The Year of Living Hopefully

You like my title? Ha ha! I was just kidding.

I’m happy to report that we’ve had two lovely, easy, successful mornings in a row. No running, no yelling, no freaking out of any kind. All unicorns and rainbows. Woohoo!

The bad news is that after so many years of parenting an Asperger’s kid, I realize that only means one thing: We’ve had two lovely, easy, successful mornings in a row. Come to think of it, I did take a different approach this morning because a certain somebody was pretty tired after her first – and very long – day at her new school, and was still all wrapped in in her blanket at the 30-minute mark. So taking a cue from my sister, also the mother of an autistic teen, I brought Maddie her breakfast in her room and let her eat it in bed. For most moms, that probably sounds absolutely ridiculous and overindulgent. But I thought, well, I really want her to have a good breakfast, I don’t want her to run out of time, and perhaps that would get her up and moving.

Fist pump! It worked! That’s the good news. The bad news, once again, is that I have no idea if that’ll ever work again. That’s the 15-year-and-counting story of parenting Maddie.

The thing I learned early on, before there was a label associated with my child, is that parenting is a constant experiment. You can say that to some degree about any kid. “It’s a crapshoot,” is how I sum up parenting in general. But for my daughter (I have a son, too), that mantra is even more relevant.

When your child is very young, you are told “find their currency.” Figure out what really matters to the child and use that as a carrot (or stick, I suppose). Will your child be motivated by a chart, which when filled up will result in a prize? Will cheesy little do-dads in a bowl be the thing? Maybe your kid loves a particular stuffed animal, and wouldn’t dream of being without it. Or it’s all about the iPad or Nintendo. I have a friend whose kid loves books so much that the threat of taking those away is enough to get cooperation (as she marvels at the “threatening” words coming out of her mouth: “I’ll take all your books out of your room!”).

Since Maddie was very young, her currency was impossible to determine. The problem is, in the moment when that currency is up for grabs, she simply does not care about it. She never has. I remember when she was maybe three years old and she had taken all of her brother’s clothes out of his closet and dumped them on the floor. Well, it seemed to me she ought to put them back. So I asked her to do it. No way, she clearly communicated. I was surely exhausted and was spending way too much time doing laundry-related things already, so I was not going to let her just walk away. So, I said, “If you don’t put those back in the closet, I’m going to take your otter away.” Otter was her first love, a Beanie Baby she met in Carmel-by-the-Sea when she was not quite two. There was no possible way she was going to give Otter up. Ha! Wrong. After a series of threats, I’m pretty sure the outcome was going to be a bedroom devoid of ALL her toys and six weeks of no TV.

Huh. That didn’t work. I don’t remember what finally happened with those clothes although I imagine I just shoved them all back in the closet cubbies. What I do remember is the realization that Maddie didn’t have a currency when she was sticking to her guns, which was often. I suppose if I had actually emptied her entire room she might have been bummed out. But in the moment when I was trying to “motivate” her (is that really what I was doing?), she just didn’t care at all. Not one bit.

She has always been that way. That girl can remain unmoved by the most dire threats (no TV EVER!) and some pretty appealing rewards (I’ll give you $100 if you go to school all week!). Nope and nope. Well, the truth is every once in awhile, one of those things might work. (In those moments, I am in utter disbelief.) But it might work only once, and the next day I’m starting all over again. I try to avoid negative consequences because they’re pointless, but in moments of frustration or weakness, I can’t say it never happens. I try to be positive and go with rewards when I can, but it’s a rare occasion when that works. I just try to rejoice in our successes.

Thirteen years ago, we were at a gathering at the house of a mother of my friend (shout out to Joan Metcalf). She observed Maddie, and said to me, “Being stubborn will serve her well in life. The hard part is getting from here to there.” Truer words have never been spoken. I have a wonderfully stubborn kid and that will serve her well (see future blog post “Peer Pressure LOL)”, but for now it’s a constant experiment. Today maybe Plan A will work, and it might never work again. Or I might try four iterations of that plan, and just eventually give up, choosing peace over discipline. (That’s a topic for another yet blog.)

So, here’s The Exact, Precise Way to parent Maddie: Be flexible. Be creative. Be loving. Never make it a battle of wills. Be prepared to fail miserably. Be proud of yourself when you don’t. And even be proud of yourself for trying. Go forth. Tomorrow is a new day.