03-12-2005, 11:42 PM
IN the living room, Christopher lunges around, pulls faces and screams obscenities.
Brother Steven dashes from room to room and talks nonsense into an imaginary phone. His sister Alice hurls videos and screeches.
Christiano and Kairon fight in the hall. Christiano claws his brother's face and draws blood. Kairon retaliates by punching him in the chest.
It's just another day in the life of hard-pressed single mum Bev Melton. She has nine children, seven are still at home and five of them have autism.
Bringing up one autistic child is hard for any parent. So how on Earth does Bev, 45, cope?
"Sometimes I want to sit and cry all day," she says. "But there's no time to wallow in self-pity because my kids need me. So I get on with things because I have to."
On cue, Bev wades in to the mayhem and sends each squabbling sibling to another room.
Meanwhile, Deity, five, and three-year-old Stefano - the two children who show no signs of autism - ignore the chaos and quietly carry on watching TV.
"Yes, it's bedlam here but I've learned to thrive on the chaos," shrugs Bev, who rents a four-bedroom home in Ayrshire.
"I just wish every parent who's ever stared and tutted at my kids could spend one week in my house. I'd like to see how they'd cope."
Autism has blighted Bev's life in ways she could never have imagined. Apart from knowing that her children face lifetimes of extreme social difficulties, Bev's four husbands found they couldn't cope with the complex condition and fled. "Men find it very hard to accept that their children aren't perfect," says Bev. "They don't accept there's a problem and can't cope with it - so they walk away."
Autism shows up differently in each child but generally means they have an inability to empathise or relate to other people and often have communication problems and erratic behaviour.
The hardest thing for Bev to deal with is the alienation of autism.
"It's the loneliest thing in the universe," she says. "My children are each in worlds of their own. They find it difficult to make friends because they're considered odd, freaks or weirdos. Few parents want to have an autistic child to stay the night.
"That means there's no respite for me. Ever. Now I accept that it's just going to be me and the kids."
It would be easy to look for someone to blame for the high rate of autism within Bev's family but she refuses to point the finger.
"Many parents are convinced the MMR vaccine is to blame," she says. "But that's nonsense. I'm convinced it has nothing to do with the injection.
"My eldest son Richard has autism but didn't have the jab, so I believe it's all in the genes. My sister has one child who's severely autistic and another who has Asperger's syndrome. I'm probably one of the people who carries the autistic gene."
Bev adds: "Some people ask why I went on to have so many kids but I didn't know they had autism until much later in their lives. Tammy, who's now 26 and has left home, was fine. Richard wasn't diagnosed until he was nine. And by then, I'd had five children."
Steven, 14, was the first to have the condition diagnosed, at the age of three. Bev suspected something was wrong because he still wore nappies, made constant squeaking noises and rocked for hours on end. When doctors broke the news, Bev was devastated.
"I cried for hours, thinking: 'I can't believe my little boy will never get married, have kids or get a job,'" she says.
"I didn't know much about autism back then but knew that it wasn't a health defect.
"After a while, I pulled myself together and thought of the poor mums who have terminally ill children. I'll always have Stevie with me, so, in that way, I'm lucky."
M ONTHS later, Steven's big brother Richard - who is now 17 and has left home - was also found to be autistic. "He wasn't doing homework and was disruptive in class," explains Bev.
"His school blamed me for his bad behaviour because his dad and I had split up. But a consultant put the pieces of his life together and ended up with the autism answer.
"Richard repeated phrases parrot fashion and couldn't grasp the fact that other people had feelings.
"In a way, it was a relief when he was found to have Asperger's syndrome, a less serious form of autism. People knew what they were dealing with so could help him."
Christopher, 10, still couldn't talk by the time he was three and Bev wasted no time in consulting doctors. Again, she was given the Asperger's diagnosis. "That's when I thought: 'This isn't fair. Why me?'"
Hearing that Alice, 11, was also autistic was an even harder blow."I was inconsolable," admits Bev. "Alice was my little princess and I thought she was just immature for her age because she dribbled a lot, wet the bed and needed speech therapy.
"I couldn't believe that she'd face so many difficulties in her life.
"Autism in girls is rare - and much worse. They tend to be more stroppy, so add autism into the mix and you have a nightmare combination."
Within months, Bev was told Kairon, 12, and Christiano, seven, also have Asperger's. "That's when I decided: 'OK, this is the hand that life has dealt me. I just have to get on with it.'"
As a coping strategy, Bev ensures her house runs smoothly by using strict rotas, which mean she starts her day at 5.30am.
"This place is ruled with military precision," she smiles. "There has to be order among so much chaos.
"Everything is timetabled. The kids help if they can. If you say: 'Go upstairs and get your uniform on', they'll do it. But if you add: 'And don't forget to get your socks', they'll come down dressed but won't have their socks on. They can only take in one thing at a time."
Despite their social problems, Bev's autistic children show amazing abilities in specific subjects - in much the same way as Dustin Hoffman's character in the Rain Man film had a photographic memory.
"Steven still needs to be bathed and can't tie his shoelaces but he has won two competitions for painting at the special school he attends," beams Bev proudly.
"Kairon often lashes out with his fists but has an encyclopaedic knowledge of football and is a fantastic player, too.
"Alice lets out ear-shattering screams of frustration but is an exceptional artist and mimic. Christopher sometimes can't stop making animal noises but he has an avid interest in science. Christiano shows the most explosive behaviour but is very deep. And they all have an obsessive interest in newspapers."
Her children's abilities are a great source of joy for Bev and she insists that bringing up her autistic kids is just as rewarding as raising those who don't have the condition.
"As much as it's heart-wrenching, it can be funny, too," she giggles. "You have to have a warped sense of humour to deal with it.
"For instance, Kairon recently told a visitor that he liked girls' boobies."
L OOKING to the future, Bev is optimistic. "I'm certain that, apart from Steven, all my kids will get married and be fine.
"It's my job to ensure they're secure in all aspects of their life - including their finances."
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Brother Steven dashes from room to room and talks nonsense into an imaginary phone. His sister Alice hurls videos and screeches.
Christiano and Kairon fight in the hall. Christiano claws his brother's face and draws blood. Kairon retaliates by punching him in the chest.
It's just another day in the life of hard-pressed single mum Bev Melton. She has nine children, seven are still at home and five of them have autism.
Bringing up one autistic child is hard for any parent. So how on Earth does Bev, 45, cope?
"Sometimes I want to sit and cry all day," she says. "But there's no time to wallow in self-pity because my kids need me. So I get on with things because I have to."
On cue, Bev wades in to the mayhem and sends each squabbling sibling to another room.
Meanwhile, Deity, five, and three-year-old Stefano - the two children who show no signs of autism - ignore the chaos and quietly carry on watching TV.
"Yes, it's bedlam here but I've learned to thrive on the chaos," shrugs Bev, who rents a four-bedroom home in Ayrshire.
"I just wish every parent who's ever stared and tutted at my kids could spend one week in my house. I'd like to see how they'd cope."
Autism has blighted Bev's life in ways she could never have imagined. Apart from knowing that her children face lifetimes of extreme social difficulties, Bev's four husbands found they couldn't cope with the complex condition and fled. "Men find it very hard to accept that their children aren't perfect," says Bev. "They don't accept there's a problem and can't cope with it - so they walk away."
Autism shows up differently in each child but generally means they have an inability to empathise or relate to other people and often have communication problems and erratic behaviour.
The hardest thing for Bev to deal with is the alienation of autism.
"It's the loneliest thing in the universe," she says. "My children are each in worlds of their own. They find it difficult to make friends because they're considered odd, freaks or weirdos. Few parents want to have an autistic child to stay the night.
"That means there's no respite for me. Ever. Now I accept that it's just going to be me and the kids."
It would be easy to look for someone to blame for the high rate of autism within Bev's family but she refuses to point the finger.
"Many parents are convinced the MMR vaccine is to blame," she says. "But that's nonsense. I'm convinced it has nothing to do with the injection.
"My eldest son Richard has autism but didn't have the jab, so I believe it's all in the genes. My sister has one child who's severely autistic and another who has Asperger's syndrome. I'm probably one of the people who carries the autistic gene."
Bev adds: "Some people ask why I went on to have so many kids but I didn't know they had autism until much later in their lives. Tammy, who's now 26 and has left home, was fine. Richard wasn't diagnosed until he was nine. And by then, I'd had five children."
Steven, 14, was the first to have the condition diagnosed, at the age of three. Bev suspected something was wrong because he still wore nappies, made constant squeaking noises and rocked for hours on end. When doctors broke the news, Bev was devastated.
"I cried for hours, thinking: 'I can't believe my little boy will never get married, have kids or get a job,'" she says.
"I didn't know much about autism back then but knew that it wasn't a health defect.
"After a while, I pulled myself together and thought of the poor mums who have terminally ill children. I'll always have Stevie with me, so, in that way, I'm lucky."
M ONTHS later, Steven's big brother Richard - who is now 17 and has left home - was also found to be autistic. "He wasn't doing homework and was disruptive in class," explains Bev.
"His school blamed me for his bad behaviour because his dad and I had split up. But a consultant put the pieces of his life together and ended up with the autism answer.
"Richard repeated phrases parrot fashion and couldn't grasp the fact that other people had feelings.
"In a way, it was a relief when he was found to have Asperger's syndrome, a less serious form of autism. People knew what they were dealing with so could help him."
Christopher, 10, still couldn't talk by the time he was three and Bev wasted no time in consulting doctors. Again, she was given the Asperger's diagnosis. "That's when I thought: 'This isn't fair. Why me?'"
Hearing that Alice, 11, was also autistic was an even harder blow."I was inconsolable," admits Bev. "Alice was my little princess and I thought she was just immature for her age because she dribbled a lot, wet the bed and needed speech therapy.
"I couldn't believe that she'd face so many difficulties in her life.
"Autism in girls is rare - and much worse. They tend to be more stroppy, so add autism into the mix and you have a nightmare combination."
Within months, Bev was told Kairon, 12, and Christiano, seven, also have Asperger's. "That's when I decided: 'OK, this is the hand that life has dealt me. I just have to get on with it.'"
As a coping strategy, Bev ensures her house runs smoothly by using strict rotas, which mean she starts her day at 5.30am.
"This place is ruled with military precision," she smiles. "There has to be order among so much chaos.
"Everything is timetabled. The kids help if they can. If you say: 'Go upstairs and get your uniform on', they'll do it. But if you add: 'And don't forget to get your socks', they'll come down dressed but won't have their socks on. They can only take in one thing at a time."
Despite their social problems, Bev's autistic children show amazing abilities in specific subjects - in much the same way as Dustin Hoffman's character in the Rain Man film had a photographic memory.
"Steven still needs to be bathed and can't tie his shoelaces but he has won two competitions for painting at the special school he attends," beams Bev proudly.
"Kairon often lashes out with his fists but has an encyclopaedic knowledge of football and is a fantastic player, too.
"Alice lets out ear-shattering screams of frustration but is an exceptional artist and mimic. Christopher sometimes can't stop making animal noises but he has an avid interest in science. Christiano shows the most explosive behaviour but is very deep. And they all have an obsessive interest in newspapers."
Her children's abilities are a great source of joy for Bev and she insists that bringing up her autistic kids is just as rewarding as raising those who don't have the condition.
"As much as it's heart-wrenching, it can be funny, too," she giggles. "You have to have a warped sense of humour to deal with it.
"For instance, Kairon recently told a visitor that he liked girls' boobies."
L OOKING to the future, Bev is optimistic. "I'm certain that, apart from Steven, all my kids will get married and be fine.
"It's my job to ensure they're secure in all aspects of their life - including their finances."
link to full article