A Little Quirky Goes A Long Way - For All Ages

Ever wake up, especially on a Monday, and know it's going to be a rough day? We all have those days of wanting to crawl back into bed and hibernate beneath the covers until the Earth's next rotation. 

It's ok. Sometimes it's what we need.

For Logan, his emotions are heightened and with the covers over his head, he's anchored. He feels calm and is able to collect and process what he is feeling. 

As Logan approached the teen years, I didn't want him to fall into the sullen-teen category. I didn't want him to lock away his emotions and hide because they were frightening or too much to handle. For kids on the autism spectrum puberty can be a tough road. I'm the adult, I can work through the hard moments with him, but for Logan, well, he'll explain...

I feel a lot. I feel my emotions and I feel other people's emotions. Some days I'm overwhelmed and my stomach hurts, I cry and I don't know what to do. It's awkward talking to my mom about certain things going on with me, but she listens even if she doesn't have the answers. I talk to my dad when he gets home. He never makes me feel bad about what I am feeling or what I am asking about. I think parents need to be patient with their kids. Not just because they are quirky but being a teenager is scary. I think about graduating, getting a job, figuring out what I want to do all the time. I want to make the right choices now because when I have a wife and kids, I want to be able to support them. I stress out, but I am told not to and to be a kid, but then I'm asked to make decisions about my education and my life. It's confusing. Adults want us to be both at the same time. How are we to pick a future when we can't pick a favorite band or cereal?

Wow. Makes you think. Demands and pressure can be good in moderation. I feel it's motivating and they need to see what real life is about. However, too much, too fast can lead to regression and depression. It took a lot for Logan to express his emotions, his thoughts with us because he didn't want to disappoint us or think he was dramatic or overreacting. 

We didn't think or feel any of that. 

We were proud of him. We cried right along with him. Huge moment for our family. 

I decided it was time to quirk up our environment. It had grown far too serious. Including his schoolroom. I hopped on Amazon and Etsy and clicked until I felt the quirky force within me. 

In the schoolroom we have a "Quirky Kit". When the Debbie Downer's knock on our door, we answer it with a mustache or tiara or both. The multi-colored pencils are for Logan to express any feelings or anything on paper--in funky twisted colors, of course--and the uniqueness box is a reminder of how awesomely different we are and we shouldn't be any other way. I've changed out some items over the years, but my now 14 1/2 year old still loves it.    

We have a quirky wall which really doesn't need much explanation. 

For us, the teenage years have been great. Logan is more affectionate with me and Phil. He's tip toeing out of his comfort zone, trying new things. Who would have thought that? Not me. Not Phil. Logan has self-published a scary short story and he wants to write more (music to my literary heart).When my parents were visiting, Logan put his arm around my mom's shoulders, he rested his head against hers. It was monumental and very sweet. 

Of course, we have off days and a fuzzy fake mustache or a felt pirate patch isn't going to make it better, but we have fabulous days filled with silliness and weird conversations. The good outweigh the bad. 

I've been asked, "Why do that to your house? You decorate for your kid? That stuff is weird. What would people think?"

I reply with, "Why not? Weird is awesome. I decorate for us. And who is coming to my house, the Queen of England? Even if she were, I wouldn't change it."

#twisteddarkhumor

This is what works for our family. This is what helps our high functioning spectrum kid. I would glue mustaches to every wall if that brought him out of an overload, emotional funk or inspired a new story or song. Or even a new scientific theory (that's happened before). Really, I think everyone should have a quirky kit on hand. A few items to make you laugh, be silly, bring out your inner kid as an adult. 

It's not about either/or, it's about living life and being happy. It's about showing the world YOU!

Quirks and all.

What Autism Means To Me

What Autism Means to Me

By Logan 

It is awesome to be different, it’s genetics. Our DNA makes us all different, that is what God wanted. Acceptance is a big word but really, it’s easy to do. Why would God place us all on the earth to be the same, I don’t want to be like everyone else. Why do some accept people in books and movies like Harry Potter, people who aren’t real but I’m real and you don’t accept me? I do awesome things, I’m a great friend, and I’m an awesome gamer and Nerf player.  We all have special powers, your powers aren’t any better than mine, they are just different.

I forgive the bullies who were mean to me. I forgive the grown-ups who were mean to my mom and dad. I think that they bully because something bad happened to them and I feel sad for them.

Any kid that is different just wants to be accepted, to be loved, to have a friend, to be who they are with all their quirks. It is not nice to have people make fun of you, tease you, bully you, laugh at you and to stare at you. If you have questions just ask me but don’t point and be mean.

If you accept God and Jesus why can’t you accept who He has created? He created me, He made me different and He made me awesome! I know sometimes I don’t always look people in the eyes or answer loud enough or know what to say but I love everyone and I am listening, sometimes I just need a minute to think or to know what to say. I am not being rude, I just need to think.  I want you to hug me but sometimes it makes me feel awkward just give me time and I will hug you back. I like high fives and fist bumps to show people that I love them.

I am not a number that the doctors put out, I am not just Autistic or a math genius, I am more than that; I am me, just call me Logan.  And watch me change the world.

Snip This From Our Book: Mom, I Know I'm Different

My heart bleeds each time I work on my family's story. It's reliving memories I shoved deep down into the dark caves inside of my mind. Not all of them are sad or gut wrenching, we laugh more than we did then. It's our reality. It's shaped our family. Death crept in and threatened to take my child and I stood against it. Logan fought all the odds. He proved every doctor and specialist wrong.

The following snippets are one from me and one from Logan and from different chapters of the book.

Mine

I could no longer watch my son, with tubes and wires flowing from his gaunt frame, struggle to breathe. Each inhale was a battle. Logan’s life slipped away with each exhale.

I had informed the nurse that our pastor would be arriving within the hour. Her gentle hand patted my arm. “Have you eaten? I’ll have a tray sent up.”

I shook my head.

How could I eat? How could I nourish myself while my son couldn’t? He hadn’t kept formula down in days. Small glass jars of sweet potato and carrots were tossed into the garbage.

My vision focused on his oxygen monitor. 77.

How selfish to be breathing and walking about. I cursed myself. I cursed his illness. I curbed heaven and hell.

Anger consumed my heart as fever consumed Logan’s. I was tired. So tired. I marched to the hospital’s chapel, fists filled with crumpled Kleenex and I was going to let out. I had nothing left but fury and in that moment, I wanted to feel anything.

I didn’t want to be numb anymore. I wanted to feel because if I had to say farewell to Logan, he needed to feel the war within me. He needed to know I fought and the only way I could do just that, was to battle the enemy.

Logan

I had a friend, her name was Rain and we sat near each other in 1^st grade. She wore cowboy boots everyday. Even with her dresses. Our teacher announced that our school was part of a charity event. We were to ride our bikes around the church and school parking lots to raise money for lung cancer.

During recess, Rain sat down next to me. She looked sad.

“I’m scared to ride my scooter.”

“Why?” I asked.

“What if I fall?”

“Why would you fall?”

Rain pointed. She had half of an arm. I never noticed. I see who they really are on the inside—their souls. Not everyone has a nice one, but I’d like to think they could if they tried.

“Don’t worry, I’ll ride along side of you so you won’t fall.”

And, I did. I didn’t want Rain to feel nervous or afraid. After she showed me her arm, she told me was born with it. I told her I was born different, too.

We’re all different. Inside. Outside. It doesn’t matter. God created us different for a reason. No one has the right to make another person feel bad. Hurting others doesn’t make you better and it doesn’t make you superior.

It makes you a jerk.

I hope Rain is happy where ever she is and still wearing her cowboy boots.

Maybe one day I’ll see her again. You never know.

Better Than Picking His Nose

Here at The Quirky Mustache, we embrace and accept all quirks--physical, vocal, and all of those in-between. 

This was once Logan's sock. (RIP Hanes white ankle), now it's a new dust rag. I have piles of these. Like, piles in the laundry room. Why do you think I go to Target so much. I should purchase stock in Hanes. 

Picking at his socks in not new, he's been at it for some time, but before that he picked at his mattress and waistband of his boxers. Logan apologizes when he annalates his socks. I tell him, "Don't worry about it. We all have quirks."

We do. Every single one of us. We don't have to be on a spectrum or have a psychological disturbance to have quirks. That seems to be the viewpoint with some. I was having a discussion about this topic with a woman and she seemed to think that she didn't possess a quirk. Not even when she was stressed or nervous. 

Interesting.

I observed her picking at her cuticles. I brought it to her attention. She stopped and looked around as if the cuticle police were lurking around the corner. 

People pace, twirl their hair, bit their nails (me). We all do something to release an emotion. 

When Logan was younger, he would shake his head. I feared his brain was being swished about inside of his skull. It was his release when he was excited. When he was nervous, he bit his hand. We quickly saw that when one physical quirk stopped, another began. As he has gotten older, he has confined his sock picking to home or at his best friend's house, where he feels comfortable.

We were asked many of times, "Why does he shake his head? When will it stop? Can't he control it?"

I asked his doctors the same questions. Funny, my favorite doctor asked, "What would you like us to do? Strap a device to his head and anchor it to his shoulders?"

The visual is...well, but, no, I didn't want to do that. I just didn't want kids to make fun of him any more. This was pre-homeschool and the constant taunting was wearing us down. Sadly, when people saw his quirks they assumed he was unintelligent. I've had it said to me so I know it to be true. The mama bear in me would poke them in the shoulder (verbally, of course) of my son's genius and brilliance. Einstein didn't have anything on Logan.

There came a time when I didn't say that either. I didn't have to prove a thing to anyone. Neither did Logan. 

People are quick to judge if what they see doesn't fit into their "normal" size box. Even though inside their normal size box, is an uneven octagon. The outer shell is what matters. Neighbors, PTA moms, and grandparents only should see the perfect box, with the pretty bow on top. Not the messy, wrapped, tape all over, patchy box.

The other night, I caught myself doing one of my physical quirks in front of husband. At first, I was mortified. He looked at me puzzled. Not because of my excited quirk of rubbing the palms of my hands together and clapping 3 times. He looked at me that way because I apologized for doing it. 

Now I know where Logan's gets it from. 

Does that make me weird? 

Duh. But, if you know me and my boys, we embrace weird. 

To my quirky people...QUIRK OUT! 
Spread the quirky love. 
Don't apologize.
Don't explain.
If your friends ask, well, they don't get it. My closest, dearest friends have never, EVER, once asked, "Why does Logan do that?" "Why do you do that?"
They love us.
Quirks and all.
That's the way it should be. 

Let's be honest. I would rather have Logan pick at his socks than other...things or places.