Punxsutawney Hudson

This past week Hudson’s teacher sent out a picture in the class messaging app. It was a picture of a groundhog activity that the class did together. They colored a groundhog and had to put it under whether they thought he’d see his shadow or not.

It took me all of half a second to find Hudson’s groundhog. Amongst a sea of brown groundhogs was a multicolored one with his name on it. When I saw it, two thoughts immediately came to mind:

Thought #1: He WOULD pick 6 more weeks of winter. The kid loves snow and would stay outside playing (when I say playing, I really mean eating) in it all day if I let him.

Thought #2: Oh man, did he not follow the directions and refuse to color his groundhog brown??

Later on, I asked him about the project and if his teacher was okay with him coloring it all different colors, to which he responded with an enthusiastic “yeah!”.

For some reason I kept going back to the picture of those groundhogs.

The more I looked at, the more I thought this little groundhog embodied my sweet six-year-old.

Hudson is a colorful child (so to speak). He can be loud, and he most definitely stands out in the crowd. Sometimes he’s the boy in class who is having a hard time crying and screaming. Other times he’s the kid who is yelling out random dinosaur or monster truck facts. Either way, he’s hard to miss, much like his groundhog.

Hudson’s groundhog was also one of two that had chosen 6 more weeks of winter. Just he and one other student made that choice. Hudson does not follow the crowd and he doesn’t always fit in. He’s always been his own person. And while sometimes I worry that he’ll be lonely and struggle making friends, I also know he’s not afraid to say what he thinks or to do his own thing. There is something beautiful in being different and not fitting the mold. He thinks for himself and refuses to let anyone change his mind. I actually envy him for being able to do that at such a young age.

I’d gladly take 6 more weeks… more years… more lifetimes… of our colorful, loud, and beautiful Hudson.

Sometimes Things Get Hard

Hudson has amazed us with so many things in Kindergarten so far. He is reading miles above where he should be. His writing and coloring has improved drastically this year. He’s adored by many of the kids and teachers at his school.

But sometimes things get hard.

For all his successes, he has been struggling behaviorally. Sharing and waiting for his turn is really hard for him. His classroom teachers this year have said he often has issues following directions or staying focused, resorting to yelling when they give him a task to do that doesn’t align with his own agenda. He is incredibly competitive and has sadly had some violent incidents. His teachers have asked us for guidance on how to help him stay calm and regulate these behaviors. They have also expressed concern over his readiness for the increased workload he will face and the independence he will need in 1st grade next year.

Sometimes… things get hard.

The truth is that we don’t have the answers. We don’t have the training on how best to handle his outbursts. We can’t always tell the difference between typical 5 year old behavior and autistic child behavior, and we can’t tell his teachers how best to educate him. We don’t always know how to help our sweet, beautiful boy handle the challenges that he faces everyday. And we sure as hell wish we did.

Hudson is a truly amazing and intelligent kid; usually very loving, empathetic, and one who understands rules and routines. He isn’t a bad kid by any means, but we can tell that he’s struggling a lot this year. And getting Hudson to open up to us is always a challenge. Good or bad, he really doesn’t like to talk about his day. When it’s a particularly difficult day, he doesn’t remember what caused him to yell or push someone, or why he didn’t want to listen to his teachers. We always ask him “what happened?” when we get a bad report from his teacher. His response is pretty much always the same; either, “I DON’T KNOW!!” or he breaks down in tears.

Today was a rough one, with an incident that broke our hearts to hear about. When we asked him about what happened today, or what we could do to help him handle situations that trigger him, all he could say was:

“Sometimes things get hard.”

Yes they do, buddy. They really do.

New Study on US Children Diagnosed - The Comments Section

This morning as I was lying in bed, procrastinating getting up to get ready for work, I opened up my phone and started scrolling and an article from the Today Show caught my eye.

“One in 44 children diagnosed with autism, new data suggests.”

https://www.today.com/health/one-44-us-children-diagnosed-autism-new-data-suggests-rcna7493?cid=sm_npd_td_fb_ma&fbclid=IwAR0o4HEjFCf2SswAIX1yZndJQxm4Yr5qXNzqaBF0d809Zo3dUM9muHDhaKk I didn’t read the article but something lured me to the comments section. Which in turn made me want to puke.

“It’s the chlorinated water.” “It’s the food we’re feeding them.” “All those vaccines right next to each other...” “Those poor kids.” “Nobody acted like that back when I went to school.”

As a parent of a child with autism these types of comments are extremely hurtful. Is autism hard? Absolutely. But guess what? So is parenting my neurotypical child. I swear that one will give me more gray hairs than my child with autism. I have never smoked anything. When I got pregnant, I cut out all caffeine. I craved fruits and vegetables. I couldn’t stand artificial sugar. I breastfed for a year. I made his baby food. He didn’t have candy or popsicles for at least the first two years of his life. I tried to do everything right. Yet, my child is autistic. And trust me I blamed myself vigorously when he was diagnosed, obsessing over what I could have done to do this to my child. So naturally when I see comments like this it hurts, because I tried REALLY hard. And imagine how a person with autism must feel reading these comments?? But as the years have passed, I know that’s not the case. This is only just a part of Hudson and I love him and the boy he is. Even on the hard days. He has this big brain where he can remember insane facts or read words like “adventure” while in kindergarten. He has a huge heart, too. The first one to hug someone who’s crying. He’s extremely observant, but also totally unobservant. And so funny in his own way. He judges no one. I’m not an expert - I never will be - but I do know that these children deserve better. Way better. And maybe, just maybe we should watch them a little closer because I bet we could all learn a thing or two from them.