A World of Delphiniums

The Dormouse and the Doctor
By A. A. Milne

There once was a Dormouse who lived in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And all the day long he'd a wonderful view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

A Doctor came hurrying round, and he said:
"Tut-tut, I am sorry to find you in bed.
Just say 'Ninety-nine' while I look at your chest....
Don't you find that chrysanthemums answer the best?"

The Dormouse looked round at the view and replied
(When he'd said "Ninety-nine") that he'd tried and he'd tried,
And much the most answering things that he knew
Were geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue).

The Doctor stood frowning and shaking his head,
And he took up his shiny silk hat as he said:
"What the patient requires is a change," and he went
To see some chrysanthemum people in Kent.

The Dormouse lay there, and he gazed at the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue),
And he knew there was nothing he wanted instead
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

The Doctor came back and, to show what he meant,
He had brought some chrysanthemum cuttings from Kent.
"Now these," he remarked, "give a much better view
Than geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."

They took out their spades and they dug up the bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red),
And they planted chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"And now," said the Doctor, "we'll soon have you right."

The Dormouse looked out, and he said with a sigh:
"I suppose all these people know better than I.
It was silly, perhaps, but I did like the view
Of geraniums (red) and delphiniums (blue)."

The Doctor came round and examined his chest,
And ordered him Nourishment, Tonics, and Rest.
"How very effective," he said, as he shook
The thermometer, "all these chrysanthemums look!"

The Dormouse turned over to shut out the sight
Of the endless chrysanthemums (yellow and white).
"How lovely," he thought, "to be back in a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red.)"

The Doctor said, "Tut! It's another attack!"
And ordered him Milk and Massage-of-the-back,
And Freedom-from-worry and Drives-in-a-car,
And murmured, "How sweet your chrysanthemums are!"

The Dormouse lay there with his paws to his eyes,
And imagined himself such a pleasant surprise:
"I'll pretend the chrysanthemums turn to a bed
Of delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red)!"

The Doctor next morning was rubbing his hands,
And saying, "There's nobody quite understands
These cases as I do! The cure has begun!
How fresh the chrysanthemums look in the sun!"

The Dormouse lay happy, his eyes were so tight
He could see no chrysanthemums, yellow or white.
And all that he felt at the back of his head
Were delphiniums (blue) and geraniums (red).

And that is the reason (Aunt Emily said)
If a Dormouse gets in a chrysanthemum bed,
You will find (so Aunt Emily says) that he lies
Fast asleep on his front with his paws to his eyes.

I worry that Joey will grow up in a world full of Doctors. Right now, he is such a happy little dormouse, in a world bright with red and blue. May he never let them dig up his geraniums.

Ask Before You Touch

There was a new mom at therapy today. Not new as in "new to autism"- new as in "baby is nine days old." Her older child was in therapy, but she had teh brand-new baby with her. Andy likes babies. Joey LOVES babies. And this was a teeny-tiny, brand-new baby with big eyes and headfuzz, and mom still very round and new-mom looking.

The boys were very good. They washed their hands, and only touched the baby on her head to feel the soft babyhair. They smiled and giggled and made faces at the baby, and didn't get in her face. Joey talked about the baby being little, the baby was awake, the baby was soft, and said he liked babies. He turned to Mom, and talked to her about the baby. Very nice social moment.

Then he reached out with one finger an proclaimed, "I want to touch the booby!" and gave her very round breast a stroke with his finger. Then he was off to another point of interest in the room, leaving me, the Mom, the office manager, and a couple other moms in a moment of speechless awe.

I must say, the Mom was an absolute sport about it, very gracefully not saying anything. The office manager just abotu died on the spot trying not to laugh. I initially thought he intended to say "baby" and only touched the Mom because he remember he wasn't supposed to touch the baby, but apparently everybody else thought it was quite clear.

I wonder where he's picked that up. He often likes to touch peole, especially on exposed lower arms, but I've never had him do this before. I've been trying to teach him to ask before touching someone, and I honestly think he was trying to do just that by making the announcement that split second before acting. Now we just need to go back to just arms, please. Thanks.

No quacks

New t-shirt design. Thought it might be a good thing to spread around.

That ducky place in C-ville is calling. I guess they need some more business. Not enough suckers going in and giving them their life savings to fix their kid. Caller ID is my friend.

New Shoes

Joey isn't feeling very well. I got the hint this afternoon after church, when we went to buy shoes.

This weekend is Virginia's "tax-free weekend." That means we instantly save 5% on everything we buy for school- supplies, clothes, shoes, etc. That may not seem like a lot of money, but around here, every little bit helps. And when shoes cost $50 a pair (holy frijoles!), and you've got two of them who are going to need shoes, that's a quick $5, before we start on anything else they need. So off to the shoe store we go.

Both boys have extra-wide feet, so the selection is limited where-ever we go. Walmart shoes don't fit them at all. Nope. We have to go to the $50 shoe store to get shoes on these feet. Great. And we still have all of two pairs to choose from. Fortunately, both are velcro. Joey picks out a pair that have those flashy lights in the heels. Good- those are the cheaper of the two pairs. Andy picks dark ones over light ones. Fine- we won't see them get dirty as quickly. Done. Let's get out of this madhouse of running, screeching children before I have two meltdowns on my hands.

Then Joey decides he wants to wear his new shoes out of the store. Nevermind that they are for regular school- a month away- and have already been boxed back up and bagged. He wants those shoes. Now.

Of course, it's really a problem of the noise, the heat, the change of schedule, the heat, the unfamiliar store, the heat, being tired, and of course, the heat. This is not about shoes at all. The store folks are very nice, and they know Joey, and they know about the autism, so as he begins the spiral into meltdown, they do their best to hurry things along to get me out the door... but it's too late. In his frustration, Joey bit me.

The biting is new- at least the biting of other people. He's picked it up from Andy, and I have no clue where Andy got it. Andy will do it if he feels in immediate danger or extreme annoyance, such as another child trying to snatch something from him. Joey does it with deliberation and thought. You can see the wheels turn and the decision being made, that half a beat of deliberate-ness that makes the whole mess seem that much more not a failure on his part, but a failure on mine. Somehow, I have permitted, and reinforced, this as an appropriate tool to get what he wants, or make himself "feel better" (I doubt he actually feels better for doing this, but before the action is done, it seems like a good idea to try it, if you know what I mean. Kind of like on a sunny day, it may seem like a great idea to go to the beach, until you realize the sand is burning your feet, the sun is burning your skin, and you forgot to bring sunglasses.) What's worse is I feel I have never tolerated this behavior. This is an instant-reprocussion situation. The full shop of parents glare at me as I pick up my 70-odd pound screaming child, toss him over my shoulder like a sack of potatoes, take his smaller brother by the hand, and march out of the store to the van.

I'm sure I'll get lots of wonderful critiques about that. Did picking him up and/or removing him reinforce the behavior? Should I have allowed him to melt down right there in front of the door? Is a time-out in a van really going to help? How does one correct such behavior, and what behavior can one expect of an overwhelmed 5-year-old?

And here is how I saw it: I made the mistake of trying to get the shoes on a day the store was crowded, the five bucks be damned. Once the mistake was made and the consequence in full swing, the appropriate course of action was to remove the child so that he could regain control and calm. Strapped into a car seat with the A/C going was the only option I really had available. There was no way, once Joey realized he had actually bitten me, that he was going to walk out of that store on his own two feet- the next action was going to be complete puddle of child, because meltdown was complete- about a level 4, if you leave the bite out of the calculation. But definitely meltdown- he was no longer functional. All my fault. I'm the stupid person who tried to take him into the crowded store to buy shoes, remember. On the hottest day of the year, no less.

I'd go into what one should expect from an overwhelmed five-year-old, but I didn't like the hate mail I got last time, so I won't. (I got the gambit from "How dare you think/wish this child should behave any differently than he does?" to "How dare you let him behave that way?") I will say that these are the realities here. Five dollars may not seem a lot, but it is a week's worth of breakfasts. Five dollars is an extra t-shirt for school. Five dollars is 10 minutes of speech therapy (thank you, insurance, for finally kicking in!) Five dollars is a trip to the pumpkin patch. Five dollars is milk for the week. How many crowded stores have we been in, and out of, and not had a single whine from Joey? Hindsight is 20/20- better, when you find yourself constantly judged and found wanting.

Which brings me back to the beginning of this ramble, which is that Joey is not feeling well, and I know this because our trip to the shoe store ended in meltdown. We've been having more of those than usual, but not more than usual for summer, does that make sense? Anyway, they still can be those first little inklings of trouble. I wouldn't say he was grumpy the rest of the day, no more than usual on long car rides (we went to pet goats in Madison), but he wasn't right. Sure enough, we put him to bed early with a little fever. Poor little guy.

Hair cut

This week, I cut off my hair.

This may not seem like a big deal to most folks. After all, it's hair. Hair grows. Hair gets cut. It is the way of things.

But here, my hair cutting is an event worthy of blogging. For one, the last time it happened, Andy was a babe in arms. Three years ago- my life was so completely different, the only thing I can say is, way back in that other life, there was time to get a hair cut.

For two, my boys accepted the change without a hitch. There was a time when cutting my hair- a sudden change in appearance- would have been very upsetting to Joey. He still gets excited if he catches me with my hair down, like when I brush it in the morning, or if I need to fix and replait it during the day. It's different, Mommy looks funny with all that hair everywhere. Andy thinks its funny, too- especially playing peek-a-boo with Cousin It.

And finally, there's something odd about going from hair to your butt to hair only to your shoulder. It now only takes me three minutes to shampoo my hair. Weird.

It has to be done occasionally, mind you. Otherwise the weight pulls it out, and at my age, hair loss can be permanent. Also, it tends to get a little frayed, since I don't have time to take care of butt-length hair properly.

And hey, even with trimming up the ends, I have twelve inches to send to Locks of Love!

Small Bites

We have more new foods this week! Joey ate a ham and cheese sandwich- with proper bites- for his OT this week, and he will also eat fresh peppers, sliced up! We are SO excited! Perhaps we have turned a corner with oral sensory issues? Could we be seeing real progress for healthy eating?

Joey's new "thing" is sharks. He saw some prehistoric ones at the museum, and then the prizes this week at OT have been sharks, and he's hooked. Add a new love of Finding Nemo, and bingo! Boy finds new obsession. With plenty of teeth.

On the other hand, we've also added a new biting issue- the boys have decided to bite each other when angry. Joey already bites his hands and clothes if he gets frustrated, but this biting other people thing- not good. We'll keep you posted.

Random Moments

It's three am. There is a low noise down the hall that threatens to turn into a scream, so I roll out of bed to intervene. It's Andy. It's almost always Andy these days. Apparently the bad dream involves something with Joey, and he wants brother. I left brother fast asleep in my room, sprawled on Allan's big recliner (unreclined). I manage to diffuse the problem. I return to find my half of the bed filled with boy. I give him a kiss, then waddle over to the other side, where I do the same for the handsome man I married, who is also fast asleep, cuddled with said boy. I get in the recliner, recline it, and try to go back to sleep.


It's mid-afternoon, another day in the waiting rooms of the therapy clinic. Our speech therapist has taken pity on Andy. He likes to play with one of those plastic dollhouses they use for teaching social skills and household words and stuff to kids. She isn't using it today, so she's put it out on the lobby floor for Andy. He's stretched out on his tummy, in the middle of the carpet, playing his littleheart out, sucking on a lollipop he "won" by having dry pants and going potty like a big boy. The house is inhabited by two "baby" dinosaurs. The peace is broken by a crunching noise, and the stick emerges from his mouth, devoid of candy, so that he can say: "Mommy! Need the potty!!!"


The lull in activities before dinner. Two boys are clomping through the house in my shoes, round and round from kitchen to diningroom to livingroom to hall to kitchen, around and around. One has them on the wrong feet. They are also screeching, and hanging their arms, reminiscent of gorillas in Danskos. I realize they are actually both T. Rexes in Danskos.


Morning again. I've managed to retain my space in bed. A soft little hand touches my face. Then little lips find mine. Yes, the boy is up. Suddenly, a small body crashes atop mine with a wild giggle. Yep, the other one is up, too. Now four sets of little fingers are poking, wiggling, trying to tickle me. Get up, Mom! It's time to PLAY!!!


The big yellow bus chugs up the street, sighs and squeaks to a halt in front of the house. I head down the porch steps, admiring the way Joey can now step off the bus and come to me, instead of me having to go fetch him from the bus door. He turns and waves as the bus pulls away, with likely the last words I will hear from him for the next hour: "Bye, bus! See you tomorrow!"


Sometimes, one must stop and admire the normalcy.

Dinosaurs (Act II)

We headed north again today, and spent the afternoon with the dinosaurs in the Museum of Natural History. I was kind of expecting them to hot-foot it in to the big dinosaur hall and spend most of the time there. I was surprised by side halls.

If you have never been to DC, and never seen the dinosaur exhibit (or not recently), then you're probably saying "Wha?" so let me take a little detour for you. The Museum of Natural History has changed dramatically from when I was young and wandering along the halls. For one, most of the exhibits have been scrubbed to unmerciful and character-less sterility, or tossed altogether. All of the exhibits my great-uncle Watson set up are gone, so that none of the animals in the mammal hall have any sense of habitat or context, the stuffed examples are stuck on glass shelves in glass cases. Being in the art business, this is exactly what most art and cultural museums are trying NOT to do. Why it has become fashionable in the curating of natural history, I haven't the slightest clue. Anyway, the dinosaurs have been partly spared this catastrophe, and whomever was in charge of scrubbing at least, for the most part, understood the idea of context and why it is important. The old hall retains interest. It is split into four main sections, three halls backed by a fourth. The three halls have ancient oceans and ancient forests flanking the main dinosaur hall, and then in teh back are the ancient mammals. A new cafe has been set at the far end of the dinosaur hall. The big fossil bone collection- things like brachiosaurs, tyrannosaurus rex, triceratops, stegasaurus, etc.- are in that middle main hall, will a very high ceiling (and a loft area for pterosaurs). The Oceans and Forests halls flank this main exihibit, but are seperated by walls, and have lower ceilings; so you can sometimes glimpse into the great dinosaurs from the side halls, but mostly, they are seperate exihibits with more carpetting and fewer echoes.

Another difference from when I was a kid is the sheer crush of people. When I was young, you could walk into the museum on a Sunday afternoon and have the place almost to yourself. Just not a popular day to go museum-hopping. Now, there is never a dull moment there. The crush of humanity is incredible. With the crush of human life comes the noise. Now add the echoes. It is enough to make me frantic. You can imagine what this is like for my guys.

The side halls, however, do not have the echo, or the draw. It still is crowded, but not the great, noisy, echo-y crush of the main dinosaur hall. To my surprise, despite the draw of t-rex and allosaurs, the boys made for the side halls. Quieter. Softer surroundings. Movies about fish mouths being made for sucking in worms. This is where they chose to spend the majority of their visit.

Yes, we did go out and say hello to the bones I consider old friends. My brother used to love the pteradactyls, hovering overhead, running up the stairs and reaching to as if we could touch them. Brachosaurus arching over the walkway, so it towered over you, the empty sockets gazing into space as if back to its flesh, long lost to time. But we spent most of the time exploring the world of the ammonites, the mosasaurs, and ancient mudpuppies.

These boys have a talent for finding what makes them comfortable. This is a good thing.

Initiating

Every Saturday, Joey and I head over to the church to listen to the music. There is a little band that plays contemporary Christian music for the Saturday service, and Joey likes to watch the drums and the guitars and whatnot. We practice some signs and some social skills and that sort of thing, but we usually scoot out before the sermon- sitting still through someone else talking is not Joey's forté.

There is a lady who has taken a liking to Joey. She's an older lady with not the best health, but plenty of smiles. She is very tolerant of Joey pleying with her jewelry, and one week she even brought in a puppet to play with him.

Before the muic starts, Joey usually spents the time running up and down the aisles, tracking the pews. Since this is what he does to make himself comfortable, no one is really there yet, and it isn't hurting anybody, I don't curtail this much. What five-year-old doesn't relish his first little tastes of freedom from Mom? He also hands out hugs to church members who ask for them as they wander in, like the pastor, and his friend, and the Sunday School director. When the first note strikes, he settles next to me for the music.

Yesterday, we were doin our usual wandering, when he saw his friend in the vestibule. We were at the front, and he caught sight of her- and made a beeline to her, said, "Hi!" and gave her a big hug! Then he stayed to say things like, "How are you?" Scripted, but appropriate, and self-initiated!

She hadn't called him over to her. She didn't ask the questions first. This was all on his own!

Yes, we're coming right along here in our little corner of the world.

Life is Good.

More reminders that Life Is Good:

I have a quilt on my bed that has sealife on it. The boys have decided it is a "pool" and they are "whales"- and dive on.
Signing the entire alphabet with Joey singing the ABC song.
Andy's eyes when he gets a new dinosaur- even though he has more than I can readily count.
The squeals of joy when you hit I-95 and announce, "Let's go on an adventure!" They just know they are going someplace good.
Listening to Allan singing the goodnight song he made up himself, just for his boys.
Andy chasing kitties.
Baking cookies- Andy and Joey like to take turns putting the cookies on the sheets and squishing them flat. (Next step: getting them to roll the balls!)
Joey reading the clock and then saying, "what comes next?" And when you answer, he says, with all enthusiasm, "You're RIGHT! Good job!"
Asking Joey what comes next at 12:59, and he says, "One o'clock!"
Swimming with boys as they run through sprinklers.
Andy asking for one more hug. One more kiss. One more story?

Big Ten

Taking up the thread from Mom-NOS, here are ten ways Joey and I are alike:

1. Neither of us like hot water on our hands or feet. Water than my mom thought cold used to send me screaming when I was a kid. Joey hates hot stuff, too.

2. Neither of us like to wear shoes. Bare feet are best.

3. We both love numbers. Onceupon a time, I was the top math student in my high school. Counting is comforting.

4. We both collapse when tickled. As in, lose all motor control, heap on the floor.

5. We both love Christmas, and sparkly Christmas ornaments. We both love nothing better than to spend an afternoon at Valley View.

6. We both love to cuddle. Even when Joey was teeny tiny, he loved nothing better than to be in bed with Mom and Dad, getting squished. :)

7. We both love the ocean. We could just stand at the surf and watch the undulation of the sea forever.

8. When in doubt, we both smile. Joey excudes positiveness. I have often been asked, "do you always smile?" I wish I could honestly reply "yes."

9. We both have little patience for eating. It takes me a lot of effort and energy to sit until everyone at the dinner table is finished- as soon as I have eaten, I'm ready to move on. Ditto for him. Sitting still is not something either of us do well.

10. We both have scattered interests. I know the common idea of autistics is a hyper-focus on a narrow range of topics, but for us, we tend to scatter and not hold too much interest in a single topic for too long. I'll watch one movie over and over for a few days straight, but then my brain moves on to hyper-focus on the next topic. Joey does this- he hones in for a few days, then moves on.

Ten ways I am like Andy:

1. We both love strawberry stuff. Yum!

2. We both like to look at packages in the graocery store. Some labels are really interesting!

3. We both like animals. I wanted to be a vet once upon a time and another life ago. Andy just adores anything furry. Or scaly. Or breathing.

4. We both have the devil in us. And that's a good thing.

5. We both like to look at books in bed. Usually together. :)

6. We both like flowers. I like looking at them and smelling them. He likes pulling them apart and finding out how they grow.

7. We both find car rides relaxing. He still gets to take a nap.

8. Neither of us like cacophony. We both find it highly disorienting and irritating. Andy will actually scream, then pace and track like Joey after being exposed to sudden loud noise, like when the band starts up at church.

9. Neither of us like cheese goldfish. I prefer plain. He likes pretzel.

10. We both like to make things. Andy loves little art projects, even if he likes keeping his fingers clean.

Anyone else want to play?

Communicating

As an art historian, part of what I am studying and analyzing is how people communicate. You have an idea (or your patron has an idea) and it must be communicated. How will you acheive this? What will need to be shown? How much of that message should be overt, and how much covert? What images and techniques will be used to convey meaning?

One thing I have notived is that when communicating a new idea to a culture, it is often communicated using images and ideas the culture is already familiar with to get the new idea across. For example, in early Christian art, much of the early imagery is taken from pre-Christian art. These images had meaning for early Christians because before they were Christians, they had been non-Christians; their culrue had been non-Christian.
Images of Apollo, with the connotations of light, power, and protection made excellent early Christ figures. The bearded Zeus, with the connotations of kingship, power, and maturity became a later favorite, particularly the image of Zeus at Olympia, where he sits enthroned (the image of Lincoln at teh Lincoln Memorial is also based on the Olympia Zeus). The Good Shepherd, with its roots in images of sacrificers and devotees combined with teh idea of the shepherd who protects his flock was another great favorite (usually in the youthful Apollo guise). Early Christians quickly and clearly got the idea of who Christ was and what Christianity was about by viewing these images.

This is a useful strategy for speaking to people about things they don't understand: put it into terms and ideas that they do understand, and go from there. Images and words are metaphors and analogies; re-presentations of ideas and experiences that another person may not have. How close can you come to the original, when the original is beyond reach of the viewer?

From this idea, we get the use of rainbow spectrums for autism. Puzzle peices. Trips to Holland. Are these analogies, symbols, metaphors good ones, or not? It depends on how they are used, really; but no analogy is perfect, and some of them are downright off-base; but can they still be used to communicate? I don't care for the way the puzzle peice has been used, but it is very useful in starting a conversation about autism, because it is so recognizable. The spectrum thing, taken from the diagnosis "Autism Spectrum Disorder" has its usefulness, but also its difficulties. Even the trip to Holland has its problems as an analogy, but when trying to explain the experience of parenting to a clueless person with no special needs kids, it can be really useful. Trying to explain parenting generally? Probably not. The image has its limitations, and those must be recognized; but don't toss the baby with the bathwater.

Trying to find new ways to discussing autism and being human with people who have more ignorance than sense is a great challenge.

How does one communicate to people who have no idea what you are talking about? Have never experienced what you are talking about? And do so in a way that makes not only the experiecne itself a little clearer, but also communicates what you want to say about that experience? What should we emphasize?

I've been putting together a variety of t-shirt designs as alternatives to the ubiqitous puzzle peice, because I think the puzzle peice misses some of the point. The way it is used implies that only autistic children are "puzzles"- but any parent can tell you that isn't true. All children have that mystery, all children have needs, we are learning about all of them. We are all puzzles.

The misuse of the symbol has lead to it being used not to refer to kids, but to autism itself, as a puzzle that needs to be solved (and thus reradicated) rather than as a symbol of unacheived understanding. Bleah.


During the Renaissance, a person's uniqueness was valued. Genius was something to pay an artist extra for. Being in control of your own destiny, educating yourself, creating your own life was valued. Today this individuality seems to be more of a subculture, an alternative lifestyle, rather than the mainstream. The lessons of the Renaissance may need to be re-taught.

Sometimes We Let Him Sleep

Oh, dear. This morning, Joey woke up grumpy. Mommy woke up grumpy. Not good. Most of you can see what's coming.

I have been, as you may suspect from my absence, using every spare moment of any point of my day to read Harry Potter. That is now complete. I refuse to give anything away. However, this has also cut into that most valuable commodity, sleep. No sleep=grumpy mommy. Silly mommy, she needs to go to bed, but she's readignHary Poter instead. Silly,silly mommy. Sleep is a waste of time.

So naturally with me grumping about the house this morning, and Joey grumping about the house this morning, when the milk got spilled, all hell broke loose. Level 8. Just what mommy wanted this morning. Worse, he was still in the middle of it when the bus arrived. The bus aide actually came into the house and got him- the idea being that the bus is very calming for him, so we wanted to get him on it. But I felt really, really bad, because I'm sure he was picking up on my grumpiness, which was my own fault in teh first place, because I didn't go to bed, because I was reading...

Meanwhile, someone bit Andy. I took him to the gym, and then took him swimming, and there are nasty bite marks on his shoulder- too small to be Joey, but Joey doesn't bite anyway. So we made sure to reort that to the gym people, so they can be on the lookout for a biter. Andy didn't complain about it until the gym people started fussing over it. I didn't intervene on that point, because I want him to understand he needs to tell somebody if he's bitten.

So when the boy camehome from school, I scooped everybody up an took them to Arby's for lunch. Spiced, curly french fries were a far bigger hit than I expected them to be, and I got to have a reuben for lunch. ;)

I think everybody's feeling better now. The power of food...

It's here! It's here!

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows is here! Woo-hoo!

I ran downtown and got one of the last copies available for the midnight madness. Very exciting. But I haven't gotten a chance to crack it open yet- working today. So here are ten things I hope are in this book:

1. I want a real nagini to come kick Nagini's butt. I know it won't happen. But I can dream. I still fume that Nagini is not a cobra.
2. I want Snape to turn out to be a complicated good guy. He's such a delicious character, I'll be really disappointed if she flattens him out and makes him evil.
3. More centaurs, giants, and house-elfs. I want to see the magical world filled with more than just us, and have them have their own struggles with good and evil.
4. I want Ron, Hermione, and Harry to live.
5. I want to know more about the curse that killed Dumbledore's hand. Was he turning into something really bad? Or was it just killing him?
6. I want Molly Weasley to go medieval on somebody's butt. She must be a pretty powerful witch, but we haven't really seen any of it. Ditto for McGonagal.
7. I want to know what Dudley was sweating bullets about when he was attacked by the dementor. What was his worst memory?
8. I want lots and lots more about Lily Potter, and when James learns not to be a little twit.
9. I want to know what happened to Ollivander.
10. I'd like more about Slughorn and the Slytherins. I'd like those shades of grey clarified- being a Slytherin is not being evil, but ambitious and self-serving.

Here's to J.K. Rowling, and the world of Hogwarts!

Strolling down Memory Lane (without a ding-dong thing on my mind)

There was something I was going to blog about. I've beenthinking about it since Wednesday. I thought about it on the way home from therapy. It was really, really good, important, pertinent to other conversations floating around the blogosphere. Now I have a minute at the computer.

I cannot remember what I was going to blog about.

I'm fairly new at the joys of memory loss and brain hiccups. When I was young, "steel trap" was an understatement. According to teh new ABLLS report we have for Joey, he can repeat back a series of four numbers. At his age, they never figured out how many I could do, because no matter how many they gave me, I could recite them back. I could recite exact conversations I had with people years before, and in my head could even see the faces of participants and the setting around us, and sometimes even the exact floor layout of where=ever we were. I would have made a fabulous witness, but fortunately, I didn't witness much that was that important. I have retained snatches of these memories, but like most people, the majority of my life is now lost to the sands of time. Sand on the brain.

This began in earnest when I became pregnant wih Joey; and then the pregnancy with Andy excelerated it alarmingly. I understand this is normal, especially for women- the hormones of pregnancy actually cause brain damage. I just find it incredibly annoying to walk into a room and have no idea why I am there- or even how I got there. I've taken to hooking my keys on the curtain rod on the door, otherwise I'd take an hour every morning to find them. This time of year I stock up on 10-cent spiral notebooks, because I use them everywhere- whenever I have a thought, if I don't write it down, I risk losing it forever to the sand in the brain. I started using the engagment calendar in my computer. If changes don't make it long enough to be recorded there, I get into trouble- miss appointments, show up for one that were cancelled or moved, etc.

Growing up really sucks.

Don't Be Afraid

Abfh has put up a really funny and thoughtful response to one of my favorite essays I use to try to knock a clue into the clueless, Welcome to Holland. If you're one of my friends without special needs kids, I recommend reading both essays. They are both wonderful gazes into coping with a life that isn't going as expected.

One thing I mentioned in my comment to abfh is that there is a basic attitude and ignorance problem in the "normal" world regarding not only autism, but special needs generally. The example that goes in context here are the parenting and childbirth classes I took when I was pregnant with Joey.

The textbook that came with the class does have a chapter on special needs children. It mostly focuses on problems with premies, but it also mentions things like Down's Syndrome. Autism isn't mentioned at all. The information is mostly about testing, and "talk to your doctor." Thre is very little useful information. The possibility of having a special needs child was only mentioned in passing in the class itself- mostly Down's Syndrome, and a mention that some kids might need some time in the NICU, especially if they are premature.

Why omit this very real and natural possibility? Why not bring it into the discussion, and let expecting parents think about preparing for the possibility? It's like being on a plane to Italy (you knew this part was coming, didn't you) without even having the suggestion that landing in Holland would be a possibility- and in fact, many excited holiday-goers have no clue that a plane routed for Italy could possibly land anywhere but Italy, or even that other countries exist. I mean, what if the plane lands in Lichtenstein (a country of which I am also fond)? I know a lot of people who have never even heard of Lichtenstein.

Wouldn't it be far better to note the possibility, so that we can at least take a peek at a tourguide of Holland before getting on the plane, or have an idea of where the embassy might be? But this is not the prevailing attitude "out there" in the "normal" world. Instead, instructors are concerned about frightening new parents "unnecessarily." Frightening them?

Standing in front of new and expecting parents, I think the first thing to say is "don't be afraid." The second is, "expect the unexpected." Even "normal" kids have "special needs." Some people just need more support than others to be able to survive and thrive. A child with special needs- born with them or otherwise- simply needs some extra support. How much depends on the need. What we should be providing is some basic resource information. OK, your kid has special needs... now what?

Parents who themselves have special needs seem to have a firmer grasp on the concept, because the possibility is so very present to them. For people who have never really dealt with special needs and disability, the whole idea is foreign. These are people who have no idea what an "IEP" is, have never heard of taking a kid to a neurologist, a gastrologist, an endocrinologist, or may even not know what a perinatologist is. These things are not part of their world. When I spoke, once upon and a long time- over a year- ago, about the day the word "autism" came into my life, that is really how it felt. I had no idea. And folks, I'm a very educated person. I know why people think of Rainman when the word autism drifts in- its the only exposure people had, if they had that much. Nowthere's a couple other pop culture references, but no more real education out there for the general, run-of-the-mill Nellie or Nathan Neurotypical.

People with "special needs" and disabilities are different. Different is unknown. Different is scary. But why? Take the fear out of the possibility of having a special needs child. Special needs kids are kids, like all other kids, with their own talents and gifts to offer, and their own lives to live. Don't be afraid. All kids come with challenges.

What happened at school today?

Joey has been picking up on questions about his day. He's at least starting to understand that we expect him to make some kind of answer, and that saying something to the effect of "I had fun!" means the activity is likely to be repeated. He will answer yes and no questions with more or less accuracy, depending on how tired he is and how much of his attention you have.

However, he will not talk about school. Trying to get him to talk at all immediately after school is a lost cause. I am going with the working assumption that he is tired, trying to regain his bearings, and perhaps is simply unable to access language after a lot of hard work. I'll keep you posted as I test this theory, as he gains more ability to communicate with us. Anyway, no point in grilling him immediately after school. I'm lucky to get any words at all.

However, asking him questions about school is generally problematic. If he's really with me and I have his attention, he'll give me scripted responses (What did you do at school today? "I had fun, Mrs. Huff was at school today, Went to school" etc.) and will answer all yes/no questions with "yes" (Did you sing a song today? Yes. Did you read a story today? Yes. Did you play outside today? Yes. Did you turn your teacher into a frog today? Yes.) For other activities, I get some spontaneous answers. (Did you sing a song in Speech Camp today? Yes- Wheels on the Bus! Did you enjoy swimming today? Yes- sprinklers! Fun!) For school... nada. i have no idea what he's doing this week. The teacher sent me home a note on the first day, but since then, nothing.

I find this a little odd, and a little worrying. I could do some more peculation as to why school seems to be a taboo subject for question-answering, but it wouldbe just that- speculation. It's also worrying that I have no way to really supporting the school program at home. If I don't know what songs are being sung or what stories are being read, I can't keep up the theme at home. For example, if they are doing, say, Three Billy Goats Gruff, I can play the Leah's Farm Signing Time more, maybe plan to take him down to Maymount to feed goats this weekend, and read him fairytales with trolls, and talk about fairies and things with him. Or if they are singing "Wheels on the Bus" every morning, I can get out his buses and we can sit outside and watch the Fred Bus and the trolley go by, and talk about how people get where they need to go. But I have to wing it.

I'm starting to think he really did turn the teacher into a frog.

Non-listening

You know it's time to stop trying to discuss and just smile and nod when these words escape the lips of your conversation partner:

1. Yeah, normal kids do that, too. Or it's variant, "Yeah, my [normal] kid does that, too." Perhaps to a far lesser degree than my kid does whatever we were talking about. Usually I get this about meltdowns. "Yeah, my kid melts down in the grocery line, too. She hates to wait. She always wants a candy bar."
What I want to reply: "Really? Can she still speak well enough to press for that candybar she wanted? Yes? You have no clue what a meltdown is."
What I usually say instead: "Really? Must be tough to get her through the candy line. They need to keep that 'no candy/no tabloids' line open more."

2. You know, I'm a little autistic myself. This line is usually followed by some minor problem that vaguely suggests a desire for order, or habit. Such as "I don't like florescent lights" or "I like having my coffee with two and a quarter creamers." Small sensory issues are not autism, people. What really gets me is this usually forebodes some comment about autistic adults not needing services (see #3).
What I want to say: "Grow up."
What I usually say instead: "I have my foiables, too. If we didn't, life would be really, really dull."

3. S/he doesn't need {insert service here}, s/he just needs to grow up and learn to do things for him/herself. I wish I had someone to {provide specific service} for me!" OK, folks, I have mild executive dysfunction, some sensory issues, and an occasional stutter. These things don't get int eh way of functioning for me. As an adult, I am expected to clean my own house, keep my own records, shop for my own needs, etc. and I am able to do so, even if I need a little extra push with systems, ideas, and tools. It may not always happen, but I an able to make those compensations. Some people require extra people or extra equipment to make those kinds of compensations- such as an aide, or a communication board.
What I want to say: "So, you're saying a paraplegic shouldn't use a wheelchair, because he's got legs?"
What I usually say instead: "If you're having trouble with {specific service mentioned above}, maybe you should {hire someone to provide that service/buy equipment to help complete task.} [Since the most common one is about having an aide to do things like help with grocery shopping or household tasks, I am usually recommending a maid service or a good mop.]

4. Your child isn't autistic. He just needs a little discipline! This is usually followed by suggestions of violence.
What I want to say: "And where di you get your degree in child development or neurology? With a specialization in autism? And on what basis are you making your diagnosis? How would you like it if someone smacked you for wanting coffee in the morning?"
What I usually say instead: "Yes, we're really lucky, Joey's a good kid, working hard. However, his doctors all agree, he's definitely ASD. I see he's bothering you with his {unusual behavior- usually tracking}, so I'll let you get on with whatever you're doing- we need to go home."

5. Oh, he'll be fine. My cousin's friend's great-aunt's brother twice removed didn't talk 'til they were four! I got this a lot more when Joey was non-verbal, but it still pops up when people notice he's not speaking the way other five-year-olds speak.
What I want to say: "Did they say "momma" and "daddy"? Did they point to objects? Yes? Joey didn't."
What I usually say instead: "How interesting. Speech delays are fascinating. Anyone else in your family have speech delays?"

6. All children have eccentricities. This is another one of those red-flag phrases that means the conversation is about to bend in the direction of "Your kid's not really autistic" or the person has little experience with sensory dysfunction, ritualistic behavior, perseveration, or echolalia. Yes, some little kids like to repeat words. Few repeat entire episodes of television shows. Yes, some little kids like to jump around and crash into things. Few will want to do this for hours on end, and to the point of bruising themselves. Lots of little kids don't like sudden, loud noises. Some will even scream in response. Few will have hour-long meltdowns or have to track lines in the carpet for the next half-hour. And few would think the closing of a car door qualified as a "sudden, loud noise."
What I want to say: "Stuff it in your ear."
What I usually say: "Yes, that's how personalities are made. My guys sure are characters- didn't have much of a chance not to be, with me as their mother."


Sometimes trying to explain the difference between raising a normal kid and raising an autistic one is just not worth the effort There slittle point in trying to talk to someone who is telling you they have no intention of listening to a word you say. Tiem is at a premium here; I have better things to do. When you get that cue of "shut up- I don't want to talk about you or your kid" with the further implication of "I just want to talk about myself" sometimes the best thing to do is to oblige, and get out of the conversation pronto.

The Bright Side

Sometimes when things happen, it's better to look on the bright side.

Problem: Your kids are bored in the store and start smacking each other for fun.
Cons: Screaming children in the middle of a crowded Walmart is never a plus.
Bright Side: You aren't going to be in the store very long, so you won't spend as much money.

Problem: Your kid knocks his head against your $3000 LCD HDTV, cracking the glass.
Cons: No TV. You think we can afford to replace a $3000 TV? And we checked- it costs even more than that to fix it.
Bright Side: The Oobi theme will no longer be piped at top volume through the house, and you may get "Sesame Street" out of your head at last.

Problem: Your kid gets hold of a sharpie pen, and loves to write on anything that is NOT paper.
Cons: You now have black scribbles on every surface imaginable, and some you thought were inaccessible. The furniture, the floor, the walls, the computer screen...
Bright side: You have a blossoming artist. You discover what will take sharpie ink off of surfaces. There are no more sharpie pens in your house.

Problem: Your kid gets carsick unless you stop every 30-40 minutes, and you have a four-hour (or more) drive ahead of you, and you can't cancel the trip.
Cons: The four-hour trip is going to take a LOT more than four hours, and you are going to need to take a LOT of extra clothing, and you're going to have a LOT of cleaning to do until you figure out today's pattern of warning of signs (did I forget to mention that they change?)
Bright Side: You will know where every fast-food resteraunt is between home and where-ever you are headed. You are about to have a very clean car.

Problem: Your kids have just figured out the trigger on your Wetjet, and the entire bottle of cleaner is now in a pool on the floor.
Con: You have little wet footprints through the house, cleaner on the floor, and you're going to have to clean it up, because you don't want little hands in floor cleaner.
Bright side: You are about to have a very, very clean floor.

Baby steps

Joey is in the bathroom, using the potty. He did not inform me before going. He managed to pull his pants down without removing them completely. He is in there singing Signing Time songs, happy as a clam.

That's my boy.

Reflections

NIksmom from Maternal Instincts has bestowed upon me the Blogger Reflection Award. The award “should make you reflect on five bloggers who have been an encouragement, a source of love, impacted you in some way, and have been a Godly example to you. Five Bloggers who when you reflect on them you get a sense of pride and joy… of knowing them and being blessed by them.”

Knowing that I would make anyone feel like that is humbling, but also makes me happy. It was why i started blogging- to help other parents understand they are not alone, it's not just them, and it is OK to be human while raising your kids, especially kids with special needs, and specifically autism. I was taken aback by how many of our local families were so completely emotionally overwhelmed, physically overwhelmed, and feeling like they were people unworthy of help and support. It doesn't take too many people walking up to you and telling you what a rotten parent you are because your kid is {insert coping behavior here} before you wonder- how many other people think this? Are they right? Am I doing this all wrong? After all, I don't see anybody else's kid {insert coping behavior here.}


Here are the rules for this one:
1. Copy this post (meaning the rules).
2. Reflect on five bloggers and write a least a paragraph about each one.
3. Make sure you link this post so others can read it and the rules.
4. Go leave your chosen bloggers a comment and let them know they’ve been given the award.
5. Put the award icon on your site.

Hmmmmmm...
This is hard, because I just hit up eight people for another meme. The idea behind this one is basically "five sites that make you feel supported and encouraged and why."
That would be the entire Autism Hub. That is, after all, why I joined. But I seriously doubt everyone on the Hub would be very happy with me if I tagged everybody on the Hub- though I certainly would be interested in knowing which blogs other people found helpful and supportive. We could all use a back-patting break, too. It can be lots of fun to let others know how much you like them. Try it, you'll see what I mean. Never miss an opportunity.

So I'll take these as the top five blogs I read when I am feeling down, and need that little lift in life (kind of like Christina's couch):

McEwen's Whitterer on Autism. There is nothing quite like knowing your house isn't the only one where "goldfish crackers" is a food group. Knowing that we're not the only ones blessed with reverse grammar, and understand it, or that phrases echoed may be only hints at what is being said. Her boys seem so much like my Joey, an I pray he is doing that well when he gets to be their age. Additionally, I get a glimpse of the world of "special needs sibling" and the issues Andy may face as he also grows and becomes more aware. Grace, dignity, and humor infuse the world of raising children, especially children with autism, and the quirks and questions which come with the territory. I read her blog first thing in the morning. I read it last thing at night. And if the day is hard, I've been known to open it up and read it if I get any moment during the day to do so.

Monkeygirl at Musings of a Highly Trained Monkey. Monkeygirl is an ER nurse, and her blog is mostly about life in the ER. I started reading her because Dr. Flea recommended the site. Dr. Flea's blog is sadly no more, but he had great taste in blogs. Monkeygirl's commentary is a reminder to remain sane in the face of insanity, a reminder to buck up and do the needful, and no matter what happens to me today, at least I'm not a complete idiot. Land whale, yes. Idiot, not yet. I promise, Monkeygirl, I am not allergic to NSAIDs.

Stimey at Stimeyland. OK, I admit it- I started reading Stimey's blog because she started leaving kind comments here, and then I discovered she is my age, and has a child named "Quinn." Seriously. I love that name. But the blog is a series of glimpses into living with kids- and a good reminder that kids are kids, no matter their "issues." Besides, she's funny. ;)

Evan at Kiribako. Evan and I have been friends for a very, very long time. His worldand he sees it is definitely worth reading about. It always reminds me that I'm not the only one who sees things on a different slant from the norm, and that sometimes "normality" is completely nonsensical. Also, Evan tends to see and be interested in details of existance that I find fascinating, and wish I knew more about. He also reads interesting books I never get time to read.

And finally, Club 166. Sorry, Joe, but there it is. Club 166 is another parent slogging through the school system, with some realy good advice for getting through IEP meetings and practical problems. If you want some solid, grounded, clearly written views on raising kids and maneuvering through the joys of special ed, go read Club 166. This is a guy who puts some thought into how to be a good parent to and advocate for his children. Let us go and do likewise.


I skipped Niksmom because she tagged me in the first place. I could definitely list more, but then we'd run outof people to tag. I know this is a parent-blog heavy list, which may irk some people, but when you're in the trenches of parenting, often it is knowing you're not alone that means the most, and gets you out of the rut.

Highs and lows

Yes, here we are, on the roller-coaster of parenting. Gotta love it.

We had a level 7 today. Something's up. I need to get my otoscope working.

On the other hand, he ate meatloaf for me yesterday, and ate a PB&J- without taking it apart- today. What's up with that?

The way Joey moves forward, sometimes the move ahead in one area leaves him overloaded somewhere else. We're hoping that the reason the meltdowns result is because I am doing something wrong in not picking up on the processing and overload. After all, I can fix a problem with me.

The meltdown today was over a doorknob. The knob to the basement, which is Joey's therapy room, sometimes comes off, because I'm an idiot and can't figure out how to keep the screws tight. No other doorknob does this, so I'm a bit at a loss over it. Anyway, it came off, and I couldn't take care of it right that instant. That would not do. The minute I was able to secure his safety, run down the stairs, get the knob, and put the contraption back together- like a light switch, it was over. The world righted itself. I have no idea why the doorknob was suddenly so important, but it was, so there we are. Next time, I need to move faster.

Level 10

The word "meltdown" has become a commonly batted about term in the parenting world, yet with widely divergent meanings. A meltdown can be anything from a very loud whine at an inopportune moment to a screeching ball of violent nerves quivering on the floor. Things that other parents consider to be "meltdowns" I don't even hear anymore- or more precisely, I see the causes quicker, and thus can move to diffuse the situation rather than just assuming the kid is a freak and escalating it.

Now, I can't say that I am some master of diffusion. Meltdowns, by their nature, tend to escalate. If we as parents think meltdowns are scary and nerve-wracking, try having one. But what most people label as "meltdown" isn't even close to what I would consider one. Disappointed children who pout when they don't get their way aren't melting down. A tired child who starts to cry when you want to do just one more errand is not melting down. A child throwing a little temper tantrum over not getting the latest Transformer toy is (usually) not melting down.

For our house, "melt down" is a term that is reserved for a situation that involves a great deal of screaming. They are almost always connected with frustration. One is not "melting down" until one is no longer functional. A Level One meltdown is when a frustrated child gets into my face and empties his lungs (sorry, all boys here), so that he is unable to complete the current task. Nothing elseis happening, just the screaming, that very loud alarm of "I cannot do this right now, I don't know why." A Level 10 involves injury to all and sundry within crashing distance of the child's body. This is the very loud alarm of "I cannot deal with existance as it is right now, leave me alone." All meltdowns require a great deal of patience. The child cannot seem to end them himself; there are a whole bag of methods to help de-escalate and calm the child, and you may need every single one to restore calm enough for the child to re-engage their own coping and equilibrium mechanisms.

This time last year, we were still in almost-daily meltdown, usually Levels 1-3. Summer has always been particularly bad since he started school. We never had them before he started school, because we just adjusted the whole world to him without even thinking much about it. Sensory overload was rare, and when Joey did make a peep, we jumped. I could take him almost anywhere when he was a baby. Joey tended to be under-sensitive rather than over-sensitive. HIgh pain tolerance. Hates dark rooms, loves super-bright ones. That sort of thing. Also, the lack of communication skills meant that I often understood and adjusted to/for him, but he really couldn't tell people around him what was going on. Anyway, summer is bad news for the ears and the nerves. The wild changes of routine, the long daylight, the heat... all big no-nos for sanity around here. We've mostly headed off the worst of it this summer by having him in programs, getting him into routines, and now with school. He's stayed pretty focused and been able to really enjoy activities and be able to talk about what is going on around him. Celebration times! I need more champagne. :) There are still times he melts down, but for the most part, I can track what the antecedents were, and can see them coming, so can brace for intervention.

Joey had a Level 8 today. I am in the middle of tracking down what exacly happened. I mean, I can tell you the immediate trigger, and I've tracked down a good many of the small events that fed into the situation, but bigger meltdowns can sometimes be tricky, and are almost always a shock. Was this just an accumulation of small irritants, or did something happen that I need to know, say, at school? Did all the shifts and changes just overwhelm him, or was there a sensory issue with the heat that took him over an edge, or is there a bigger problem that needs to be addressed? My jaw would like to know.

Fortunately, this occured at the therapists' office. For one, that meant the moms who were there were interested in helping, and understood what was going on. None of them had ever seen Joey go into meltdown before, so they were taken aback, but all the moms had kids that melt down more readily than Joey, so they knew what it was. For two, the OT could intervene immediately. Once the worst was over, we got Joey some deep pressure and other input that was calming, with the good equipment (bug hugs and big exercise balls are good things).

Now that it's over, the detective work goes into full swing. What happened? How can I help him pull out of the spiral? What did I do wrong that resulted in such explosive escalation? But this work gets easier- or at least faster- with practice. You start knowing hat questions to ask, what clues to consider, which people to talk to. You become an expert, like any other endeavor, and thus make more headway in less time. With good luck, I will find all the peices and be able to sort out the bigger picture, so that I can intervene and help before the child goes into overload and explodes.

A long, long talk with another mom

My best friend is a lady who lives down the street with three hydrocephalic boys. I’ve mentioned her before. And whenever I am feeling particularly beat up, my butt usually ends up on her couch. Needless to say, we had a long talk this morning- about yesterday.

Being a “special needs parent” is not like being another kind of parent. Apparently there are people here who don’t know that, or don’t want it to be a reality. But it is. Parents who do not have special needs kids really and truly have no idea what it is like to have a special needs kid, or what it is like to be a special needs parent. Most parents are living it up in Italy, and we’re over here in Holland- or, probably more properly, India.

I love India. No, the real India, I mean. I spent three months there, and a separate three-week trip before that. I wish I had been there longer. I’ve never been to the real Holland, but I’ve been to Belgium and Germany, both of which are spotlessly clean, at least in the tourist districts. They are beautiful, wonderful places… but clean. Very, very clean. And in many ways, very like places in the US.

India is a whole new world. There is dirt, grime, heat, poverty, cows, beggars… the whole crunch of human life. Clean water comes in bottles. The hotel room uses a geyser for hot water, and it only will heat a couple gallons at a time, and then you use a bucket and cup to actually take the shower. Air conditioning is a rarity- as is refrigeration. In the villages, you’re lucky to have running water, and you have electricity for only a few hours a day (and not consecutive hours). Paved roads are a city “thing,” motor-rickshaw is the transport of choice, and cows have the right-of-way. Living in India when you expect the standards of US living is a really big challenge.


If you spend your entire trip in India focusing on these challenges and wishing you were in an international hotel, you really miss the wonders that are India. You would miss sitting on the far side of Sanchi Stupa 2, in the breeze, with the scent of ashoka blossoms and the plateau stretched out below you. You would never see a shrine in the middle of road, draped in orange and yellow garlands and filled with carnations, while incense and the ringing of bells fill the air. No one would be able to run up to you from the local temple and offer you prasad, or ask you to hold their baby while they take a photo. You would never see the lights of navaratri or the colors of a fruit market, stacked high in the morning. You’ll never share lunch with a troop of monkeys. If you don’t go into that cave that smells of bat dung, you will never see the paintings of Ajanta.

At the same time, what’s so wrong about sometimes wishing you could stay at an international hotel and have a nice, gourmet dinner? Or just be homesick, wishing we were in a comfy living room with a TV, wearing our favorite pajamas? Our problem is whenever someone here mentions being homesick, we’re told that India is a beautiful place, it’s where we are, and we shouldn’t “be that way.“ The Dutch and Indians often have no idea why Italy is such a big deal, and get insulted when someone wishes they had seen the Sistine Ceiling. Did these people never wish they had won the lottery? Never wonder what life would be like if they lived in a different house? Have they never seen the Monty Python skit about the accountant who wants to tame lions? But we, as parents, are not permitted to be homesick. We aren’t allowed to wonder about dreams we once had, or mourn their loss. After all, we’re moms and dads. We’re not supposed to be human…

Meanwhile, my long talk with my friend…

We “forget” that our kids are “disabled.” This is just who they are. When you live in India, India is normal, and you spend weeks on end not even thinking about Italy. Our kids wouldn’t be who they are if they were not disabled. On the other hand, they wouldn’t need the help and support for the rest of their lives, either. Joey could play with the other kids instead of spending whole days in therapy-- basically, in school. For those of you who have forgotten, most kids like vacation a LOT better than school. But then, most kids don’t scream bloody murder when they are served their spaghetti in a blue bowl instead of a red one, or when they have to go to the park instead of the pool. They can swallow their food without being taught to do so.

My friend is sometimes sad when she sees kids walking down the street, hand in hand with their mom. Her kids will never walk down the street. She will probably never know the feeling of having her children tell her “I love you.” She doesn’t dwell on it. Her children are not a burden to her, she takes pride in every little accomplishment they achieve, she loves them and supports them. We trade phone calls: “Max sat up by himself today!” “Great! Joey answered a question today!” “HOORAY!” They are our children. But there are those moments when we are reminded that life was going to be so different. We were going to have jobs, spend afternoons in the park, go for spontaneous trips to the zoo or the grocery store. It would be nice to be able to join the other parents down at the local eatery for a beer now and again. Just now and again. According to many folks who emailed me, having such thoughts and moments make us anything from mean, horrible parents to outright evil people who should give up our kids to the State for foster care. Our lives are not as scrubbed and tidy as Holland. Should I wish it were?

The real world really has dirt, and poverty, and heat, and irritation, and inconvenience. It is beautiful, anyway.

Repost: Time

From last summer.

Allan and I came up with this, and are seeing if it starts making its way around the world as a chain email:


You need to be taking more time for yourself when:

Your hair repels water.
Your babysitter is shocked to hear from you, because she thought you moved.
Someone asks if you've read a good book lately, and you expound a postmodernist deconstruction of Pat the Bunny.
You consider anything other than Kraft Macaroni and Cheese to be gourmet cooking.
You have the "Sesame Street" theme stuck in your head, and the only song you can think of to get it out is the theme of "Blue's Clues."
You have to toss beer/wine from your fridge because it's too old to drink.
The last hit song you remember is "The Macarena."
Your idea of a fun night out is a trip to Walmart.
You think sleeping is a waste of time.

Gone

Yep, as expected, my last post was clearly taken as I feared it would be. So I'm just going to take a break for a while, I think. Parents are not permitted to be frustrated, and I find that insanely frustrating. TO TEARS FRUSTRATING.

Tagged!

Wow, I got tagged! I get to do a meme! You know, someday, I may not be excited about this... but today, woo-hoo!

The rules:

1. Let others know who tagged you.
2. Players start with 8 random facts about themselves.
3. Those who are tagged should post these rules and their 8 random facts.
4. Players should tag 8 other people and notify them they have been tagged.

I was tagged by McEwen, the Goldfish Queen.

Now, for some random facts:

8 things that most people don’t know about me:

1. My grandmother was a pretty popular wildlife ("Duck Art") painter in the 1960's-1980's, Marie Conway. I have her paintings all over the house. The random fact is actually that I wish I could paint.

2. I have an ushnisha. An ushnisha is a cranial pertrubance on a Buddha. Originally in art, Buddhas were shown with their hair in a bun or tied up, to reference his life as prince. However, it later became simply an enlargement of his head. I have a very small one. I was born with it. My mom was told it was an "old wound." No, she did not have an amnio. I expect to be a Buddha in about 15 lifetimes. See you then!

3. My favorite beverage is Fresca. I really liked the fancy cherry Fresca, too, but they don't sell it around here anymore. My other favorite drink is Almond Smash. I don't think they make that anymore, either.

4. I can snap my toes.

5. I do not like dogs. I do not know why.

6. I like to do ballroom dancing. I was pretty good at it when I was in grad school. My brother taught me to waltz when we were young, and I was fascinated ever since, then finally took classes. The problem is, the only guy I really want to dance with doesn't like ballroom dancing.

7. I have a PhD in South Asian art history. Even I forget sometimes. One of the school admin people calls me "Dr." and I always turn and look around to see who else he is talking to. I think he finds this amusing. I actually have two master's degrees. I do some adjuncting, but I've been doing it for so long, that's not much of a reminder (you don't need a PhD to adjunct). I prefer teaching in person to online, but most of my classes are online because of the therapy schedule.

8. I am a Tolkien affectionada. Yes, we have the full set of the books Christopher Tolkien put out of Tolkien's notes and unfinished work. I like the Silmarillon better than the Lord of the Rings proper, though I usually just think of all of the books as a single narrative cycle. I like the movies, but hate what they did with Faramir, and the part where Frodo sends Sam away- both completely miss the point of the storylines. I could go on... and on... and on... I'd start a blog, but I'm sure there are plenty of Tolkien blogs out there already, and I already blog too much.

Who would I like to have 8 random facts about? Hmmmm...

abfh is a fascinating person who always comes up with observations about her own life and experience that give me some insights into possibilities for Joey's view of the world. I'd like to know more about her.
Club166. I know he's busy, but I'm sure he'll get to it when he gets a minute.
Evan. I always want to know more things about Evan. Besides, he'll come up with super-fascinating facts, even if he doesn't think they are.
Zoomy needs more to do while we mourn for the Bridge. Besides, he's such a sweetie!
Niksmom is a very interesting lady, and she has such a wonderful blog. I could just hug the stuffing out of Nik, he is so cute! (Edited because I just realized I mis-spelled "Nik". :P )
Stimey leaves lots of nice comments, so I want to know more about her, too.
Vab (Autista) also leaves lots of nice comments that have piqued my interest. Another nice blog, too.
Kristina (Autism Vox), as if she doesn't have enough to do and doesn't blog constantly (gotta love a blog that often has several posts every day to read! Thank you!).

I didn't hit up MonkeyGirl because she just did this one not that long ago. But I always find her interesting, too. ;)

And I should mention that I don't mind if people I tagged don't feel like doing this and don't. But do know you're being thought of. :)

Clams

In another big banner, get out the prize box, chocolates all-round, where's the champagne day (We're on a streak! Look out, world!) we have added a new food to the diet. I would not say that Joey is a complete neophobe like Whitterer's guys, but food is something of an issue. Let's just say I never intended to raise my kid on mac and cheese, chicken nuggets, and hot dogs, but we seem to eat an awful lot of them around here. And I should have bought stock in Pepperidge Farm. At any rate, adding a new food is big news around here.

The food is fried clams.

No idea why. I mean, I like fried clams. I like steamers, too, come to think of it. But of all the strange-texture, weirdo-foods to suddenly decide to eat... fried clams? What gives? But I'll take it. New food!!! Schwan's makes lovely fried clams that you actually can bake in the oven. WE also invest in Schwan's hot dogs, they are better than ANYTHING you can get in a grocery (a LOT less greasy). We don't have a Schwan delivery person in town, but they do stop at Mom's, so every other week I'm on the phone now... "Yes, Mom, we need a box of hot dogs, a box of quesadillas, a bag of potstickers..." and now I can add "and a box of clams!" (The quesadillas and the potstickers are for me. We haven't gotten the boys to brave those, yet).

Woo-hoo!!! What a week I'm having! May everyone have weeks like this!!!

What Joey Did Today

We had a teaching moment today. Joey has been running out of doors, and today he managed to unlock Grandma's door and run outside. Fortunately, Grandma lives in the middle of nowhere, but in the house I grew up in, so he couldn't get too lost, even if he ran REALLY FAST- but he just wanted to go open and close the car doors. While he was wandering about, though, he managed to pull on Grandma's calla lily, and break it off. I found him slamming a car door with the stalk in his hand.

I managed to remain calm. After all, its just a plant, not a disaster, but I expressed my displeasure and dismay in the situation, and explained that he would have to go inside and explain to Grandma what he had done. Grandma made an excellent show of displeasure and disappointment, and we explained to him that breaking plants and touching other people's things and whatnot was wrong. We talked about the fact that Grandma had planted the plant, and was waiting all summer to see th eflower, and now she never would see it, because the plant was broken. We discussed the fact that when you break a plant, it dies, and can't flower or be green and pretty, but will instead get yellow and go away. We explained that saying sorry wasn't going to bring the plant back, and wasn't going to fix it, and that sorry meant that you wish you had not done something wrong. He seemed to get it- at least that we were upset, and he said he was "sorry about the plants." This was a pretty big jump, for him to at least connect the words to teh apology- he didn't just say "I'm sorry, Grandma" but "I'm sorry about the plants."

So, trying to pretend we weren't celebrating the advance in language use, we went home. There was more discussion about responsibility, and not switching to "Andy broke the plant", and how important it was for him to tell the truth and say that he broke the plant, and that sort of thing. He kept perseverating on the subject, so we kept working through it. Finally I got the music on (its also good not to dwell too long on such things, so that he will learn we still love him, and that no one is angry or upset forever), and we got home. Allan came down the stairs.

"Joey, tell Daddy what you did today," I said. I kept my tone even, because I didn't want to give him a huge prompt for what to say; we are tryign to teach him to self-narrate, and so far, we've washed out. Joey's usual response to this request, put in any fashion (What did you do today? How was school today? Where have you been this morning? Did you do anything fun today? etc) is to pretend we don't exist. Other requests, he'll at least turn his head or try to answer (even if the words that come out have nothing to do with what you asked), but this idea of constructing his own narrative completely shuts him down. Lately we've started to get some attempts at response, but mostly echoes and responses that have nothing to do with the past, with actions or activities, or anything vaguely resembling a response to the actual request. The closest we've been getting is "Joey's in the white car!" which is true, and kind of on topic, so we've been praising it.

"I went to see Grandma... " Joy! Jubiliation! Get out the champagne! Call the neighbors! Call Grandma! Chocolate and prize box for all! "...and I broke the plant. I'm sorry about the plant."

My son just told his father what he did today. He answered an open-ended question requesting narrative about past activities. He remembered he broke the plant, and told his father.

Holy frijoles!

The Money Wars

Another article for your consideration: Who Pays for Special Ed?

Don't forget to peruse the comments. Unless you have high blood pressure, in which case I suggest you avoid them.

My thoughts: hurrah for this family, getting the services that is their child's right. No, let me say that again. They are his RIGHT. Just as my lovely little Andy has a right to a free, appropriate public education, so does my Joey. And so does Luke. Until people understand that letting a child rot is NOT appropriate in ANY circumstance, our entire society suffers. Until people who do not have special needs kids really understand what "special needs" means, and what education is about, there will be ignorant idiots who declare that paying for children such as Luke and Joey are a waste of money. And those ignorant idiots will continue to put up my blood pressure.

Charms

I got a call from Joey's new summer teacher today. I was pleased to find her proactive enough to call and want to talk about Joey. I had made a powerpoint to use at his IEP meeting, and she had a copy of that, but wanted to be sure there was nothing else she should know. I mentioned a few things, like the ASL and that if he's having trouble, I need to know, and I was happy to answer questions or help. She seems like a very nice lady. She's training to be the future autism teacher in the lower elementary.

I joined a gym. Partly because for the price of preschool, I get the opportunity to hae 2 hours of childcare twice per day. That's four hours, whenever i want (and can use it). They also have a nice kid's pool with sprinklers and stuff. And Mom is buying it for me, because she's a cool Grandma like that. It's been a big hit. Joey and Andy have been having a ball while I get some exercise in, and then splashing the pool together. Since I go in the morning, and they have lots of adults to help with the kids, the kid room has kind of "assigned" a staff member to stick with and shadow Joey, and that has worked out beautifully- and wthout me really requesting it (I just warned them that he is autistic.) He's been loving it there. But I had to tel them that he was going back to school, and they at least acted very sad.

That is one of Joey's great strengths- he charms the people who work with him. As my Mom always says, "Joey loves the world and the world loves Joey!" I have rarely met children who exude that whole outlook the way Joey does. Joey loves living, being with people, doing and being and laughing. Everyone is his friend, and it is hard to prove otherwise. I know that eventually this may be a problem, but right now, it is a whole way of being that makes people want to help him, want to know him, want to listen to what he has to say and share and be. I will be very, very sad when he discovers he can't go through life that way. He should be able to, it should be the way the world is... but it isn't.

People remember Joey. They ask abotu Joey. They want to know Joey and see Joey and be with Joey. I've seen him charm the governor of Virginia. I'm seen him charm his teachers, his therapists, even the grumpy Sunday school teacher. He has charmed the entire Saturday church service. I think it must be because people do wish the world was like this. It is so much more pleasant when the world is full of friendly faces.

Happy July Fourth. Part 2

It is Fourth of July- and that means FIREWORKS! My boys love to watch fireworks, and talk abotu fireworks- but not listen to fireworks. Whistles and pops are not their friends. Joey spent mostof teh display with his fingers on his ears. Andy started with fingers, then tried jamming green cherry tomatoes in them, and finally hid under Grandma's chair. But would he go inside or sit on Mom's lap? NosireeBob, he wanted to see his fireworks!



Although Andy is considered "NT"- he is not autistic- he does have sensory integration dysfunction. This is not considered a disabling condition, but it seems to me that many of the "problems" we see in Joey we also see in Andy, because the cause is a problem with sensory issues. So though I don't have two autistic children, it sure can sometimes look like I do. When both kids are telling me "too loud, Mommy!" and the NT one is the one under the chair... well, it makes for an interesting Fourth of July.

Happy July Fourth

Just some thoughts on freedom...

I am free to take my autistic child into public. I can teach him hands-on how to deal with social situations, different lighting, and public spaces.

I am free to hug my boys tight. And smooch them. And poke their tummies. And tell them I love them.

I am free to get my children medical treatment wherever I want. I might have to pay for it, but I am free to do it.

I am free to drink a beer in front of my kids in my own back yard.

I am free to feed my kids healthy food and clean water.

I am free to speak and educate people who come up to me and complain about my child's behavior. I am free to discuss autism. I am free to discuss sesnory integration disorder. I am free to tell them to shut up and leave me alone.

I am free to take my children to Church. I can even go twice a week and let Joey listen to the music on Saturdays. I am free choose the church, temple, spiritual circle, or other religion and religious area or group in which my child will be raised to understand God. Or no religion at all, if I so wish. I am even free to visit religious structures and groups other than the one I belong to.

I am free to blog about my children, my life, autism, sensory integration disorder, or anything else that is on my mind.

I am free to buy milk, or anything else I need, on Sunday.

I am free to telephone my friends, from my own livingroom.

I am free to spend evenings soaking in a bathtub with lots of bubbles and a glass of wine, and any book I want to read.

I am free to drive my kids to therapy, the store, the toy store, the farm, the mountains, the beach, or anywhere else I want.

I am free to refuse to allow a gun in my home.

I am free to walk across the street and talk to my neighbors, and let my kids play with their kids, no matter who they are.

I am free to kiss my husband. Whenever I feel like it.

I am free to wear my hair any way I like, and color it bright pink if I so desire.

I am free to write emails to my representatives in government and educate them about autism and special education.

I am free to wear comfy t-shirts and jeans.

I am free to let the dishes sit in the sink, let the grass go to seed, or let the laundry pile up on the floor. I am also free to clean the dishes, cut my own grass, and fold my laundry, even if it is a day or two later than planned.

I am free to teach my kids song lyrics such as For What It's Worth, To Everything There is a Season (Turn, Turn, Turn), or even England Swings.

I am free to be me.




Not everyone on this planet is so lucky, folks.

Four Second Fury

If you have ever played Four Second Fury, you have a concept of my life. I understand that this is normal for people with small children.

The boys are outside. I have exactly four seconds to blog.

Oops, missed the opportunity. Now they are outside again. Now I have four sec

Back outside. My ac unit is hating me right now. So are the cats. But at least I have four seconds to

Sitting on the couches now. Maybe I can

Yes. Four second fury. How much can YOU type in four seconds?

Without Compare

Allan's family came by yesterday. We took them out to Wakefield, and the berry farm, and had a lovely afternoon of it. Best of all, there were no other little kids around to compare Joey to. This means that everybody just saw a happy, loving, sweet little guy, rather than the focus being on Joey's weaknesses. He was charming, cute, and adorable, as was his brother, and fun was had by all.

They seemed pretty shocked when they asked about school, and discovered he would be in a self-contained classroom. Most folks are shocked to learn this, but it seemed especially odd to them, seeing how delightful life can be with my guys. Joey was having a "good" day on top of it, so we didn't have a lot of tracking or screaming or anything that would showcase Joey's problems. Why put a happy, darling little sweetheart in a self-contained classroom?

Remember, these people are not special ed folks. They have the same ignorance of special ed, how it works, and what it is about as most people seem to have. To them, a self-contained classroom is a place where kids who are very severely disabled go. Joey is not "very severely disabled." And yes, if he had an aide, he's probably be OK in a regular classroom- but our school would rather be sued than hire a 1:1 aide. The teacher is good. So there you go.

WE went with the teacher angle. Its the easiest to explain to folks who have no clue. People tend to understand "low student" teacher ratio with excellent teacher."

A Word To Students

OK, I've been reading some rounds of blogs with mostly complaints about people who do things that sound really, really stupid when you write them out in list-form on a blog. I teach college-level courses. I shall take a break from my usual autism topic to just say; here's some tips on how to really rankle a professor...

How to Really Get Your Professor In A Bad Mood:

1. Don't show up or complete a midterm. Show up afterwards or better yet, email, saying "Oops, I forgot to take the midterm. Will this affect my grade?" Yes. Yes it will.
2. Write a long, whiney email about how much work the class is. Explain that you are working a full-time job, raising kids, and trying to do a full courseload. You'll get bonus grumpiness if the prof is an adjunct, since it is likely that they are doing the euqivalent of all this while trying to hold down three or four jobs to your one- and being paid less.
3. Ask lots and lots of questions that are clearly answered in the syllabus. For example, "When is the midterm due?" or "do we have to participate in discussions this week?" or a perennial favorite, "What chapter are we on?"
4. Write rambling, tangential posts on discussion forums in poor English, then complain when you are asked to clarify the post. Ditto for in-classroom comments. Do this a lot for lots of extra grumpiness. For extra, extra bonus, complain to the Dean about your grade.
5. MIs-spell important terms and/or names in non-timed assignments. Complain when you don't get a perfect score. More extra bonus points for complaining to the Dean.
6. "Forget" to complete the first three weeks' worth of assignments. Complain loudly about how the professor wasted your money when they advise that you withdraw from the course. More bonus points for contacting the Dean.
7. Post unprofessional, "humorous" posts on discussion forums, or make inappropriate, off-topic jokes in class. Complain when the professor points out that the post or joke is inappropriate. Complain more when the professor deletes such posts or stops calling on you. LOTS of bonus points for whining to the Dean. Even the Dean will give you bonus grumpiness.
8. Turn in a paper that is 13 pages when the assignment was 20-25 pages. Or don't cite sources or examples when the directions clearly state you need to do so. Complain that you need the course to graduate- and you need at least a C. Guess what happens if you protest to the Dean (or Department Chair)...
9. Stop coming to class. Comlain about failing same class when you return the next semester. Bonus points for having sent emails about how you needed a certain grade in the same class to transfer/get off academic probation/graduate.
10. Sign up for class with long waiting list. Drop class. Sign up for it again. Drop it. Sign up for it again. Withdraw from it. Sign up for it again. Drop it again. Sign up for it again. Fail it...
11. Complain about other students getting accomodations... when you have no disabilities. Lots and lots of extra ire for complaining to the Dean about "favoritism." More bonus grumpiness for going onto public websites like "ratemyprofessors.com" and making nasty comments about the professor being an unfair grader (and yes, there are ways to know who send those comments, people... especially if you are registered.)

Students who flunk classes because they couldn't be bothered to do the work or follow directions always makes me grumpy. Don't let it happen to you.

Inconceivable!

We've been spending a lot of time watching Signing Time around here. Rachel Coleman, whose children are the inspiration for creating the series, also wrote several interesting songs about having disabled children and thoughts about those children, which are often played (and signed) at the ends of the episodes. In one of the songs, Shine, she talks about lists of things she was told her daughter Lucy would never do- and now does. Over the three years we have had a diagnosis for Joey, we have been told by a variety of people that there are things Joey "will never do" because of autism. Mostly, these lists do more to reveal the ignorance other people have of disability generally and autism specifically, than provide any useful advice or information.

Joey may never be able to feel empathy, or recognize emotion. He may never recognize people. He may never generalize skills. He may never talk. He may never read. He may never write. He may never be able to handle change. He may never be toilet trained. He may never point, or have joint attention. He may never make friends. He may never be able to maintain relationships. He may never show emotion. He may never react appropriately to situations or emotions. He may never jump. He may never be able to focus on a task. He may never be able to self-regulate.

All of these things he either does, or is well on his way to mastering.

Sure, there are lots of "nevers" yet to be tested. He may never drive. He may never have a girlfriend. He may never get a job, or keep a job. He may never have the opportunity to go to college. He may never live independently or leave home.

Yet I have the sneaking suspicion that my response should be, as per The Princess Bride: "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means..."