students and children), summer is a time to relax, avoid schedules, break routine and live in the uncomplicated space that a lack of tasks or expectations provides. For my son, summer is downright stress-inducing. All the schedules and routines that he has struggled to discover and placed carefully around him to support him - disappear.
He is conflicted by his desire to create replacements and his interpretation that he shouldn't based on everyone else's delight in their evaporation. But it's so hard for him to be spontaneous - which is an underlying aspect of most people's ideal 'summer.'
To try and help him, I plan too. Sometimes too many things. I create schedules where none are necessary and help him find blocks of times and activities that resemble those that are comfortable to him. This year, we will spend August making plans for the new routines that will be required of him as he moves from Middle School to High School. He will need to practice them before they become part of his day.
It's a big step. But I think he's ready. He's been planning for years. As usual, I'm the one who needs to catch up.

John Elder Robison

I just finished reading a book. Look Me In The Eye, By John Elder Robison. -Remarkable, breathtaking, tragic, sad, hilarious, compassionate, insightful and laser-beam accurate all come to mind.

John Elder Robison's Blogspot page

You can find information about this publication at by clicking the link above.
I couldn't possibly write anything more here that would do justice to this piece of work. You just have to read it for yourself. You won't be sorry.

Sunscreen

Sunscreen!?!? Yes, even sunscreen has issues and I'm so happy that I just figured them out.
This year I bought my son unscented, no-dye sunscreen thinking that this would fit his criteria for items with no weird smells or colors. -Wrong!
When reminding him today to use his sunscreen if (while at camp) he goes outside to put it on. He said, "I'm not using that." That's when it dawned on me like a bolt of lightening! Normal sunscreen in a squeeze tube requires that a person touch it to apply it. This is the main negative criteria. Dye is irrelevant and scent is secondary.
Spray sunscreen!!! Duh! I swear, sometimes I feel like I'm the one who's brain is different.
So I stopped at the corner drugstore and got two bottles of brand name, high SPF spray-on sunscreen. He loved it. He doesn't have to touch it. His hands won't be greasy all day long. He's happy and I'm ecstatic! I know, little breakthroughs are so important though because being Autistic isn't about the big picture, it's all about the details.

Dinner Challenge

I've watched those cooking shows where celebrity chefs have 30 minutes to prepare food for hundreds or there's a steamy battle in a close-quartered kitchen. Sometimes, chefs are given a mis-matched lot of ingredients and they have to come up with something creative using everything.
I've often wondered how fast these professionals would wither in defeat if they had to cook for a child with food issues. This is my challenge every week and I don't get paid, receive notoriety or accolades or even thanks most days. It's never ending. I cannot walk off the set though I'd secretly love to one day.

Today is Sunday. For me, this means that I have to plan the meals for the week. I do this because I've found that arriving home at 5:45pm and having absolutely no clue as to what to prepare for dinner can quickly turn into a beast of a nightmare. I have to plan it out. There's no time to think on my feet when I really would just love to get off them for a few minutes.
Planning meals used to be something I loved. Now - I still enjoy it, but it's a challenge to say the least. There simply aren't that many foods that my oldest will eat. He could live on the same five meals every day, all day and think nothing of it. The rest of us would keel over with boredom and disgust.
My weekly challenge is how to create just enough variety within an adequate amount of familiarity so that he's interested enough to eat on safe footing that he's willing to try something new (once in a while) and the rest of us don't wither from culinary boredom. Cheese and pasta are always good. Pizza (cheese only) is usually okay. He likes broccoli, rice and chicken. Easy, right? No. I can't mix any of these together to form a new food with items that I know he likes. Trust me, I've tried.
As well, nothing with artificial dye in it. Nothing with multiple textures in one forkful of food. No onions in anything. Only rarely will he eat meat of any kind. Are you beginning to see why this is so hard?
Some days I feel as though I have to make special meals within meals so that my oldest will have something he likes. When he gets hungry, he's extremely crabby. I can understand this, I'm the same way. So 'full' is much better for everyone.
So today is 'menu day' and I feel a headache coming on. Let's see . . . bread and butter, Hummus and pita chips, applesauce and cheese. Does this constitute "dinner"? Today - it just might.

Who says kids with Asperger's are impaired?

We're four days into summer camp and it's going well with only the most expected bumps in the road.
My two sons are together at a city recreation center basically being occupied with various field trips, games, and sporting activities for six hours every day - which is great for me and a learning experience for them.
The first day, my youngest got a terrible sunburn. He decided not to wear the sun/swim shirt that I packed for him because none of the other kids were wearing them. As a result, he's in a pretty good deal of pain across his upper back and shoulders. In fact, Wednesday, my oldest (the one with Asperger's) called from the Rec center and reported that his brother was crying in pain and he thought it would be best if I came to pick him up.
When I got there, my oldest was ready to leave too. I asked why he wasn't staying. After all, they were going bowling and to a movie. It would have been a fun day and the activities were even of the sort that didn't involve a great deal of social interchange. In short, bowling and movies are what I call "simultaneous unshared experiences." They're activities that he likes because they appear normal and don't require him to dive into deep social interplays. He loves them for this reason.
But he didn't want to stay. His actual reply was, "If my brother can't stay, then I'm not going to stay either. it wouldn't be very nice of me. I'll stay with him and make sure he's okay."
Now this comes from my child with Asperger's - the same kid who's not supposed to be good at either emotional inference or social interplay, who has a really hard time with jokes and definately has to work at understanding ambiguity and duplicity. And yet, consistently, he teaches both his brother and me that the degree and style of his disability haven't affected his ability to feel compassion, understand complex social situations and provide clear, unblemished emotional support in an extremely sincere and mature and unexpected way.
So who exactly is the one who's disabled here?

Summer Camp

The boys started Summer Camp today. It's always a challenge. Thank goodness the same counselors are still there from last year so there won't be as much uncertainty for my son. As well, the counselor is prepared for him and all the questions that go along with living in his space, temporarily or otherwise.
There will be games that he will refuse to play and people (hopefully other kids as opposed to the counselors) that will get on his nerves . . . I hope he makes it through the day without a meltdown. He'll certainly make it through camp without one - he may save it for home where he feels safe and more able to express anxiety. I hope, I hope it goes well for him.
Lunch will be the most difficult part of the day. He hates the sound of people chewing. In fact, it's increasingly difficult for him to sit at the table with me and his brother without barking, "Chew with your mouth closed!" adding the 'please' at the end as a sort of afterthought. Most times, he simply eats after we do or takes his plate in another room to avoid fights. What he doesn't grasp well is that this leaves his brother and me feeling very dejected even though we know full well why he does this. We've learned our own social behaviors too. Boy are they hard to change and or re-program! I'm sure it must be so much harder for him.
My wish for him is that as the peers he is surrounded by grow older, he will be more inclined to interact with them.

The shirt off your back

Shirts are important. Pants - are not.
This was my lesson (again) yesterday. Again, because I still haven't learned that people don't change. Especially people with Asperger's. If there are reasons that some shirts aren't okay to wear to school, those reasons cannot be overlooked or dismissed simply because all the acceptable shirts are in the laundry. Unacceptable is bigger than dirty. Literally, emotionally and in every other way that can define a t-shirt.
'Wrong' is 'wrong' no matter what it's made of. The details regarding why aren't really important unless you enjoy flogging yourself with irrelevant information just so there will be something else to think about. It could be anything.
Color is big - stick with primaries. Not white - those are underwear. And of course, shirts have to feel right.
No synthetics so most professional team-branded items are out.
Shirts can't have tags inside the collar.
They can never have stitching that penetrates the inside layer of fabric so that the threads annoy you all day long (for t-shirts, this is particularly tough).
T-shirts should never have stiff decals that change the way fabric breathes, moves or feels from any perspective.
These are only the specifications that I'm aware of. I'm sure there are more. Because my son has a drawer full that fits within these parameters but for reasons I can't understand, "They're not right."
Imagine how hard it is to find something as complicated as a friend when you can't even find a decent, simple t-shirt to wear!

Still?

People just don't get it. Even when you tell them in plain English, you know they understand and they claim to - they don't. There's evidence all the time.

My sister said, "You can't make people be something they're not." What a terrific statement! Why can't all people see this clearly? Why do people continually expect others who are autistic to suddenly behave normally when they would like them to - just because there are episodes when they get close or aren't perceived to be 'as autistic.' What does that even mean?

I see it almost every day and it breaks my heart. Just because my son speaks IT and can have what seems to be a very normal discussion and interchange of ideas about computers, software and all the components of this field doesn't mean that he'll be able to stop displaying, hiding or acting out his emotional condition or response to stimuli in a way that's equally as conventional because you've had a bad day and don't have the patience or energy to analyze his. Emotionally, he'll need help and understanding again and again and again - until you honestly believe you're going to cry and then another 100 times after that point - and then more still.

You can't punish the Asperger's out of them. You can't ground them until they decide not to act like they're Autistic. Why can't they see how stupid and arrogant this sounds? I'm not suggesting that those with ASDs cannot grow, mature and learn. Not in the slightest. What I am suggesting is that those who spend time around those with ASDs do.

People don't change so why do we expect those who are autistic might? Being around an autistic person means you can't be selfish. Oh - that's called 'respect.' Here's a new term to apply to those with Autism! Hmmm . . . . why do some people automatically remove the terms compassion, respect and acceptance from their relationships they have with kids and adults with Autism? I just can't stand that!

"My brain runs on a different operating system"

This is what my 14 year-old said to me a couple of months ago. Every time I think of this statement I am more sure that this young man is truly special. I wish I had a similar degree of insight. I don't typically. I tend to look at things in very black and white terms. What I'm learning is that my son does too - just from a completely different perspective.
He has had to work so hard to get where he is. Nothing is designed so that it's easy for him. School, activities, the world in general.
Some sounds he simply can't deal with - like the sound of people chewing food as they eat - a normal occurance during most every meal, never mind in a busy restaurant. He hears things I can't even imagine.
Notebooks, textbooks, fiction might not work because the paper inside doesn't feel right.
Clothes require even more precise specifications that I'm only beginning to understand.
Food - another catogory simply overloaded with landmines.
Routine is everything. He's had to learn to be like most everyone else in society. I hate that for him.
Can you imagine what his world looks like to him? I sometimes long to see it through his eyes and other times I'm secretly glad that I can't. I don't think I could handle it.
No wonder he sequesters himself in the world of Information Technology, software and programming language. It makes sense to him. It's very predictable and the responses always have a reason. There's nothing to touch, nothing to hear no synthetic social language to navigate. It actually sounds peaceful.