Tag Archives: ipad

Tears and Love

This past Saturday we took Em to meet and have a session with Soma Mukhopadhyay, who developed RPM ~ Rapid Prompting Method for Autism.   I’ve written about Soma before, ‘here‘ and briefly on a number of other posts.  If you want to read those old posts you can put “Soma” into the search box and everything I’ve written mentioning her will come up.  A word of warning, however, those early posts show a very different mind-set regarding autism and my daughter than the one I now hold.  I find it difficult to read them because I had so completely bought into the Autism = tragedy mode of thinking.  As anyone who follows this blog knows, this is not the view I hold now.  It is good to see that my daughter is not the only one who is making progress!

One of the first things Soma did, (who has never met nor worked with Emma before) was comment to us that Em needs help to slow down.  This is identical to Pascal’s observations.  Em’s default is to script or point to the first thing she sees, whether that is a piece of paper or a key on a computer.  So despite the name of Soma’s program, for Emma this is less a literal “rapid” method and more a sustained level of interaction.  During the entire session Em remained focused and answered each of Soma’s questions appropriately.  There was no physical contact of any kind.  Rather Emma was asked to point to letters on a stencil board or to scraps of paper with different options on them.

Soma began with “I am thinking of a month when the leaves start to fall.”

Em then dutifully spelled “October” on the stencil board and my tears began to flow.  ”I’m thinking of the season when the leaves grow,” Soma said.  To which Em pointed to the letters to spell “spring.”  For forty-five minutes Soma covered math, the seasons, an Aesop’s fable, reasoning, science and for forty-five minutes I watched with tears in my eyes as my daughter attended with focus while holding on to her string.  Every now and again Em would verbally respond to Soma’s question and then glanced up at her with a little smile.  By the end of the forty-five minutes Soma asked, “do you have any questions?”

“Will you come live with us?”  Was the only question I could think to ask.  I was kidding of course, but it was the only way I knew to sum up how I felt.  For years now we have been trying to find a curriculum that will help Em learn in an academic setting.  For years we’ve tried, her various schools have tried many different methods, none of which have worked.  Yet here we were watching a program that not only worked, but that I could see the potential and the potential is limitless.

Yesterday I decided to try to combine some of what I saw Soma doing with what Pascal has been helping us learn with supporting her typing by creating resistance to her.  I sat on Em’s right side and brought out our iPad.  I also had Nic’s old globe and we talked about how we live on a planet called Earth. I showed Emma where we live and then where one of her favorite people lives in London, England and how to get to London we would need to fly over the Atlantic Ocean.  Em typed, with me providing resistance, “We live on a planet called Earth.  To visit England we have to fly over the Atlantic Ocean.”

This was the first time I have supported Em’s typing and given her the proper resistance.  I could feel it.  I could feel her reaching for the keys.  I could tell when I needed to provide more resistance, I could feel when her body was tensing and when she was trying to perseverate or trying to script.  This was the first time I have worked with Em that I knew without any doubt that I was not directing her at all.  She went on to type that if she could visit any other planet she would like to visit Mars.  We then ended with her typing her full name, her age and where she lived.  She knows all of this and so much more.

And finally, just finally I know she knows.  I know, she knows, without any doubt.

Tears and love.

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Air Pressure, Autism and How To Make A Perfect Arnold Palmer

Em has a cold.  When Em has a cold it’s stressful to her.  She repeatedly holds her nose and blows, despite being told this will not reduce the pressure she feels in her head, she does it anyway.  Maybe it momentarily does release the pressure and that’s why she keeps doing it.  I don’t know.  What I do know is that having a cold along with a change in air pressure causes her tremendous discomfort and pain.  A friend of mine, who is also Autistic told me her head feels as though it’s going to explode when the air pressure changes.  She told me it’s so excruciatingly painful she loses the ability to speak.

While I do not share in Em’s pain due to the barometric pressure, I did manage to throw my back out Friday afternoon.  No this is not going to be a “woe is me” post, I promise.  I could barely walk on Saturday and so Richard, being the all around amazing, wonderful, practically perfect guy that he is, took Em to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, ending with the Natural History Museum where they played an extended elevator game. (Emma rides the glass elevator in the biolife section where an enormous whale is suspended from the ceiling and a video plays on a massive screen showing the beauty of the ocean and the slow, march towards its inevitable death because of mankind’s negligence and refusal to take responsibility, while Richard pops into view and pretends to scream, and Emma, safely cocooned inside the moving glass elevator hysterically laughs.)  This game can go on for a very long time.  Thankfully Emma was NOT slowed down by her cold or the pain caused by the air pressure.

By the time they returned home I was able to hobble up to the roof with Em where she insisted on wearing this outfit.  It’s a new take on the standard knight costume, a kind of King Arthur’s knight meets one of the witches from Macbeth.  Personally I think it totally works and can we all take a moment and admire Emma’s pose.  (No.  I did not set this up.  She saw the camera and struck a pose unprompted..)

Last night, having spent yet another jam-packed day going to MOMA and (yes again) to the Natural History Museum with her awesome dad, Emma’s cold had worsened only slightly and my back had not improved.  ”You two are quite the pair,” Richard observed as I hobbled over to Em’s bedroom, carrying my iPad, while making (almost inaudible) groaning noises.

“I’m going to read to her and then it’s zombie time,” I warned him.  Lest any of you conclude this is referring to some form of kinky foreplay specific to Richard and me, let me dispense with this notion.  It’s not.  We are catching up on season two of the series ‘The Walking Dead’, which Richard has tried to get me to watch for about six months.  Given my weakened state I finally gave in and found I rather enjoyed it.  Lots of zombies, end of the world as we know it, great non-zombie characters and it’s only while watching a zombie show that one can truly appreciate the following conversation: “That was totally unrealistic!  Zombies can’t move that quickly.”  Or “Gross.  How can a zombie have that much blood in their skull?”  Or  ”So, wait… they eat humans?  But how are there so many of them?  I mean are the zombies basically left-overs?  Why would they just bite one human and devour another, seriously I don’t get it…”

And then, as though this might explain everything, Richard asked, “Want to go back and start from the first episode?  You’ve missed a lot.”

“No.  That’s okay.  Just keep filling me in.”

So when I was jolted awake at 3:45AM by a body (Emma’s) lying practically on top of me, I just rolled over in a zombie induced state of undead exhaustion.  I heard Richard get up and take her back to her bedroom and ten minutes after he returned to our bed, having immediately fallen back asleep, I heard Emma crying.

I grimaced in pain as I made my way to her bedroom where she had the lights on and was whimpering “Mommy come.  Ears popping.  Go see Mommy nurse.”

“Oh Emmy.  I’m sorry.  Want me to lie down with you for a little while?”

“Mommy stay.”

I promptly fell asleep only to be abruptly awoken, a few hours later when my face hit the floor, having fallen out of bed, either that or Emma pushed me in an attempt to gain a few more inches of room on her twin bed.  In a dazed state I slowly stood up and found, much to my surprise, my back felt fine!

“I think falling out of Em’s bed this morning made my back better,” I announced to Richard as we got breakfast for the children.

“Really?” he said.   Then he added, “Cheaper than a chiropractor.”

“And not as painful as a zombie bite.”

As an added plus, Emma seemed to feel much better this morning too!

Lest anyone accuse me of ‘making lemonade from lemons’, I need to add that I was voted, “Most Negative” in high school, a high school, by the way, of over 3,000 students.  Just sayin’… Plus, I don’t much care for lemonade, unless it’s in an Arnold Palmer and even then limeade is preferable.

The Perfect Arnold Palmer

Fill two-thirds of a glass with brewed, cooled English Breakfast Tea, add Limeade and a splash of Cran-Raspberry juice, garnish with a sprig of fresh mint. Voila! 

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Tolerance, Despair and Hope – Autism

A follower of this blog emailed me this morning about a new app for the ipad called, Pop It.  It’s a “book” that when one shakes the ipad, the perspective of the story changes.  The creator, an artist named Raghava, gave a talk on Ted.com, which is terrific – about perspective and tolerance of others and the role of art and creativity.  Listening to Raghava made me think of a book I am currently reading by the extremely talented and insightful theologian, James H. Cone.  His book – The Cross and the Lynching Tree is a deeply touching and powerful investigation of suffering and hope.  James Cone writes at length about the nature of faith, how God “could make a way out of no way”, how “hope could remain alive in the world of Jim Crow segregation.”

I do not claim to know of the existence, nor can I claim to know of the non-existence of a god.  I cannot even define that word.  It is not a word that holds any meaning for me.  But I do know what it is to struggle with hope.  Hope for Emma, hope for all our children who will grow up to become adults, who many will fear, ignore or just wish would go away.  Our children with autism are often misunderstood, in their inability to fall into line with societal norms they are in turn rejected by society.  The continued negligence and worse, abuse, of people with disabilities is rampant.  Their abuse is done by people who have deemed them incompetent, imbeciles and without value.  This is the common thread that exists in the abuse of all groups of people throughout history.  It is our intolerance of those we believe to be “less than” that makes us believe we have the “right” to punish, shun, ignore, hurt, torture and kill.

James Cone writes:  ”The cross is a paradoxical religious symbol because it inverts the world’s value system with the news that hope comes by way of defeat, that suffering and death do not have the last word, that the last shall be first and the first last.”

When I was in my late teens I began using food as a way to quell anxiety and emotions I felt incapable of dealing with.  My overeating turned to full blown bulimia and the bulimia became a way of life – for 22 years.  I remember when I finally stopped, the idea of “surrender” seemed antithetical to all I had, up to that point, believed.  I thought that if I just had more will power I would be able to stop the destructive behavior.  I believed that the bulimia was something I could control.  I believed that my lack of control simply proved how despicable I was, which only served to fuel more of the same behavior.  It wasn’t until I took a leap of faith – really took in that I was, in fact, out of control, that I received a respite from the behavior.  Early in my “recovery” from bulimia someone said to me, “don’t you think that if you could have controlled the bulimia, you would have by now?  Isn’t it true that in fact you have tried to control it all these years and this is where that control has gotten you?”  With a great deal of support from others who had eating disorders and had come out the other side, was I finally able to find a way out from under it.  In surrendering to the fact that I was unable to control it, was I finally able to find freedom from it.

I’m all over the map with this post, but perhaps some of these thoughts will prove helpful to someone else or if not at least encourage thought and conversation.

For more on Emma and our journey through her childhood of autism, go to:   www.EmmasHopeBook.com

Dreams For Emma – Autism

A follower of this blog and mother of two children on the spectrum asked me if Emma used an ipad.  I wrote about Emma’s ipad last fall for both this blog as well as the Huffington Post, so in responding to her email, I reread both those posts.  The one for Emma’s Hope Book is entitled Emma and Lists.  What struck me was how far Emma has come since then.  I looked at the date – September 24th, 2010 – and while yesterday I was feeling a bit discouraged with Emma’s ongoing struggles with handwriting, I cannot help but feel incredibly optimistic with her progress after reading those posts.  It’s funny how rereading something I’d written less than a year ago can have such an impact, but it has.

Emma has certainly come a long, long way.  In the post “Emma and Lists” I write about how when I am feeling a little sad or discouraged I make lists.  I go on to recount my current lists, (hopes) for Emma.  ”Help Emma with Reading,”  ”Help Emma with writing,” are two such items.  I remember when I wrote that post, thinking that these were dreams, perhaps dreams I might not ever see accomplished.  And yet, here I am in July of 2011 and not only are both these dreams coming true, but so are others that I hadn’t even thought to put on my list.  Things like:  beginning math concepts, writing in full sentences, learning to type, following three and four step commands.  These are all things Emma is in the process of learning.

I will try to remember to take a photograph of Emma’s handwriting this afternoon.  She is coming along.  She is learning, she is progressing.  It’s easy to forget, though.  I forgot that last September I could only hope Emma might one day learn to read and write.  That she is now doing so is remarkable and wonderful.  Last fall we were still riding on the wave of our success with having finally gotten her out of diapers at night.  We were still struggling with getting her to sleep through the night.  I’d forgotten all of that.  It seems so much longer than ten months ago.  It feels as though years have slipped by.

I haven’t dared dream for awhile now.  But rereading those posts reminds me of how important it is to have dreams, for ourselves, for our children.

For more on Emma’s journey through a childhood of autism, and to see how far she’s come in one year go to:  www.EmmasHopeBook.com

Emma and Lists

Whenever I am feeling discouraged, I make lists.  I have a number of lists going simultaneously.  I have one for my jewelry business, one for my jewelry e-commerce site (yet to be launched), I have another, which is a general To Do List and then there are the lists for Emma.  Emma – research is one, Emma – goals, is another.

Several days ago, when I posted “What Now?” I was feeling particularly down.  Out came the paper and pen.  A list was created with the simple heading:  Emma.  Below the heading I began to make an action plan.  As I worked on my list Emma appeared caring my Ipad.

“Mommy go to bed?” Emma asked.

“Do you want to sit in my bed with me, Em?” I asked.

“Yes.  You have to ask Mommy.  Mommy come to your bed with you?”  She pulled on the sleeve of my robe.  “Mommy can you come to my bed sit with you?”

“Yes.  But you say – Mommy, can you come with me?” I said standing up.

“Mommy can I come with me,” Emma said, struggling with the ever elusive proper use of pronouns.

“Okay.  Come on!  Let’s go.” I said taking Emma’s hand.

Emma loves the Ipad app – Interactive Alphabet – ABC Flash Cards.  She loves the music, which plays as she taps on different letters, each letter coming to life as she touches it.  This app has become such a favorite, Emma requests it each night before she goes to bed.

EE IS FOR EGG,” the female voice said, when Emma tapped on the egg.  She tapped again and watched it cracked open, a raw egg splatted down next to the first one.

“Hey Em,” I said, “What letter is that?” I asked pointing to the E.  Emma said nothing and tapped on the A.

AA IS FOR APPLE,” the voice said.

Emma tapped on the picture of the apple and watched as the apple was eaten with accompanying crunching noises.

“What about this letter, Em?  What letter is this?” I asked pointing to the B.

Emma ignored me and pressed the B.  We continued in this way for a few more letters, with me watching her as she listened to a letter and then when asked what that letter was, she could not answer.

“Press U Em,” I said.  Much to my surprise, Emma immediately pressed U.

UU IS FOR UMBRELLA,” the voice said.

“Hey Em, press P,” I said, holding my breath.

Without hesitation, Emma pressed the letter P.

“Em what letter is that?” I asked, excitement creeping into my voice.

Emma said nothing and pressed P again.

PP IS FOR PLANT,” the voice intoned, as Emma bopped her head up and down keeping time with the music.

“Okay, how about B?  Press B, Em,” I said.

Sure enough, no hesitation, Emma tapped on the letter B.

BB IS FOR BEACH,” the voice said.

I repeated this with more than a dozen letters, picked at random with never a hesitation on Emma’s part, until I asked her, “What about W.  Press W,” I said.

Emma held her finger over W and then tapped on V, just to the left of it.

“Em!  That’s not W,” I said.

“No.  Not W,” Emma said laughing.

“Come on Em.  Press W,” I said.

Again Emma tapped on V and laughed.

V. V IS FOR VOLCANO,” the voice said.

“Okay, what about R?” I asked.  “Press R.”

Emma looked at me, smiled and tapped on Q, again the letter just to the left of R.  After this had gone on for three or four more times, it was clear Emma was choosing the letter to the left on purpose. Each time she did so, she laughed.  It reminded me of all those therapy sessions when I would be called in to discuss Emma’s progress.  The puzzled therapist would then describe a session with Emma regarding something she thought Emma knew, only to question whether perhaps she didn’t.

“So it’s a processing issue,” Richard said later that night when I described my session with Emma.

“Yes, it’s really interesting,” I said.  “She knows every letter of the alphabet if I ask her to point to it.  I think she even knows almost all the sounds they make, but if I ask her to name a letter, she can’t.”

Of course the implications are exciting.  Up to this point I have wondered whether Emma could learn to read or write. I wondered if the wiring in her brain was too jumbled to be able to, just as many autistic children who can read and write, cannot speak.  The other night convinced me; reading and writing are achievable goals.

I spent several hours researching other apps for the Ipad and will be previewing a number of the free ones recommended by other parents of autistic children.  In addition, I have watched the first video from Soma Mukhopadhyay regarding her Rapid Prompting Method and intend to watch the second tonight.

I looked at my list just now.  Below the heading – EMMA – I had written Help Emma with Reading and below that Help Emma with Writing.

Maybe, just maybe, I will one day be able to cross those off my list, just as I have been able to cross off:  Toileting & Bedwetting.

By the way, have I mentioned Emma slept the last TWO nights in her own bed without waking anyone, coming into our room at 6:30AM and 6:45AM?