Sensory Stew

Picture this:

You’re locked in a speeding car at night, racing down the highway at breakneck speed. It’s the middle of summer; you’re hot, uncomfortable and sweaty. There are sirens wailing outside, and there’s a baby with a stinky diaper next to you, screaming. The interior car lights flash on and off, blinding your senses. The radio is turned up full blast to heavy metal music. Nobody is driving; you have no control.

Now you might have an idea of what it’s like to be autistic on any given day.

You are expected to deal with this, and get through your normal daily routine without exploding. You are expected to listen and follow directions; you are expected to thrive. One after the other, sensory arrows are being shot at you, only your mind is unable to process them in any meaningful way. All noises are translated at the same level, none being relegated to background noise.

Every sense is heightened, over-stimulated.

What must it feel like for them, all of these bothersome things festering in the mind of the autistic child, clouding anything brighter from shining through? Jake, my 13 year old, can’t stand the way paper feels and at school this just has to be nerve-racking. Book pages turning, graded papers being passed out, notes shuffling between hands at every desk; the sensory minefield he has to wade through daily is something most people can’t even remotely relate to. Jaxson, my 9 year old, doesn’t like loud noises or clothing. Yeah, I said clothing. As soon as his feet hit the front doormat, he’s pulling off his clothes. He’ll wear them when we go out and all day at school, but at home he’s a little guy runnin’ around in his skivvies. I have no idea what it is about them that bothers him, but he just doesn’t like being dressed. I buy all cotton, everything loose and breathable, cut out all the tags—still, he prefers life sans clothing. Who am I to begrudge him?

His home is his castle just as it is mine and I want him to be comfy there.

Children with sensory issues must do what other children do throughout their day at school and in daily life, but they’ve got the added burden of wading through an often debilitating sensory assault as they do it.

In my opinion, that’s what makes them a little stronger than you and I.

Below is an example of a Sensory Stew and how Jaxson dealt with it. (READ: His 2007 School Christmas Pageant. Damn my kid is cute! )

Are You Sure I'm Not an Alien?

Jake popped his head out of his bedroom with an inquiry. “Mom, you’re sure I’m not an alien, right?”

“Pardon?” Oh, here we go...

“I mean…you remember seeing me come out of your vagina, right?” he asked, scratching the little furrow in his brow.

“Honey, it’s not something I’m likely to forget anytime soon.” I was trying to concentrate on The Rachel Maddow Show and knew if this little tête à tête went on for much longer, I might as well forget about enjoying her take on the wackadoo mid-term election campaign ads. Since Ms. Maddow is one of my few guiltless pleasures, I don’t like missing her show.

“What does that mean?” His brow wrinkled further as he tried to process my last statement.

“That means I was in labor for eleven hours with you - three of which was actual pushing. And the experience left me with the gift of little hitchhikers in my butt.” I know when I say things like this it will only serve to drag the conversation out further, but for some reason I can’t stifle the urge to shut the hell up.

“What?!?!” I’m pretty sure it was the ‘little hitchhikers in my butt’ that now had his attention.

“Never mind. Suffice it to say I have a very vivid recollection of pushing your melon head out of my who-ha and leave it at that.”

“What’s in your butt?”

“Forget it. Nothing…” Bad Mommy, Bad!

“What about Jaxson?”

“What about him?” What were we talking about, again?

“Do you remember Jaxson being born - because he’s kind of weird.” This from the kid who regularly bathes in anti-bacterial hand sanitizer.

“Yes, I remember it, though he was a month premature so he slithered out like a lizard. You paved the way for the little guy so he didn’t have as much work to do on the way out.”

“So you remember us both being born?

“Yes, Jake. Now go finish watching your show. It’s almost bedtime.”

...and Rachel is back from commercial break.

“Okay, thank’s Mom.”

“You bet.” Possible OCD crisis averted.

~*~*~*~*~

>TODAY’S VIDEO ENTRY:

Jaxson's Developmental Evaluation and First Day of School

Tales of a First Grade Drama King

Today’s offering: Five minutes of film shot by Jaxson Lopez. (*compiled and edited by Mommy)

Watch carefully and at times you’ll find the little director wanna-be has purpose, intent and motive written all over his face.

My job: I’m just the gal who fishes cameras out of the toilet and waits for the next shoe to drop, because one always does—and they’re never Prada or Manolo Blahnik, they’re Ked’s, Crocs, and Dollar Store flip-flops.

I'm Ready for My Close-Up!

It should come as no surprise to anyone, given my filmmaking proclivities, that I’ve had a camera in the faces of my children from the moment they sloshed out of my who-ha on a tidal wave of amniotic fluid. (Well, Jake anyway. Jax didn’t slosh, he sort of slithered out.)

At some point, I fully expect Jaxson to take over in the filmmaking arena, given he’s now prone to carrying his little video camera wherever he goes. He's presently got three cameras, but I'm sad to report at least a dozen have previously lost their digital lives due to his early experimentation with the toilet and running water. (It's a pricey hobby, but when my kids show an interest in something, I do my best to support them.) Thankfully, Jax has finally come to understand that SD cards and cameras do NOT mix well with liquids.

Now the little guy spends his time putting together movies with his Buzz Lightyear and Woody action figures. Let me just say, as a director he's quite the little task-master. If I don't get a line right, he lets me know it. And I can't tell you the surge of joy I got the first time he said 'ACTION!'

Today, I’m posting a 14 minute short film from the longer version of Every Journey is Unique, a documentary about autism that I continue to work on.




My hope is that one day I’ll have footage showing their progress from toddlers to adults and since I have a mini-filmmaker in my midst, hopefully Jax will add some of his own footage one day.


He already uploads his masterpieces into the editing software on my laptop and even tries to make rolling credits at the end. I say tries, because he’s got the words CAST and THE END down, but everything else in between those words is written in his own language. But I give the kid credit, he can even score his films with music from my own personal files. Willie Nelson’s version of Sunny Side of the Street and Ringo Starr’s Oh My My are among his favorites.


Jake, being the thirteen year old that he is, scoffs every time I pull out the camera, but that’s to be expected. He’s had his fill of my cinematic endeavors by this point. He did star with his cousin Max in an early movie (a really BAD early movie) entitled Toyzilla, though. He was seven at the time.


UPDATE: By the way, as of this writing, the boys will have successfully completed their first week of school and I’m ecstatic to report they’ve both done extremely well.

Won’t you join me in doing a little happy dance? VICTORY IS OURS!