The DeathSnow is coming! AAAAAAAAA!!! We're all gonna DIE!!!!!!!!
I had to go to the grocery store. It's going to snow pretty heavily here this weekend, and I am going to run out of my meds, so I had to have them refilled.*** Also, they called school pre-emptively, and I didn't want to take the guys into a crowded grocery store the day of a Snowtastrophe, so off I went to grab a few things in case we lose power, like marshmallows. Oh, and some stuff for mom to make a lasagne and some soup, in case she gets snowed in for a few days, which is far more likely than me being snowed in for a few days, as I live on a main drag downtown.
The scene at the grocery was incredible. Insane. There was no produce. I got my hands on the last head of cabbage. There were no bananas, no grapes, no pears, no berries, no broccoli, no carrots, no onions... I grabbed a head of lettuce, which the poor produce manager had brought out trying to stock something. People were taking it faster than she could stock it, right out of the box beside her.
There was no bread, no cheese, no sausage, no hamburger. The deli should have closed before I got there, but were so busy, there wasn't time to close. I did manage to get some cold cuts. There were no roasts, except sirloin. They were restocking the chicken, it had been cleared. There were some expensive cuts of things, but anything reasonable was gone. Oh, and there was plenty of stew meat at $3 a pound. Who pays $3 a pound for stew meat?
Eggs, milk, orange juice, toilet paper, pasta, soda, chips, all ravaged. No velveeta. No cottage cheese. No yogurt.
I have never seen anything like it.
Someone tried to sneak my head of cabbage from my basket while I was perusing the eggs. I saw a person pick up the last package of hamburger, and get accosted by three other shoppers who wanted it. I wasn't the only one who found the whole thing absolutely ridiculous, and so there was a group of us who just burst out laughing every time we passed each other, with comments of, "We're all gonna DIE!!!" High adventure in aisle five!
Fortunately, I have another little grocery store I like very much, but they haven't even tried to compete with Wegman's prices. However, desperate days, my friends, desperate days. I went there and paid a little more for my stuff, but they actually had the stuff. Because when they are calling for two feet of snow in this part of the world, it is indeed Snowpocalypse. It might take me a couple days to get out of my driveway, and I have two boys to entertain for those two or three days. And they are home from school tomorrow. Let the party begin!!!
***And on top of that, I have to go back tomorrow. My meds didn't get filled before the pharmacy closed.
Thursday, February 04, 2010
Tuesday, February 02, 2010
Start From Here
There's been a lot of negativity blowing in the wind this week. Lots of little drops of water that converge into a massive waterfall. Or that last little flake that starts the avalanche is tossing about on the breeze. Soap operas and novellas here that I usually leave in the shadows of my life instead of pasting into the public view of the internet. The ravages of hypotheticals and the ire they raise, the what-ifs, the should-bes, the thoughts of things gone awry. The accusations of blowing roses (I think that will now be a permanent part of my image vocabulary) which get me thinking about life, and the way we thought it would be. All of which gets exasperated by exhaustion, stress, drama, and of course, depression. One of the joys of clinical depression is that all the negativity can get magnified. Oh, fun. Well, that's what the Wellbutrin is for, right?
I've done my weighing-in on the cure non-issue. The semantics of it all seems to get mired in the problems of parenting, existing, and expectations. It's as sticky as it gets, all the stickier because its completely moot. All it does is aggravate the negativity.
No, this isn't the way we planned life to be. Heck, last fall I had all these plans for cleaning and cooking and sewing and working and... life happened instead. All those dreams and thoughts and hopes and fears for my life I had before Joey? All moot. That's not what happened. Life happened instead. Funny thing, life. It has a funny way of rolling aside into little eddies instead of sticking to the main current. Lots of little droplets, running downhill together to the sea. If we separate the droplets out and look at them, which can we blame for sending us into the eddy?
Perhaps it is more my way of coping with stress to try to start from here. I suppose it is an attitude that got emphasized in studying Buddhism, where questions of origins are often considered "not edifying", and so left unanswered. How we got here? Only important to avoid getting here again, if this isn't where we want to be. So often, we can't avoid it, so mulling on it now isn't helping. Here we are. Where to now? I would much prefer resources going into educational strategies and support systems for autistic people, because Joey is autistic, and he had needs, right now. How he got to be autistic is a mystery, and not one I'm so sure would be that useful to solve. "Would you cure him?" is not an edifying question. I have no time for that right now. I have to start from the right here and right now, not some hypothetical possible starting point.
Oh, sure, we have to think of possibilities. At the same time, we end up with chicken-and-egg logic loops and angels-on-pinheads academic games that just aren't that useful right now. It just gets mired in negativity.
And as for the roses thing? I'm not going to tell anybody they don't have the right to feel angry, bitter, resentful, sad, depressed, despondent, stressed, tired, desperate, frustrated. When your life isn't going as planned, when you watch people you love lost in frustration, in depression, struggling, hurting, trying so hard, unhappy, isolated, stressed, it gets to you. And I'm not just talking about our autistic loved ones, either. The morass is laid out before you, and to get mired in it like Brer Rabbit in the Tar Baby. You have the right to get lost in the morass. That's being human. Some might say it is weak to do so, but I disagree- even the strongest have the right to feel all of these things, and we all get a little wandery sometimes. But is that useful? Are you feeling any better? Are you a better person for getting lost in your own resentment, your own anger, your own grief? Isn't there a difference between feeling these things, and getting lost or mired in them? You know why you should make lemonade when life hands you lemons? Because lemonade is constructive, sweet, and even fun. Citrus gone soft and moldy isn't only not useful, it gets a little smelly. And makes the other lemons go bad quicker. But hey, they're your lemons. Sometimes you can just enjoy looking at the lemons. There isn't always a rush for lemonade. Not everyone even likes lemonade. Maybe we should squeeze them a use a little zest, and make lemoncake instead. Or they might make a nice wreath...
Once caught in our eddy, it can be hard to escape the pull of that swirl. Once you find yourself drowning in lemons, you might not exactly be thinking "hmmm, what I really need now is a nice, cold glass of this stuff." And as I've said before, dump a little clinical depression on top, and you find you're really being pulled down into the vortex. One thing I do when I feel that pull, is I come here, and write about Joey and Andy. I write about things that happened. Sometimes its good to share the pitfalls, the hard stuff, the things that I wonder if its happening out there to other folks. More times its better to write about things going right, partly to keep them in the fore. There is little more one can do to counter darkness than to drown it in light- open the door, turn on the light, light the candle, raise the blinds and draw back the drapes. Air out the bad stuff, emphasize the good stuff, and start from here. Now take a step forward. One foot in front of the other sounds so easy, but we all know how much of a challenge it can really be. We are special needs parents, after all.
I've done my weighing-in on the cure non-issue. The semantics of it all seems to get mired in the problems of parenting, existing, and expectations. It's as sticky as it gets, all the stickier because its completely moot. All it does is aggravate the negativity.
No, this isn't the way we planned life to be. Heck, last fall I had all these plans for cleaning and cooking and sewing and working and... life happened instead. All those dreams and thoughts and hopes and fears for my life I had before Joey? All moot. That's not what happened. Life happened instead. Funny thing, life. It has a funny way of rolling aside into little eddies instead of sticking to the main current. Lots of little droplets, running downhill together to the sea. If we separate the droplets out and look at them, which can we blame for sending us into the eddy?
Perhaps it is more my way of coping with stress to try to start from here. I suppose it is an attitude that got emphasized in studying Buddhism, where questions of origins are often considered "not edifying", and so left unanswered. How we got here? Only important to avoid getting here again, if this isn't where we want to be. So often, we can't avoid it, so mulling on it now isn't helping. Here we are. Where to now? I would much prefer resources going into educational strategies and support systems for autistic people, because Joey is autistic, and he had needs, right now. How he got to be autistic is a mystery, and not one I'm so sure would be that useful to solve. "Would you cure him?" is not an edifying question. I have no time for that right now. I have to start from the right here and right now, not some hypothetical possible starting point.
Oh, sure, we have to think of possibilities. At the same time, we end up with chicken-and-egg logic loops and angels-on-pinheads academic games that just aren't that useful right now. It just gets mired in negativity.
And as for the roses thing? I'm not going to tell anybody they don't have the right to feel angry, bitter, resentful, sad, depressed, despondent, stressed, tired, desperate, frustrated. When your life isn't going as planned, when you watch people you love lost in frustration, in depression, struggling, hurting, trying so hard, unhappy, isolated, stressed, it gets to you. And I'm not just talking about our autistic loved ones, either. The morass is laid out before you, and to get mired in it like Brer Rabbit in the Tar Baby. You have the right to get lost in the morass. That's being human. Some might say it is weak to do so, but I disagree- even the strongest have the right to feel all of these things, and we all get a little wandery sometimes. But is that useful? Are you feeling any better? Are you a better person for getting lost in your own resentment, your own anger, your own grief? Isn't there a difference between feeling these things, and getting lost or mired in them? You know why you should make lemonade when life hands you lemons? Because lemonade is constructive, sweet, and even fun. Citrus gone soft and moldy isn't only not useful, it gets a little smelly. And makes the other lemons go bad quicker. But hey, they're your lemons. Sometimes you can just enjoy looking at the lemons. There isn't always a rush for lemonade. Not everyone even likes lemonade. Maybe we should squeeze them a use a little zest, and make lemoncake instead. Or they might make a nice wreath...
Once caught in our eddy, it can be hard to escape the pull of that swirl. Once you find yourself drowning in lemons, you might not exactly be thinking "hmmm, what I really need now is a nice, cold glass of this stuff." And as I've said before, dump a little clinical depression on top, and you find you're really being pulled down into the vortex. One thing I do when I feel that pull, is I come here, and write about Joey and Andy. I write about things that happened. Sometimes its good to share the pitfalls, the hard stuff, the things that I wonder if its happening out there to other folks. More times its better to write about things going right, partly to keep them in the fore. There is little more one can do to counter darkness than to drown it in light- open the door, turn on the light, light the candle, raise the blinds and draw back the drapes. Air out the bad stuff, emphasize the good stuff, and start from here. Now take a step forward. One foot in front of the other sounds so easy, but we all know how much of a challenge it can really be. We are special needs parents, after all.
Monday, February 01, 2010
Magic Invisible Friends
Most kids have imaginary friends. It is part of being a child, to explore the world and see the magic there, and to provide onesself company when it is needed. This is part of the blur between reality and fantasy that makes childhood so fascinating to adults, and so fun for kids.
You may recall that Andy has an imaginary friend, T-Rex Dinosaur. We have added to the menagerie of imaginary friends, but none is so prominent, and only one other leaves the house (that would be Piggie... long story).
You may also recall that I didn't know if Joey had an imaginary friend. I am now proud and pleased to report that we know, without a doubt. Joey has imaginary friends. Note the plural.
In fact, he has an imaginary class. They are named Aaron, Eric, and Sophia. Joey is the teacher, and these three are his students. They do math problems. They have reading assignments. When they misbehave, Joey corrects them and tells them how to behave correctly, and why what they were doing was wrong. If he's a little harsh with them, they get upset and he has to apologize and comfort them.
Lots of insights to be had into his world, I think. I'm paying close attention, never fear.
You may recall that Andy has an imaginary friend, T-Rex Dinosaur. We have added to the menagerie of imaginary friends, but none is so prominent, and only one other leaves the house (that would be Piggie... long story).
You may also recall that I didn't know if Joey had an imaginary friend. I am now proud and pleased to report that we know, without a doubt. Joey has imaginary friends. Note the plural.
In fact, he has an imaginary class. They are named Aaron, Eric, and Sophia. Joey is the teacher, and these three are his students. They do math problems. They have reading assignments. When they misbehave, Joey corrects them and tells them how to behave correctly, and why what they were doing was wrong. If he's a little harsh with them, they get upset and he has to apologize and comfort them.
Lots of insights to be had into his world, I think. I'm paying close attention, never fear.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Wednesday, January 27, 2010
Locks of Love
So about every, oh, two, maybe three, years I manage to get to the beauty shop. When I get there, the first thing I do is chop off my hair. See, I have hair that grows like wisteria up a pine tree. So over once in a while, I cut it off and send it to Locks of Love. This organization helps disadvantaged children by providing them with prosthetics for hair loss (for example, when children are going through chemotherapy, or when they have alopecia areata).
Once upon a time, one of the children attending therapies at the practice Joey had for OT had alopecia areata. She was a darling of a child, and I always remember her mom finally had to pull her out of public school because she was being teased so badly. The child was seven years old. And though I will not invade her privacy by giving you her name, I donate my hair to Locks of Love in her honor. She was a strong, hard-working, sweet child who was a pleasure to know, and I am sure brings joy, intelligence, wit, and all other great things to all who know her. Those kids in the public school who gave her so hard a time that her mother felt compelled to take her out? They are definitely paying a price, even if they don't know it.
As we all try to learn and teach tolerance, we need to really emphasize empathy, and emphasize it from a young age at every opportunity. We are all unique- that is what makes living such a special, wonderful, fabulous adventure every single day of our lives, and beyond.
Locks of Love take all hair donations. With donations of ten inches or more, they can make the actual prosthetics they provide to the children. With shorter donations, they sell the hair and use the proceeds to support the organization and pay for the production of the hair pieces. The next time you head over to the beauty salon, please consider donating. Put your hair in a ponytail holder to keep it neat, place it in a plastic bag, and mail it to:
Locks of Love
234 Southern Blvd
West Palm Beach, FL 33405
(They just moved, so be sure to use the correct address!)
They also gratefully accept financial contributions.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Time for Prizes
The boys earned their trip to Chuck E Cheese! Woo-hoo!
We have a regular routine when we go to Chuck E. Cheese. We come in, and I have a couple of coins left over from last time to distribute while I purchase the new round of pizza and fun. Boys romp off to remove shoes and get playing. I order and find a table to act as Home Base, where I set up shop (including going and finding the removed shoes).
The boys then play until the pizza comes. Then Joey comes and eats pizza, while Andy flits from table to games and back taking fleeting bites of sausage and cheese. When the pizza is gone, we play a little longer, usually about 25 tokens' worth.
Then it is Prize Time. The boys put on their shoes and coats, we clean up, and we take our tickets and ticket slips to the counter. We pick out prizes, and go home.
It works really, really well. It is still a little odd to me to sit and read or write and not know exactly where both boys are at every single moment, but we'll all live through it. I do tend to sit in one of a select group of tables to make it easier for Joey to find me, and easier for me to play air hockey with him without having our coats stolen. It also happens to have the best and widest view of the floor, so I can look up at any given moment and make a good sweep to see where they both are. But anyway...
It was really crowded yesterday. Sunday afternoons are normally a good time, nice and quiet, but yesterday the place was loaded up with four birthday parties, and every seat in the house occupied. Madhouse. I ran out of spare coins before I got more, because the registers were down. People were everywhere. I had a ten-minute wait to snatch up a table (which, fortunately, appeared in my select group, yay!), so here came the pizza just as I got set up. Finding boys? Aye-yai-yai. Did I mention there were people everywhere?
When there are lots of people in a Chuck E. Cheese, one thing that mysteriously happens is the skee ball balls disappear. I don't know why. However, it is highly annoying to try to play skee ball without the full number of balls. The more tired Joey got, the more frustrated he became with the lost balls. And did I mention how many people were there? Crowds are not a good thing.
So Joey plops down across from me, his eyes starting to look a little teary and ready to melt, and he says, "Time for prizes!"
Yep, time to go, little man. Good call.
We have a regular routine when we go to Chuck E. Cheese. We come in, and I have a couple of coins left over from last time to distribute while I purchase the new round of pizza and fun. Boys romp off to remove shoes and get playing. I order and find a table to act as Home Base, where I set up shop (including going and finding the removed shoes).
The boys then play until the pizza comes. Then Joey comes and eats pizza, while Andy flits from table to games and back taking fleeting bites of sausage and cheese. When the pizza is gone, we play a little longer, usually about 25 tokens' worth.
Then it is Prize Time. The boys put on their shoes and coats, we clean up, and we take our tickets and ticket slips to the counter. We pick out prizes, and go home.
It works really, really well. It is still a little odd to me to sit and read or write and not know exactly where both boys are at every single moment, but we'll all live through it. I do tend to sit in one of a select group of tables to make it easier for Joey to find me, and easier for me to play air hockey with him without having our coats stolen. It also happens to have the best and widest view of the floor, so I can look up at any given moment and make a good sweep to see where they both are. But anyway...
It was really crowded yesterday. Sunday afternoons are normally a good time, nice and quiet, but yesterday the place was loaded up with four birthday parties, and every seat in the house occupied. Madhouse. I ran out of spare coins before I got more, because the registers were down. People were everywhere. I had a ten-minute wait to snatch up a table (which, fortunately, appeared in my select group, yay!), so here came the pizza just as I got set up. Finding boys? Aye-yai-yai. Did I mention there were people everywhere?
When there are lots of people in a Chuck E. Cheese, one thing that mysteriously happens is the skee ball balls disappear. I don't know why. However, it is highly annoying to try to play skee ball without the full number of balls. The more tired Joey got, the more frustrated he became with the lost balls. And did I mention how many people were there? Crowds are not a good thing.
So Joey plops down across from me, his eyes starting to look a little teary and ready to melt, and he says, "Time for prizes!"
Yep, time to go, little man. Good call.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
One Week Later
Um- hi! Remember me? I know, I have been remiss in my posting this week. We had a lot of unexpecteds, but nothing totally insane. Here I am. We live! We still have one fish, one snail, two cats, two kids, and an intact house. All is right in the world.
Currently, I have two little guys working hard to earn their last few stars, because they wan to go to Chuck E. Cheese something frantic. It is scheduled to rain this afternoon, so I am hoping they earn those stars sooner rather than later. Crowds are still titchy things for us.
Yesterday, we were at the park. One of Joey's classmates showed up, a very nice girl, we had seen her and her mom here and there all last summer, but never really gotten to speak with them. Joey and his friend juggled through playing, making concessions for each other so that Joey could call "Bonnogoes!"* as he liked, and she got to maintain her personal space. The mom was interesting. The friend isn't vaccinated, and they go to a pediatrician who offers "holistic practices" alongside regular medicine. She was surprised that I urged vaccination. She was surprised that I didn't think autism was caused by mercury and heavy metal poisoning. She was surprised that I thought Joey was autistic from birth. In other words, she thought I was crazy as the proverbial loon. But she remained pleasant (why get titchy with a lunatic?), then JoeyAndyDad and I took the two very tired boys home.
Andy has taken to hopping up first thing in the morning, running downstairs, and making sure the fish is still alive. Every. Day.
But otherwise, life goes on. I hope to spend this coming Friday working on the basement. It is kind of odd not have to write lectures from scratch every week, but I'll be doing some tweaking. I need to make some corrections in the online classes- typos and stuff. Looks like our Fearless Leader has finally figured it out, and I might have my summer and fall schedules this week (wow! I'll be able to plan stuff!). So we're chucking right along here. I'll try to do better with the posting and stuff.
*This is the soundification of "barnacles!" Joey has settled on, since he doesn't know much about Spongebob Squarepants- though apparently one of his classmates does.
Currently, I have two little guys working hard to earn their last few stars, because they wan to go to Chuck E. Cheese something frantic. It is scheduled to rain this afternoon, so I am hoping they earn those stars sooner rather than later. Crowds are still titchy things for us.
Yesterday, we were at the park. One of Joey's classmates showed up, a very nice girl, we had seen her and her mom here and there all last summer, but never really gotten to speak with them. Joey and his friend juggled through playing, making concessions for each other so that Joey could call "Bonnogoes!"* as he liked, and she got to maintain her personal space. The mom was interesting. The friend isn't vaccinated, and they go to a pediatrician who offers "holistic practices" alongside regular medicine. She was surprised that I urged vaccination. She was surprised that I didn't think autism was caused by mercury and heavy metal poisoning. She was surprised that I thought Joey was autistic from birth. In other words, she thought I was crazy as the proverbial loon. But she remained pleasant (why get titchy with a lunatic?), then JoeyAndyDad and I took the two very tired boys home.
Andy has taken to hopping up first thing in the morning, running downstairs, and making sure the fish is still alive. Every. Day.
But otherwise, life goes on. I hope to spend this coming Friday working on the basement. It is kind of odd not have to write lectures from scratch every week, but I'll be doing some tweaking. I need to make some corrections in the online classes- typos and stuff. Looks like our Fearless Leader has finally figured it out, and I might have my summer and fall schedules this week (wow! I'll be able to plan stuff!). So we're chucking right along here. I'll try to do better with the posting and stuff.
*This is the soundification of "barnacles!" Joey has settled on, since he doesn't know much about Spongebob Squarepants- though apparently one of his classmates does.
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Happy Birthday, MLK!
My boys, on the subject of Martin Luther King, Jr. and what they learned at school:
Joey: Monday is Martin Luther King Jr's birthday, he was born in 1929. And he grew up fast!
Andy: And we get to eat his cake. And blow out his candles because he died. And eat his cake. He had a dream.
Joey and Andy: And we don't have to go to school!
One of the truly wonderful things about my kids is their acceptance of difference. It partly comes with the territory of being one of the "different", but it also is something about just growing up with all sorts of people. Much of the school lesson about Martin Luther King, Jr. emphasizes the racial problems this country experienced. Last year's summary from Joey was that "Brown people and apricot people didn't get along."
I think this is a mistake. The emphasis of early education about Martin Luther King should be an appreciate of others, respect for other people, and acceptance of people for who they are. There should be a lot of lessons about self-worth, dignity, and friendship. We should be entrenching that respect and acceptance. Like so many other cultural norms, the idea of people are who they are should simply be. The idea of judging another person by their skin color should be a completely foreign concept to these kids.
After all, that is the dream of Reverend King: that we should be judged by the content of our character, rather than the color of our skin. When children are older and more able to grapple with abstract concepts, they can learn the issues of the historical moment, the reasons why this was a dream, and not a reality, when those words were spoken. For the little ones, let's try just having that dream be the reality they live. Let's focus on diversity, not difference.
Joey: Monday is Martin Luther King Jr's birthday, he was born in 1929. And he grew up fast!
Andy: And we get to eat his cake. And blow out his candles because he died. And eat his cake. He had a dream.
Joey and Andy: And we don't have to go to school!
One of the truly wonderful things about my kids is their acceptance of difference. It partly comes with the territory of being one of the "different", but it also is something about just growing up with all sorts of people. Much of the school lesson about Martin Luther King, Jr. emphasizes the racial problems this country experienced. Last year's summary from Joey was that "Brown people and apricot people didn't get along."
I think this is a mistake. The emphasis of early education about Martin Luther King should be an appreciate of others, respect for other people, and acceptance of people for who they are. There should be a lot of lessons about self-worth, dignity, and friendship. We should be entrenching that respect and acceptance. Like so many other cultural norms, the idea of people are who they are should simply be. The idea of judging another person by their skin color should be a completely foreign concept to these kids.
After all, that is the dream of Reverend King: that we should be judged by the content of our character, rather than the color of our skin. When children are older and more able to grapple with abstract concepts, they can learn the issues of the historical moment, the reasons why this was a dream, and not a reality, when those words were spoken. For the little ones, let's try just having that dream be the reality they live. Let's focus on diversity, not difference.
Fish update
We are down to one fish. We believe the fish we got at PetSmart had something wrong with them. This is not uncommon for minnows, as they are used as feeders, and stores consequently do not properly care for them. The ones we got from Walmart were healthier. However, we seem to have an issue that looks like a swim bladder infection. Caught from the diseased fish? Just happens? No way to know. I have removed the little guy from the tank to his own little bowl, but he doesn't look good. The healthy one, and the snail, are looking OK. We'll see.
Update to the update: I may have spoken too soon. Our little guy in the holding bowl is looking better, and swimming better. Hmmm.
Update to the update of the update: Nope. We lost him. The other fish looks really good today, so keep your fins crossed.
Update to the update: I may have spoken too soon. Our little guy in the holding bowl is looking better, and swimming better. Hmmm.
Update to the update of the update: Nope. We lost him. The other fish looks really good today, so keep your fins crossed.
Friday, January 15, 2010
Haiti
My great-uncle Watson did field work in Haiti in 1929 and 1930, learning abut taxidermy for the Smithsonian and collecting specimens (including live specimens for the zoo).
Hearing about the devastation of the earthquake there, I wonder what he would have done.
As for what we can do, the best thing in such disasters is to give money. The Red Cross and SAlvation Army can get supplies, equipment, and personnel there faster and more cost-effectively than we can, and they don't have to pay retail prices.
The Salvation Army
The American Red Cross
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
My Small Corner of the Interwebz
I've been sharing our lives with you all for 3 1/2 years now. Potentially, I have let the entire world in on my life, my thoughts, my adventures, my ups and downs, for the last 3 1/2 years. Life is very different. In May of 2006, Joey was still in preschool. He speech was so limited, I actually blogged about even the hints of conversation, though Joey was still using single-word responses. We went crazy with joy at signs of pretend play. The huge, dramatic meltdowns of a frustrated child were far more common. I remember that first comment from Maddy, that first hint that I wasn't just talking to myself out here. We were in the midst of IEP Hell, trying to get footing, trying to get a master's in special education practice and law in the few short months we had to master the system and the skills for getting Joey was he needed. We needed to know what he actually needed. At the same time, we had Andy to raise and learn about, and his needs to understand and master.
Yeah, we've come a long way. In that time, I have seen other folks with wider-read blogs, blogs that started and took off. OUr little corner has remained a comfy corner with my squishy-comfy couch, hot chocolate on the stove, and plenty of cozy quilts to snuggle under. I don't do the things that make a blog expand and take on life of its own. I don't advertise, I don't label and tag, and don't do a lot of jumping up and down and making noise elsewhere. I don't do reviews, unless I feel like something out to be brought to your attention because I think it would be helpful and awesome. I have never been to BlogHer. If I get 100 hits in a day, that's a big deal, and I check out what I talked about to cause the spike.
I started out trying to help folks. That was the idea behind this blog- to offer what we were learning, knowing others needed to know, and fast. Being a quiet little corner can help that, because you don't get the tramping of unwelcome feet, you don't see a lot of the venom from having huge numbers of people with vast diversity of opinions battling it out in your comments. I can share experiences here that might not normally be put on a huge blog, more pictures, more little vignettes of life with children generally, and with an autistic child, a very beautiful autistic child, specifically. I can provide those little reminders that life is good, you can do this, and we're all in it together. After all, that's what life is- we're all in this together. The Earth is really quite small, you know. A little comfy corner of the cosmos.
Perhaps being a bigger blog (and a better-written blog), along the lines of Whitterer or Stimeyland or Maternal Instincts, I might reach more people. Or maybe not. One thing you learn as a teacher, just because you give the lecture and answer the questions doesn't mean everybody learns. Yet somehow I find being that comfy corner of the web with the squishy couches and ice cream to be something else the community needs. Maybe that's just the way I am.
Yeah, we've come a long way. In that time, I have seen other folks with wider-read blogs, blogs that started and took off. OUr little corner has remained a comfy corner with my squishy-comfy couch, hot chocolate on the stove, and plenty of cozy quilts to snuggle under. I don't do the things that make a blog expand and take on life of its own. I don't advertise, I don't label and tag, and don't do a lot of jumping up and down and making noise elsewhere. I don't do reviews, unless I feel like something out to be brought to your attention because I think it would be helpful and awesome. I have never been to BlogHer. If I get 100 hits in a day, that's a big deal, and I check out what I talked about to cause the spike.
I started out trying to help folks. That was the idea behind this blog- to offer what we were learning, knowing others needed to know, and fast. Being a quiet little corner can help that, because you don't get the tramping of unwelcome feet, you don't see a lot of the venom from having huge numbers of people with vast diversity of opinions battling it out in your comments. I can share experiences here that might not normally be put on a huge blog, more pictures, more little vignettes of life with children generally, and with an autistic child, a very beautiful autistic child, specifically. I can provide those little reminders that life is good, you can do this, and we're all in it together. After all, that's what life is- we're all in this together. The Earth is really quite small, you know. A little comfy corner of the cosmos.
Perhaps being a bigger blog (and a better-written blog), along the lines of Whitterer or Stimeyland or Maternal Instincts, I might reach more people. Or maybe not. One thing you learn as a teacher, just because you give the lecture and answer the questions doesn't mean everybody learns. Yet somehow I find being that comfy corner of the web with the squishy couches and ice cream to be something else the community needs. Maybe that's just the way I am.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Introducing: The New Residents
If these die, we're getting gerbils. I can deal with small fuzzy things that breathe air.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Zakh Price: Sleepless Nights
There are stories out there that keep me up at night, wallowing in thought. The story of Zakh Price is one of them.
For those of you not aware of this ongoing epic, Zakh Price is eleven years old and just started at a new school in Arkansas this past fall. Unfortunately for Zakh, the school's ignorance about special education practice, law, and purpose now has this disabled child facing felony charges and institutionalization. Needless to say, his grandmother, who is his guardian, is beside herself- and out of money. Lawyers ain't cheap, and going head-to-head with a school like this requires lawyers.
If that's not enough to make for sleepless nights, get this: one of the school personnel involved in the escalation of the situation and pressing charges against this child is the school principal.
I am currently working to start the transition process for my son. Our district has gotten on the trendy bandwagon of separating elementary grades into upper and lower elementary. Now, I know there are lots of really good reasons for doing this, particularly with regular-ed kids. After all, there is a huge difference between a kindergardener and a fifth grader. On the other hand, it makes for a pain in the butt for special-ed kids. We lose consistency in staff and philosophy. You just start getting the kinks out of IEP implementation, and you have to basically start from scratch with a whole new set of people who don't know you, don't know your kid, and may have a completely different idea of what educating your kid even means.
I have emailed the school principal three times. Only two of those emails have apparently gotten through to his office. One, I was told he would call, and he never did. The next was only acknowledged after I pointed out this issue to the director of student services, was again told I would be called, and... never have been. This man clearly doesn't understand why I am concerned and want to get this ball rolling now. I have been told balls started rolling among the school personnel, but the relationship with me? Not batting 1000, that's for sure. I find that frightening, especially in light of stories like that of Zakh Price. If the principal is not on board, not trained, not educated, then it clearly is not a priority to that principal- and how can we expect the teachers and staff to be appropriately trained, if such training and understanding are not considered a priority by the principal of the school?
Fortunately- and unfortunately- I have seen some of the special ed staff at this school in action. I have seen excellent teachers. I have seen fair-to-mediocre administrators. I have seen representatives of the school inappropriately railroad a parent in a public forum, and steer a public forum inappropriately to a specific case instead of considering the broader issues involved in that case. Overall, I'm really not comfortable with sending Joey to this new school based on my current observations and conversations with parents in that school. The best teacher on the planet can be railroaded by a mediocre administrator- I've seen it happen first-hand. I know for a fact they have not yet hired the personnel they will need to appropriately understand my son and appropriately support him in regular-ed classrooms. We are not looking forward to the step back we are likely to see if that doesn't change in the next few months.
Yes, the story of Zakh Price keeps me up at night. I fervently believe that we will not have such a dramatic and ugly experience as the Price family is experiencing, but it doesn't need to be so dramatic to still be disastrous.
For those of you not aware of this ongoing epic, Zakh Price is eleven years old and just started at a new school in Arkansas this past fall. Unfortunately for Zakh, the school's ignorance about special education practice, law, and purpose now has this disabled child facing felony charges and institutionalization. Needless to say, his grandmother, who is his guardian, is beside herself- and out of money. Lawyers ain't cheap, and going head-to-head with a school like this requires lawyers.
If that's not enough to make for sleepless nights, get this: one of the school personnel involved in the escalation of the situation and pressing charges against this child is the school principal.
I am currently working to start the transition process for my son. Our district has gotten on the trendy bandwagon of separating elementary grades into upper and lower elementary. Now, I know there are lots of really good reasons for doing this, particularly with regular-ed kids. After all, there is a huge difference between a kindergardener and a fifth grader. On the other hand, it makes for a pain in the butt for special-ed kids. We lose consistency in staff and philosophy. You just start getting the kinks out of IEP implementation, and you have to basically start from scratch with a whole new set of people who don't know you, don't know your kid, and may have a completely different idea of what educating your kid even means.
I have emailed the school principal three times. Only two of those emails have apparently gotten through to his office. One, I was told he would call, and he never did. The next was only acknowledged after I pointed out this issue to the director of student services, was again told I would be called, and... never have been. This man clearly doesn't understand why I am concerned and want to get this ball rolling now. I have been told balls started rolling among the school personnel, but the relationship with me? Not batting 1000, that's for sure. I find that frightening, especially in light of stories like that of Zakh Price. If the principal is not on board, not trained, not educated, then it clearly is not a priority to that principal- and how can we expect the teachers and staff to be appropriately trained, if such training and understanding are not considered a priority by the principal of the school?
Fortunately- and unfortunately- I have seen some of the special ed staff at this school in action. I have seen excellent teachers. I have seen fair-to-mediocre administrators. I have seen representatives of the school inappropriately railroad a parent in a public forum, and steer a public forum inappropriately to a specific case instead of considering the broader issues involved in that case. Overall, I'm really not comfortable with sending Joey to this new school based on my current observations and conversations with parents in that school. The best teacher on the planet can be railroaded by a mediocre administrator- I've seen it happen first-hand. I know for a fact they have not yet hired the personnel they will need to appropriately understand my son and appropriately support him in regular-ed classrooms. We are not looking forward to the step back we are likely to see if that doesn't change in the next few months.
Yes, the story of Zakh Price keeps me up at night. I fervently believe that we will not have such a dramatic and ugly experience as the Price family is experiencing, but it doesn't need to be so dramatic to still be disastrous.
Friday, January 08, 2010
Plans and works
I had to tell Joey this morning that Quille was gone. When we told Andy about Chris, we got the expected heart-wrenching wailing of loss. With Joey, grief is not so obvious (unless, of course, you know him). I had prepared him, telling him last night how sick Quille was, and that we did not expect him to live, but we were doing everything we could do. I think he knew when he toddled in to the bedroom and saw my face. His own dropped.
He didn't cry or wail. He had questions for me. Was his fish moving? Was he in the box with Chris and Godot? Would a cat eat him? Can we get a new fish? What will Andy name his new fish?
Then the processing: Quille isn't moving any more. Quille was alive yesterday. Andy's fish is dead. It isn't moving anymore. Quille isn't moving anymore. We will get new fish. I'm sorry about the fish. I hate that my fish is dead. My fish died.
I explained our plan to get rosy reds instead of goldfish this time. Rosy reds are minnows, so they are more social and not as dirty as goldfish. They don't get as big, either. Both boys seem to have latched onto the new minnows. I have checked out the water and gotten some bacteria and stuff for it to get it to recover its cycle, and having less dirty fish in our tank should be a help. I scouted out the fish in town, and I have our source pegged out. I spent a long time in front of the snail tanks.
A long time.
He didn't cry or wail. He had questions for me. Was his fish moving? Was he in the box with Chris and Godot? Would a cat eat him? Can we get a new fish? What will Andy name his new fish?
Then the processing: Quille isn't moving any more. Quille was alive yesterday. Andy's fish is dead. It isn't moving anymore. Quille isn't moving anymore. We will get new fish. I'm sorry about the fish. I hate that my fish is dead. My fish died.
I explained our plan to get rosy reds instead of goldfish this time. Rosy reds are minnows, so they are more social and not as dirty as goldfish. They don't get as big, either. Both boys seem to have latched onto the new minnows. I have checked out the water and gotten some bacteria and stuff for it to get it to recover its cycle, and having less dirty fish in our tank should be a help. I scouted out the fish in town, and I have our source pegged out. I spent a long time in front of the snail tanks.
A long time.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Fish Catastrophe
I'm sorry to announce that we have had a catastrophe with the fish. I use filtered drinking water to change the tank water every other day. I bought the water at a different-than-usual place yesterday, and changed the water this morning. We believe that there was something in that water that has resulted in... well, we have lost Chris and Godot, and Quille is very, very weak.
I have pulled the tank apart and cleaned and rinsed everything, refilled it with the proper water, and changed all filters. We will see how many fish we are buying tomorrow.
Edit: Quille did not survive the night. I am going to let the tank settle and clear, and then the current plan is to try some rosy reds to help the tank cycle again.
I have pulled the tank apart and cleaned and rinsed everything, refilled it with the proper water, and changed all filters. We will see how many fish we are buying tomorrow.
Edit: Quille did not survive the night. I am going to let the tank settle and clear, and then the current plan is to try some rosy reds to help the tank cycle again.
Wednesday, January 06, 2010
Taking Christmas Down
So Joey turns to me Monday afternoon and says, "Mommy, let's take the Christmas tree down." Yep, it's time. Christmas is over. For Joey's world view, Christmas came, Christmas went, it is time to move on. So today, the tree came down. Happy Twelfth Night.
I started while the boys were in school, stripping the tree of ornaments that might require special packing or sorting of any kind. The gold chains, the paper Santas, the toys, etc. all go in their own particular boxes, leaving the plastic to be tossed into one big tub together. In a couple more years, I'll be able to get my real decorations out. Then the boys rolled in. Andy took a few decorations off, then got distracted by the arrival of our neighbor. Joey came off the bus without his backpack, and he nearly melted down he was so upset about forgetting it on the bus. He didn't really recover enough to be interested until I was taking the lights off. Those still need to be boxed. So I ended up doing the vast majority of tree-disassembly myself.
And like most years, as I take the decorations down, I realize that the vast majority of you, once again, never even saw them.
If that strikes you as odd, just keep in mind that as I am putting them up, I am thinking things like, "wow, Stimey would really like this," or "Niksmom would think this was totally cute," or "I wonder what Maddy's kids would think of this." Yes, I love my Christmas decorations, and the solid majority of them I am thinking, "I'm glad Mom this this is pretty" or "JoeyAndyDad enjoys this" or "Joey and Andy are gonna go bonkers over this." And of course, "Hey, this is nice. Let me see how it would look if I did this." And there is an awful lot of things I wish I had gotten around to doing, planned to do, even bought what I needed to get it done, and didn't. But it just seems really weird and surreal to me that most of you guys never see them. In fact, very few folks ever see them. The boys. JoeyAndyDad, My Mom. Evan. This year, my Dad and his wife saw them. Ms. A and Mr. Wesley happened in to see them mostly, but not fully, set up. The neighbor saw them briefly.
And that's it.
I know, last year I put up the video of the decorations, and I hope you guys liked it. I love putting them up and seeing the world all pretty-sparkly Christmasy wonderland in my house. I will miss my lighted garlands of glass ornaments, even if I've been mostly too tired to spend a lot of time in the evening downstairs.
But somehow, that realization that you guys don't see them, it is just one of those things. Something about wishing you were here.
I started while the boys were in school, stripping the tree of ornaments that might require special packing or sorting of any kind. The gold chains, the paper Santas, the toys, etc. all go in their own particular boxes, leaving the plastic to be tossed into one big tub together. In a couple more years, I'll be able to get my real decorations out. Then the boys rolled in. Andy took a few decorations off, then got distracted by the arrival of our neighbor. Joey came off the bus without his backpack, and he nearly melted down he was so upset about forgetting it on the bus. He didn't really recover enough to be interested until I was taking the lights off. Those still need to be boxed. So I ended up doing the vast majority of tree-disassembly myself.
And like most years, as I take the decorations down, I realize that the vast majority of you, once again, never even saw them.
If that strikes you as odd, just keep in mind that as I am putting them up, I am thinking things like, "wow, Stimey would really like this," or "Niksmom would think this was totally cute," or "I wonder what Maddy's kids would think of this." Yes, I love my Christmas decorations, and the solid majority of them I am thinking, "I'm glad Mom this this is pretty" or "JoeyAndyDad enjoys this" or "Joey and Andy are gonna go bonkers over this." And of course, "Hey, this is nice. Let me see how it would look if I did this." And there is an awful lot of things I wish I had gotten around to doing, planned to do, even bought what I needed to get it done, and didn't. But it just seems really weird and surreal to me that most of you guys never see them. In fact, very few folks ever see them. The boys. JoeyAndyDad, My Mom. Evan. This year, my Dad and his wife saw them. Ms. A and Mr. Wesley happened in to see them mostly, but not fully, set up. The neighbor saw them briefly.
And that's it.
I know, last year I put up the video of the decorations, and I hope you guys liked it. I love putting them up and seeing the world all pretty-sparkly Christmasy wonderland in my house. I will miss my lighted garlands of glass ornaments, even if I've been mostly too tired to spend a lot of time in the evening downstairs.
But somehow, that realization that you guys don't see them, it is just one of those things. Something about wishing you were here.
Tuesday, January 05, 2010
Insanity: Again.
Many of you might recall that my father and I have an odd non-relationship. You might also recall that he insists on coming to see us around January/Christmas, and that I'm too much of a freakin' chicken to do anything about it. After last year, you'd think I'd get the hint. But no.
He was arriving at 3:30. There were murmurings of picking up the kids from school and hiding out at Chuck E. Cheese, but I didn't. I should have. But I didn't. There was no way to clean the house in time. I hadn't really bought them any presents. My plan had been to see them at the family Christmas and hope to hide for another year. However, my father had made something for the boys, and it was "too big". Just what we needed, something big.
Every year, my father makes something for the boys. It is a nice gesture, I suppose. One year he made them a rocking chair (meaning he painted one green and put a little "John Deere" faux logo on it). Another year it was rocking horse (not sure if he actually put that one together or not). He glued little wood animals to some peg strips he got as the craft store one year. Last year it was a Tic Tac Toe board, which worked out nicely, as the boys were very into Tic Tac Toe. This year? This very large board, painted in strips, with a hole, and legs on one side. You set up the board so it is angled, and toss bean bags at the hole. He had some fancy name for it, and much time was spent informing me of the official rules, and the fact that this was an official-sized board, but the hole was a little bigger than "regulation" because the boys were still little.
Do you have somebody that does things like this to make themselves feel better, and have you ever wondered how you are supposed to take it? I'll put it against another example of gift-giving. My Uncle Lou made the boys a game a couple of summers ago. He took PVC piping, made a three-bar frame, then drilled into tennis balls and connected two with a rope. You throw the balls-on-rope at the frame, and score points if you get them to wrap around one of the bars. The boys love it. It comes apart to be stored, and it is an outside game. He made it for them because he had made one for his own grandsons (the Cousins), and they had really liked it. During a visit, they surprised us with it.
Somehow, it feels so very different. My uncle has no obligation to my children. He saw they really enjoyed something, and he made it happen. Am I the only person who sees the difference?
My husband has assured me more support next year. As in, when we get (if we get) warning, we are hauling butt to Chuck E. Cheese. It's less stressful.
He was arriving at 3:30. There were murmurings of picking up the kids from school and hiding out at Chuck E. Cheese, but I didn't. I should have. But I didn't. There was no way to clean the house in time. I hadn't really bought them any presents. My plan had been to see them at the family Christmas and hope to hide for another year. However, my father had made something for the boys, and it was "too big". Just what we needed, something big.
Every year, my father makes something for the boys. It is a nice gesture, I suppose. One year he made them a rocking chair (meaning he painted one green and put a little "John Deere" faux logo on it). Another year it was rocking horse (not sure if he actually put that one together or not). He glued little wood animals to some peg strips he got as the craft store one year. Last year it was a Tic Tac Toe board, which worked out nicely, as the boys were very into Tic Tac Toe. This year? This very large board, painted in strips, with a hole, and legs on one side. You set up the board so it is angled, and toss bean bags at the hole. He had some fancy name for it, and much time was spent informing me of the official rules, and the fact that this was an official-sized board, but the hole was a little bigger than "regulation" because the boys were still little.
Do you have somebody that does things like this to make themselves feel better, and have you ever wondered how you are supposed to take it? I'll put it against another example of gift-giving. My Uncle Lou made the boys a game a couple of summers ago. He took PVC piping, made a three-bar frame, then drilled into tennis balls and connected two with a rope. You throw the balls-on-rope at the frame, and score points if you get them to wrap around one of the bars. The boys love it. It comes apart to be stored, and it is an outside game. He made it for them because he had made one for his own grandsons (the Cousins), and they had really liked it. During a visit, they surprised us with it.
Somehow, it feels so very different. My uncle has no obligation to my children. He saw they really enjoyed something, and he made it happen. Am I the only person who sees the difference?
My husband has assured me more support next year. As in, when we get (if we get) warning, we are hauling butt to Chuck E. Cheese. It's less stressful.
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