Cool C.A.T.S. Club

 Tales from an AutiMom: Intensive Training

With over a decade of parenting on the Autism Spectrum under her belt, Joy Blackburn has learned a thing or two about finding what works for her children. We’re pleased to feature Joy’s writing in our blog series, “Tales from an AutiMom.” You can find these stories and more in her upcoming book, Wait! My Seat Belt is Broken! (A mom boards the autism bus and hangs on.) 

Joy is the CEO of Ad Infinitum Communications and mother of Jack, an amazing young man with autism. Jack’s sudden and dramatic path to language at the age of nine was told in the 2010 documentary, “Jack and the Video Camera.” Joy is on The Arc Pikes Peak Region’s Board of Directors.

What is an AutiMom?

I’m a fellow mom of a child with autism, an AutiMom, and I know what you’re going through. Between physical therapy, speech therapy, occupational therapy, feeding therapy and behavioral therapy, autism discussion group-monitoring, medical and homeopathic specialists, IEP meetings and meal planning (got one or more kids on a specialized diet? Woo-hoo! Bonus!), plus housework, homework, floor time and government forms. . . it can be hard to get to work on time! Ha-ha-ha, sigh.

This is Year Twelve for me, and I’ll confess I’ve gone a little ditzy. I do stuff like put the phone down to look for a pencil and paper, then pick up a few toys and whatnot as I move from room to room. I might notice that Jack’s bed isn’t made, so I’ll quickly do that. Ew, and the fish tank needs cleaning. At every turn, there are dozens of undone tasks in my path, so I just keep powering forward. Eventually, the caller realizes I’ve forgotten all about him… Grab a margarita and read more about being an AutiMom here, in AutiMoms Unite! And while you’re at it, check out the next post in this special series below!

Intensive Training

Among Jack’s collection of talking toys, poised in the center, with a spotlight shining gloriously upon it, was a Talking Thomas the Tank Engine Train Set by Tomy. This awesome $60 toy looked better out of the box than it did in the package photos. There was a talking engine, two carriages, ten feet of track, a station building, a platform and bench, and a drawbridge that closed as the train rolled over it. Thomas played his theme song and spoke four phrases from the show while speeding up, slowing down, stopping for passengers and starting off again. It was magnificent! The crown jewel of Jack’s toys. Until I tiptoed to the garage late one night and crammed it into the trash.

Let me back up a bit.

By Jack’s fourth birthday, he was a big brother. All the stress that a first new sibling brings on a family was exacerbated by Jack’s inability to talk about it. He didn’t know who this baby was, where she came from, and why nobody had come by yet to take her back. So I wanted his birthday to be great. This Thomas talking train seemed just the ticket, and Jack did indeed love it. No other present that year came close. And that would turn out to be a problem.

Because the train, it seems, was built to withstand 50 hours of use before the trigger that activated the sound files began giving out. Fifty hours will last most children three months or so, which I’ll grant you, isn’t very long. But an AutiKiddo will burn that up in a week.

Our ride to double-hockey sticks began on day seven when Thomas skipped a phrase. I was 30 feet away unloading the dishwasher, and the sudden, loud squawk from Jack caused me to drop a glass. I froze and listened, hastily analyzing the situation. Beep-beep-beep-beep:

✔ Jack playing with Thomas.
✔ Train motor running.
✔ Music off.
✔ Batteries < 3 hours old.
✔ Only squawked once. Situation not yet out of control.
✔ May enter kitchen for help.
✔ Broken glass clean-up now top priority.
✔ Baby monitor quiet.

Then I heard Thomas toot, and the music resumed. False alarm, everything was fine. But it would be so only for another five minutes. I had barely swept up the glass before Thomas was skipping phrases willy-nilly. The music stopped, started, hitched and stopped. Jack went total Tasmanian devil, and because that’s not stressful enough, as I left the kitchen, the baby monitor now blew up.

If you are joining us today from a neurotypical household, yes, I did assist Jack before checking on the baby. Jack was in danger, the baby was only disturbed from her sleep. And no, bringing the baby with me as I helped Jack would not have been a happy medium. Are you nuts?! Do you grab your baby and bring her with you to put out a kitchen fire?!

Jack shrieked, swatted at me, pounded his head and grabbed at the train as I tried to check it for breaks and debris. Even though the batteries were decently new, I changed them again (which required a tiny screwdriver. Ergh! I hate those things! Toy manufacturers must want us to go bonkers!) When my high-level trouble-shooting efforts failed, I turned to Jack and initiated the Bear-Hug/Remove-From-Scene/Redirect procedure. Today’s mega meltdown required the enhanced BH/RFS/R+cookie.

This is why we never get anything done, my friend!

With Jack tucked away in his room enjoying a video and cereal bar, my next task was to prevent “accidental reengagement with the problem activity.” I dragged the trainset to my closet and sort of threw-folded it in to hide it.

Now I could check on my baby. What a patient angel love. Don’t be startled, Momma just has swat-head-hair.

* * *

At this point, I still innocently thought the train was defective. I boxed it up that evening and took it to Target®, where the store exchanged it without question for one of the three other train sets they had in stock. The next morning, Jack found the assembled train that was waiting for him in the living room, and dove right into a full, squealing flap-fest. “All fixed,” I said cheerfully. And it was . . . for another six days.

* * *

“Ouch, that’s a nasty scratch on your neck,” observed the Target returns clerk.

“Yeah. My son loves this train set and went berserk when it stopped.”

She looked at the box then back at me, confused. “Didn’t you just return one of these?”

“Yeah. They both stopped working after a few days. I’d like to try my luck one more time.”

“Certainly.”

The return and exchange policy at Target has improved my life so much that at times I nearly snivel with gratitude!

* * *

The following week, the returns clerk politely ignored my black eye. “Another bad one?”

“Yeah.”

She rang the refund through to my card and apologized. “We stopped carrying this trainset. The store out on Forest Pass may still have one in stock.” We exchanged a look of mutual understanding: My returns had caused Target to drop the toy, and I was desperate to buy another one. “Do you want me to call and find out?”

“That would be great.”

* * *

They had seven in stock at the Forest Pass Target! Such riches! I could sustain my son’s passion until Christmas!

But it was not to be. Returning to the Forest Pass store the following week, I found that the entire stock had been pulled. “Try Ross next door,” the returns manager suggested. “They have a few Thomas items.” Then he smirked. “Split lip, huh? What does the other guy look like?”

* * *

The following week, Ross refunded me for the train I bought the week prior, but they wouldn’t sell me a replacement. Was that some kind of challenge? Okay! So I bought and returned one trainset at each of the three Ross stores in town.

But then the pickings got slim. Walmart never carried this train, and Toys “R” Us® had refused further shipments. Wait a minute… that can’t be my fault! I never purchased one at Toys “R” Us®! I found one at TJ Maxx which I bought and returned. I also found one at Big Lots®, but it had been opened and taped shut again. For all I knew, it was one of my returns! Then, I kid you not, a family at Burlington bought the last one in the store while I stood there watching. The boy skipped out the doors with his parents, so happy. My eye started to twitch. If I’d had the cash, I would have gone after them and offered them twice the purchase price right there in the parking lot.

Maybe this wasn’t healthy. Seriously, why was I going to so much trouble to buy a week’s worth of peace in my house when I knew how badly that week was going to end? That’s it. I was done. Jack had plenty of toys to play with.

On the way home I spotted Kmart and made a last-minute, tire-smacking, curb-jumping swerve into the drive.

A worker on the toy aisle was pulling items from the shelves and loading them onto a large rolling rack. Among the jumble was a Talking Thomas trainset. “Are these clearance items,” I asked the worker.

“They were. Now they’re nothing.” He stood and stretched his back. “We’re resetting this whole section. Excuse me.” He pushed the rolling rack across my path, turned the corner and headed toward the door to the warehouse. And there I stood, holding the trainset I had quietly grabbed as the rack rolled by.

The toy had been removed from the store’s database, so the checker couldn’t get it to scan. I tapped my fingers nervously as she put on her glasses and manually punched in the clearance price one… number… at… a… time….

Then I was free, running across the parking lot to my getaway vehicle. Muah-ha-ha! But seriously, what was next? Armed robbery? This was absolutely the last time I was replacing this Talking Thomas trainset!

* * *

The next morning I sat with my daughter and a cup of coffee, watching Jack enjoy his train. He had every statement, toot, chug, and screeching-of-breaks memorized. He dashed around — kneeling, laying — squinting at the toy from every angle with finger-flicking intensity. No toy was ever more loved. A week later I would be “hiding it” forever in the trash, but so be it. Life’s pleasures are fleeting.