As part of my drive to encourage more independence in my son I have bought him an alarm clock. We had a practice run , I showed him how to turn it off and told him it was only for school mornings or days when we had to be up early . The idea being that he will get used to getting himself out of bed . Well the first morning was really quite dramatic, I off course was expecting it to go off so was waiting in anticipation for his reaction.

The sound of the ringing was drowned by my son shouting "Oh my God Oh my God ". As he dived to grab the clock and turn off the alarm. To his credit though he did not complain and it was not until the third day, of these rude awakenings, that he asked me why I had decided to get him an alarm clock." Well " I said "now that it is getting close to you going to high school , I thought it would good for you to be more independent, getting up in the morning on your own , Is part of that"

"Oh " he replied "OK" and said nothing more .

I know my son wants to grow up and do grown up things, I know he is excited about going to High school and I am counting on his enthusiasm for this new time in his life , to inspire more independence in him. I am hoping he will be swept along on the tide of all of his peers and their first steps into young adult hood . But it is definitely not a case of sink or swim ,he will receive a lot of support.

At the High School he will attend they have a special department set up for  children such as him. At present his head teacher is applying for a tablet for him to use at school. He will be allocated a 'buddy' to help him .I am sure it will be quite daunting for him to have to pack up everything every hour or so to move from class to class. There is also a quiet room where he can escape too if it all gets to much and it will be explained to him that he can do this at any time. The amount of pupils at the High School is about 5 times the amount at his primary.That in itself gives my son a challenge along with all the other things he will be trying to cope with.

I am confidant though, that I will be the one having a panic attack before him.

I find myself of late pondering the future ,not mine you understand but my sons ,having negotiated most of primary school with few incidents, my son is now in his last year. He will begin secondary in August of 2014. If I don't take him to the secondary he will have to get a bus .So we are going to have a few practice runs, where I will gradually introduce him to independent travel. First I think I will travel on the bus with him looking at the various landmarks,then he can do the trip himself. I remember myself at that age worrying when I was on the bus that I might miss my stop.So this is likely to be a very interesting time.

As I am a lone parent,( as we are now called officially ) and only work part time, I often think about, my son's ability to be independent. I would like very much to be able to work full time but this is not looking likely for at least the next year or so. At present on the school mornings,  although I do not have to dress him any more,  he takes a very long time to dress himself unless I am constantly encouraging him . To think of him doing this alone, because I would be starting work around 5 or 6 in the morning , is inconceivable to me. Preparing himself breakfast is another hurdle to overcome. The one constant in his behaviour is his habit of going off task. He has overcome so many things , he tries new foods, he is less afraid of cats and dogs , his writing improves on a weekly basis. But teaching him to concentrate on one thing and one thing only until that thing is done is proving to be very difficult.

It is not as if he does not have a sense of urgency, because he most definitely does. When there is something he is interested in, a new Dr Who, a new bop it toy, an opportunity to skype with his mum he is very motivated. But he can not seem to muster that motivation at will for some of the more mundane tasks in life. We are all of us after all doing something at some point in our days as an end to a means and the more mundane activities in life are  unavoidable , but sadly necessary.
I am at a loss as to how to convey to him that, his dressing slowly has a direct effect on what time he gets to school. Almost as if he see's the things he does as little play-lets, which he subsequently pigeon holes in a place in his brain .The more interesting play-lets he summons in to his mind at will when he is involved in a less interesting task, ie getting dressed for school. This can then lead to him laughing loudly with a look of satisfaction on his face."Why are you laughing " I will ask.
"I am laughing about "..................... and then he will relate something to me that may have happened weeks, months, or even years ago.

If he has a reason for anything that he is doing he does it with great focus, if he perceives what ever task he is on as important then the task gets done diligently. I am hoping that as he enters  puberty and starts to take more of an interest in his appearance (not just dressing up) perhaps then he will be more independent dressing himself in the morning. Only time will tell .

We all of us wish for our lives to have flow ,I would bet that the majority of the working population ,arrive at work within one or two minutes of the same time every working day.If for some reason this routine is interrupted ,for example: bus breaks down or an accident on the road ,our initial reaction is one of panic , tainted with a sprinkle of anger, flavored  with frustration. Now all of these are unsettling feelings and in an autistic person they are greatly heightened .In an autistic child  the emotion is magnified even greater.The trick is to learn to cope with these emotions and go on with our day unruffled.

As my son gets older , he is becoming better able to handle the little upsets life puts in front of us ,but I have also noticed that I have been working hard to make his day go as smoothly as is possible. And not just for his peace of mind .I have become so adept at this that I find I am following routines as much as he is. It was at this realisation that I decided I needed to shake things up a bit .So I have tried from time to time to do the unexpected .Go swimming in the morning instead of afternoon , go on a Saturday instead of Sunday serve pizza on Tuesday (normally pasta night) instead of a Monday, or my god ! As well as a Monday .Not very radical you might think but for my son quite major events to cope with. I have been trying this for some months now and it seems he is learning to better cope with the unexpected. Although when I mentioned  I would like to change the supermarket we visit he actually pleaded with me not to.

Off course we are all very aware of how life does not always go the way we plan , and we all have our own coping strategies, whether we know it or not .Deep breathing helps me I find ,and also trying to find the funny side of a situation that has gone wrong. For my son though I am not entirely sure what goes on in his mind when things don't go to plan .I do know that he is capable of severe panic , but lately I have noticed he responds well when I ask him to calm down and just think for a minute. He has recognised the benefit of thinking through the apparent disaster (the swimming pool is closed; and so on) it improves how he is feeling calms his fast beating heart, he is I think realizing that Dad might actually know what he is talking about.

There has been a lot said recently, mainly in the medical press,( it has yet to reach mainstream news) that in fact the Dr was right about MMR and it can in fact cause autism.This fact in itself for some I am sure is a bitter sweet pill to swallow , for my self well my son was diagnosed before he had the MMR .We purposefully declined requests to have him inoculated with the MMR because of the reports at the time coming out of Japan saying that tests had shown a connection with MMR and autism.

So where does that leave me and my son. From the information, I can glean that autism is a condition in its own right, and that the MMR might exasperate it, say from high functioning to a more severe form. It is hard for me, a mere layman, to accept that autism is caused by a physical interaction within the child's stomach. But I am not in full possession of the facts, nor am I a scientist.I am sure the argument will go on for many years to come , as it is very difficult to define autism, let alone find the cause.

I am still of the opinion that our world is far to frenetic, with sights and sounds bombarding us from all angles. I would like to see an experiment were the expectant mother is kept in a calm and peaceful environment in the last months of pregnancy, without any access to television, radio, newspapers, and magazines and the order of the day and all days would be long walks enjoying the sounds of nature. Off course it is not really a scientific way to discover the cause of autism as there is no way of knowing if the child was going to be born with autism.But perhaps if all pregnancies were conducted in this way who knows the incidents of autism might start to fall.

I am under no illusion about the above,it is really just an impossible dream, but what I do know is that most of the therapy for autistic children , is designed to open them up and expand their understanding as if some where along the way they decided to close down, as a form of protection.I have witnessed my son shutting down when everything around him has become too much, as he gets older he does this less and less.But when it happens it is obvious something is happening deep within his thoughts.

I can not describe my son as having a disability, although that is what the professionals say. I can not say that he suffers ,because I am very sure that he does not .In fact he seems to find fun and pleasure in the most abstract of things unlike the rest of us. In an effort though to somehow understand him and to have a better insight into how he is different from other children without autism . I sometimes compare him with what I call a 'natural boy'. For example a natural boy would not run down the street  laughing and screaming and making noises (not one of eleven , anyhow) A natural boy would tell his parents when he was hungry, he would also eat voraciously unlike my son.

I do not for one minute think that my son should be like the natural boy but I do gain some insight into what is going on inside my sons head . I think it is worth making a comparison. One important reason being it helps me to worry less when my son displays behaviour that is somewhat odd to the outsider, one who has little or no experience of autism might panic when faced with a child who insists on finishing books on certain days or takes two hours to eat a bowl of pasta (especially when it does not taste just right).

It is not the behaviour that troubles me, it is though, the fact that it persists, all be it in a milder form as he gets older. And that is where the 'natural boy ' comes in handy. I see that my son has the same aspirations as the natural boy he wants more or less the same things he just goes about them in a different way .

My heart was in my mouth as I watched my son cross a road, not a busy one I must add, he started a running commentary on what he was doing  and waved cars to go past him as he calculated the timing of when to cross, he also jumped in the air several times when he realised his timing was off. He succeeded in getting across the road , eventually . Much to my relief, I congratulated myself on not intervening and felt that he could be trusted in the future.  

Some might say it would be better just to except my son the way he is and get on with it , which for the most part is what I do . But , the fact is he will one day have to join the rest of the world , the world where there are more natural boys than autistic boys . A understanding of both to me at least is helpful.

Since my son first received his diagnosis I have resisted using any medication of any kind, his mother had read that a lactose free diet might relieve the symptoms of autism I was willing to try that, but to no avail. As it was, his diet did not consist of more than a glass of milk a day, so hardly the cause of his autism. Many parents I am sure agonize over whether or not  their child should be on some kind of medication .I think personally that a child has a lot of developing to do psychically  and emotionally and drugs will only stunt that development there are ways to stimulate a child with autism, to calm them , give them focus , and channel their frustrations in a different direction. I would rather my son spent two hours playing computer games than being subdued by some drug .

I have read about squeeze boxes, where the child can be squeezed for want of a better word. The pressure put on their bodies has a very calming affect and this effect can last some hours after the pressure has been taken away. Off course anything that fascinates your child or distracts their attention away from disruptive behaviour can only be a good thing, and just as effective as any drug. A good method is too create a place where the lighting is low and there are no distractions except perhaps soothing music or sounds. It is difficult but not impossible to get inside the mind of your autistic child . Their hypersensitivity magnifies every experience so it would follow that removing any kind of stimulus from  their immediate  vicinity would have a calming effect. Surprising as it may seem autistic children can be reasoned with, if you can find the right reasons for them not to behave disruptively they can and will see sense. They do after all have a very linear way of thinking.

I think it is important to note that the drugs are being administered primarily to control behaviour. Not to cure a physical ailment. These drugs do not eradicate autism , and I think I owe it to my child to at least allow him the chance to learn to live with his autism  on his own terms. I also feel that it is important not only to research the drugs but also the person administering the drugs.(what are their reasons ,why have they come to their conclusions).

When all said and done, medication can and does help,  some very mild antidepressants for example have shown to enhance the lives of autistic people. However I personally will continue to resist the use of them unless I can see no other course .

  So much has been said about autism, but still really little is know about where it comes from and why it is here.We understand how to treat it and how to get great results from all children on the spectrum but we are still not certain what causes it and if we do discover what causes it will we then be able to cure it ? I think not  because to me I feel it is so deep routed in the psyche of the autistic person that it is in fact part of their character just like being artistic or musical or whatever.In my experience it is not just black and white, all  autistic children are different . Agreed they follow some similar behaviour patterns, but when you get down to it they all have their very own characteristics .I have yet to meet an autistic child with a nasty bone in their body though.

When I think of my son , I am sure he is blessed, I have heard from other parents of autistic children , they tell me their child is ridiculed at school and many have moved their child to a special school where they have in fact flourished . Sadly though this is not the ideal , because ultimately the child will eventually have to leave that school and live in the world. But none of that has come my son's way. True I did give the evil eye to a few of his class mates from time to time if I thought they were giving my son a hard time, I don't know how far that went to protect him from cruel jibes .I know that he himself tried to work it out with some of his less friendly classmates , by facing them and asking them what their problem was. Very courages on his part, but he does not see it that way , to him he had to get to the bottom of why he was being treated in a negative way. Now it seems he is almost the class mascot his class mates have embraced his differences and now even protect him if necessary.

All of this takes a weight of my shoulders, because as he moves into his final year of primary  I can bask in the knowledge he will be attending main stream secondary school .

In my son's first year at his Scottish school and his first Christmas in his new life, he was about to become involved in the School Christmas assembly, to which the parents of P1 and P2 are invited. Several weeks prior to this event the teachers had been preparing the children as there was a song and some acting involved  and most of the children had lines to learn. Up until about two days before the assembly my sons teacher was committed to have him be involved, but at the final rehearsal she felt that he was just not ready, he was not focusing and although he knew his lines he was not delivering them with any consistency. So it was with great reluctance she made the decision to exclude him .Instead he was to sit with his learning assistant and she would guide him through the proceedings. He did get to dress up though, new white shirt and a very colorful bow tie.

While watching the assembly I could see he was very excited,  and that his teacher had made the right decision. Although at the time it saddened me I still drew comfort and warmth from watching him obviously enjoying himself and also I could see very clearly how well he was being looked after.

Every year at assembly his role has grown and gradually over time he has been given more and more to do. Until his last performance, where he performed a magic trick  and sang a song (Where did you get that hat ?) With great aplomb. He is now capable of doing this because of all the hard work and effort put in by all the people who have been with him every step of the way. For about three years now he has been attending a drama club, where when I first asked how they felt about having an autistic boy in their class they replied "not a problem".

Once a week he has guitar lessons and again his teachers (A husband and wife team) have no problem in teaching a boy on the spectrum. Some of the people he encounters in his life have an understanding of his autism and some just go with the flow,  the fact is his character is celebrated not suppressed,  his light is allowed to shine at every opportunity.  Only on a few occasions has he encountered fear at his obvious difference from others. Fear and ignorance. For the most part though he has faced very little prejudice and although I think that some of that has to do with the fact he looks like most other children, in fact he is really quite handsome , I feel I can still celebrate the society I live in, for it's forward thinking.

I feel it is important to make some mention of the so called qualified people who insist that autism is something that can be cured, I am off the opinion,  it can no more be cured than being gay can be cured,  but that does not stop people trying to cure gay and autistic people. I really do not know, so I am only making a guess here, but when faced with a child on the autistic spectrum any parent is going to first do a lot of research then look at the not so conventional methods out there for the so called cure for autism which I should repeat does not exist.

I have come to this conclusion simply because in my opinion the fundamental effects of autism on any child or adult is emotional, that is to say emotions are felt more keenly by people on the spectrum. How do you cure emotions? Not all autistic children are the same as their heightened senses affect them in different ways, granted there are many similarities, but one child might hate to eat chicken while another will only eat chicken. My son on first meeting him can be very sociable but if physical affection comes into play he can be very stilted and awkward, some autistic children give the most amazing hugs and so on.


What worries me and also makes me a little angry are the people who profit from all of the confusion, the people who profess to have had made noticeable progress with autistic children,  when the child was going to progress anyway. The people who charge exorbitant fees for so called cures that have no scientific basis and are just pure conjecture.  

What I am trying to say is autism is not tangible, you can find no evidence of it, it is not the colour black, a heart doesn't beat faster or slower,  they say there is an anomaly in the brain, but only after using the most sophisticated M.R.I. scan can this be detected and it is more to do with firing neurons than a defect or mutation.So is that the firing neurons of an autistic child or does an autistic child fire these kind of neurons or did the autism develop very early in pregnancy and these firing neurons only confirm what has already been diagnosed. Or is the only difference that the child has heightened senses,  that when exposed to our modern world can not cope so implode.


You tell me. Trouble is you can't. Because you don't know.

When I first received the diagnosis for my son my biggest and most overwhelming fear was that he would not progress, that he would stay the same.From age two' to the time of the diagnosis at age three and six months' he had barely learnt anything, or so it seemed to me. Although we could play and have great fun together it seemed like he was not learning. He was eating and growing but his intellect did not seem to grow. At his preschool they were trying some techniques to help his cognitive skills progress,  but it seemed like very slow progress,  and if he did not attend for a few days, he appeared to have forgotten everything.

I am a little ashamed to admit it but of all things,  if he did not progress it would have been the hardest thing for me to come to terms with. I love my son and no matter what it is unconditional. I would do whatever to make his life a happy one but if he had stayed more or less the same I would have found that very challenging.    As it was though that did not happen and he has made progress consistently since the diagnosis. I most definitely think that without all the help and support he has been given, he would have taken a lot longer to get to where he is now and none of this would have happened without the diagnosis.

In my minds eye I liken my sons path to independence like that of a child learning to ride a bike. I am running behind him holding the saddle waiting for the right time to let go so he can cycle on his own. The only thing is I have been running for a long time and there are others running along side me. We are all cheering my son on  almost willing him to cycle on his own.

I am sure I am not alone, with what I thought originally,  and I am sure there are many parents who like me still grapple with a small amount of guilt. But when all said and done we all of us just want the best for our children, and when faced with having a child who not only has to overcome the day to day challenges of living but also has to learn a whole set of coping skills whilst trying to keep up with their peers, it can be no surprise that hoping and praying for any kind of progress would be a natural thing.

Now I am very confidant my son will achieve independence.

Every night to settle my son into sleep we have a ritual,  that took perhaps two or three months to perfect, it is essential we follow this ritual otherwise he would find it very difficult to fall asleep.It started when one night he was having trouble sleeping so I told him, "why not dream about something that makes you happy"."Like what Dad "was his reply. So from that day I have to come up with a dream he can have and woe betide me if I repeat a dream. There then follows a whole speech I have to do, as follows:

You could dream about being a detective, you could dream about you and me , packing a suitcase, going to St Johns road , to catch a Taxi to the airport to get on a plane to go to Hollywood. You could dream about eating an Eiffel tower made out of french fries, or perhaps eating a Buckingham palace made out of chocolate, or perhaps even a Edinburgh castle made out of chocolate. You could dream about taking a trip to Disney land Paris , or Disney Land Florida ,or perhaps even Disney land California.You could dream about jumping off the moon on to your bed, you could dream about mummification, you could dream about making an advert. You could dream about eating an Empire State Building made out of oat cakes. Finally you could dream about taking a trip on an Ocean Liner that has three restaurants, two swimming pools , two cinemas, a theatre, a dance studio, a performing stage, a nail bar, a hairdressers, a Costas and a McDonalds.

I have recited this every night for about six years he never tires of it, some of it he suggested himself. Needless to say more often than not he falls into a deep untroubled sleep and I am so used to this routine that I fear I might have trouble sleeping if I did not complete it myself.

Off course when I share this with other parents they find it a little odd, certainly now he is in his twelfth year, but as far as I am concerned whatever it takes, for him and in turn me, to have a good nights sleep then it is worth the repetition. My only puzzlement is when will he decide that he no longer needs me to go through this routine? When is he going to start behaving like a young teenager, guarded of his space and time?  Bearing in mind that in six years he has missed this routine five times and each of these times I was not present. I ask the question, not expecting an answer like many things attached to my sons development, I know at the end ,the answer is not always what I expect.

As my six year anniversary approaches of  lone parenthood it occurs to me that I have become desensitized somewhat to my sons autism . What might seem a little odd to on lookers to me has become the norm, one of the perks if you like is that my son is not encumbered by the usual embarrassment most other children of his age possess. He happily walks along a street with me, his arm in my arm with not a thought to how it might look to others, even children he might know.

I have often thought to myself, how important a society is with diversity of character, how we should celebrate our differences and not feel we should always follow the crowd. as my son grows older it seems less and less likely that he will be one who follows. Although it is apparent to me that he curbs some of his more eccentric thoughts and actions when among his peers from his main stream school. When he is among other children on the autistic spectrum he fairly flies. In term time once a week he attends a club that was set up specifically for children on the spectrum. It is one of the most favorite times of his week. It lifts my heart to see the excitement on his face as he approaches the doors of the club and to witness the welcome he receives from the other children. Similarly he attends a play scheme for two weeks in the summer organised again for children on the spectrum this is possibly the happiest I see him,(except when he plays with his favorite cousin).

I know however that he has grappled with the fact that he has autism, perhaps not immediately on discovering this fact, which I am estimating happened about when he was aged nine, but certainly in recent months as he is now in his twelfth year of life. With quiet observation I have seen how he becomes a toned down version of himself when he is with the children from his school. I can see the challenge he faces on a daily basis to not cause alarm amongst his friends when he gets his uncontrollable urges to be 'autistic'. which to me is more about him celebrating life and all its wonders, than trying to impress or seem cool or different.

I know his friends at school also quietly envy him at times because of his lack of embarrassment, and how at times he will say or do what ever it is he is feeling at any given time. I also know these same friends will be with him as he grows older and moves to secondary school and that he will share with them the trials of puberty. Beyond that I have no idea what to expect. I am a little excited, a little nervous, and a little afraid.

It is fairly regular these days that I will read a story in a newspaper or see an item on television that features autism. I generally find once I get to the end of the article or TV item, that I am no wiser from when I started. Unless you have a genuine interest in autism then I don't think there is any need to report about it. Documentaries show autistic children and adults to be different, or to use their favourite word 'special' they never show autistic children or adults just going about their business. How about we see them doing all the positive things, working with helpers , carers, and educators. What main stream has not yet cottoned on to is that autism is on the rise and it is here to stay. Autistic behaviour is not something,  to be wiped out like polio, or given an immunisation like measles. It is part of our evolution.(not wishing to sound like a mad scientist).

An average primary school of about 300 pupils may have one or two autistic children attending now in 2013 but I would make a serious bet that in years to come that number will only increase. Granted the process of diagnosing has radically improved and children are being placed on the spectrum who a few years ago would be just thought of as a little slow,  but that still does not detract from the fact that the number of children being born with autism is on the increase. Here in the U.K the estimate is one in every 100 and now in the U.S.A.  recent estimates have suggested that it is as many as one in every 88 children born.

Since no one really knows what causes autism, I have taken it upon my self to ask any body who has contact with autistic people on a regular basis, what they think causes it. I have asked Doctors, teachers, (primary and secondary), pediatricians, psychologists, and other parents like myself. Some say "no one knows" others say "there is an anomaly in the brain" which is fine but what causes that. The best answer and one that makes most sense is "there is too much stimuli out there, it is all around us all the time, for approximately nine months baby goes were mum goes hears what mum hears watches what mum watches" Not for nothing do they tell us playing Mozart to our unborn children improves their intelligence.So unless we can learn to live in near silence again,  with the only media shouting at us is the paper seller on the corner, I think we are going to have to get used to welcoming more and more autistic children into the world.

Off course I am but a humble parent of an autistic boy now 11 years old, I have spent those years looking after him and not at University studying Autism. So anything I have to say is purely gleaned from experience.It is a layman's perspective if you will.

As I have said before, at home it is just my son and I which I think makes life a lot easier, but at the same time I think I have to be careful I am not 'enabling' him. I feel it is important to challenge him and his autistic behaviour, to take him out of his comfort zones from time to time. For years I have been letting him leave his bricks, neatly arranged on the sitting room floor, over night. Initially because if I attempted to move them just before bedtime he would have a serious melt down, as if moving them was threatening to life itself. If I tried to tidy them away in the night while he was sleeping, my actions were met with the same response in the morning. Making our morning routine before school a little more complicated than usual. I was also the recipient of  some harsh words and deathly stares. We share a home,  and I would much rather a clutter free sitting room floor,  but as I was the only one effected I would let it pass.

But this habit could not continue,  I wanted him to learn that life is full of compromise and what he does effects others, I wanted him to learn empathy. An emotion that comes naturally to most of us, but to a child with autism this is a different matter. His often times blinkered view of his own world, only serves to exclude others, understanding this is one thing but feeling it is quite another.

My first tactic was to feign falling over the bricks and then complaining about them being on the floor, and before he had time to do anything I would start to tidy them away. I had a about a three minute window before  the complaining started at which point I would engage my son in a conversation, trying to reason with him,  off course having been left alone with his bricks for so long,  to get him to my way of thinking I was facing a high hill to climb. Another thing I tried which worked a lot better was, I would tell him there was to be a flat inspection and the floor had to be clear. On announcing this he was very compliant, he most definitely   responds to orders from unseen authority.

In the end we compromised and after much discussion it was decided that if any of the bricks were loose, not part of a structure then they should be tidied away, and if any bricks were joined and forming some kind of object no matter how obscure they could stay. This was achieved over about two years not forgetting he is maturing all the time.

Not until I knew his mother was two thousand miles away did I start to realise just how jittery I had become.  I felt like I had done so much work with my son,  and he had progressed so much,  that I did not want her to  interfere but she is his mother. Her time in Scotland was for me,  a bit of a white knuckle ride. Funny how you realise things after the fact, probably better that way.

We heard nothing from her for about four weeks, then I received a phone call. She spoke as if we had just spoken the day before and asked casually to speak to our son. In hindsight, the four week gap in communication gave my son time to get used to the idea she was gone, before she left she had said to him that she would return. But in that first phone call she explained to him that she was not returning to Scotland.

As a parent of an autistic child you find yourself preparing your child for up coming events, explaining how any given day is going to unfold. Answering all questions about what will be taking place with as much clarity as is possible. You do this because if you don't your child can become very distressed. If for some reason plans are changed at short notice, well you better put aside one or two hours of your day,  while you explain why plans have changed and what instead is happening. On days when this has happened to me, I have tried to just bite the bullet and go ahead with the new plans with out any explanation, in doing so I have ruined the day and rued the day I tried it. But onward and upwards.

So on hearing the news that his mother was not in fact returning I steeled myself for a long day of explanations and comforting my son. However his response was numbness, which I think was far more upsetting for me to witness than what I was expecting. When he responds in this way it is the last straw, if you like,  there is no where else for his emotions to go, and no amount of coaxing from me could get him to talk about his feelings. I suspect because he felt like,  if he did talk about it he would not be able to control himself. Better to be silent and still or 'shut down' to use a very  descriptive phrase.

Over time he got back to his usual happy self, I look forward to the day, although it may never arrive, when we can talk about this time in his life.

A child loves their parents, it is unconditional, that is to say the parent could be the worst parent ever, but the child will keep loving the parent. The child will invent a better parent to talk about if need be, the child will only see the good never the bad. I would not wish the pain of realisation on anyone, for anything. It is inevitable when the child starts to become an adult the parent stops being so great, the rose tinted glasses become clear glass, with perfect focus. But the child does not stop loving. Often my thoughts are of that inevitable time in my son's future when he will start to understand that her reasons,  for not always being there for him and forgetting his birthday and Christmas, and so on, and so on, were just excuses for her shortcomings.

I was prepared,  and am still prepared to perpetuate the myth for the sake of his happiness. All I can be is there for him ready to catch him if he falls. On the other hand it could be that he already knows about his mum and her short comings, I have no way of knowing because he just does not discuss his mother with me, nor with anyone else we know. If I try to start a conversation about her he quickly changes the subject, or tells me to stop asking questions. What he feels I think,  is far in advance of how he can articulate,  and when his ability to talk catches up with  what he probably already understands and feels very deeply, then I will be there for him. Meantime while she  was living in the city I would just continue to dodge and weave, and hope he did not get hit.

As it was,  her time in Scotland was relativity short, after about 18 months she told me she was returning to her own country the U.S.A. In that short time she had lived in 12 different places,  had I think five different jobs,  and at least two boyfriends. I did not believe she was leaving, it was just too good to be true,  but then she was leaving a trail of destruction, unpaid rent and bills, stalking ex boyfriend, and her reputation as a decent employee was wearing thin,  her best choice was probably to get the hell out of dodge. I still contacted her sister in the States just to be sure she was expected on the other side of the pond.

Like a lot of autistic children, were their emotions are involved,  my son excepted the situation with little fuss, almost in a matter of fact way. Almost as if he expected it of her, it is possible she had been preparing him for her move for some time, I would not be surprised.

First she started to cut back on the time she saw our son, using various excuses which I am sure were valid. After about six months she lost her job and had moved about three times,  each time there was a change in her life she was able to explain it away to our son. I on the other hand knew I was witnessing a pattern. Each time she moved home,  she stated that the people she was living with were making life difficult,  it was never the other way around. It was the same when she lost her job and subsequent jobs. Street charity vendor, call centre worker, waitress, and so on.

The fact that she was seeing our son less was I think a blessing, it was becoming very apparent to me that for  the short time she was with him every week, she was taking a great effort to keep herself together and show a positive person to the world, mainly me and our son. I was becoming very concerned she might let her guard down and cause some distress to our boy.  I found myself preforming a juggling act trying to keep three or more balls in the air at one time. Hide my concerns from my son and also from his mum and continue  with the visits as if nothing was wrong. I had chosen the path of least resistance,  as I told myself.

For the most part she was harmless, I also told my delusional self. The only real control she had on me was our shared parentage, and the constant doubt she had placed in my mind over the years about whether she would or would not finally lose her hold on reality. But perhaps what she did not realise was that I was aware of this controlling behaviour and only went along with it because of our son.The problem was it had taken it's toll and I was getting jumpy. With her miles away it was fine, but her living in the same city I admit was making me overly nervous, maybe not so harmless then.To use that excellent expression,"I felt like I was stuck between a rock and a hard place".

Every day I would weigh up the situation and every day I  would give her the benefit of the doubt, what would cause more damage, stopping my son seeing his mother altogether or letting him spend a few hours once a week with her? I must have asked that same question of myself several hundreds of times. On more than one occasion I brought him to see his mum then promptly turned around and took him home again because I was not happy with, where she was living at the time, or her appearance would send an alarm ringing in my head. 

We had been in Scotland,  my son and I for well over two years,  when his mother announced she was moving to our city. I can only imagine she had burnt all her boats,  fallen out with her friends, and broken off with her boyfriend. So there was nothing left for her to do but to move closer to her son. I don't think she was doing it for his sake. Naturally I was suspicious when she first told me,  as she was not known for her ability to  follow through with her stated intentions.

Needless to say she did finally move,  all be it three months after she first said she was arriving. Now for my son this was a great thing,  he was only happy about the prospect of her moving. For me though I was starting to feel a little nervous about what it would be like to have her so close. I thought it better that she did not come to our house, ( we had moved by this time ) it would just be too confusing for my son. It was May of 2010 when she moved,  my son was nine by this time. Above all I wanted to protect him from any hurt, I did not want to exposes him to any friction between his mother and I,  and I also had to hide from him the hurt I felt,  the truth was I was angry at his mother for not trying hard enough to except his autism, angry at her obvious embarrassment when she discussed him and his challenges.

Ever willing to give her a second chance I set about involving her in his life,  not just as a mum but also as another supporter for his daily challenges with autism. I was doing this primarily for my son,  if she could have a positive input into his life then it was all to the good. Until she was fully settled I was more than willing to ferry my son around dropping him off and collecting him. Also accommodating her schedule while she searched for work and a more permanent place to live. I got her up to speed with my sons progress,  told her all about the many different good people involved in his life,  all of them making a positive contribution and  helping him over come those  challenges.

At first it seemed things were going well, she found a job and a nice place to live and was seeing our son two or three times a week. I was even able to start a night class, which I attended while she was with my son. But after a few short months her life again began to unravel ..

Every time I brought my son to see his mother,  I could not help thinking she was nervous about seeing him and also unsure how to act in his company. Mainly because every time I brought him,  she would confirm exactly how long he was to be in her charge,  at least twice before I left them."Okay" she would say nervously  "see you in four hours, four hours"
"Yeah " I would reply with a wave " four hours " and I admit with a hint of sarcasm in my voice. Considering he did not see his mother more than four times a year,  four hours was not a great deal of time to catch up or do much of anything,  but my son was unfazed like all his encounters with his mother he accepted them without question. Nor did he speak of them when I collected him.

Aware as I am of the need to talk about our concerns and troubles, it made me a little nervous that my son shared nothing of his visits with his mother. Hard enough to talk to any child about the separation of their parents, but to an autistic child, it was proving to be very complicated. When my son did not want to speak,  he just did not speak,  and no amount of persuasion techniques could inspire him to do otherwise. I spent a lot of time trying to ascertain if he did in fact need some kind of support, wondering often if he was feeling rejected or hurt by what had happened. I spoke to various professionals about my concerns and was told about the kind of support I could get.

For a child of his age and because he has autism, I was advised that a  counciler could,  through play,  try and coax out of him any concerns he might have. The question I was always asked was,  "do you notice anything different in his behaviour?". To be perfectly honest I did not notice any difference in him,  except to say he was always a little quiet,  just after he had seen his mum,  but after an hour or so he would be back to his normal self.  I spoke about my concerns to just about any one I thought would listen,  and one day I was talking to his teacher from the  first class he attended in Scotland. A very wise woman. She said quite simply " maybe he is just fine,  maybe he does not need to talk to any one" as she looked at me she smiled,  and not shirking from the obvious responsibility she was taking on she added " sometimes children have a far greater ability to handle their emotions than we give them credit for"

As for me well I don't think I will ever get off this learning curve.

My son was aged eight and two months,  when his mother finally decided she would visit him in Scotland. Naturally as a very protective parent (some might say over protective ) I wanted to insure this visit would pass with out trouble or distress to my son. That left me with only one choice, hard though it was I had to lead my son to believe that I had no bad feelings towards his mother.

As she was always short of funds,  I assumed she thought she would be staying with us for the two nights she was visiting. I knew that was completely unacceptable,  as I could not guarantee an atmosphere of conviviality.  So I booked her into a local Bed and Breakfast,  fully expecting to pay for her stay. In a phone call before her visit I explained what I had done, her response was complete silence so I put her out of her misery and told her I was paying for her accommodation. She may have had another motive for visiting, as well as seeing her son,  it is likely she thought a reconciliation was possible. That was the furthest thought from my mind.

Her obvious awkwardness on first seeing her son was palatable, and for me excruciating. My son however was oblivious to her discomfort and embarrassment. I was on a very large learning curve,  it had been 18 months since he saw his mother, he was definitely enjoying his new life, but off course he was missing his mother. I can only guess at how his autism would effect his emotions in this circumstance. I am sure he harbored thoughts of his parents reconciling. As it was,  we did all three of us spend some time together, I ,really out of some respect for my son.  I did not want to mislead him in any way,  or ruin the hard work that had been done over the last 18 months. So for the most part I left them in each others company.

I am not sure if she was trying to prove something to me, or if she was just plain nervous about being with our son. But the whole time she was with him, she tried to keep him occupied with a very elaborate art project. Had she had the time to finish we could have covered all the walls in our sitting room with a very funky looking collage. I would return from work to find the sitting room floor covered in paper,  and glue,  and material. It was as if she was afraid of just talking to him. My son however seemed happy enough. The visit ended with out incident, leaving me marveling at my son's ability to accept things, which was the complete opposite to what one might expect from an autistic child. The next time his mother was in Scotland it was to live.

The winter of the social skills course was a harsh one,  and so the last two of ten sessions were cancelled,  due to bad weather. I felt a little relieved as it meant not having to break my working day,  to collect my son from his school,  so he could attend. It was about two months later that I received a phone call,  from the woman who ran the course asking me,  if I would like my son to attend the last two sessions he missed. Because he had come to learn of his autism,  and because I think the process of leaving his class in the middle,  of the day was causing him some distress I said no. I did appreciate the benefit he gained from this course,  to this day what he learned is still serving him well. He is now a complete gentleman on meeting new people, even if he may seem a little protracted to the people he is offering his hand to,  whilst saying " So good to meet you " I know he loves the response he gets for this,  and it is probably one of the reasons he savours the opportunity to meet new people. Although he still can be selective about who he greets in this way.

It was from that point though,  that I decided that if it was at all possible, any further learning support he received,  should be conducted at the school.  If he was offered something like the social skills course again,  I would decline on his behalf, if it involved  interrupting his school day.  I have been contacted by several students,  who are studying child physiology,  and they have asked if they could use my son for part of their degree courses. To study his behaviour and give him certain tasks,  which they can then observe and in turn document the results.To each of these students,  after first ascertaining the content and the process of there research, I have said that the only way they can do this,  is if they contact my sons school,  and then visit the school to collect the data. Whilst I appreciate the importance of gathering data and continuing  with research, I think the child's feelings should always be put first. As the information,  is always gathered through play with the child, it is a harmless exercise, that is until the child feels like they are being singled out for some unknown reason.

I wonder some times what  true focus  the professionals have. There main concern should be the children's well being but I can not help noticing a fascination on their part for statistics and collecting data. There is no indication that autism is on the decline, in fact it is the opposite.  Learning about the children with autism, what makes them feel, and think, and respond, happy, or sad, through play and interaction is not easily documented it is something that is felt. To often the observations of the professionals are clinical.

Our lives were pretty much set, my life more or less revolved around my son's life. I had a flexible job I was able to be with him at the important times,  dentist ,Dr's, and so on. I felt happy,  content almost,  that I had done the right thing by leaving his mother and there were no adverse affects on my son. It had been extremely hard at the outset but now it seemed we could start to really enjoy our new life. There was one thing niggling at my thoughts something I thought about from time to time but then put to the back of my mind.

When and how will I tell my son he has autism, or will I in fact have to tell him, will that be done by some one else? If I have to tell him? How do I go about it ? Up to age eight I don't think it really mattered but at nine and beyond his cognitive awareness was catching up with his peers. Often I have been told that my son is about two years behind in maturity. That being said: it is by no means a clear cut indication of his emotional depth or understanding. Over the years it has become increasingly obvious to me that you can not pigeon hole autistic children by simply saying they are behind because they can be both behind and ahead of there peers also their emotional view of the world is quite different from  children without autism.

As it happened at age nine in the winter of 2011 I was asked if I would like my son to attend a ten week course in social skills. This would involve him, leaving his school on a Thursday afternoon around 1 pm to attend another primary school in the city. No transport was available so I had to break my working day to get him there. This whole process started to intrigue my son. Why, he was reasoning,  I am the only one in my class that leaves early on a Thursday afternoon ? Why am I going to another school and attending a class with other children from other schools? What is so special about me?

At least one of the other children attending this course was a pupil from a school for autistic children. I don't think it took much brain power from my son,  to work out that  if the child sitting next to him, working on the very same things as him, was autistic,  then it would follow that he himself was in fact autistic. I was not aware of this discovery until one night I was helping him with homework and trying to encourage him to write neatly. "Take your time and think about what you want to write, careful now". I was saying.
"Dad !" he said, on sensing a hint of frustration in my voice."I am autistic that is why I can not write".
He had obviously accepted this fact with out a lot of fuss, in fact he was now using it as an excuse. My initial  reaction was no reaction in fact I did a very good impersonation of a statue. Since that evening though I have stood my ground and told him that no matter, good writing is always useful in this world.

Kate came at the start of the summer holidays and worked with him about once a week for almost four months, combining play with work, first a game then some writing and so on. She also had some diagrams of letters he could follow to help him form the letters. His writing did improve,  what she did discover though was that his wrists were not as strong as a they could be. He had been doing exercises at school with a stress ball but I don't think he could  concentrate long enough to make this practice worth while. What did make an immense difference to the strength in his wrists was when he took up guitar lessons.

He has always shown a big interest in music, and it seemed only natural to encourage this side of him. He is proving to be an excellent student and another positive of the lessons is the fact that the playing of a guitar strengthens his wrists. The difference is obvious in his writing now compared with before he started learning guitar.

I can't help asking myself why I am so keen for him to write well.His typing skills are exceptional for a child his age. His teachers have not seemed overly concerned by the fact that most of his work is done on a computer and I understand we live in a time were from day to day in our working lives we hardly need to put pen or pencil to paper. It would not surprise me if most of us could go from one day to the next barely writing anything free hand at all. I still feel it is an important skill though,  it is a very personnel way of communicating,  to receive a hand written card or letter is far more heart warming than an e.mail or text. I read recently of a school in England were all the pupils have been given tablet computers, which to me, some one born in 1959 is astounding. Recently I took my son to join the local library and once they had all the details they needed, they asked my son to sign his name on his library card. He did this very slowly and methodically as was fitting this big moment in his life and although the letters he wrote were a little large and looked like they had been written by a child two years his junior, I could sense the obvious pride he had at being able to do this, all these writing lessons actually made some sense to him. The librarian watched him signing and only allowed herself a flicker of response, it accured to me it was not the first time she had witnessed a card signing of this nature.

In the future if his writing does not improve his educators will find a way around this. Does that encourage him to be lazy ? Possibly, what it does allow is for him to keep up with his peers and in some cases go ahead of them.

Twice a year an I.E.P. is organised at my sons school to discuss his progress and what is required to carry on the good work of educating him. Individual Education Programme is what I think it means if my memory serves. They take place at the beginning  of the school year and at the end, I am invited to attend the one at the end of the school year. In the first three years everyone involved in his education attended. Speech and language therapist,  occupational therapist,  child psychologist,  class teacher,  learning assistant, support for learning teacher and the head teacher. But since we fell into a recession it seems the out of school professionals are phoning it in. Which whilst I am a little concerned,  I am not so worried because he is progressing very well, amazingly so in fact.

They tell me his reading is ahead of the rest of the class although his maths skills are not quite up to scratch. The one thing that I find most frustrating though is his writing. It truly is like a spider has walked through some wet ink then across a page. Having raised my concerns about his writing at the I.E.P. meetings on several occasions and then noting his improvement has been slow.  I have a feeling they just don't have the time to work with him one to one on his writing skills and as such are happy that he uses a typewriting type of computer or 'Alphasmart', to complete his homework with. He can spell very well and he can also read what he has written, but sadly no one else can read what he has written. He also writes very quickly perhaps trying to keep up with his thoughts. When he does slow down and concentrates he can produce something very illegible and also neat. He once asked me if he could write a letter to a comic because he wanted to see if they would publish it. So having prepared what he wanted to say he set about writing it. I had to explain that it needed to be neat or no one would understand it. Sure enough he wrote a very good letter and very neatly written. He obviously understood the importance of writing neatly. It made me think that perhaps if we could some how get him to understand that he is writing for some one else and not just himself, it might make a difference, but to no avail.

So again I had to turn to Kate the autistic guru who had already helped me improve his diet. With the charity she worked for, the autistic children she works with are on a list,  and every time she attends to one and completes a task with them,  the child returns to the end of the list and so on. She had contacted me to let me know that my son was getting close to the top of the list again,  and was there anything I  wanted her to help with.

My son's seventh birthday celebration was a significant one. I invited a few of my family most especially some of his cousins, most of whom he had never met and of course my parents his grandparents. I should say I come from a large family so he does have a lot of cousins, first and second,  most of whom he was completely unaware of due to his mother banning any of my family entering into our lives, for her own reasons of insecurity.

It was the first of his birthdays were it appeared he fully embraced the concept and seemed to also fully understand what was going on. He opened his presents with glee, he did need prompting to thank the givers,  but soon got the hang of that also. He was fascinated to discover he was related to all of these people having spent the first five years of his life totally unaware of any family other than his parents and his mother's sister and mother. He also asked me if he could invite three boys from his class at school. This was the first time he had had any other children of his own age in his house they played well together.  One of the boys in particular,  my son was enthralled by,  almost like a boy crush. The boy in question was very understanding of this adulation and showed a good insight into my sons autism.  My son stuck like glue to this boy following him around and mimicking him and repeating his name over and over, eventually it got too much and the three boys made them selves scarce and fled to my sons bedroom while I entertained him and introduced  him to his other guests. A little over two hours was about his limit then he started to get extremely hyper the guests,  bless them all, recognised this and began to leave. I could tell it was going to take a few hours of quiet time before my boy had processed everything that had happened that day. A great day though.

Strangely or maybe not so, the next day he virtually ignored all of his presents almost as if the opening of them was all he was interested in. Some of them stayed in their plastic wrapping never to be explored, ending up eventually in our local charity shop. When we first arrived in Scotland he was given some mega blocks from my sister, her children had long exhausted their fascination. Even now six years on he still plays with these bricks, he first made a robot (called Plessy), he would first build it with green bricks then gradually change the bricks to red ones then yellow and so on. He could not go to bed unless in his eyes the robot was complete and woe betide anybody who tidied the bricks away while he was sleeping. He then developed a method of making the bricks into rudimentary shapes of band members,  usually Queen,  and he would do this while watching a DVD of them preforming and as the bands image changed, from song to song,  so did his brick representation of them, utterly fascinating. Other toys have held his interest most recently a magic set, but the popularity of the bricks prevails,  time and time again he returns to them as they seem to be the best way he can express what he is feeling about what it is he is most interested in, which is most often a musical performance of some kind ...

About three months ago just before my sons 11th birthday I received a letter from his speech and language therapists informing me that she no longer needed to visit the school to give my son speech and language lessons as she felt he was doing just fine on his own. He was being 'discharged' as she put it. That small piece of paper representing many years of work from many different people. In affect saying we had succeeded, all of us,  in our hard work. A proud moment and one that underlines the belief that early diagnosis is key.

When I think that my son was well over four years old before he could even form a sentence,  to his command of language now. I find it truly astounding, but then I did not attend school with him nor did I attend  his speech and language sessions or his social skills classes. So I did not witness the slow progress he was making as it was happening. I was however there to have conversations with him when ever he wanted to speak,  I find that I have developed the habit now of turning off the radio in the car or stopping what I am doing if he has something to say, so that I can give him my complete attention.

We were told very soon after his diagnosis that any kind of encouragement was vital in his progress. So to compliment him when he spoke,  and when he put more than two words together, also when he used words instead of noises when communicating, was of extreme importance. What was not explained was how to get him to understand that he was in fact being complemented. Since his grasp of language was so basic and his response to anything I said to him was usually no response at all. I was at first at a complete loss as to how to make him understand that I was, in fact encouraging him.

I learnt though over time,  that accentuating everything I said,  and using very pronounced inflection when I read to him was having an effect,  and he started to show glimmers of understanding. My theory is that he understood what was being said to him but he did not understand what the need for language was, almost as if he was sending me pictures into my mind, (I did not receive those pictures) of what it was he wanted to convey. Now if it just happened that a picture he was sending coincided with me giving him food or taking him to the toilet or whatever,  then my pre empting his needs was only encouraging him to talk less. So I developed a technique of waiting,  until he used noises or even language to ask me for something,  and then getting very positively animated when he did. I devised a game,  were I would throw one of his soft toys from one room in the house to another, he loved running after the toy to retrieve it, and it was at these times of heightened emotion on his part that I would talk to him with very exaggerated facial expressions and accentuated inflection.  It took a bit of discipline on my part but it did make a difference ...

In his first year at his Scottish school my son was in a class called P 1-2. This in effect meant that some of the class would go on to P3 and some to P2 in the following year. Although he was of the age to go to P3 his teachers felt P2 would be a better option for him as he was still under a great deal of stress in class and needed all the support they could provide. He was in fact only really held back six months. It was a good decision and met with no resistance from me.

 Autistic children, I have found, or any children with extra challenges in life, are not so different from their peers. So the less we treat them like they are different the more able they are to just get on with life. My son had to be allocated a place in his classroom separate from the other children so that he could better focus. But whenever it was deemed possible he was encouraged to join the other children(Now, at age 11, he sits with the rest of the class for the whole day). At the beginning of each school day he was given clear instructions about what he would be doing that day. These tasks would be displayed on a noticeboard directly in front of him on removable labels and as each task was completed the label would be removed. He, like many autistic children, functioned well when he knew what was ahead. Such a simple exercise, but invaluable in his education.

 As he has got older he has become more able to cope with surprises, partly because I have made a point of surprising him and then being there to calm him, partly because life has surprises and again I would be there to calm him. Also, I think, because he has grown in confidence. This of course refers to 'desensitization', a great buzz word among the professionals. What I have yet to read about or be told about is that 'desensitization ' can take years. Years of constantly repeating the same set of actions to quell whatever it is that is causing your child distress. In my son's case his obvious ease in the company of dogs is a huge achievement and one that has taken at least seven years. To watch him holding a lead with a dog on the other end brings me no end of pride and admiration for his obvious bravery and fortitude. As I still get night tremors when I think of how he first reacted to dogs. He still has other challenges, and it could be many more years before he over comes those challenges but I am encouraged with the knowledge that he is better at coping than he was a year ago and a year before that, and so on ...

Christmas 2007 came and went and my son's visits with his mother were successful. They spent about four or five hours of good positive time together on three separate occasions. It felt like both he and his mother were excepting the situation and, odd though it might have felt to him, he seemed to have found a place in his mind for thier new style relationship. A struggle for any child, but for a child with autism I suspect that once the situation is assessed, processed, and looked at from all angles it can be accepted. That is one of my son's best attributes; his ability to move on, although his initial shock at any new facet to his life is felt very keenly. He does have the capability to see beyond life's upsets to a better place, even if it is not the desired place.

 Our immediate future was set, at least for the next eight or nine months. I would study to get my taxi license and my son would spend each day becoming more and more familiar with his new life. I was able to take him to see his mother on several occasions as my life now centered around his. The next big challenge was to be when I was ready to start work again. The issue of my licence and start day coincided with the school summer holidays. I had to find some childcare so I could work. Not long after arriving in Scotland, and on the advice of the child psychologist, I had joined the local autistic society. For a small fee I would have access to a summer play scheme (a place he loves to be)that they ran for five weeks in the summer holiday, although they could only allocate him three weeks. It was something, and it left me with only another three weeks to worry about. My local council subsidize leisure centres all over the city and they all run a summer camp for children. With the help of another charity which supported children like my son I signed him up. The idea being that the charity would visit the summer camp and explain to the staff all the things to expect from an autistic child. My local council are very vocal in their championing of 'inclusion', as they call it. Their claim was that no matter who you are you will be catered for.

 Sadly, what they said and what they actually did were quite different. It was explained very carefully to the staff at our local leisure centre that my son needed and would benefit greatly from having a clear menu of the days events, and that is was better to write it in his presence. Which, as I now understand it, is autistic childcare 101. This did not happen. Also, he was unsupervised when changing for swimming. I had previously explained that he would need help to dress and undress and also dry himself properly. This caused him great distress as he was being teased and bullied by the non autistic children, of which there were many. They did, however, have the presence of mind to call me so I could collect him. I tried two more days then pulled him from the camp, on the third day he was there for about 20 minutes. Another lesson learned: never again would I trust anything I was told by anyone in connection with my son unless I had first hand knowledge of their advertised abilities. I started work proper on the day he went back to school, happy in the knowledge I had chosen the right profession ...

There are many challenges facing a parent of a child with autism and these challenges present themselves on a daily basis. I have found that over time I have learnt to incorporate them into our lives as if it was the most normal way to live. But then there is just the two of us. I can't imagine what it must be like in families of two or more children. For my son the essential routines he is most afraid of are baths and showers, hair cuts, and toe and finger nail cutting. To avoid the screams, and the tears, and the abject fear on his face. I used to attempt to do these tasks when he was asleep. He had a lopsided hairstyle for at least the first four years of his life and would confuse his other carers when they noticed that some of his finger nails were cut and others were not. I reasoned that in hospital people got bed baths all the time and that was considered hygienic, so why not my son. Of course this method was somewhat lacking, and every now and then I had to bite the bullet and carry out these tasks the more conventional ways.

 As far as baths were concerned, you would think I was lowering him into the bowels of hell, not a nice soothing refreshing bath. Lord only knows what the neighbours thought on those fateful evenings when I had to bath him. Over time though I have learnt to make the bath water tepid, and I came up with the idea that he could wear his swimming trunks and goggles and pretend he was at the swimming pool because he loved going there (before you ask I have no idea why).

 For his hair, it became increasingly difficult to cut it while he slept because over time it was becoming thicker. I would have to hold him or ask someone else to hold him if I tried to cut it when he was awake. I trained to be a hairdresser in the dim and distant past so I knew what I was doing, but as he got older and stronger he was able to escape my grasp. The lopsided style prevailed. One day I decided I would have to take him to the barbers, and hang the consequences. I could handle half an hour of embarrassment as he tussled with the barber for the sake of a decent haircut for once. I need not have worried. The minute he walked into the barbers he was enthralled with all of it. The noise of the clippers, the atmosphere, the people and what they were doing, the mirrors, and how the light reflected around the room. Also, the sense of the occasion, the ritual of being invited to sit, the barber getting a booster seat. He was mesmerised by it all. It was one of the best moments of my life, watching him sitting perfectly still while someone did what I had so dreadfully attempted for all those years.

 As to his finger nails; well I file them. He can bear that far better than having them cut no matter how gentle I am or how many different ways I think of distracting him or what treats I might offer him if he is a good boy. The toe nail cutting ritual has been the hardest to make a calm and matter of fact like task. For many years I just had to hold him as firmly as I could and cut the toenails as quickly and efficiently as was possible. We then went through a period of me first giving him ten minutes warning, followed by him psyching himself before the cutting. This was taking about 45 minutes at first, but over time, and now that he actually enjoys baths, I can do it when his toenails have been softened by the water ...

With the experience of the last visit to his mum behind us I felt we could risk going to visit at Christmas. The telephone conversations they were having sounded like relatively relaxed affairs and he seemed very much his old self. The added value of taking him to see his mum was that I had quality time with my brother and his family. Also my son was able to spend time with his cousin.  I realise now how important their relationship was and is. I have read various articles about how autistic children show a rapid growth in cognitive ability when an animal, usually a dog or a horse, or a certain type of person,  is introduced into their life,  somehow something is stirred in them a spark lights a flame which continues to burn and burns  most brightly when they are in the company of this being. I don't pretend to know why this happens but I do have a theory.

 Since all autistic children have heightened senses then it would follow that they would also have an ability to communicate on a deeper level without words. That is to say they can read the vibe or aura of a person or animal and are able to tell almost immediately if they will be happy in the company of the animal or human. I mean we all sense atmosphere when we go to a restaurant or a theater or maybe a party, we can all of us sense if there is a good or bad feeling in the air. Autistic children to me are able to separate the wheat  from the chaff in the mere blink of an eye. Of course woe betide you if they don't feel good or comfortable or safe in your company.If my son does take a dislike to some one it is not necessarily for ever he can be won round but his fight or flight instinct is certainly on full alert when some one new comes into his life.

When he was a baby of about 11 months a friends dog stuck their head into my sons carry cot and barked very loudly.  It shocked my son and took him a while to settle. Ever since then he has had a problem with dogs,  panics when he see's them,  chastises me for not warning him that a dog is walking in our direction. I made the big mistake of trying to explain to him why he felt like this when he saw dogs,  thinking,  if he was to reason it out he might start to feel less afraid off course the complete opposite happened. He changed the story from being barked at,  to being bitten when he was a baby. I embellished his experience if you like and he reveled in it. By trying to make things better I had made things worse. It may of helped him understand why he was afraid of dogs but it went no way in helping him get over the fear. The reason gave him a get out clause it meant he could be afraid with impunity.

Eventually with the help of a friend, who had a fairly placid dog,  we were able to desensitise him,  he was able to go for walks and stroke him,  generally get relaxed around a dog in close quarters. It did not go all the way to rid him of his fear,  but it certainly helped a great deal. Now my son can talk to himself and calm himself down when he see's a dog approaching . But he is still much more influenced by humans ...

The first five birthdays of my son's life where odd affairs, he did not show any signs of actually understanding what was going on. He did not know for example that a present was something to be opened,  and that before it was opened the contents were to be anticipated,  that ones heart was to beat a little faster in this anticipation. He fared no better at Christmas, it was his sixth Christmas though when things began to change. He spent that Christmas with his favourite cousin and her obvious excitement was I am sure infectious almost as if she was teaching him how the whole present thing worked. She is almost two years younger than him and was just as excited opening his presents as she was her own. By the end of the day he seemed to have at least grasped the concept,  also he got some presents that he really liked,  and as it turned out wanted.

His birthday falls a little before Christmas so it was the following year his sixth birthday, six months into our new life, that again with the connection he felt with another child, also a girl, he seemed to finally understand what was going on. Approaching his sixth birthday I really did not know what to do and it was purely by chance that a German girl in his class invited him to her house for a cookie making party which coincided with the evening of his birthday (her parents were working in Scotland for a two year contract) It is tradition in Germany to do this every year friends and family gather and make Christmas cookies, the girl in his class had taken a shine to my son and he had also formed a bond with her so he was looking forward to going. I prepared a birthday cake for him to bring with us and explained when we got there what day it was. I think they thought it a little odd that on such an important day I had not arranged anything else but they kept there thoughts silent. As he had said nothing about his approaching birthday and shown no interest in the fact he was going to be six I just did not have the heart to make a formal celebration on the day,  but as it happened it was arranged for me.

Another tradition in Germany is to have the child celebrating their birthday sit on a chair while the grown ups lift then in the air and everyone says something,  I can't remember now what. After making the cookies and decorating them, to round of the evening the father of the girl asked if we could do that with my son. "Yes!" I said,  by this time,  he was very much in the party mood enjoying the atmosphere and the company,  feeling very secure. The act of being lifted and the obvious excitement of everyone around him responding with smiles and laughter some how cemented the day in his mind. "This is my birthday" I think he thought "mine" We both left that evening enjoying our respective warm glow's."Its my birthday" my son said ...

The experience visiting his mother, although a heart wrenching one, was invaluable,  it taught me some important lessons. I could see that taking my son out of his comfort zone could be very traumatic for him but he did recover,  he had the emotional 'where with all' to bring himself up. His mother obviously had no clue about autism and by all accounts she was not going to do anything about learning more. When we did finally talk about our fateful visit her first words were. "Well this is not going to go away" bearing in mind,  that he was now nearly six and he had had his diagnosis since he was three and six months,  and that he was diagnosed when we still all lived together. Her seemingly naive and ignorant approach was wholly incongruous. This all was enough proof for me to lay down some ground rules about seeing his mother,  I felt it was very important he maintained a relationship with her,  but I knew I had to some how protect him from the truth.

So until he was old enough (probably I was thinking around 16) he would not spend the night with her unless he asked to do so and she was completely prepared ie;she had the food he liked, she lived in a quiet house and she had things for him to do.  As far as my son was concerned,  he recovered from his ordeal and although he never said it at the time,  I think he felt living with his dad was the very best option. I have heard other parents talk about how they know what their children are thinking and even sometimes can communicate with them telepathically. What I gleaned from my son was that he was shocked at how much of a stranger his mother had become and also he had recognised her ability, intentional or not, to some how block his learning and perception. In short, her obvious frustration at his autism caused his mind to short circuit, again I have no proof of this but it seems to me, that instead of guiding him she was trying to lead and control him to a better understanding and perception of his young life.

Of course the perpetrator,  would never own up to such behaviour. That would only reflect badly on them and also shoot holes at any doting mother image they were trying to portray. It is hard not to be bitter,  but that does not serve any good purpose. When all said and done my son loves his mother and it is unconditional .Very lucky for her I am thinking,  with a bit of smoke and mirrors I can still make her seem like a devoted mum who has his best interests at heart ...

As I drove to collect my son the next morning, I thought to myself  "he will be fine once I get him back to my brother's and he starts to play with his cousin" Sadly this was not the case, he was really quite traumatised by his time with his mum. I think she had become some what detached from him in the few short months that we had been in Scotland. She had been working in a local bar and by all accounts living the high life, she had forgotten what it felt like to be a mum. Although I had told him he was only staying for a little while,  and we would both be returning to Scotland,  I am sure he thought it might be a permanent arrangement  It does not give a very good impression of his relationship with his mum but at the time I think she had some deep seated emotions about having a child with autism. Not because it was autism,  although as I have said before I am sure she herself is on the spectrum,  he could have been born with another set of life challenges and it would probably have garnered the same reaction. For her I think, when her dreams of being a mother did not fit the reality, it was too over whelming.

She did not,  and has not,  talked to me about this so I can only guess,  but the mother and child bond did not properly form. It was left to me to somehow be both parents to him.

He did not come out of his state of "shut down" for some days,  it was not until I told him we would return home early that he started to get back to his old self. I arranged with his mum for one more visit,  the next day of two hours,  and then we would head home. It was like all the progress we had made in those four months had been wiped out. I had learnt my lesson,  to never take any signs of progress for granted,  to never put him in a position that could jeopardise all the good work everyone was doing. I think his mum learnt a lesson too. Unless she was willing to work a little harder at their relationship this was always going to happen.

After I collected him he stuck to me like glue,  I only got some time to myself  when he fell asleep,  but it took what seemed like an age before he did fall asleep. The next morning I explained very carefully to him what was going to happen and looked deep into his eyes to see if there were any signs he understood, not a flicker. I then took him to the local supermarket to buy the food he liked to eat whether it was good or bad for him I had to get something into his belly.  I seem to recall he had chocolate muffins for breakfast that morning washed down with a kit kat. Reluctantly I took him to see his mum, comforted by the thought,  it was only for two hours. I carried him from the car explaining over an over " I will be back in two hours then we will be going back to Scotland. okay? ".No reply. She took him from me and held him in her arms and I think she held him like that the for the whole two hours. When I came to get him he leant ever so gently towards me gradually detaching himself from his mother. I could see the hurt on her face. The seriousness of the situation was finally sinking in ...

In the October of the first year of his new school the mid term holiday loomed, I felt strongly obliged to take my son to see his mother, it seemed fair as I was not working and she was, also we would be able to visit my brother and his family.It was difficult at that time of my son's life to really tell if he was happy or excited about  going to see his mum. She had phoned him intermittently, despite me asking her to pick a day and time and pre warn me,  their conversations were always very stilted and never lasted more than a few minutes but understandable given his lack of language and her inability to except the new circumstances of our lives.   It was a long drive and as was usual he listened quietly to the 80s music I was playing on the car stereo whilst looking out of the window watching the world go by. I organised the trip so that it would pass into his sleeping time, the idea being he would sleep for most of the journey. He did sleep but at each rest stop he awoke bright and breezy I took this as excitement at the anticipation of seeing his mum again.I did not share his feelings.

The arrangement was that we would sleep the first night at my brother's house then I would take him to his mum, where he would sleep for the next two nights.Now that on paper sounds perfectly acceptable since before we split she was his main carer. In actuality this proved to be a disaster for my son .I stupidly did not prepare him for the fact that my brother had since moved to a new house, this completely disorientated the poor lad, and with little time to adjust he was whisked of to his mum. She still lived in the same house as before but by this time she had over filled the place with lodgers, so it had a completely different look and feel to it. she and I were ill prepared for this visit it was clumsy on both our parts and in hindsight I should have taken him to my brothers to sleep instead of leaving him with his mother.

Not long after I left him with his mother he went into protect mode and shut down. No eye contact, no speech only to say "where is Dad" and he said that a lot as I later found out.

I had arranged to meet up with some of my old friends, we were in a noisy restaurant being noisy I was having a good time, it was the first night out I had had for four months.I did not hear my phone and it was much later when I noticed a missed call, his mother had left a message, and as I listened to it I began to panic. "I don't know what is wrong he wont talk or eat I have tried taking him out he has just shut down" Well I immediately called back,  "Is he okay? I asked. "Yes" was the reply "He is just very quiet and keeps asking for you" Then I really started to panic. But what to do? I did not want to cause a scene, go to the house and take him home at such a late hour, I thought that would cause him more trauma.I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, and let them both tough it out. I would collect him in the morning I thought under more normal circumstances...

I felt like it was important for us to get out in the evenings after school,  partly because I wanted to tire him out but also because it kept him occupied with something else other than me. When we were at home he would be very demanding of my attention I suspect out of a feeling of insecurity. In that first term of his new school he had a lot to contend with, his teacher told me that she was not going  to give him homework because the school day was quite enough thank you, she felt that he was under a certain level of stress at school just trying to stay focused and coping with all the other stimuli surrounding him. So when the school day was done it was done and we had to fill the time before bed with something. We went  to shopping malls, we went to soft play areas,  we went to his favourite coffee shop where he would eat mini muffins, (that was something in his belly).

After a couple of months I signed him up for a dance class, not formal dance but free expression dance, where he could do what he wanted without any pressure to preform. At the very first lesson he did nothing, just stood in the corner with a sullen look on his face, but his teacher was completely unfazed, by the end of the lesson I think he saw how much the other children  had enjoyed them selves. For at the next lesson and there after he was champing at the bit to get involved. Unfortunately his lesson clashed with a speech and language appointment  which was to be once a month, on our first visit I explained to the speech and language therapist  that this was the case,  and she replied to this saying "I think he would get much more benefit from a dance class,  than with me. I  would be happy for him to attend the classes rather than come here." I have to say I was a little confused but it started me thinking about the deeper aspects of autism and it's effect on my son. It accured to me that my son was probably very aware of words and even how to use them but he was not inspired to communicate in this way. Dancing on the other hand inspired a deeper reaction,  it got him excited,  he saw the response it evoked in others.She was a unique lady his dance teacher.

That being the case why then was this not available to all children, why as a parent was I having to go and find these things. Why was a highly qualified professional not doing something about turning her speech and language therapy sessions into a dance class. Was she thinking that every fourth Friday she was now going to be able to get home early ...

With everything in place and my son settled at school, life fell into a routine and my autism education really began. We always had a bond my son and I, but never before had we spent so much time in each others company. Each school morning brought its own mini challenge, perhaps because he had so much trouble sleeping. It was certainly why he was so groggy in the mornings. I would stand by the bed (still do) and after waking him would wait until he got himself out of bed, otherwise he would just lie down and go to sleep again. I discovered that if I got him up at least an hour before ablutions he would be sufficiently awake for school. Children's morning television  programmes were great at sparking his brain into action. It occurred to me that  when he did finally get to sleep his sleep was very deep. I am not sure he knew his own name or who I was on first waking.

I could get him to drink milk in the morning, but he would not eat.About ten minutes before it was time to go to school I would take him to the bathroom and encourage him to sit on the loo, then together (after a fashion) we would wash his hands then clean his teeth. He hated water on his head so he usually went to school with hair akimbo (not a problem in the winter as he wore a hat). For the first few months of starting his new school I would carry him on my shoulders to about one hundred yards from the gates. At first I did this because it was the easiest and most efficient way to get him to the school, but then it became routine. As any parent of an autistic child will tell you it is very hard to break an established routine, especially if the child particularly enjoys the activity. "Why not just tell him to walk?", I hear you say. Trouble was when I tried that he became like a rock and would not move. He would walk about two steps then step in front of me and say, "Carry", and then not move. I would try again and the same thing would happen. I am sure we could have repeated this little dance at least 50 or  60 times but we just did not have the time. I would have to win the battle another day.

 This habit of his, demanding me to carry him on my shoulders, persisted for some time and it also happened at other times. In fact any time we were going to be walking for more than a few minutes I  would sometimes make him walk by saying, "Walk past five lamp posts then I will carry you." Or, "My shoulders really hurt you'll have to let me rest." Eventually after some months I convinced him that growing boys did not get carried everywhere by their fathers. He must have observed that the other children on their father's shoulders  were considerably smaller than him.

The lesson here was, although some routines can encourage positive behaviour, I should be careful or I might find myself locked into behavioral routines that could last weeks, months, or even years.