The playdate conundrum

I base much of what I do on rules of etiquette that I've learned, either literally from reading them or from watching people who seem to know what they're doing. It is my understanding that among these rules, there's something about returning invitations when you've had someone over for entertaining. I'd always thought that these rules probably also applied to playdates, but my experiences over the years lead me to think that practice belies theory.

We have to have playdates because of where our house is. Not one of those neighborhoods where kids can just run to a friend's house and while away an afternoon. We do have a child just our children's age living right next door...but he actively shuns their company. I know this because for weeks, they'd ask him over, and he'd just decline. It got to where my children looked like stalkers or fools or both, so I had them stop. Oy, the pain of it all.

The whole playdate thing is a big black hole of a social mystery to me. Another parent might casually mention having one as you volunteer together in class. I've always taken this as sincere--and I think that's my first mistake--and then sat there, like the dateless girl on prom night, waiting for the phone call or email confirming a plan. They never come.

In fact, playdates never happen around our house unless we host them, with a couple of rare exceptions. My middle son has had several friends over to play, yet has not been invited to someone else's home (again, with one specific exception) in almost a year. In just the last month, I've sent out two emails asking if someone he thinks of as a friend could come over and...after an initial potentially positive response involving, "let me check my calendar,"...nothing.

What's the algorithm here? Is "let me check my calendar" some kind of in-speak for "um, no, not really interested"? And regardless, what is it about us...about our family...that makes us such personae non grata in other people's homes? It makes me want to pound melodramatically on a wall and just yell out "Why???!? Why??!" when one of my sons comes to me, yet again, and asks why we haven't heard yet from this friend or that friend's mother about an invitation issued weeks ago. I am honest with them. I say that it may be that the other person's interest in him isn't as strong as his interest in them, or maybe they're just that busy. What else can I say? I try, these days, to do more reading of what people do than of what they say. I find the results are far more accurate.

And then there's the cause of it all. Is it my children? Are they just too weird? Is it me? Am I just too weird? Is it them, the other people? Are they just too busy or rolling their eyes inwardly at the very idea or simply reluctant but too kind to let on? I don't know. This social shit can muddle me up until I don't know whether I'm showing my ass or my elbows, stepping on toes, being pushy, not reading signs. I'm always navigating without instruments, and Emily Post doesn't seem to address the etiquette of playdates.

I've never been much good at these casual exchanges that seem to augur a planned social interaction, always taking them too seriously, at their face value. When I was younger and someone said, "Let's do lunch," well...I thought they meant we were going to go to lunch. What they really mean, of course, is..."well, see ya later, don't really care when we might meet again."

It's baffling to me that people say these things that they simply don't mean. I've even had one parent go so far as to input our contact information into her phone--never really meaning to do anything about it. When did, "Let's get these kids together" turn into "Nope, not really interested, just trying to be nice"? I missed the etiquette memo, and I desperately need some guidelines.

Meanwhile, my children keep asking. And that little knot in my stomach--you special needs parents know that knot, right?--tightens up like it's trying to wring something out in there. Since my children are watching, I try not to let it wring out any tears.

No, I'm not going silent for autism

I won't be participating in the Communication Shutdown for autism, scheduled for November 1. The background is that this is an attention-getting maneuver to gain donations for some autism cause. As I understand it, if you donate, you get a CHAPP (charity app) and badge to use that day for your Facebook and Twitter accounts. This app, according to the FAQ for this initiative, has "quite a few tricks" that include interacting on its own with your accounts and placing your avatar in a mosaic "where you can see yourself next to celebrity supporters." The initiative was begun by an Australian foundation that focuses on early interventions for children with autism. Looks like a great foundation, from what their Website indicates.

That said, I won't be participating in the shutdown, and here's why:

1. Autistic people do communicate socially. All the time. Regular people just have a hard time figuring out what the autistic people are trying to get across. Indeed, from what I understand, the WWW and its social interaction offshoots that don't require in-person translation have been a boon to autistic people in general.

2. I don't see this as a parallel to autism. The Communication Shutdown site says:

Social communication is one of the biggest challenges for people with autism. By choosing to shutdown your social networks for one day, you will have some idea of what it's like for people with autism who face this challenge every day.

Rachael Harris, a counsellor and supporter, who herself is on the autism spectrum, put it best when she said, "Electing to shutdown social communication mirrors autistic silence. But it also draws attention to the isolation and intense loneliness experienced by those who are impeded from connecting socially with others. The CHAPP is a powerful way to create a sense of empathy towards those on the autism spectrum."

I just disagree with this entire statement. I don't think that shutting down tweeting and facebooking in any way reflects the social challenges my son experiences on a given day, and I suspect that it doesn't reflect the nonverbal experience, either. I don't know what "autistic silence" is, unless it indicates an absence of spoken communication, but I know that autistic people--verbal and nonverbal--communicate all the time and are certainly not silent. The empathy doesn't need to be about their lack of a typical route of communication but about understanding the routes they do use.

3. I can't tell where this money is going or what it's supposed to do once it gets there. The Website information is extremely vague:

This fundraiser is powered by the people. By spreading the word through social networks, we are able to keep costs to a minimum. This ensures the maximum amount possible will go to autism organisations around the world.

As this is the inaugural Communication Shutdown, we are unable to provide a percentage of fundraising costs at this stage. However, we are committed to full transparency regarding costs and these will be published at the conclusion of the campaign.

4. They've got a lot of partners, some of them worthy. So, send your money straight to the relevant partners. Why use a third party? That way, you know exactly where your money is going.

5. I don't like gimmicks. I don't like the pink ribbons that don't actually make anyone terribly aware of the realities of breast cancer, and I don't like gimmicks especially that don't seem particularly closely linked to the needs of the target population. I can't see how silencing my own voice helps my son or any autistic person be better understood. It's gimmicky and, I think, shallow. It may be that I'm too enmeshed here and that for people who don't know autism well, it's an attractive entry to understanding it better. I just disagree that this translates into a real understanding of autism.

In conclusion, as my clients often write, I can't think of a good reason to silence my own voice on that day. If others choose to do so or if others are attracted to the cause because of this gimmickry and money--some of it, anyway--is funneled to a useful autism organization, then that's great. But I don't think that silencing my participation in social networks--especially for my participation in The Thinking Person's Guide to Autism, this blog, and End the Bullying, is going to do anyone any good. And, as I realize more and more every day, my overflowing desire--the one that's dousing the embers of my burning mid-life crisis--is to be of some good to someone in the world. Each of us in our own way, that's what we should do. For me, that means continuing to use my words.

An autistic boy on genetics and autism

TH spent lunch today pondering his place in the world, then and now. I could tell that this was his topic of thinking because every once in awhile, he'd pop out some little gem of an observation, the kind that makes you realize all over again why you love your children so much. His first comment that revealed his brainbug du jour was this: "The older I get, the more normal I get."

That's probably true, but it all remains quite relative.

Then, a few moments later, "You know, I think I got the biggest hit from the autism gene of anyone in the family." He certainly had my attention. "I mean, other people in my family? They have little bits of autism genes in them, I can tell, but I clearly got the biggest chunk of it." That seems likely, and he clearly needs a bit of instruction in the mechanisms of genetic inheritance. We'll get to that eventually.

I think this train of thought traces down the tracks to a few nights ago when TH, watching his baby brother (now 4) perseverate on choosing a pair of shoes that is far too small for him, commented, "I wonder if Little has any Asperger's in him."

Little, who rarely misses a beat, much unlike his brothers, had a riposte. "No, I don't have any as...bur...gers in me at all. I just have my dinner in me." Hmm...literal thinking, check. Persverating on shoes, check. Those must be Little's little bits of autism. TH will never be someone you'd refer to as "normal"--and he thinks that's a good thing--but certainly, as he gets older, he grows more and more insightful.

Victories big and small

Because we homeschool, we have enrolled TH in a social skills class just for homeschooled children who have Aspergers. How is that for a niche? From what I've seen so far, TH seems to have some more "intense" features of autism than some of the other students, although he is less prone to outbursts or needing to take a break in the designated peace room. He's also the one who suffers--at least outwardly--the most significant social anxiety, but now that we're on our sixth class, that has diminished somewhat.

I'm loving these lessons because the group that runs them is so good at what they do. With each successive class, TH has emerged more and more talkative about his experiences and even able to articulate what other children felt during the classes. They have a session at the end of each meeting during which each child "brags" on another child in the class, and TH has experienced another sort of...triumph?...related to these, as well.

To explain why I use the word triumph, I must backtrack a bit. TH often notes, with what appears to be a large dose of self acceptance mingled with a trace of wistfulness, that while his BFF seems to have a number of admirers, TH's life has so far limited him to one. This particular admirer was, well, possibly not a child who'd appear at the top of anyone's crush list. TH was, in fact, rather mortified at her openly mooning over him in kindergarten, and although I empathized with his wishing that some other girl a little higher on the social ladder would crush on him, I also was secretly grateful to the little girl for noticing our boy.

Time passes, and crushes move on. He's yet to experience, at least to his knowledge, the attention of any other young ladies. I know that he has had a few little heart explosions of his own, all unrequited, and that's the full history of his nine-year-old experience with luv.

Enter social skills. There are two girls in the class, a fact that generated a great deal of eclat among the four boys on day 1, as they eagerly awaited the arrival of the girls while expressing either great trepidation or insincere nonchalance. The girls never showed.

They did show for the third class, and one of them, a little slip of a thing in great clothes and, I kid you not, a little cloche-like hat, seemed to have taken a shine to my oldest boy. At least, he thinks maybe she has. She's bragged on him twice now, and, as he does not hesitate to point out, has bragged on no one else in the class. Even I, the not-so-alert-to-these-things mother, noted a bit of...attachment as they emerged from the class this last week. And TH, while vigorously denying any requital on his part, modified that with a "maybe just a little tiny bit of a crush."

So sweet. Isn't it? Every child I meet who expresses any inclination to befriend my son immediately has my undivided sympathies. I find that inclination hopelessly endearing. But to see it coming from a girl--and TH's interest seems to be girls--is to see a teensy glimpse of a possibility that some day, someone will see all the good that is in my son and become his best friend and soul mate. Just a little glimpse. If she happens to be rather fashionably attired and wearing a cloche hat, I'm cool with that, too. Just as long as she isn't a Republican. I keed. I keed.

As if the "teensy bit of a crush" weren't enough, TH's pendulum of positivity swung over to the large side with another success he had with his social skills class. This one involved an arranged Saturday outing with a group of six children, not the same kids as in his weekday class. They went fishing, and of all the unbelievable things, TH caught the biggest fish anyone's ever caught on one of the trips. A huge bass. Even onlookers unassociated with the group came over to view it. TH was so full to bursting with excitement about it that when we picked him up after the outing, he exploded with details of every single person, place, thing, experience, and emotion he could remember from his adventure. We'd never, ever witnessed anything like it.

From teensy little crushes on tiny little girls to catching the biggest fish of the bunch, for TH, this social skills class has been a huge success, one big and small victory at a time. And, by the way, he's learning social skills, too.

If you don't mind the bleeping...Top Chef for social skills?

We got hooked on Top Chef during season six, and it was an interesting time to do it because of the Voltaggio brothers. I've never seen a less facially expressive pair of brothers since...well, since I last looked out the door of my office. Like many facially inexpressive people, those two held a lot of passion inside. But I do digress because the point of this post is...well, it's still facial expressions.

Voltaggios aside, we've discovered that Top Chef is great TV for the entire family. It's so good, in fact, that we've ordered all available seasons on DVD and DVR'd the others, and it's the only television that we and the boys watch together, in our mutually limited television viewing schedules. Why do I think this show is so great (and once again, it's not for the faint of bleep)? Here are a few reasons...

1. It shows people trying, really really hard, and sometimes failing completely. Reactions vary enormously, but a large percentage of people who must "pack their knives and go" express positive feelings about their experience, about learning from it, about growing, about getting out there and dammit, trying again. I want my sons to see this and, in time, to take chances, too, even though they may fail.

2. It shows people have faults...sometimes big, humongous, drive-a-truck-into-them faults. Not all adults are great people with someone else's interests at heart, like we are to our children. They say ugly things about each other. They say nice things about each other. On this show, there are frequent examples of what good teamwork is and what it means to be a team member, and frequent examples of what happens when people simply can't bring themselves to work on a team. I want my sons to see this, too.

3. It shows people's reactions to a huge variety of social situations. We see every possible emotion here, expressed in closeup, as the person is registering and reacting. TH has become so insightful about reading these facial expressions that I'm thinking Top Chef should work this into a social skills therapy program somehow.

4. It shows people who have a passion for what they do, a deep well of creativity (in some cases, anyway), and a willingness to be competitive about it. I want my sons to witness that, to see that these creative, passionate people have talent but that they also are working their asses off and have done so for years to get where they are...and that they're not afraid to be competitive about it, either.

5. It shows people being judged...literally...and how they react to it. Again, responses vary, but our sons already show an understanding of what a mature response looks like and what a defensive, immature response to constructive criticism is. I want them to see that, too.

Finally, the show has a mix of people from all kinds of backgrounds, of a range of ethnicities, of both sexes, and of different sexual orientations and presents it all in a straightforward, this-is-the-way-things-are manner. And I want my children to see that, too. This show was, frankly, their introduction to homosexual relationships--two female chefs who also were partners at the time of the show--and the boys asked about it. We just told them that sometimes, people of the same sex love each other and become partners--and I couldn't leave out the joke at that point that even in some states (but not Texas!), they could marry. They processed the information for about two seconds and...that was it.

Thanks, Top Chef. I'm pretty sure there was zero intention on the part of the show's creators for it to serve as a social skills training course, but...it's doing a damned fine job. But why the hell did you send Tiffany home?

End the Bullying initiative has begun

First of all, I want to thank everyone who tweeted, Facebooked, and commented here regarding my wish to develop an anti-bullying initiative that offers advocacy and support at the grassroots level for people experiencing bullying and for their parents.

The initiative has begun. You can find its root stages at the End the Bullying blog, and you can follow us on Twitter as @endbullying1. A Facebook page is forthcoming.

And now, we need your help. The blog consists of several pages targeting specific US regions. If you are in that a given region, I'd greatly appreciate your letting me know of any resources specific to your area for anti-bullying information, advocacy, or support. You can comment over at the blog or here, or email or Tweet me.

Further, I'm hoping to crowdsource the regional/local support for families who may need more than the Web has to offer. Here's what you can do if you have the wherewithal and the inclination or know someone who does:

• Are you aware of good anti-bullying resources at the national, regional, or local level? Let us know, and we'll add them to the appropriate page.
• Do you have a story about bullying, especially one in which you found an appropriate and effective resolution? Please let us know about them: Click on the "Your Stories and Resolutions" page for information about how to submit.
• Are you will to be a local/regional anti-bullying support person for families who are struggling with having the appropriate authorities address a bullying problem? This role does not involve anything more than informal support on the ground for the family. Especially well suited for these roles are people who have successfully addressed a bullying situation and understand the importance of documentation, etc., of bulling incidents.
• Are you an expert in advocacy, anti-bullying approaches, special education law or advocacy, or other related area? We would love to have a list of contacts of people like you who may be able to serve in informal knowledge transfer to help children and families who are targets of bullying.
• Do you follow the news? If you come across stories about bullying, either reporting on an incident or reporting on ways to address it, please let us know.
• Finally, if you have general links or resources that you think would be good to contribute, send them along.

Thanks to everyone who is mobilizing to make this initiative possible. I don't have any quixotic illusions that we can end bullying entirely, but I do hope that with growing support, we can do our part to End the Bulling.