Coping With Working Mom Guilt When Your Kid Has Autism

When The Boy was first diagnosed with autism there was no discussion on whether or not I would continue working. I knew that I didn't have any other choice. We just couldn't afford for me to be a stay-at-home mom.

And aside from needing to work, I wanted to work.

Whether you're a mom who works or stays home - guilt is inevitable. And when your kid has special needs, it adds a whole other layer of guilt. (Yeah, it's super fun!)

Lately my guilt has been in overdrive. This last year, in addition to working full-time (I'm an administrative assistant to three attorneys.), I've been doing a lot of freelance work. (My day job schedule varies but I work a 35 hour week. And it's an hour commute each way.)

side note: My day job isn't my dream job but it pays the mortgage on our little condo apartment and provides kick-ass health insurance. I need my day job.

When I come home from work, there's dinner, laundry and cleaning, before bath time and bed time stories. 

Somewhere between all of that (and well after), I write for Babble and Parents.com. And every so often, I agree to write for other venues. It seems as if I'm writing more and more. Which yeah, it's great. I LOVE writing. I'm grateful. It's extra money. The extra money helps with therapy costs. It allows for the little extras in life - a new DVD, a meal at a favorite restaurant or a new toy for no reason. It also provides opportunity.  

Last month I attended a blog conference in Atlanta. And last week I flew to Disneyland. Both trips required me to travel alone. Without my family.

I'm not the kind of blogger that travels often (usually once a year). But when I do leave, it's tough on The Boy. He cries every night I'm gone. Though we try to explain to him, he doesn't understand why I'm not home. It throws him completely off schedule. And The Husband is left on his own to deal with meltdowns, bath time and the morning routine. I know he's a parent too but I feel like it's my job to take care of them both. And when I'm not there, I'm failing as a parent and as a wife.

And even when I am home, I'm still not always "there." I spend most of my weekends, sitting on the sofa typing away and most evenings, I'm working. The Boy often comes over and says, "Momma close the computer and come to my room." Sometimes, I close the computer and sometimes I just can't. And when I can't, it hurts because I waited so long to hear those words. It hurts because there are times when he wants to be alone in his room and asks me to leave. 

Lately I've been wondering if the little extras are worth the time away from my family. I've been juggling so much, for so long and I'm exhausted. I thought that once I graduated, things would be easier. Nope - I've gotten busier. And while I'm grateful for the work and recognition, what I really want to do is slow down.

Will slowing down eliminate all my guilty? Probably not. But I'm hoping that doing less for everyone else will allow me the time to do more with my family. 


Catch up with my Babble posts: 

• The Fears and Frustrations of Autism Parents
• 20 Female Role Models for My Son
• Why I Take My Kid into the Voting Booth on Election Day
• Is It Time To Put My Autistic Son on Medication?
• We Need More Family Restrooms
• Should Children with Autism Wear GPS Tracking Devices?

Is Your Special Needs Child Turning Five? #T5Tue

When I started this blog three years ago, I was going through the Turning 5 process. And - not to scare you - it was probably the most stressful two years of my life. The first year, searching for an appropriate placement and the kindergarten year realizing it was a mistake and trying to get The Boy out.

I wanted to write about our experience but Turning 5 isn't something that can be covered in a blog post or two. So I thought I'd start a new series on the blog - Turning 5 Tuesday [#T5Tue]. I'll share tips, resources, information seminars and our personal experience. If you have a specific question, leave it in the comments section and I'll try to answer it. 

If you have  child with special needs who will enter kindergarten in the fall of 2014 - NOW is the time to start the process.

And where should you start? Well if you're in New York City - you should start with talking to a Special Education advisor and Special Needs Advocate. You probably have a lot of questions.     

What kind of elementary program will be right for my child? What are our rights and options?

Educate yourself! Come hear a free presentation with Sarah Birnbaum (Parent Advocate and Special Education Advisor, New York Special Needs Support) on how to:

• Learn about educational options, public and private
• Obtain the best evaluations and guidance
• Find an appropriate kindergarten program
• Understand your legal rights
• Get through the Turning 5 process and create an IEP

Date: Wednesday, September 25 

6:00-8:00pm


Location: Bankstreet College of Education


610 West 112th Street, main floor auditorium


RSVP: nuberto@bankstreet.edu

Date: Wednesday, October 16 

6:00-8:00pm


Location: The SMILE Center


171 Madison Avenue, 5th floor


RSVP: info@smileny.org

A Mother and Son Date: The B-Side

The Boy & I on our Mother & Son Date

I had this idea to have a mother and son date. The Boy and I are together all the time but our outings consist of errands, doctors appointments or shuttling him between boroughs.

On the weekends, its me, The Boy and The Husband. 

But The Boy's finally on summer vacation and I had a few days off. With no appointments or therapy on our schedule, I wanted to do something fun. Something memorable. Just us two.

If you follow us on Twitter or Instagram, our pictures look like we had a great time. And we did have a nice time but it came with more than our fair share of challenges. This post is what the pictures don't reveal about our day.

***  

We arrived at the Children's Museum of Manhattan (CMOM) shortly after opening. Within seconds, I felt unprepared and wished The Husband was there to help. The first floor was already packed with kids - many of them younger than The Boy. All running, laughing, playing.  Their parents watching from the sidelines, flipping through magazines, chatting on their phones. I followed The Boy around, hovering like I usually do.  My eyes scanning the room for exits and places he could hide.

The Boy darted from place to place, a grin from ear to ear, laughing too loudly. "Oh wow!" He yelled with much more excitement than the other 7-year-olds in the room.

We moved through the rest of the museum but none of the other exhibits excited The Boy as much as the first floor. So that's where we returned for one last run around before heading out to lunch. The room was still crowded.  But the boy was content playing on the slide. And for the first time that morning, I could sit and watch.

That's when they walked in. A group of special needs children and their aides - most likely part of a day camp respite program. Their ages must have ranged between 7 and 10, their disabilities varying.

There was one boy who caught my eye. He was overweight his belly hanging over his sweat shorts. He wore a button down shirt with only the top three buttons buttoned. And his undershirt was pulled up, exposing his large belly. I waited for one the aides to assist him, to pull his shirt down. None of them did.

I don't know why it bothered me so, but it did. I am so conscious of how The Boy looks, so aware of his appearance. It's the one thing I can control. If The Boy lifted up his shirt in public - I would have fixed it immediately. 

The aides wandered the floor aimlessly holding the hands of their kids. Not bothering to engage with them or show them around. The aides were too busy talking among themselves to bother with the children. The children were unlike The Boy, they were quiet, calm, content to be led rather than run.

Then I noticed the room got quiet. Really quiet. The packed room was suddenly empty. All the typical kids and their parents had moved on to other parts of the museum. It was just me, The Boy, the group of special needs kids and their aides. 

Was it too close to lunch? Or did those parents want distance from the kids with disabilities? It hurt too much to think about. 

Later, when I spoke to a friend about it she said "Not everyone is used to kids with special needs. Sometimes it makes people uncomfortable. They don't know how to act." 

I know this is true. I have seen the way people try not to notice us. At times, I don't know what's worse - the blatant staring or acting as if we're invisible. My sister is in her twenties and has an intellectual disability and I have seen people shy away from her (not always strangers either - friends, in-laws and members of our family).   

If The Boy was a 'typical' kid, would I have left too?

***

After lunch, The Boy and I took the bus across town. There was a large playground and The Boy wanted to go in. The playground was much bigger than any one we'd ever been. Too many blind spots, too many pyramids and tunnels - too many places to lose him.

Again, I noticed the groups of parents sitting on the benches secure knowing that when they called out a name, their kid would return.

I bribed The Boy with the promise of an ice cream so that we could leave. 

***

We walked to La Casa Azul (a book store specializing in Latino authors) and The Boy was on the verge of a meltdown. I shouldn't have taken him inside. I should have just left. Instead, I held both his hands while I browsed. The Boy wanted to leave. But I wanted to make a purchase. And I so badly wanted to buy him a book from La Casa Azul.

The whole time he kept saying "I'm going to break all the books. I'm going to spit on the floor." For a fraction of a second I let go of his hand and The Boy grabbed hold of a statue - I thought he was going to crush it. I freed the statue from his grasp, grateful I was the only one who noticed what The Boy had done.

At that point, I knew we were done. I purchased my books and left.

***

On the train ride home, The Boy asked if we could go to the playground. It was still early and since he didn't have a chance to play in the big playground, I agreed.

It was all good until a little girl (about 3 years old) started to cry. And that. Set. The Boy. Off! He always gets upset when he hears/sees another kid crying. He stopped playing and just stared at the girl. The Boy's chest started pumping and tears welled up in his eyes. "She's crying. She has to go home," he cried pointing to the girl.

I walked over to him and led him to a nearby bench. He was sobbing and shaking. The Boy climbed up on my lap, burying his face in the crook of my neck. 

I asked if he wanted to go home but he wanted to stay. I should have just taken him home. Instead I sat there cradling and consoling my 7-year-old son while the other children in the playground stared.

When he was ready to continue playing, I told him we were going to stay for 10 minutes. "Put the timer on," The Boy said. 

A group of boys were gathered around the water fountain, filling up their water guns. I have to watch whenever The Boy gets too close to the fountain. (The last time we were in the playground, he saw a kid drink water from the fountain. Thirsty, but not knowing how to work the water fountain, The Boy attempted to sip from the pool of water that hadn't drained.) The Boy, watching the kids at the fountain, ran up and splashed them all with water. I made him apologize and led him out of the park. 

The Boy burst into tears again. "I'm going to break all my toys," he repeated. "I'm going to spit." He dug his nails into my hand. 

"Stop!" I yelled. "You are not going to break all of your toys. And don't even think about spitting."

Walking up the steps to our building, I saw The Boy gathering his saliva, ready to spit. I swatted his mouth. "What did I say about spitting!?"               

He pulled his hand out of mine and started to run away. He didn't get far.

Once inside our apartment, The Boy yanked off of his shoes and threw them at the mirror. Then he spit on the floor. I yelled at him again, grabbed him by the arm and marched him to his room for a time out. I needed space. I hate losing my temper with The Boy. I know it doesn't make a meltdown any better. I know I'm not setting the example. But I am human. I'm a mom. And sometimes, I completely lose my shit.   

That's when I started to cry. If The Boy can be this challenging for me now, what will happen when he gets older? When he gets too big and too heavy for me to send him to his room. Will he 'grow out' of this behavior? Or will it get worse? 

Why, I wondered. Why did a simple outing - a day that was supposed to be fun - have to be  so difficult? Why couldn't I ignore the behavior? Why couldn't I redirect him? Why couldn't we just have one day without a major meltdown? Why couldn't I get through to him? Why did The Boy have to have autism? That's the why I hated the most. I hate myself when that why creeps in.

I thought about the group of special needs kids and their inattentive aides. The parents and kids who left the room. The kids in the playground who stared as The Boy cried. The Boy playing alone in a playground full of kids.  

Was this to be our life? Or was this just our day? Sometimes it's hard to know the difference.

Can an Autism Mom Have It All? (My Response to Time Magazine Article: The Childfree Life)

By now you've seen this Time cover. The taunting photo of a couple sans kids sprawled out on the beach, hands over head, all smug and relaxed because their childfree life allows them to have it all.

The article explores the lives of childless women and couples. And ever since it's publication, the blogosphere has been all a buzz over it. 

Babble blogger Jeannette Kaplun wrote an excellent post in response: 

Being a parent has been the best choice for me, but it isn’t necessarily for everybody. That’s why it didn’t surprise me at all to see this week’s TIME cover, which looks at the choice more American couples are making — to purposefully live their lives without children. I don’t think that choosing to not be a mother is selfish. I actually think that it can do the world a ton of good. 

I agree with Jeannette, I believe in a woman's right to choose. I believe that not all women are supposed to be mothers. I believe that motherhood was the best thing that happened to me (even though it wasn't exactly in my life plan).

And I feel sorry for the women in the Time article. Not sorry that they don't have children - sorry that they feel the need to justify their reasons why they don't have/want children. 

Still the great debate continues. Can we or can't we have it all. And what does having it all really mean? Does 'all' even matter? 

We don't have to look to a magazine cover to see women who appear to have it all - all we have to do is log on to Facebook or Pinterest. Social media allows us to peer into the window of other women's lives and wonder how do they do it? They either have great jobs or they're stay-at-home moms or they have the best of both worlds - they are work-at-home moms. They live in the right neighborhoods, have the 'perfect' kids or the 'perfect' partner. They drive the nice car and eat the right foods. Everything matches and they're exactly the size they're supposed to be. Their hair and nails are always done. They wear designer clothes that I can't pronounce. They go on date nights, girls night out and romantic weekend getaways. Their homes are out of the pages of a Pottery Barn catalog - they can light candles without worrying about a kid setting themselves on fire. They craft and scrapbook and bake their own bread and do all sorts of amazing things with their kids that make me feel like a slacker mom. Their kids are on the honor roll, have dates to prom and get scholarships to college. They have empty nest syndrome, enjoy their retirement and/or surrounded by adorable grandchildren.

Time magazine makes me wonder: what about autism parents? Do we, can we or will we ever have it all?

I know many mothers who quit their jobs to stay home with their kids. Some autism moms home school. And when they don't, they wonder if they should. 

We spend hours researching, reviewing, learning about autism, therapies, medications and legal rights. We can easily spend more time on the phone fighting with insurance companies than chatting with our BFFs. We constantly worry about our kids and their future. Will they have friends? Will they fall in love? Have a job? Live independently? We want nothing more than to be there for our child, to live forever or secretly hope to outlive our child by a day (or less).

What about an autism mom like me?

I work (full-time outside of the home) because I have to and The Boy goes to a school I had to fight to get him into. As an autism mom, I am exhausted and overwhelmed. There isn't a night when I don't lay awake in my bed worrying over all the What Ifs and Will Hes. 

I look at the Time cover and I wonder if I will ever lay like that on a beach with The Husband. Our date nights are so few and far between - will a romantic weekend getaway ever be a possibility? Will we be able to relax and enjoy our golden years? Will we ever have a 'childfree' life even after our child grows up?   

I don't know. Honestly? The not knowing makes me sad.  

My life is far from perfect. I have more than my fair share of stress, disappointment and heartache. By some women's standards, I don't have it all. Not many women would trade their sexy heels to step into my sensible flats. And that's okay because I wouldn't trade in my flats for their heels either. 

So when I read a headline like When having it all means not having children - I have to check myself and take inventory of what I do have.

I have a husband who adores me and genuinely supports me in every way.

I have a beautiful boy who lights up my world even on my darkest day.

I have parents, family and friends who accept The Boy just as he is.

I have a job that pays the bills (and provides health insurance) and a few freelance gigs that keep me sane.

I have a comfortable apartment that's a size I can manage to keep clean. We have a car that can get us from point a to point b. And I have a few cute pair of sensible flats.  

I never wanted to be a mother. It wasn't something I dreamed about or planned for. Motherhood, for me, just happened. But being a mother - being The Boy's mother - has given me more than I could have ever imagined. I don't have many material things but I have the things that matter most. I don't have to have it all. Because I'm happy with what I have right now. What I have is more than enough. 

The Day I Ran Away From Home

I have been under a lot of stress lately. Feeling like I am being pulled in a million directions. Struggling to catch up and feeling like I'm always falling short.

Last week I submitted my thesis - five years worth of my best writing and it was like this weight was lifted off of my shoulders.

But there was still mounds of laundry to get done. Stacks of unopened mail. Paperwork to fill out. And everywhere I looked there was something that needed to get done. So much stuff that I let pile up for so long.

Then the pressure of writing and deadlines. Writing for Babble & Parents are second and third jobs for me. So between working outside the home, writing at night, writing my thesis, taking care of The Boy it was only a matter of time before I snapped.

Well I snapped last Saturday. Big time. (The Husband and I may have gotten into a little tiff.) And I just needed to get out. Because sometimes you just need to get away from your husband and your kid and your home. Sometimes you just need to say: F--k doing laundry and dishes and groceries and responsibility. 

As I was getting dressed The Boy asked, "Where are you going Mommy?" (I know!! Such an appropriate WH-question!!) 

"Out." I said.

"You're going to the supermarket." The Boy said. It sounded more like demand. 

"No. I am not going to the supermarket. I am just going out."

I kissed him goodbye and walked out the door.

I took the train downtown and had an amazing day with my best girlfriends. We had sangria and burgers and wine and nutella panini's. (What can I say, we have pretty sophisticated taste.) I took a picture with Captain Cragen (swoon). And I treated myself to a mani/pedi.

I needed that day. All moms deserve a day to run away from home. 

When I returned hours later, The Husband told me that when I walked out the door The Boy said, "Mommy's going to Texas."

Apparently, the only places The Boy thinks I go is to the supermarket and Texas.  I don't always have to run to the supermarket for solace and I don't have to go as far as Texas (nor do I want to) but sometimes a happy compromise and a day away from it all is good for the mom soul.               

Do You Remember Your 1st Day of Kindergarten?

April 21, is Kindergarten Day – the celebratory birthday of Friedrich Froebe – the man who started the first kindergarten in 1837.

Kindergarten is a major milestone for children and their parents. The first day of kindergarten is one most don’t forget.

I remember my first day of kindergarten. My mother put me on the school bus. It was the first time I was separated from my mother.

I don’t remember crying. I don’t remember my mother crying. Maybe she did after the bus pulled away, though I very much doubt it. It was a different time then.

Besides, when my mother put me on the bus, she knew I’d come home and tell her every detail of my day.

I loved kindergarten. I still remember my teacher’s name: Ms. Kaplan. I loved the bus. Driving through different neighborhoods, singing songs, laughing with friends.

It was one of the happiest school years of my life.

That was a long, long, long time ago.

I will never forget my son, Norrin’s, first day of kindergarten. 

Read the rest on Babble click the link -->  http://bit.ly/15xZjlR

Why Can't Every Weekend Be a Three Day Weekend?

Wouldn't it be amazing if every weekend was a three day weekend? 

If corporate work weeks for low level employees like me could have a four day work week? At the same pay rate. (Obviously...)

It's Tuesday and I went to work. Yesterday was President's Day and I had the day off. A wonderful three day weekend.

As a full-time working (outside the home) mom, I feel like I'm constantly playing catch up. Now that school has started, my time is even more limited. 

But when I have a three day weekend - I feel like I get soooo much done. 

Like all the laundry. I even folded it. And I set up The Boy's outfits for the week.  

I went to the supermarket and Target. I even cooked a meal or two. 

I cleaned and organized. 

I wrote a post that made me all teary and sentimental. I got to read an A M A Z I N G book and it made me cry the ugly cry.  

I took the time to just be a mom.

We even took The Boy for a pony ride. He liked it! He really liked it! 

I even wasted a few seconds on that WeeMee nonsense. I'm not gonna lie - I think mine came out super cute. Way better than I'm looking these days...she even got to go to Paris.

And then today the madness started all over again. The tooth brush battle (The Boy fights me every morning). The rushing to get out the door. Fighting my way through the D train crowd. Trying to get through emails and setting up meetings. Then rushing back home, hoping to get to the gym - only to sit on a delayed 6 train for half an hour. So that by the time I got home, I was so hungry and cranky I skipped the gym. So just I cooked dinner. And maybe I'll wash the dishes before I go to sleep. Or I'll leave them for the morning.

When it all starts over again... 

It's Day 5 of the NYC School Bus Strike. Seriously?! When will it end?

We're on Day 5 of the strike.

I have used my 4th vacation day.

Yesterday I spent the entire day at The Boy's school. In a storage room. You can check out the You Tube video HERE.

Today I commuted to The Boy's school using public transportation.

How did it go? See for yourself...

Day 4 of the NYC School Bus Strike aka My First Edited Vlog. Ever.

Day 4 of the New York City School Bus Strike.

I took my 3rd vacation day and spent the day at The Boy's school. 

And...because there was no Wifi - I decided to make a vlog. And I edited it (sort of). 

And yes - it took the majority of my day.  
(I was allowed to stay at the school for the day, provided I did interfere with The Boy's day.)

Dear Mayor Bloomberg and Local 1181 (an open letter regarding the NYC School Bus Strike)

Dear Mayor Bloomberg and Local 1181,

Below is a picture of my son, Norrin. He will be seven years old tomorrow. He has autism and goes to a special education school in Westchester - 22 miles away from our apartment building in The Bronx. 

As my husband and I are both working parents - we rely on the Office of Pupil Transportation and the Local 1181 to get Norrin to and from school safely.

I am sure some wonder why we would choose to send our only child to a school so far way. It was not an easy decision to make. But not a single public school in The Bronx could meet Norrin's specific needs. It was a fight to get him placed into a specialized school but his school was well worth the fight.    

Yesterday, Friday, January 18, 2013, was the 3rd day of the NYC School Bus Strike. And my son Norrin is 1 of the 152,000 students stranded. On Wednesday and Thursday, I had no choice but to take vacation days from work to stay home with Norrin. But on the third day, I had to go into work. And with limited childcare options, I had no choice but to bring Norrin in with me. 

I am administrative assistant and my husband is a NYS Supreme Court Officer - we don't have the kind of jobs where we have the privilege of working from home on a whim. My husband, cannot even manage to take a single day off from work to pick Norrin up from school. So the responsibility rests on me. And while we have a car, I do not know how to drive. In order for me to get Norrin from school, I need to take a bus, MetroNorth and a cab - it's a 2 hour commute (one way). And I know parents are to be reimbursed for service but it's a $75 fare and I can't afford this on a daily basis.

Norrin isn't the kind of kid who can ride in a car pool with strangers. He still sits in a car seat. He has limited language and functions at a 4 year old level. Norrin's a runner and needs his hand to be held at all times. And while Norrin is okay riding trains - I do not feel comfortable sending him off with someone else - whether they know Norrin or not. When I commute with him, I keep both hands on Norrin while waiting on train platforms and when sitting on the train, I keep a hand on his knee because he tries to get up. If we're standing, I have to keep reminding him to hold on because he doesn't know how to keep his balance.     

So now I am forced to choose. Do I go to work? Or do I take my child to school?

I heard that out of the 145 students that attend Norrin's school only 43 kids showed up. These kids are missing out their much needed related services like Speech and Occupational Therapy. And because school is technically open - these  services will not be made up. They are missing out on classroom instruction and peer relationship building. Their routines are being disrupted. These are children at risk for regression. 

Norrin has come such a long way since his diagnosis, I cannot risk him regressing. And after disruptions to his routine, it takes weeks to get him back on track. So on Tuesday, I will need to take another vacation day so that Norrin can go to school.      

I have a generous amount of vacation time - four weeks. But if this strike goes beyond my vacation, I have no idea what I will do. I've already spoken to the Human Resources department and I've been told that this doesn't qualify for FMLA. And I need my vacation time to Norrin to appointments, for IEP meetings, for evaluations. This is beyond a stressful situation.  

So it seems ironic to me that Local 1181 members are fighting for their job protection, while so many parents - especially parents of special needs children - are worried about their own job security. My job is not secure - I can be let go at any given time. And while my bosses may be understanding, my being out of the office is an inconvenience. I worry about my job. Because I need it. And I have no union to fight for my protection.

This strike must end soon. Because the individuals who really need protection are our kids. And I am fighting for them.

Sincerely, 

Norrin's Mom

For more on the NYC School Bus Strike see my other posts: 
What Will I Do If There's a NYC School Bus Strike
Are You Prepared For a School Bus Strike? on Parents.com

MAKE YOUR VOICE HEARD - please sign the petition started by Miz Kp of Sailing Autistic Seas!  

I Am Overweight

I took this screen shot of my Wii image last January. And six months before, I was lighter. Emotionally and psychically. In the last two years I have gained nearly 20 pounds. I call it The Weight of Autism.  

And last night I stepped on the scale. I have passed the 160 pound mark.

I am overweight. I am far from in shape. And I am not happy. It's hard getting dressed in the morning because I try on several outfits trying to conceal my weight - some days are more successful than others. The thought of going someplace nice depresses me because even though I have closet full of clothes, the items I want to wear don't fit. And I can't stand going shopping especially when I have to keep buying bigger sizes. Nothing fits comfortably anymore and it makes me incredibly self conscious.

I know that if I don't do something about it, I will keep gaining weight.

I hate New Year resolutions. I never keep them. But this isn't about a resolution. It's about making a life style change. It's about making better choices. It's about being healthier. Because The Boy needs me to be.


For my other life style changes check out my post on Parents.com - Resolutions For An Autism Parent  

  

Do I Have the Right to Blog about My Kid with Autism?

The Husband taking a picture of me taking a picture of me & The Boy. Both pics were uploaded to Instagram.

I have plastered my son's face all over Facebook.

I've Tweeted his scripts and Instagramed his antics.

I've added text to his pics and pinned them to Pinterest and G+'ed them too.

For the last two years, I have lived our lives via my blog. Sharing my joys. My sorrows. My fears. The stress of parenting a kid with autism and all of my added angst.

I have pushed my kid out of the special needs closest without even asking him. Or my husband for that matter.

And yesterday someone asked me the question:

Does your son know you are blogging about him?  Is he okay with it?

And I can't tell you how often I've asked myself: Do I have the right to blog about him?

I remember last year when The Boy was in that horrible school and they were all reading my blog, picking my words apart to use them against me. I questioned whether or not I should continue blogging. I questioned if it was worth the risk. 

When I first started this blog, I started it as a class assignment. I wasn't thinking about comments or tweets, page views or pins. I never thought my son would become a "face of awareness."

I just wanted to share our journey. I wanted to write the posts, I would appreciate reading. Posts that were realistic to me and our life.

I've had conversations with other parent bloggers about this - our right to blog about our kids and the impact it will have as they grow up. It's not a decision any parent blogger takes lightly - especially when a child has a disability.

Some bloggers are anonymous and reveal no photos of their children. Others change their names and share some photos of their families, and only from certain angles. And others - like me - have their real names and faces all out for the world to know.

I can't speak for any other blogger except myself when I say I know why I am so open about Norrin's (aka The Boy) autism. 

I'm a writer. I was fiction writer before Norrin was born. And being an autism mom has simply given me another subject to write about. 

I write openly our life with autism because when Norrin was first diagnosed, I didn't know a single person raising a kid with autism. I didn't even know what autism was or how greatly it impacted the Latino community.  

Every single book I read about autism was written by  upper middle class (white) women who were able to quit their careers to become stay at home moms. Many of these women were married to white collar men, they lived in nice homes with backyards, in neighborhoods far far from mine. 

I found myself comparing my life to theirs and feeling like a failure. And I felt like if these people with money and means struggled for services - what chance would my kid have? When Norrin was diagnosed with autism, there was never the option for me to quit my secretary job. And there was never the option for Joseph (aka The Husband) to quit his FedEx job. There was no way we could move to another neighborhood. We had to just make it work within our means.

So we scheduled some of our therapy sessions at the playground and when the weather was bad, we used the apartment building hallway for additional therapy space. And when it was time to sue the Board of Education, we didn't have the money to hire an attorney, we went on our own. And won. Twice.

There is so much stigma about autism. And within the Latino community - autism is not something we are openly talking about or writing about. Latino children are going undiagnosed because parents do not know or understand what to look for.

I write openly because I want others to know the signs of autism. And I use my son's pictures because I want people to see a real face. I want them to know that my son, Norrin, has  autism. And he's okay. We're okay. I want people to see all the amazing things my kid can do and I want them to understand him without judgement.

But do I have that right? 

Well, I'm his mother. And as his mother I wouldn't want to do anything that will cause him any kind of harm or humiliation. I believe I share things about my son that are respectful to him.  

I've shown him the pictures I've posted but right now, I don't think he has the cognitive ability to understand what any of it means. But when he does, we will sit down and talk about it. And I hope he will understand why I've been so open about our lives. And I hope he will be proud to know that his face, his life, his words have made a difference. 

 ***

Please follow me over at Atypical Familia. 

The Autism House Rules

The rules are...there ain't no rules.

I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. That's a line from Grease. If you have never heard of Grease and have no idea what I'm referring to, please refrain from letting me know in the comments. It will only make me feel old.

So...back to "the house rules."

The Boy has been having a tough time in school lately. Truth be told, he's having a tough time at home too. There's been a lot of changes since September and it's tough to know what he understands and what he doesn't.

And he's exhibiting behaviors. And being non-compliant. I am grateful he is in a good place where his teachers understand him and want to help him rather than writing him off as a "bad" kid who they are not willing to tolerate.

That's something I've been struggling with lately. We had an unpleasant experience a few months ago at a friends home. And we were kicked out (yes, literally yelled at to "Get Out!" and escorted to the the door) due to The Boy's "intolerable" behavior. But I'm not really ready to talk about that yet...

The other day, The Boy's teacher wrote in the communication notebook that since the Sandy break, The Boy has been acting out, getting upset, not listening and she shared the classroom rules with me. She said that when The Boy is not compliant, she goes over the class rules with him and redirects him. She says it helps.

Since then, I've been going over the rules with him and I decided to make up our own house rules and post them around our little apartment.

What rules do you set in your house?

How do you reinforce them? 

Please. This mom needs to know.   

 

Just Because I'm Stressed Out, Doesn't Mean I Can't Have #FreshSkin

I can't believe next week is Thanksgiving. And in a few more weeks, I'll have finished another semester of graduate school. I have to register for the Spring semester and prepare my thesis. I still have a bunch of papers to write - I've kind of fallen behind on my school stuff. And then Christmas will be here soon too which means shopping and decorating...

I'm not going to lie. Writing all this down, thinking about all that needs to get done in the next few weeks sort of has me stressed out. 

And when I'm stressed out, I break out. (Because I forget about the little things like washing my face twice a day.) And when I break out - I don't feel my feel my best. Which is especially stressful because this is also the time of year when there are parties and gatherings and people want to take pictures and instantly upload them on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter.     And who wants to be photographed not looking or feeling their best? Certainly not me.

So I'm really excited about Neutrogena's Oil-Free Pink Grapefruit line of products.  

The Pink Grapefruit cream, gel and cleansers contain the patented MicroClear Technology that cuts through oil to speed the delivery of maximum-strength acne medicine, salicylic acid (2%) to the source of breakouts. And all the products are gentle enough for everyday use.
Neutrogena's Oil-Free Pink Grapefruit products leaves my face feeling fresh and clean and the citrus scent gives me that burst of energy I need - especially in the morning.

I condition myself to wash my face twice a day - right after brushing my teeth (in the morning and night). I'm already at the sink and it takes a few extra minutes. I think I'm worth the time. And I know I'll be Instagram ready.    

I cannot wait for the NEW! Neutrogena Oil-Free Cleansing Wipes Pink Grapefruit for Acne Prone-Skin (available January 2012). The wipes are great to keep in my desk drawer at work or in my bag. Because I am the kind of busy multi-tasking mom who will walk and wipe. 



This post is compensated and in collaboration with Neutrogena and Latina Bloggers Connect, all opinions are my own.