So I started this post in the morning.

I’m sitting at my desk frustrated and discouraged and self-loathing after an especially difficult weekend and one of those literally-drag-the-kid-to-school mornings.

So I titled the piece “Losing to Autism.”

Because lately that’s what I’ve been feeling like.

I’m not working hard enough. I’ve become too comfortable with where he’s progressed. I’ve been increasingly more likely to allow him to watch TV or play Wii or even read so that I can focus on my own projects.

All along trying not to face the fact that activities like those that at one time had some therapeutic value when used strategically have now become nothing more than a replacement for what was once spinning in circles and head-standing.

Yet I give in just one more time to his millionth-of-the-day plea for Wii and swallow my failings deep into my gut where I keep all those behaviors and character traits that if I happen to see in the mirror make me look like a total loser.

“Sure.” I finally say… because I’m tired.

But of course my giving in is nothing more than a lame, selfish attempt at self-medicating and by the next morning as I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown because his own symptoms are at their worst I have to wonder as Kanye does, “what’s worse, the pain or the hangover.”

Somehow we managed to make it to the classroom this morning thanks to a little help from the iPad (he’s participating in a trial program for iPad intervention).

By evening I’m sitting on the sidelines of baseball practice where a week ago I was hovering over the kid, trying to get him to do anything other than demand his place at bat. Now I’m not only sitting on the sidelines but relishing in sheer joy at the sight of my child lining up, taking his turn, and even playing in the field… all on his own.

Feels like a victory.

But what I’m realizing today is that my son and his disorder have something in common. A superpower that (like all superpowers) has staggering potential if used for good but would be utterly diabolical in the wrong hands.

They are both unyielding.

What I’ve had to realize about Gideon is that you can’t force him to do anything. You can’t manipulate him. You can’t bribe him. You can’t convince him. You can’t reason with him.

You can’t even teach him.

He does only those things that he believes are in his best interest.

Every once in a while though… he humors me. He lets me think that I’m in control, that I’ve taught him or convinced him or proven one thing or another.

And his autism does the same thing.

I’m sitting there at the baseball diamond wondering… what is the key? what is the difference between this morning and this evening?

It is impossible to know what it wants… to be left alone? or engaged? some prodding or a distraction?

And just like that I realize it wants the same thing as Gideon—just to show me who is boss.

So what now?

Do I give up because I can’t win?

Obviously not… I don’t give up life just because I know death is at the end.

I keep convincing, teaching, reasoning and all those other things—even though I fail half the time—because I know that eventually he and it will accept what I’m suggesting just might be in his best interest.

So that the occasion they’re humoring me will grow more and more frequent until the superpower is ripped from the villainous hands of his disorder and fully claimed by his own.

Then… watch out, man.

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Apparently that whole becoming-human thing wasn’t ultimately satisfying in Ariel’s search for self-discovery.

This new phase involves tattoos, a self-inflicted haircut and extra eyeliner.

Who knows, maybe this is the real Ariel.

My daughter exited the womb with a ball-point pen in her hand and has been coloring everything in her path ever since. I’m not exaggerating. It is a very rare thing to see her without some sort of writing utensil.

And she’s always challenged me to break the rules. Who says you can only draw on paper?

Of course as a grown-up I know why we must not color on things like walls and furniture… but she dares me to ask: how many things can we color?

So I’m actively seeking new ways for her to express her creativity before public school convinces her of its worthlessness.

and I’m actively challenging myself to open my mind and consider whether the rules of conformity are true.

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When our last baby boy arrived, we really had no idea what to call him.

We hadn’t even been talking about it much because it was such a stressful time in our lives.

I was finishing an internship and about to be unemployed. We had just discovered that our other son Gideon has Autism.

And the day before the baby arrived I found out that I (once again) had cancer.

So yeah, not a lot of spare energy to discuss baby names.

Over the years I had met or heard of a couple people named River or Rivers. I knew one kid who spelled it Ryvvers. I always thought I’d like to name a kid Rivers.

But I was afraid to name my child Rivers because I had always been a fan of Weezer and everyone knew this and I was afraid people would think I was naming my boy after Rivers Cuomo (from Weezer).

I did not want to be that guy—the one who names his kid after his favorite rock star or sports hero.

But then I realized that is stupid.

So I’ve got a boy named Rivers—not named after Cuomo, they just happen to share the same name.

He also happens to be hilarious in a goofball sort of way. Check out the halloween costume from last year.

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We recently visited Chimney Rock State Park, just south of Ashville, NC.

It’s a really great destination for families since they’ve added steps, boardwalks and railings to make the hiking accessible to anyone.

We kept calling Exclamation Point “Explanation Point,” which doesn’t sound nearly so awe-inspiring… but it’s worth the extra 1,000 steps or so past Devil’s Head (above)… and the hike back to ground level is really cool, with rock outcroppings and alternate views of the Chimney Rock.

A few of us still had the energy to hike the mile or so out to the 400-ft. Hickory Nut Falls… we weren’t allowed nearly as close as we’d hoped, but maybe next trip there will be fewer park rangers around…

Actually, situations like that are kind of adjusting my parenting.

Those times when I know I would jump the barrier… but don’t want my kids to.

Over the past several years I’ve been trying to keep them from harm’s way… offering up a “be careful” or “no, no, no…” if I happen to catch them doing anything slightly dangerous (like on the jungle gym for instance).

But at some point over the past year I’ve realized… the most fun things in life are dangerous.

I’ve got to breed a little recklessness into them.

I know when I was 8 years old I would have been 20 feet up in a tree… so why do I doubt my own kids’ exploration skills… and more importantly, why would I ever want to rob them of those experiences?

Because they might get hurt?

Getting hurt brings wisdom. Overcoming pain brings courage. Reaching the summit brings enlightenment.

So now I’ve come to anticipate stitches and broken bones and scraped knees and bee stings and fat lips as an imminent part of our life together.

(along with bike ramps and skateboards and tree forts and slides-into-home)

And I expect heartbreak and detention and fender-benders and cigarettes to be a part of our not-nearly-distant-enough future.

(along with first kisses and summer jobs and missions trips and compassion and generosity)

I hope that right now I’m teaching them to make healthy choices as teens, to discover which adventures are worth the risk (love, compassion, discovery)… and which ones are not (rebellion, revenge, status)…

Hopefully the present scrapes and bruises will help future decisions come not from fear, but from wisdom.

Check out more of my photos here.

Everybody Get Dangerous

When I was younger
I used to go and tip cows for fun, yeah
Actually I didn’t do that
‘Cos I didn’t want the cow to be sad
But some of my friends did
They were all just a little bit wicked
They’d blow up mail boxes
With a baseball bat
Go for direct hits

On Halloween you can forget it
They throw rotten eggs into traffic
Toilet paper the fences
Throw the tables, chairs, and the benches
After practice
Sometimes we would break into mad fits
Causin’ damage
(Burnin’ amplifiers and mic stands)

Everybody get dangerous (Boo yah!

I’ve got a confession
That I will make if you will listen
Late in the night times
We’d drive around with hairspray and sharp knives
Lookin’ for road kills
Lightin’ things on fire for cheap thrills
Stab the corpses
And lick the knives like we’re evil forces

Hockey games on frozen ponds
No safety pads were ever put on
Drivin’ home on country roads
Sixty-five in a twenty-five zone
In my parents Tercel
How did we survive so well
Throw the keys and the wheel locked up
I almost killed every one of us…

Everybody get dangerous (Boo yah!)

There must be
A guardian angel
Or some kind of destiny we have
‘Cos we should have died
A long time ago
The way that we were livin’ in our paths

What will we say when our kids come to us
And ask, with a smile on their face,
“Hey Dad, my friend’s got some new ninja swords!
Is it cool if we slash up his place?”

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“It’s a rabbit eating bacon,” he says.

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When my kids were finally old enough for LEGOs, I was glad.

Pretty much everything about LEGO is awesome.

What was interesting (though not totally surprising) was how beneficial LEGO play seemed to be for my 6-year-old who has autism.

Interestingly enough, some serious studies are now being done to develop LEGO-based therapy for children with autism.

It makes a lot of sense:

It is engaging

Let’s face it, LEGOs are just plain cool. In contrast to some other activities, It does not require a lot of persuasion from a parent for a child to want to play LEGOs. It is fun, challenging and rewarding. Play-based intervention, like that proposed in Greenspan’s Floortime model requires the therapist/parent to first engage a child in order to allow him/her to open circles of communication. LEGOs engage a child so naturally that other challenges faced during playtime are more likely to be overcome

Works off his strengths

One really cool thing about LEGO play is that it allows him to work off of his strengths. This automatically makes him more comfortable and willing to conquer more challenges that arise during play. With problem solving and step-by-step directions at the center of kit-building, many children who have autism find themselves in their comfort zones right from the get-go.

Stealthily challenges his weaknesses

Because he has strong skills at the foundation of the activity, he is more balanced psychologically and physically and therefore more likely to participate in behaviors that are often challenging for children with autism like creativity, imaginative play and socialization. I watched my son today pick up his model at various stages of construction and imagine what the half-built project “looks like.”
“A Policeman!” he shouts… which garners a chuckle from me followed by a “What are you laughing at?” in his best baritone policeman voice. To watch such spontaneous imaginative play from him is an amazing and valuable experience.

Develops fine motor skills

One of the challenges often faced by those with Autism or other ASDs is troublesome fine motor skills. Many try to intervene here with coloring/drawing, but our son has never been very interested in coloring (as opposed to his big sister who’s had a pencil attached to her right hand since she was about six months old). I believe that LEGO play has been one activity that is so engaging that he is willing to focus on those fine motor skills and they’ve improved overall as a result. He handles each of those tiny pieces with such dexterity it is hard to imagine just months ago he wouldn’t even grasp a pencil.

Fosters social interaction

For those using LEGO play as actual therapy, one of the primary emphases is on social interaction. One might imagine that a potential negative of an activity like LEGOs for an individual with autism is that he might be so engrossed in solving the puzzle that he would shut out everyone else entirely. Studies have shown otherwise though. When attacking a LEGO set as a group, studies have shown increased self-initiated social contact among those observed not only during therapy sessions, but also spilling over into other social settings as well.

Natural payoff

It is hard to find a more satisfying payoff than a completed LEGO set. With every piece in place and a tangible reward and excited parents, the child can’t help but learn the value of working off his strengths and pushing through the challenges faced along the way. There is no need for manipulated behavioral modification, just organic learning at its best.
I work from my strengths
I meet the challenges along the way
I’m rewarded with a finished product and cheers from loved ones

I could go on and on about the benefits of that payoff.

How a finished set is then a creative toy with unlimited opportunity for pretend play.

and the fact that a big bin of assorted LEGOs has the potential for unlimited creative thinking.

Besides all of that, it is a fun activity that just about any parent can enjoy with just about any kid.

So turn off the TV and go find some LEGOs.

I insist.

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Laid off.

Struggling with life’s purpose and direction.

Possibly sick and dying.

But he doesn’t know any of that.

“This is the best Christmas ever!” he announces as we decorate the (overpriced) tree.

and I realize he’s right.

Of course.

It is the best Christmas ever.

Five minutes later, while brandishing a dreidel like a dagger he exclaims,

“Prepare to be dead!”

Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.

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Feeling uninspired lately.

I’m not sure if it is because I’ve been focusing on work-related stuff… or because I’m waiting for cat scan results to see what’s the next step.

But for whatever reason, I haven’t had much to say lately…

and because I’m committed to Strong Odors being quality, not quantity…

I’ve decided to share this illustration rather than ramble on about something no one really needs to read.

Not exactly sure what’s happening here… but one of my favorites from my daughter (who did this one back in the first grade).

I can’t come close to expressing the creativity that she can unleash with a single stroke of a pencil. Take a few minutes to discover all the detail and emotion and story in this one.

She challenges and inspires me as an artist.

Also threw some Passion Pit into the playlist… lots of Passion Pit echoing around our house lately.

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One weekend my parents were nice enough to treat the whole family to see Grossology.

It is a travelling experiential science exhibit based on the popular children’s books and is a lot of fun…

I mean, what couldn’t be fun about bodily functions?

One station was called “Guess the Smell”…

4 small openings in a table… bend down, flare nostrils, whiff, select answer…

guess which of the multiple choice answers I was lucky enough to inhale:

• feet
• armpit
• bad breath
• anus

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He was going to be a hippo

Then it was a pirate

Then a frog

Finally, with time running out we insist he make up his mind…

“Pepperoni Pizza!” he announces…

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