A few months ago, my older son George turned ten. I felt a sense of wonderment at the fact that I had actually succeeded in keeping a human being alive for an entire decade. To put this into perspective, let me just say that as a kid I ripped the limbs off my dolls. I was not exactly a poster child for parenting potential. I know more than a few people who might legitimately be surprised that I’ve been more-or-less successful as a mother.
As George blew out his birthday candles, though, I also felt a jolt of terror. These ten years have gone so quickly, and in just eight more short years, my firstborn child will be nominally (although probably not academically) ready to graduate high school.
But wait! Before that even happens, before we have to make scary decisions about adulthood and post-school life, we have to navigate the stormy teenage years – a period that I don’t think any parent looks forward to, never mind the parent of a child with autism.
Almost as soon as the thought of adolescence crossed my mind, I started to see signs of early puberty in George. I was helping him dry off after a shower one evening when I noticed that he had started sprouting hair where previously there had been none.
Oh. Now that was a shock. One day, I’m thinking that I have a couple of years before my child starts to turn into a man-boy. The next day, I’m at my computer Googling a search string that includes the phrase, “pubic hair”.
As if that wasn’t enough, my gentle-natured child has suddenly developed an air of defiance. As he was playing games on his computer a few nights ago, I asked him to put on his pyjamas. I expected him to comply, but instead he looked me dead in the eye and said, “No!” before turning back to his game.
“George,” I said reasonably. “You have to put your pyjamas on, and then you can have ten more minutes of computer time.”
“NO!” he said, insistently.
I felt my hackles start to rise. My voice rose along with them.
“If you don’t put your pyjamas on right now, the computer will get turned off immediately.”
My sweet, adorable child willfully ignored me and I discovered that it is, in fact, possible for a child to click a mouse more loudly in defiance.
“Right,” I said, meaning business. Autism or no autism, consequences had be enforced.
I strode up to the computer, and ignoring George’s whines of protest, I turned it off. I then shoehorned him into his pyjamas – no mean feat when your long, lanky child suddenly seems to have a dozen arms and legs. It would have been easier to put a deranged octopus into a strait-jacket.
When George was finally in his pyjamas, he was absolutely furious. He stood in the middle of the living room with his face turning red, and he yelled, “Mommy is a FART!”
That’s a pretty good sentence for a largely non-verbal kid with autism. After an initial flash of anger, I felt kind of proud. Then I felt amused. Then I started brooding about what the next few years are likely to entail.
As hard as the autism-adolescence combination might be for me and my husband, it’s not really us that I’m worried about. We’re grown-ups – we can handle it. We did, after all, manage to survive our own adolescent years, and we remember them enough to understand the defiance and the mood swings.
My bigger concern is how much understanding George will have of the changes that are happening in his body. He’s not a kid we can have “the talk” with. We cannot tell him about birds and bees, or why some bits of him are getting bigger and hairier. Well – we can – but it would all go right over his head.
This point was highlighted at an autism conference I attended a couple of years ago. One of the speakers, autism guru Peter Gerhardt, works with teens who have special needs. He told the story of a former client of his, who tried very hard – hurting himself badly in the process – to scratch his skin off his body because the appearance of chest hair was so frightening to him.
The emotional changes are likely to be an even bigger source of mystery for George than the physical changes. His emotions are already a source of frustration for him because of his limited ability to express them. And now, this kid who sometimes feels driven to bang his head on the floor because he cannot verbalize how he feels is going to have hormones flowing six ways from Sunday.
Adolescence is hard enough for typical kids. How much more difficult must it be for a kid with autism who has no idea what is happening or why?
Maybe I’m worrying for nothing. One of my friends says that adolescence and the influx of hormones was the best thing that could have happened for her son with autism.
Whether George has an easy or a difficult time over the next few years, I think we are in for an interesting ride.
How did you/will you approach adolescence with your kids? Do you have any special considerations, like physical or developmental disabilities, to take into account?
This is an original post for World Moms Blog by Kirsten Doyle. Kirsten blogs at Running for Autism, and you can connect with her on Twitter @running4autism.
Photo credit to the author.
Kirsten Doyle (Canada)
Kirsten Doyle was born in South Africa. After completing university, she drifted for a while and finally washed up in Canada in 2000. She is Mom to two boys who have reached the stage of eating everything in sight (but still remaining skinny). Kirsten was a computer programmer for a while before migrating into I.T. project management. Eventually she tossed in the corporate life entirely in order to be a self-employed writer and editor. She is now living her best life writing about mental health and addictions, and posting videos to two YouTube channels. When Kirsten is not wrestling with her kids or writing up a storm, she can be seen on Toronto's streets putting many miles onto her running shoes. Every year, she runs a half-marathon to benefit children with autism, inspired by her older son who lives life on the autism spectrum. Final piece of information: Kirsten is lucky enough to be married to the funniest guy in the world. Connect with her on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram. Be sure to check out her YouTube channels at My Gen X Life and Word Salad With Coffee!
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Kristen, I so get it. I’m not in your shoes of course but I can imagine. My teens are 15 & 16…I don’t have any disabilities to talk about, and I still feel lost at times.
It can be said that we’ve had way too many conversations about growing…maturity…the future, in their opinion(s), but how can we let it be, we are parents – it’s our job.
I agree, it will be an interesting ride, and the fact that you are preparing for it says a whole lot.
“…mommy’s a fart…”, that’s original 🙂
Oh my. Yes, we now have a 12 year-old and are heading into new territory too. I can’t imagine what that will be like for George or for you. All the very best of thoughts and good wishes. (And wine.)
Dearest Kirsten, just the fact that you’re worrying about George already puts you in the category of GOOD MOTHER! No child comes with an instruction manual, and what is easy for one is difficult for another. As you so rightly state, “Adolescence is hard enough for typical kids.” That said, I have no doubt at all that George will be just fine, because he has great parents who really care about him and his future … not to mention a brilliant (if a bit “smart-alecky”) brother, who knows him well enough to be able to help when needed! Worry is what all mothers do. It comes with the territory of “having your heart forever walking around outside your body”! So there’s no point in ever telling a mom not to worry about her kids. 🙂
My “baby” daughter is going to turn 18 on 13 May and my son has already turned 21 and is living on a different continent from me. My children are polar opposites of each other. From birth what worked for one didn’t work for the other and vice-versa. There’s no “trick” to navigating the teen years. All I can share with you is what worked for my family.
My husband and I never miss an opportunity to tell and show both our children that we love them UNCONDITIONALLY. We also spent a lot of time talking to them about everything and anything when they were little. Lastly we ensured that they KNEW without a shadow of a doubt the we would ALWAYS “have their back”. The payoff has been that I have an 18 year old daughter who is not only willing to share with me what is happening in her life and her thoughts & feelings, but she also ASKS FOR and FOLLOWS MY ADVICE! Both my children have had occasion to call us from a party because some of the other kids had brought alcohol and things were getting out of hand. We were grateful and proud that they called, so we could fetch them before something bad happened. 🙂
I have no idea how to parent an autistic child, and what challenges you and he will have to face. I can, however, tell you that you are a great mom and person! All my love and best wishes from sunny South Africa! xoxox
Kirsten, About the body changing part –
Can his dad show him his body and let him know that as he grows older he will start looking more like his daddy? (To help him understand why his body is changing.)
But it will still be more years before he’s LIKE his daddy and in the meantime he’s still a child.
I think you’re doing an awesome job! I believe in you!
Wow, Kirsten, thank you for sharing your concerns (in quite an entertaining way 🙂 ). I know several children with autism or autism spectrum disorders. They are not in their teens yet, so thank you for telling me your concerns, so I can be more aware of what their parents, my friends, will be going through!
I like Noella’s idea of showing him an adult male, preferentially his father, to show him he is growing up to be ‘a dad’. That might do the trick for the physical part…
As for the emotional part, I have no experience at all. I do know that I am NOT looking forward to it either! Especially concerning our daughter, who is adopted. She is 5 yo now, and already slams doors, yelling “I ruined her life” when she can’t jump the trampoline past bed time. She has quite a temper already, WITHOUT the hormones…
Oh yes, how I am looking forward to the “You’re not my real mother anyway!” yells that are sure to come… Not to mention her search for her identity, having no adult family member that looks like her (she’s Ethiopian) and having only limited info about her roots.
I’ll cherish the non-hormonal-tantrums a little bit more in the mean time…
Interesting post, Kirsten. I’m sure this post will be very helpful to moms in your exact situation, too. My girls are still little, so we have a ways to go.
Let us know how it goes!
Jen 🙂
Although I don’t have any special needs children, I have friends that do and know “the talk” is/will be difficult for them. I am a pretty open person and talk to them whenever I think the time seems right. I purchased age appropriate books for them and every once in a while I say “have any questions about your bodies?” They roll their eyes and promise that if they have any they’ll ask. 🙂 I’m kind of annoying.
At an early age, I made a habit of sitting on the edge of their beds in the dark and talking about the tough stuff. This has made it easier for them as they feel anonymous in the the dark. We’ve got great communication and I hope it stays that way.
Wow! I really feel for you and wish you the very best in these seemingly tempestuous times. At least that’s how they feel to me from time to time.
I have a 12.5 year old girl who some times seems to have lost her mind & knows it, and is playing games with me to make sure she doesn’t always go fetch it back. I am certain she thinks I lost my mind altogether as well. lol.
Honestly I am not sure what to do because I grew up in such a different environment. Not only has technology advanced incredibly fast since I was 12, but I also grew up in an Italian town close to farms, where we could play outside until the street lights came on; and then I grew up in Tanzania where I was busy being afraid of new things and learning new languages. I barely had time to be that defiant.
So I come online to ask moms like you for your advice. 🙂
Good luck!!