Photo by Vlastula
We built the boy his own computer over the winter break. Cobbled together from pieces donated by friends, bought on sale, and all assembled with a fair bit of elbow grease, it’s a fairly beefy Minecraft machine, and it plays his new favorite game, BeamNG.drive.
He’s been getting up in the mornings and going straight to the computer. He can’t log in—I know the password, I am the gatekeeper—but I’m fine with him playing a little before school, so I’ll groggily unlock it for him, and then go make coffee, lunches, etc.Continue reading
A commendation on a very rough day.
As many of you may know, Michael was laid off last month (right before his birthday). It’s put a decided crimp on our holiday cheer, but we’re trying to focus on the positive. He’s got some good leads, but as this is a perilously difficult time to get a job we’re hunkering down and preparing for the months to come.
When it comes to Liam’s school though, we’ll do everything we can keep him there as long as possible. In spite of his very good week the last time we posted, he’s had a tough go. Not without moments of triumph, but certainly harder than usual. Unlike normative children, he struggles to put into words what’s bothering him — we know that Michael’s job loss weighs heavily on him, and that he understands his school is costly.Continue reading
My son is fabulous.
Liam gesticulates. That’s a big word for “talks with his hands” — and it’s something he got from me. He makes flourishes as he talks with his fingers, draws circles in the air, gestures to things unseen, and emphasizes just about everything he can. He’s knocked his knuckles on doorjambs, knocked over glasses, and even a few times managed to fall out of a chair telling a good story. When he’s excited, his whole body’s excited.
Over the last month, we’ve heard lots of stories from Liam. Of kickball adventures. Of geckos. Of forts in the trees. Of new friends and a nemesis or two. Of funny teachers. Of good times, and bad times. And lots of flourishes.Continue reading
Liam and his point sheet
A lot has happened over the past few weeks. We had a gorgeous family weekend in the mountains, where Liam toured the Biltmore Estate, his ear plastered to the audio tour device as he took in the Gilded Age in all its finery. We came home, settled back into the routine, and then I was laid off from my job.
One of the things people often ask me is whether or not I think autism is on the rise. Or if I have any ideas as to how Liam became autistic. Was it the traumatic birth? Was it the Zoloft? Are there other people with autism in the family?
“Why was today so rough, buddy?”
He’s sprawled out in bed, shirtless as usual. I scratch and rub his back and massage his scalp. It’s one of the few things he will almost always ask nicely for and not demand outright.
It was a trying weekend here. The kids got sick one after another and, as has been the case since he was the tiniest of creatures, Liam doesn’t deal with being sick very well. Since we got back from Quebec he’s been having trouble sleeping–more than usual–including waking up at 4am, then 5am, then 6am… sleeping on his bed, our bed, the top bunk, the floor. 4am breakdowns are a league of their own.