Wishing Benjy's Family Peace

Benjy Heil, a seven-year-old with autism wandered away from home last Thursday, and after an exhaustive search, his body was found in a creek less than a mile from his home. Story here.

After last month's episode of Hutton wandering from the birthday party, I looked into getting a monitoring device. He hadn't wandered since the party, so I decided not to get one, but after this, I'm rethinking it. Hutton used to wander a lot when he was first diagnosed, 3 years ago. He'd walk across the street to see the horses, or want to look at the mailboxes. One time, our neighbor found him wading in the creek at the end of our street, wearing a tee shirt and diaper. This was while I was talking to the police officer in the driveway. As soon as I realized Hutton was gone, I ran out to the street, saw my neighbor, and he started looking while I called the police. I am getting tears in my eyes just typing this. I thank my lucky stars Hutton was all right then, and the handful of other times he's run off. (Yeah, that's what we agnostics write, since "Thank God" just seems wrong, though I do still say it a lot, as well as thanking Jesus. I'm agnostic, not atheist, after all!)

Many kids with Autism, Hutton included, are very curious, but don't understand the inherent dangers of the world, that other children learn relatively early on. And the water fascination. Sigh. I am always reminding Hutton when we go outside, stay where Mommy can see you. If I call your name, come to me, or answer so I know where you are. Still, nearly every day my heart stops if I look down for a moment, then look back up and don't see Hutton. He and Harrison love to chase each other around the walkway around the house, but the problem with that is there are so many blind spots, and the seconds before he pops up running around the corner can be agonizing. Yeah, the monitoring device sounds like a very good idea. Fortunately, Harrison is a very good snitch watch dog and will tell me, "Hutton's digging a hole!" or "Hutton's by the neighbor's fence!" The neighbors have two big German Shepherd dogs, and a menacing sign in their driveway about how their German shepherds can make it to the fence in 15 seconds, can you?

Of course, I was a wanderer as a toddler, too. The story my mother likes to tell, which is funny when she tells it, but was not so funny at the time I'm sure, nor with the news above, was when I was about eighteen months old, Mom went to go pick up the babysitter, leaving my dad in charge of watching us kids. He was working on a car in the driveway, and I was playing in the sandbox. Except, a few minutes later, when Mom was driving home down the busy street near our house, she saw something moving on the side of the road. A blurry child came into view. "Oh my goodness! That's a toddler!" Closer, "Oh my goodness that child is naked!" Closer still, "Oh my goodness, that child is LAURA!" Mom wasn't too pleased when she got home and asked Dad, "Where's Laura?" Dad: "Oh, she's playing in the sandbox." Mom: "NO SHE ISN'T! SHE WAS RUNNING NAKED DOWN TWELFTH AVENUE!" Yes, I am lucky to have survived those days, and apparently Hutton got my elopement gene.

Still Bitchy, But Better

Yep, I'm still in a not-so-good place due to Saturday's hi-jinks, followed by two repeat performances on Monday and Wednesday. The repeats were Hutton running out of the driveway into the street, followed closely by screaming Harrison, so I was able to follow the shouts easily and get the boys back in the yard before they wandered far. And our street is quiet, with mostly horse traffic from the stable across the street, which helps keep the cars from going too fast, but still, by the third elopement incident in a week, I was getting really tired of telling Hutton NOT to leave the driveway, NOT to run off without Mommy, etc. After yesterday's performance, I was in a very bad mood, jumping to woe-is-me conclusions that I wouldn't be able to go outside with the boys anymore, since Hutton won't stay in yard. I made both boys go inside and sit in time-outs while I called my BFF to rage and vent on the phone as she attempted to talk me down. (Thanks, Liz!)

Anyway, today I've been outside with Harrison a bit, and have lots more yard work to do. I really enjoy gardening in the spring and summer, and the thought of not doing it because Hutton likes to run...well, it's just NOT an option! His speech therapist brought up a tracking anklet. That's an idea. Or, I could just rig the invisible fence we use for the dogs to child levels. All right, I won't have it shock Hutton. Maybe just beep loudly and have my voice yelling, "DO NOT LEAVE THE YARD!" every time he crosses the boundary line? Hmmm....

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Today, while at the speech therapy office, I was reading a magazine in the waiting room, and turned to a double spread drug informational ad. Don't you love those? The first page is the photo of the happy couple, family, older couple, etc. enjoying life now that they have whatever drug is being advertised, then you turn the page and have at least one page, if not two, of extremely small print listing all the side effects and contraindications of the drug.

As I was flipping through, the words CHINESE HAMSTER OVARY caught my eye. It was just bizarre. It wasn't in bold or anything, and you know how small that type is, but my brain just knew those words were very important. I really had no idea how important hamster ovaries are to drug research, let alone those of the poor little Chinese hamsters.

Here's to you, Chinese hamsters and your tiny little drugged ovaries!

Happy Birthday? Or Lapse in Security

This afternoon, I took the boys to a birthday party. It was my friend's son's sixth birthday, and Hutton had been very excited when I told him about the party earlier this week. Of course, he was probably thinking, "Birthday = Cake" as that was the situation at the last party we attended. That was an infraction filled day a few months ago (infraction meaning an item not on Hutton's allergy-free diet, or Doritos, pretzels, M&Ms, corn syrup laden "juice" boxes and candy, and a regular gluten and casein-filled chocolate cake).

Fortunately, today's party had some GFCF foods Hutton could eat, as well as two bouncy houses set up in the backyard, along with the regular backyard features of a trampoline, a swingset and a tree house. Within minutes, Hutton was joining some other boys in the rather intense tree house, but he made it up with no problems. A few minutes later, "The Bubble Man" was getting ready to perform, so I called Hutton down, and he managed to scramble down on his own.

The Bubble Man was a hippie whose focus was on driving home to the kids the importance of cheap toys from the thrift store (most of his bubble paraphanelia was made from reused trash or thrift store goods) but spent a bit too much time wishing we were back in the 90s. At one point he brought up compact flourescent lights, and I yelled out, "Those have mercury in them!" and my friend Amy and I talked about how if you break one in your house, you need a hazmat team to clean it up. Bubble Man didn't really have a good comeback for that, but he was a good bubble maker.

Harrison was laughing and enjoying the bubbles, as was Hutton. At least for a few minutes. Soon enough, though, he started saying, "Let's go. Be finished." I told him we'd be done soon, but he wandered off towards the tree house. I watched The Bubble Man for another minute, before taking Harrison to go check on Hutton.

Was he in the tree house? No, he was not in the tree house.

Was he jumping on the trampoline or in the bouncy houses? No, he was not.

Was he inside the house? Not in the kitchen. Not in the living room. Not in the bathroom. Not in the play room. How about the laundry room? Nope. The dining room? Nope. The upstairs bedrooms? Nope, nope, nope. Harrison was tagging along behind me, saying, "Hutton's hiding! Let's find Hutton!" as I grew more anxious by the moment. I went outside and looped around the yard again, rechecking. Then through the house, checking closets. I went out to the bubble action area and told my friends that Hutton was gone, then walked to the back of the yard to yell for him and search in the neighbors' yards.

Harrison was still tagging along, saying, "We're looking for Hutton! Hutton's gone! He's hiding!" as I attempted to not get frantic. I got scratched up by briers climbing through overgrowth to get to the neighbors and ask if they'd seen Hutton. (Don't worry: I lifted Harrison over the briers, so he didn't get hurt!) Other parents at the party fanned out to look for Hutton as well. I wandered over to a neighborhood behind the party house, and a very concerned little girl and her brothers told me they had heard already and were looking for Hutton. By this time, I was trying not to cry, but wasn't succeeding. I wandered through yards, asking anybody I saw if they'd seen a little boy.

Giving up, I walked back to the party house, with trooper Harrison still by my side. The party hostess told me she'd called the police and they were on their way, but no missing children had been found. Just then, a police SUV pulled up, and I walked over to talk to the officer getting out. I was about to give him Hutton's description, when he said, "So, is this little guy with you?" and opened the back door to present Hutton happily sitting in the backseat. I immediately started crying and mumbling, "Jesus Christ!" and assorted other things. Apparently Hutton had run down to the busy street a mile away and someone had grabbed him before he got into real trouble. Just typing it makes me cry and repeat, "Jesus Christ!" as my heart starts racing again.

Afterwards, Hutton enjoyed some GFCF cupcakes and fruit while the birthday boy opened gifts, then Hutton and Harrison jumped on the trampoline. I muttered to my friend, "Yeah, now he wants to jump on the trampoline. It wasn't nearly as interesting as the traffic lights a little while ago!"

Why did he run off? Was he trying to get home? Did he really want to see a traffic light? Did he just want to freak Mommy out as an early Mother's Day gift? Who knows! The flight of the autistic child is nothing new. (It's called elopement, though unfortunately, it's not nearly as romantic in autistic kids as it is in young couples running off to get married.) In fact, a few moms at the party had stories of their own lost, and often naked, autistic kids. And Hutton has run off before, but it hadn't happened in so long (two years?) that I thought that was one worry I could put to bed. I guess not! Time to get out the ID bracelet and make Hutton wear it again!