Life sometimes changes focus for you and sometimes you have to decide it’s time to change the focus of your life on your own.  In either case it’s inevitable that the focus does change, that the direction you took yesterday doesn’t jibe with the course you’ve chosen for the next week, month or year.

It’s the same with a blog of this type as well.  When I started A father Speaks I did so with a very clear mission statement.  I would speak for my Autistic son until he could do so for himself.  It was my way of coping with some of the frustrations involved in having a nonverbal child.

Now he can speak for himself.

It’s still only in a limited fashion, but every day his vocabulary and mastery of language grows.  He can ask for what he wants and express himself.  He can tell me when he hurts or when he’s happy.  He laughs, he cries and he asks questions.  He’s still delayed, but is no longer stranded behind the glass wall of Autism.  He’s moving into the world with the rest of us.

The original point of this blog is no longer valid.  I’m not sure what I had originally thought I would do at this point. I didn’t think it would get here so quickly.  His advancements have thrilled and amazed everyone involved, from teachers and coordinators to family and friends.

Don’t get me wrong, these are welcome advances.  Every time he says something new I revel in his ability to learn.  I’m so proud of him that I could burst. His brothers help, they show encouragement and his mother beams and cries from her post across the Atlantic ocean.

But I no longer need to speak for him.  Lil’ B. is now capable of doing that on his own.  with that comes the choice of whether to simply walk away from A Father Speaks or to adapt it to fit the new realities of our lives.  I have chosen the latter.

Lil’ b. has never existed in a vacuum.  There’s a whirlwind of life around him. His brothers, the dog, his mom who is serving overseas.  Family drama, absolute insanity and terrible boredom.  All of these things work on our daily routine.

This blog is shifting to encompass all of those things.  In short, it’s turning into a Daddy blog in the true sense, with less than 100% of its focus on Lil’ B. and much more on the issues that a family deals with.  It all belongs here now and I intend to give all of these things their due.

I hope the changes are OK with all of you.  The new course is set and it will take time to make adjustments.

For now,

Peace.  I’m out.

It’s been forever since I managed to find time to update here. What with getting ready to move to California and the associated house hunt, all the paperwork that the Military needs us to have completed and the meetings associated with said paperwork and making sure that Lil’ B. still has his sessions with the therapists at the proper times, the thought of blogging is more than just a little overwhelming.

Now I find myself in the middle of about 20 projects, all in varying states of half-done. There are several eBooks in the works, two websites I need to have completed ASAP. materials I should have had rewritten and posted on several of my sites and building excitement/tensions in our home. All of these things make for a less than productive day on my part. It’s not an excuse, just the reality of the situation.

I’m happy to say that Lil’ B. is taking all of this much better than either his mother or I have been. he has been exceeding expectations in therapy for the past three weeks and now has little difficulty with puzzles that used to be major stumbling blocks in his day. some of the simpler toys have been taken out of his therapy regimen. they bored him and have been replaced with more challenging activities.

His vocabulary is growing slowly. “No” is now a common sound in our home, as is “out” and “go”. He’s relating to things in new ways and following directions very well (when he’s not being a rebellious 2 year old, that is.) Just a moment ago I heard him happily follow the directions given by his “Go Diego go” video. (something I recommend to anyone at this point!) he’s doing wonderfully, and we’re trying to keep things normal.

With any luck I’ll be able to post a bit more often over the next two weeks. After that the craziness sets in.

Peace, I’m out.

The world at times is a wonderful and inspiring place. For our family, the world was much more than that this week. Our son made sure that it was by quite simply achieving more than anyone thought he could at this point.

Not only has he continued with his counting, he now counts everything (up to three, then he starts over.) He’s learned that holding up his fingers and extending them one at a time is the perfect chance to practice this new skill, and even though he hasn’t figured out how to extend his index finger, he’s begun counting from his little finger backward. It’s still counting to three, which is an accomplishment for any two and-a-half year old, let alone a child with autism.

Yesterday in therapy he completed every single task. This is a first for Lil’ B., who has a severe aversion to both puzzles and books. This time however, he sat through the book and completed the puzzle with a bit of help from Miss Sandra and his mother, who was lucky enough to have the day off. The look of accomplishment in his eyes was enough to make this particular father beam with pride.

In the past few days our son has become completely annoying. He either wants to monopolize 100% of your time and attention or he is argumentative, willful and prone to tantrums when he does not get what he wants. In shot, he’s acting like every normal 2 year old, which is something we were not ready for but can’t complain about. We were never sure he’d act like an average child at all, so even though the terrible two’s aren’t what we were hoping for as a first look at his personality, it’s a welcome view nonetheless.

He is, in fact, acting so much like a normal two year old that last night when I told him that it was not time to play with his blocks, his response was “Yes Blocks!” This went on for a while, finally terminating with the bag of blocks being hurled across the living room (by Lil, B.) and a trip to sit in his room and think about just why it’s not OK to throw blocks at your mother (enforced by me, as mom was in no state to deal with him at the moment.) The terrible two’s at their worst! I love it!

The topper for the week happened last night. I was siting outside enjoying a bit of peace, quiet and nicotine (Don’t start. I don’t smoke around my family or other people that are uncomfortable with it. Take the consideration for what it is… I value their lives and yours.) Lil’ B. had been running up to the door and waving “hi”, which is new for him. Apparently my attention was drawn away from the door, so I didn’t see him make a return trip to wave.

Then I heard what is probably the most wonderful thing I’ve ever heard in my life. Out of the blue, in a very clear voice my son shouted “Daddy! Hi!” and waved like a madman.

I was too shocked to wave back, but I made it up to him with lots of love and tickles.

That’s it in a nutshell. I’d love to prattle on, but for now the housework and work-work beckons and i must go.

Peace, I’m out.

The last few days have been nothing short of universe-changing, earth-shattering and monumental in a very Dr. Who saves the earth with nothing but a sonic screwdriver and a stick of bubble gum kind of way. If this were an epic fantasy, I would proclaim in my best bard’s voice that Our Brave Hero has officially mounted his trusty steed and is now riding with purpose toward the Citadel of Silence to do battle with the dread and all silencing Aut-ism, armed with the one weapon that can defeat such a dread foe.

Our Hero carries with him not a screwdriver which also happens to be sonic. He carries with him something far more versatile and devastating to the Lord of Silence and misunderstanding. The one weapon which can place the dread lord safely into a prison from which he can never hope to escape. He carries his voice.

He’s started talking.

The words are as yet few, but he’s begun mimicking us, the television and anyone else who speaks around him. He’s noticing facial expressions and cuing in on them and he’s doing his level best to make the people around him smile (at least when he’s not just being 2-1/2 and being mischievous.) Our hero has mastered the concept of words, and one of the first that he used was one that melted the heart of this knight in his not-so-shiny-armor.

He said Daddy, then smiled and pointed right at me.

I know that he knows what he said. he repeated it gleefully for over an hour, sometimes dragging his mother, the Good Queen through the house just so that he could point and say Daddy where she could see it. He very much enjoys pleasing the Queen, so for him it was a bit of an adventure.

He happily tries to count to three with us, mimics the sound of Sesame street characters or dora the Explorer when they say the alphabet or count, and has taken to saying “yeah”, “yep” and “uh-huh”. (He is Texan, after all.) He has also begun signing words that he has difficulty with, like “more”, in places where it is appropriate and working hard to complete the tasks his therapists set for him. It’s like someone opened the flood-gates and now there’s no stopping him. Pretty soon I’ll be asking him to stop talking for a little bit so that I can concentrate, but in his case I’m going to say that’s a good thing.

This is shaping up to be one heck of a week!

For now I’m going to take advantage of a bit of momentary silence and try to get a few things straightened up, secure in the knowledge that Our Hero will emerge victorious in the end. He’ll get through this and emerge stronger for it and we will be stronger for the journey.

Peace, I’m out.

And in the case of our son, he’s figured out how to ask for it. Like most of his breakthrough’s this one came out of nowhere and simply floored both his therapist and his parents.

He signed More, and is trying very hard to say it!

For those not versed in Baby sign language,”More” is signed by bringing the tips of the fingers together with your thumbs touching the index finger of each hand, like so:

It’s a simple thing, but very important.  It gives my son one more tool in his arsenal of things that he can request on his own, even if it is just “more of something”.  The fact that he is completely aware that he’s supposed to be saying the word with the motion is something inspiring in it’s own right.  he’s still just making a noise, but he’s trying.  He signed “more” five times during today’s therapy session, and has done so several more times since, though I’ll admit to not knowing what he wanted more of.

And he’s looking right at us when he does it.

Eye contact is a huge issue with people in the autistic spectrum.  Since they usually have difficulty understanding facial expressions, autistic kids just don’t bother looking at faces.  Lil’ B. has gotten much better at this.  He seems to be getting a small understanding of facial expressions as well, which is heartwarming, since it will make his life a lot easier if he can understand a person’s emotions by the way they look, rather than having to guess at it.

I’m sure there was something else I was supposed to say here, but I can’t remember it right at the moment.

Peace All, I’m out!

Lil' B opens his first gift of the season. Read on for more!

I know I’ve been a bit lax in getting new posts up here, but I have some pretty good reasons for the lapse in information. It’s been a very busy couple of weeks in the Russell household, and not just with Lil’ B. and his progress (which has had me smiling a lot.)  There’s been a lot going on across the board.  Let’s recap a bit, shall we?

Firstly, about three days after my last update, my wife came home with news.  We have orders, we’re leaving Texas and Sheppard AFB.  The Plus side; my wife gets to go back to doing the work she loves.  The down side; she’ll be doing that work in Turkey and Lil’ B. and myself will be in California for the 15 months she’ll be gone.

For those who think this is an earth shattering issue in our relationship, it’s not. It’s just part of the life of a Military family.  I’ll be close to my sister,  step dad and my boys, so for me the time will fly by.  I also have some unfinished business to take care of in California and this is the perfect opportunity to get that taken care of.

As for my wife, she’ll get to enjoy some of the most wonderful food in the world and she tells me that there are a lot of things that we can get for nest to nothing, so her time will be filled with pursuits of furniture, Persian rugs and saffron, which we are told can be gotten very inexpensively there. (can you say eBay!?!)

On other fronts, lil’ B. has been progressing well in terms of keeping eye contact, which is a huge issue for him.  He’s made “yay” a permanent part of his vocabulary, and has begun asking for food by name, rather than just haling Dad to the fridge.  All of these things are wonderful and I cherish each moment, but there’s one thing he’s done over the past few weeks that shines far above all others:

He told his mother he loved her!

I was not fortunate enough to hear this, but I know it’s true.  The tears running down my wife’s face were more than proof enough.  Lil’ B. was apparently pleased enough with himself over the accomplishment that he simply walked to his room and went directly to sleep and has not seen the need to revisit the occasion, but we’re waiting.

As for the photo at the top of the post, we apparently missed a Christmas party held by the center that provides Lil’ B. with his therapy sessions, so Miss Sandra was kind enough to bring his gift by with her on their last appointment of the year.  It was actually a duplicate of a toy he already has, and as such will be returned to the BigScaryMegaMart where it was purchased for an exchange but we learned something from the experience:

Lil’ B. does not like to unwrap presents!

Let's open your present Lil' B.

This was confirmed right after the above photo was taken.  Miss Sandra pulled the first piece of wrapping paper loose and Lil’ B. Let out a very emphatic “No!” and walked away.

NO! Don't tear the paper!

While this bodes well for the gifts I’m about to place under the tree, it also means that wrapping his gifts may just be an exercise in futility.  We’re thinking gift bags may be the way to go if we would like to see him play with his new toys, rather than simply taking the packages into his room and staring at them.

In all other aspects, both good and bad, things seem to be falling into place. and Lil’ B. learns more with every visit.  We’re spending time mimicking their activities on the days they don’t come, but he seems to pay closer attention to his therapists than he does to his parents. (totally normal for a two year old, I know!)

That’s all I’ve got for the moment, and our little hero is awake, so I’m off to do that dad thing.

Peace, I’m out.

So why does this entry start off with a photo of half-eaten Low Sodium Ritz Crackers?  Has the food photographer lost his mind and begun posting his not-ready for prime time images on a blog that’s supposed to be devoted to his son?  Should someone be contacted in regards to his mental state…

Any of that could happen I suppose, but it’s not the case today.

The photo above was taken in tribute to an amazing happening.  Like most other completely amazing experiences, this one happened in an unlikely place, at an unlikely time and took me completely by surprise.  There was no time to grab my camera and record video, only time to live the moment and savor the wonder of it all.

My son stacked those crackers.

That may not sound like much of an accomplishment in and of itself, but you have to realize that our hero has an aversion to anything being stacked on top of something else.  Books in bookshelves may be lined in rows, but they cannot be stacked.  If they are, he pulls them from the shelves.  Toys may not be stacked.  If they are, he throws them out of his room.

Likewise clothes may not be stacked in drawers.  If they are found that way, they are removed and placed (as neatly as a two year old can place them) on the floor.  The same goes for any other item found on top of something else.  he has always been this way.

But he stacked these crackers himself.

Just seeing him place one object on top of another would have been enough to leave me staring in amazement. The fact that he decided to do this all by himself, out of nowhere, was enough to invoke shock, awe and more than a touch of pride into this humble narrator. But what he did next brought tears of joy to my eyes.

He clapped and said in the clearest voice I have ever heard him use; “Yay!”

My son does not speak often.  When he does it’s still very much in baby-talk.  If you don’t know what he’s trying to say, you’re not going to understand him.  A deaf chimpanzee would have understood this.  It wasn’t baby talk, it ws a two year old that was immensely proud of himself speaking in a voice so clear that I have to believe angels in the heavens were applauding right along with him.  I’m sure his grandmother was right there with them. I know I was clapping like mad.

He spoke.

Of course I woke his mother for this.  She had gone to bed early after two days of finalizing a manuscript for publication.  We both stood with him for as long as he was willing to go on, stacking and unstacking crackers, clapping and screaming “YAY” into a dark Texas night.  I don’t think I’ve ever been happier for him than I was last night.

This is a breakthrough of proportions that I’m still trying to wrap my thoughts around.  For just a few minutes at a dinner table I was looking at the person that’s usually trapped inside our silent hero.  The little boy that he is bubbled up to the surface and came out for the rest of us to see.  The moment may have been fleeting, but it’s for moments like these that we work so hard with him on his off days.

For just a few minutes I wasn’t working with my autistic son.  I was playing with a very happy two year old who was acting exactly like any other very happy two year old.  Call me greedy, but I want more moments like this.  A lot more.

The fact that this happened to a backdrop of twinkling Christmas lights just made the moment seem that much more miraculous.  It is the season of miracles, after all.  We just got ours.  If it’s the only one of the season, I’ll be perfectly content.

I guess the old commercials were right.  Everything’s better with a Ritz.

Peace All, I’m out.