What to do with a Public Meltdown

All the lunch-goers at Faneuil Hall in Boston probably expected a peaceful lunch while people watching from their cafe tables.  Instead they got Liam in total melt-down mode for about as long as it takes to order drinks and your meal, then to have the chef prepare your burger and fries and for you to consume all of it.  I should have seen the melt-down coming, Liam had the right forecast-- barely any sleep the night before, it was lunch time, and we were in Boston, three hours from our house.  But the sunshine and seventy degree weather blinded my perspective. For 45 minutes I sat with Liam on a bench while he tried to stop screaming, "I want new, green Crocs."  I wished he would stop screaming, kicking, and hitting, but hoping and crossing all my toes and fingers did not seem to help.  So, I pulled-out my parenting toolbox right-on one of the busiest spots in Boston and went to work. Even though I am writing about Liam, who is typically developing, kids are kids first before any diagnosis (like autism) and all kids have tantrums and sometimes they have meltdowns.  Tantrum vs. meltdown:  I think of tantrums as a power struggle (I want this toy and you will buy it or I will scream) and meltdowns are a complete loss of control.  There is no reasoning or distracting, the meltdown just has to run its course.   I bet most of these melt-downs happen in the public eye.   As a parent you probably know what triggered the meltdown-- a sound, plummeting blood sugar levels, lack of sleep, a sensory overload, or all of the above.  So, what do you do in the middle of a busy tourist destination with a screaming, kicking kid? First, check-in with yourself-- are you calm?  Have you lowered your voice?  Are you remembering to breath slowly?  Allow yourself to pause and not be in a rush. Second, forget about the on-lookers!  Either they are empathic (I have been there with my child) or annoyed and probably have never raised children.  Focus on your kid, remember this can be a teachable moment (self regulation). Third, find a quiet, empty space for your child to sit and place him there.  Tell him why he is being place in the spot (I use the same language as at home-- break spot or time-out spot).  Remember to keep your language simple and clear, like "Liam, you can get up when stop crying, kicking, and hitting." If your child gets up or tries to make break-for-it set him back down in the "break" spot without any words.  And keep doing it, don't break and give into the meltdown... you have come so far, don't give-up now.  Remember you are teaching emotional regulation, once your child calms then you can move-on. Now this is the hard part, you need to WAIT until they can get themselves together and out of meltdown mode. Finally, when all is calm (or at least somewhat reasonable) hug and move-on to getting sleep, food, or a less busy environment. We all have our moments when life gets to overwhelming and we break, however most adults have learned strategies to cope with their own meltdowns and that is what children need to practice.  Think of meltdowns as practice in emotional regulation and the more your child practices the better they will be in control of themselves.

Kill or not to kill

When socialite and millionaire Gigi Jordan feed her eight-year-old son with autism a lethal dose Ambien and Xanax, the autism community once again failed. Last night sitting on my bed, phone to my ear chatting with a New York reporter about the latest mother-homicide related to autism and the reporter's words sent a chill down my spine, "...this is such an unusually, sad case."

Not really. Days after police were barging into Jordan's $2,000 a night hotel room, a grandmother in Coney Island locked her 11 year-old grandson with autism, alone in their house that caught on fire and killed the boy.

The unusually situation is not that a millionaire, mother thinks autism is causing her son pain and she decides to end his life and suffering, it is that we don't read about it or talk about it. All to often parents end parental rights or murder because autism can drain hope and reality right out of parents (of course, with the right dose of sleep deprivation). The one-time, quick-fix autism cures don't work and lead parents and grandparents down a path of despair when their child doesn't get 'better'.

Add the lack of federal funding for respite care and proven, effective interventions and parents can find themselves spiriting down the road of giving-up their child to the state or even murder. I am not condoning what these two women did or others who act similarly, but we are not giving parents practical resources to help develop a everyday that the whole family can live with.

Foremost parents need to value their own physical and mental health and know the warning signs that life is getting desperate and help is needed. Then where to go and how-to get help. Friends and family members also need to evaluate the health of primary care providers (mom and dad) to ensure everyone is getting the respite they need.

Growing a child with autism into a happy, productive adult takes many layers of family members, professionals, educators, and care providers over the lifespan of the individual.

Survival

I am back! After four months of healing from falling fourteen feet off a ladder and fracturing two vertebra and shattering my heel, I am beginning to reshape my life and getting back to writing on the Parenting Autism blog. My first professional step forward... many other steps taken (literally), with help of physical therapist, I am learning to re-walk.

While laying on the couch (my bed for eight weeks since I could not climb the stairs) my parenting plan of organic, whole foods and after-school activities like swimming, Lego club, art class, gymnastics, and karate exploded into hours of watching movies and eating cereal and toast for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Our after school plan was simply:

1. Roll my walker with one foot while sitting on the bench, that clearly states "Warning DO NOT attempt to sit on seat while moving", from couch to front door.
2. Get coat on and open door.
3. Roll walker out on the front porch and sit in the frigged, Vermont Fall.
4. SMILE!
5. Wave at kids and moms that are helping Tristan and Dylan off the bus.
6. Kiss Tristan and Dylan.
7. Inquire about their school day; trying to pry-out more than what they ate for lunch.
8. Open door and roll back into our house while reminding the boys to pick-up their backpacks, coats, and shoes off the floor, so I can get back into the house.
9. Sit at the door, yelling, "I can't get through with your stuff all over the floor."
10. Roll through the living room dodging any dropped toys, books, food, and collapse on the couch.

The above mission would take me about forty-five minutes to execute. After an afternoon nap I would lift my head long enough to help Tristan and Dylan with homework-- no executive functioning plans on how we would set-up our afternoon, straight and simply-- survival.

At first, the voice inside my head screamed that I was ruining my children-- Tristan would slip into his old patterns of reciting entire movies and only eating Veggie Bootie and pepperoni, Dylan would not learn to read by the end of kindergarten, and Liam since he was only two (almost three) would turn into a swearing, punching, kicking preschooler with the corruption of Stars Wars and Harry Potter.

Well, I can report four months later that Tristan, Dylan, and Liam did not spiral down into children that were feared by me and every other person. Instead, Tristan learned how to put the dogs "away" in their crates (so, not to eat their food) and how-to pour cereal and milk into bowls. They all learned to put away their clothes, dress, bathe, and brush teeth independently. Liam learned to sleep next to me instead of with me.

And I learned more in the last four months about life than in my prior thirty-five years and I hope to scribble some of those thoughts to you.

Last Thought:

Pause your life, right now. Take a deep breath into your soul. Thank yourself for all you have done and inquired. Be grateful that air can pass through your lungs and that you have this moment. Namaste.