Blogger unblocked.

I'm sitting down finishing my takeout dinner when I hear the melodious strains of my 5 yr old yet again calling for me.
Since it's only the 846th time today (since 3pm no less) that he has absolutely needed my help for everything from tripping over a piece of fluff to needing help witha game he is playing on my iphone that he stole earlier - it doesn't really matter because I think I have grown immune to the words "Mom I need help!!!"

Still - he is insistent if nothing else, so after 5 minutes of him yelling "help help" - I wandered over to see what catastrophe has overtaken him NOW.
I found him in the dining room with a chair laying on top of him, and his pants around his ankles.
"I can't get up!!" he wailed.

No before you think I'm a horrible mom - Let me assure you that he does this sort of thing frequently. Sometimes he'll drape himself upside down on the stairs and claim that he can't get up. Sometimes he runs in circles and has jello legs, flipping and flopping and claiming that he can't get up,looking more like a mexican jumping bean than a child in trouble or injured in any way. The chair is not all that heavy - but it is tall - taller than he is, because it's bar height, and since I didn't hear the chair FALL, I knew he had gradually lowered it upon himself and then claimed to be 'stuck'. Funny thing is that he really was stuck.
The pants around the ankles are a totaly different story.
Once I got the chair off he ran into the family room - or rather shuffled the best one can when they have trousers around their ankles.
"Why are your pants down? Pull them up - it will be much easier to walk"
"Pants are wet" he replied as he sat down and proceeded to take the underwear right off.

I checked it and it wasn't wet - I held it out to him and said "It's not wet"
He pointed to the front. There is a miniscule droplet of pee on it, which renders the underwear AND the pants unwearable!

"Oh that's just a drop" I told him, which then caused him to wail

"Oh no I'm Droppy McDropperson" - And off he ran upstairs presumably to find a pair of pants dryer than the Gobi desert that would be suitable.

At that point I was going to put the quote as my Facebook status but realized that there was a larger story here - and hey, I haven't blogged in a while because I've had blogger block.

In the earlier years, I had plenty of Blog material with my naughty little boys who would delight in making horrific messes.
We were reminiscing just the other night with my mother in law about the time the boys were up at the cottage - a rented cottage at that, and were there for all of 5 minutes before they had broken the VCR and zipped on down to the basement and got out about 10 differnet puzzles - dumping ALL the pieces on the floor creating a giant mystery task. We spent the next few hours doing puzzles and trying to figure out which pieces went with which box - while the hubby drove into town to purchase a replacement VCR. A fun family holiday for all indeed- and people wondered why I spent the first 5 years of motherhood avoiding public areas, and turning down invitations that would require letting children out of the relative safety of backyard fences and household doors with deadbolts. Because that kind of 'holiday' isn't relaxing for me at all, having to hover over 3 little boys hell bent on causing the maximum amount of destruction in the most efficient time possible. It wasn't fun for me to take the family out to dinner -because children that have difficulties with crowds and the inability to sit for more than 11 consecutive seconds meant that I would either have to eat my meal with the speed of Superman, or eat it cold - if I managed to eat it at all and it wasn't spilled on the floor by one while my back was turned trying to separate the others who seem unaware that wrestling under the table is not appropriate for a restaurant - even one billed as 'family friendly'.

No - Unless the restaurant billed itself as "hellion proof" - I was content to get takeout and eat in the relative safety of my own home, away from the stares of that lovely family with 5-8 well behaved children.(there's always ONE family like that) looking at me and wondering why I could not make my children behave, there's only 2 of them, and a baby, and for goodness sake just tell them to stop what they are doing this instant, why is that child shrieking and trying to climb the walls (because they are there) and why can't they listen (because there are ceiling fans and cash register noises and glasses tinkling and people laughing and somewhere in that cacophony there is a haggard looking parent saying 'Please, Just. sit. down.' )

Where was I going with all this??
Oh yes -so my children have grown up, gone to therapy, gone to school, gone to more therapy, and are now a respectable lot - that I still can't take out to dinner yet.
We thought we could - we took them all out for breakfast buffet a few months ago. Things went swimmingly - we were 20 seconds away from getting out of there with a successful incident free, family meal - when I did something stupid. The big boys had left their coats in the booth and I foolishly sent them back to get their jackets so we could walk out the door.....
20 seconds.
That's all it should have taken.
19, 18, 17, 16, 15, 14 LOUD SHRIEK enough to cause EVERYONE in the restaurant to turn and find a pair of squabbling animals, horns locked together wrestling under the table pulling hair, screaming, crying - It was like a WWF match there. Why? Because one coat had slipped onto the floor and while one went under to get it the other coat slipped down and then one accidentally stepped on the other and that was taken to be done on purpose and Oh My Hell, world war 3 erupts in a matter of 6 seconds.
I stood there to assess the situation with 2 thoughts in my head:
1. Walk away and pretend I don't know them.
2. Stop them ASAP before someone gets hurt.

I admit that the first option was my first thought and I probably dwelled on it too long before reality smacked me upside my head and I went with option 2 - climbing under the table and hauling one mad as a hornet 8 yr old off of a sobbing 7 yr old and grabbing their jackets and marching them out the door under protests and screams and stares from other patrons. I just wanted to get. out. side. Get in our car. Go home.
Never again.
What is wrong with my kids and why do they fight like caged rabid raccoons in a death match? Is it really so hard to be civil to each other for 45 minutes? We were so. close.
I have hope - that someday we will be able to hear those words "Let's go out to eat" and I won't get this knot in my stomach and the feeling of dread that I am going out, not to eat, but to teach them how not to kill each other in public - and if I manage to get a bite in before the bickering starts, well that's a bonus.

So while having a handful of naughty little boys provides plenty of blog fodder and I can write it out for cheap therapy of my own and laugh about it in retrospect - thinking 'someday they'll be older and I'll miss these days'. Lately, I have had some issues with one of my kids that made me frustrated. The antics of the kids at 1, 3 and 4 are funny because they were little and deliciously naughty and very expensive, but they were young and some sort of naughty is almost expected at that age - so it was funny.
It gets less funny as they get older and the level of understanding from the general public becomes significantly less tolerant when you have an 8 yr old throwing a tantrum on the floor than when you have a 3 yr old.
Expectations rise exponentially, and yet they haven't risen to meet such expectations - nor did I expect them too. Still doesn't help when you are embarrassed by your children's behaviour, and don't really have the time or opportunity to explain to everyone why they *look* like they should be able to act appropriately, and they can do it sometimes, but nothing is guaranteed and if the restaurant happens to have the wrong drinks available or something minor like that - it could throw the whole evening off.

So - to put it mildly, I stopped blogging because quite frankly, I was down in the dumps about my own kids.
Yes I had a little pity party for myself for several months.
It's been hard.
It's been frustrating, and most of all, it has NOT been funny.
My main issue lately has been the oldest son.

He is a quiet, pensive and sensitive boy.
He is also prone to explosive temper tantrums and if he were able to describe himself in one word, I'm quite certain the word would be "misunderstood".
He is a rule follower and has an overdeveloped sense of justice which when combined with his anger, becomes potentially volatile. Like a volcano waiting to erupt. All it needs is just the right plate shift....
He lashes out physically. He knows in his head it is wrong, but it is so much a reaction for him that telling him to stop is like telling me to not feel afraid of heights. To not feel my stomach lurch whenever I get more than 6 feet off the ground. It is impossible.
To tell him to not react when he is angry is like telling someone who is deathly afraid of spiders or snakes to not scream if they open their underwear drawer and find a family of spiders or snakes living in there. It's a reaction and very very very difficult for him to stop.
His difficulty and basic inability to read social cues is the primary cause for his anger.
If he's playing a game with his friends and someone 'cheats' to win - His sense of justice goes into overdrive. Not only is he a rigid rule follower - but it bothers him when others don't have the same rigid rule following. Cheating is not an option for him, so it should not be an option for anyone else - but let's be honest, we're talking about 7 and 8 yr old boys - and most of them will cheat at competitive games.
He takes this personally. It is a personal affront to have one of his friend cheat - and it causes him a huge amount of anger - then he lashes out and will end up hitting someone.
Kids these days are pretty sophisticated, and they all know what will get a rise out of him. Where other kids can shrug off a minor insult - he cannot. He cannot differenciate between something minor and something major and will often use the words "They are baiting me until I get mad and lose control".
They aren't really baiting him, or if they are, I'm pretty sure they are doing it unwittingly - but it doesn't matter. We have been struggling lately with how to tell the difference between something MAJOR and something MINOR, and then in turn how to ignore the minor stuff.
He never ever tells on other kids. He is afraid of being labeled "a baby", so instead he lets things build and build until I hate to admit it but I had more than one neighbourhood parent come to me and tell me that my son had hurt their child. In some cases blood was drawn, in other cases clothing was ruined, and I began to slip into a depression - because as much as every parent does not want their kid to get picked on - to have a child who is perceived as a bully is much much worse.
The thing is, that I KNOW he's NOT a bully. He does not have the intention to hurt or humiliate other children.
He does not set out to be mean, and there are some kids that are exceptionally good at letting the small stuff roll off their backs that are great playmates for him, because they don't cause him to react.
Other kids are just not a good match for him, and escalate minor things until they become a major fight.
The funny thing, is that D. never ever lies to me. If I ask him flat out "Did you do this" he will answer "Yes". without remorse. because it's true. He is starting to offer more information now with a little prodding on why he felt justified in his actions, and usually it's because "they made me so mad and I lost my temper". It's never unprovoked in his mind, and so I know he doesn't have the bully mentality, but he still has the bully reaction - and since the other parents either don't know about his disabiilty or don't know enough about Aspergers to understand him the way *I* do - it falls to me to stop it from happening.

I can't change the reaction.

I can help him learn to cope with his anger - so that his reaction is channeled into something more appropriate. This is what we've been working on.
So far in the past few weeks he's been earning rewards for actively demonstrating his ability to ignore minor offences. It's been particularly difficult for him with a younger brother who delights in pestering and instigating minor squabbles.
Today my oldest son turned 9 and I am seeing a remarkable maturity in him. I'm starting to realize that it may not get 1/2 as bad as I envisioned (and believe me, I was envisioning him in the back of a squad car, sending him a birthday cake with a file in it and ugly orange jumpsuits that he would probably like because they are orange, and orange is a good colour).
He may turn out alright after all - and I believe I can help him grow into an amazing young man that I can be proud of.

This blog was a long time coming, I'm glad to be back.