Andy Finds His Game

Getting ducks in a row

If I was the kind of blogger that let language fly, I would be doing it right now. For about a page and a half.

Instead, I am scheduling another IEP meeting and arranging to dispute and appeal a disciplinary write-up. Joey had a sub this morning- both of his teachers needed to be at an IEP meeting for another child- and he ran into trouble. I cannot figure out the trigger, but he went into fight-flight, and couldn't get out of the room. So he melted down. Apparently it was somewhere between an 8 and a 9. He was sent to the office and officially written up, meeting with the vice principal some time after they managed to calm him down.

We're going in breathing fire.

When Joey has a meltdown here, I can guarantee you, I made a mistake. I failed to do something he needed, and I usually know better. I miss his cues, and he goes into tailspin. I raise my voice or use a trigger word (such as "quickly"), when I know I shouldn't. I fail to de-escalate a situation. I am the adult here, that is my responsibility.

If you think I'm going to hold the school to a lower standard- people who are supposed to be trained to deal with disabilities, including autism, on a far more formal level than I have been- you are very sadly mistaken. And you do not send a child to the office because you made a mistake.

In getting geared up for the battle, I found some helpful war paint to apply. A nice set-up for a chart to clarify the issues and how I am seeing things from this end. If you are headed into an IEP, you might want to check it out: Organizing Your Concerns.

Meanwhile, get out the drums. Mama Bear is getting ready for the battle ahead.

Week One, Almost Done

Good news- Joey is cheering up. As he figures out school is not like the summer program, he's really perking up. Yay!

We are taking Stimey's homework strategy and putting it to good use. It works perfectly (so far). I recommend it.

This morning I am snuggling my cat, then the plan is to clean the front hall, nap, cut some quilt squares, nap, lunch, nap, bake cookies, nap, then squish boys when they get off the bus. How's that for a rockin' day?


UPDATE 3:14pm. JOey had subs in his class today, and melted down- so they sent him to the office. GAH!!!

First Day of School 2010

The bus was twenty minutes late.

I return from the hub-bub of excited parents and new kindergardeners, the din of fall meetings after summer vacations.

I enter the house, silent and still with no boys to bounce about.

I am still haunted by the words he wrote in his notebook to his teachers:

I have bad energy today I'm sorry


Why am I the one with butterflies in my stomach on the first day of school?





Post Script: Joey is on his beloved same bus with the driver he's had since he was 2. He was really happy to see her, and to see something familiar to start school.

Yes, We're All Different

Tonight's story for Joey was Miss Rumphius. In case you are not familiar with the story, which I recommend, Miss Rumphius decides there are three things to do in life: see faraway places, retire to the seaside, and do something to make the world more beautiful.

The idea is to get kids to think about life and how to make the world beautiful. Joey, however, was more interested in the "seeing faraway places" part, and we talked about how Mommy had been to India. He was interested enough that I dug out a couple of my photo albums, but they weren't as interesting to him. Andy, however, popped in when he saw I had pictures, and was fascinated.

We looked through the pictures, then I settled him into bed, and he started asking lots of questions- about the pictures, and the sculptures there, and the people in the pictures. He wanted to know if everybody there was brown. So we talked about melatonin and how different people have different skin because their ancestors adapted to where they lived, and people who lived in sunny places needed to be darker, and we came from the north where it wasn't as sunny, so our skin is lighter. And we talked about tanning in the summer. And we talked about how people are different, simply because that is how they were made.

So he wanted to know other ways people were different.

"Well," I said, "we all like different things. Like some of us like peanut butter, and some of us don't."
"i don like peanu budder," he affirmed. "Wha else?"
"Well, some people are short and some are tall. That is just the way they are made."
"Yeth," he agreed. "An sthome kids are fastht, and some isth swow." I nodded. "I run fastht."
"Super fast," I agreed.
"An Joey isth diff-er-en."
Pause. Was this about to go where I think it is going to go?
"How is Joey different?" I asked.
"He no' like over kidsth," Andy frowned.
"You're right. We're all different. And Joey is different." Andy still frowned. "Joey is autistic," I added.
"Wha's 'ausisdic'?"
"It means he thinks differently than you do. He sees the world a little differently. And he has more trouble talking than you do." He still frowned.
"Wha do i have?" he asked, and I shrugged.
"Nothing. You're just not autistic." He still stewed. "Well, let's think of it this way. Most people have brains like... say, toasters. And they make toast really well. So your brain is a toaster, and it makes toast."
"Okay," he accepted the premise uneasily.
"Well, Joey's brain is more like a hair dryer. It heats stuff, and can even make toast, but it is a lot harder for him, because he isn't made to make toast, he is made to dry hair. And we need dry hair, so it's a good thing he's here." Andy frowned. "And some of us are ovens...."
"Wha's dat?"
"An oven? The thing we put cookies in to bake them. But not the best for making toast." Though I suppose that depends on how you like your toast. But let's not confuse the poor lad.
"And some people are... clothes dryers. So they can heat things up, too, but they do better drying clothes than making toast. But most people are toasters, and the world is geared to making toast." Yeah, I fumbled it. Just shoot me already.
"Thas funny," he giggled, thinking.
"There's lots of ways to be different," I offered as explanation. "And it's a good thing we're all different. It makes the world interesting. Things would be pretty boring if we were all alike. Some people like animals, and some like cars, and some have blues eyes, and some have brown. What color are your eyes?"
Instead of answering, he put a finger to one of my eyes.
"Yes, you have the same color as mine. What is it?" He signed blue, and looked tired. "That's right. Because that is just the way you are made. And handsome!" I kissed him, and he snuggled in, and fell asleep.

I have the feeling this is going to be a regular bedtime conversation.

Signed, Sealed, Delivery on Tuesday.

So we signed all the paperwork to make sure there is always someone in the room in case Joey attempts to escape it. They kept not wanting to have a para with him in specials (art, music, etc.), but I won't have it these first few weeks. "They can lock the door" is not an acceptable answer. You expect the teacher to deal with the meltdown when he finds that door locked? What if there is a fire? The tradeoff is that for the same first few weeks, he will be self-contained half the day, so he can be in small groups or 1:1 instruction while he transitions. We'll start moving him back into the inclusion room after a few weeks.

Then, unbeknownst to them unless they read this blog, I am going to start asking questions about LRE and moving him into "regular" classrooms. Because you know what? That is where we was before. The sped-centered environment is a step backward, a regression from being with his non-disabled peers in supportive environments. Our school system fills "inclusion rooms" with kids who are borderline for services as their "non-disabled" kids- kids that really should need service, but they have issues of clear documentation of needs, because they don't have a "25% delay" in anything specific and measurable.

Andy is a great kid for an inclusion room. He has speech issues that are being otherwise ignored, he had focus and attention issues that are met by the structure required in inclusion environments even though he is technically not receiving accommodation or service, yet he has the academic and social skill strengths to really support his classmates, as well as experience with disabled peers. To push him into a faster-paced, distraction-filled environment would really... well, prove he has issues.

Yet it is into that "mainstream" that both boys must eventually go, like it or not. One day, they will graduate. The world is not full of special needs classrooms.

And you know what? I want those kids in "mainstream" and "regular" classrooms to have to meet and cope with people like Joey and Andy. They need to learn what it means to be tolerant, to appreciate people's strengths and talents, and to therefore appreciate their own foibles, their own talents, their own abilities- to learn what it really means to live in a positive, constructive community.

On Tuesday, Joey will start school with a lot of quiet spaces and an ever-present lifeguard. Andy will start in a structured room with only 15 classmates. Here's hoping everybody- including you- has a fabulous year. Happy Fall!

School Changes and New Teachers

Well, when you have a child who suddenly dashes out the door, the best thing to do is call the school in blind panic and in tears, with words like, "bolting", "safety issue", and "HELP!!!!"

OK, seriously, we had one of those meetings I was hoping would never happen today: the one where you discuss what to do with your child who fright-flights into the street when his school is 1. new and 2. near a major highway. The school doesn't like these meetings, either, because it screams "potential safety hazard". One thing school folks want, it's safe kids.

I spent the morning basically crying, reading over the letters I had from the OT and thinking about the incidents we've had this summer, and basically panicking. BUt I pulled myself together, got the children fed, and headed out with both in tow to the school to get this sorted out. I want Joey's first real day at this school to be far better than anything he had over the summer. And I want him to be safe from Day One.

I learned a few things. For one, Joey has been moved to a different set of teachers than we originally planned. I really liked them. They asked a lot of good questions, made a lot of intelligent and meaningful comments, and kept things really focused on what would be best for Joey from all fronts- academically, socially, and of course, his safety. Ms. H came, mostly because I begged her to help because I wanted somebody I really trusted in that room. This is not an issue to tackle in a room full of people you don't know, I can tell you. She always says very important things, and sticks with realities. This is good, because our admin person was a little bit panicked and suggesting we put Joey in self-contained sped, with much "assurances" that kids "don't get bored here." But the reality is that the vast majority of kids in self-contained environments need them not just for behavior, but for academics; and being a restrictive environment, Joey wouldn't have the kind of contact with his peers that he had before. In other words, it would be a serious setback, and mark a major regression.

But then, this is a major regression and serious setback.

However, the committee prevailed in understanding that Joey's needs and goals were best met in the inclusion environment, so another solution had to be considered: a 1:1 aide. The admin tore out of the room when she knew this was the direction we were heading. An aide in this system is like the Holy Grail of Services (we already have the other Holy Grail of Services: ESY). Aides are expensive, and you can't just stick anybody in a classroom and call them a para; and a 1:1 needs to click with the student. It is something they avoid like the plague.

However, sometimes you find yourself here, with the aide on the table. Joey needs to be in a safe environment, and that means he needs a lifeguard in the room- one dedicated to his needs, and ready to take to their heels when he does. We should have the paperwork done in the next 48 hours.

Next on the agenda was showing joey his classrooms. We visited his homeroom (which will be the resource room, since we are now thinking the cafeteria isn't a safe place for him to eat, with all the noise). Ms. J runs that room, and served as one of his aides over the summer. She seems cool, and I think she's the case manager now. Then we went for a stroll with one of his new teachers, saw her classroom, as well as the regular-ed teacher's classroom (they split the class up for small groups; the rooms are across the hall from each other). He started getting antsy, so we decided it was time to go. The teacher was walking us back to the office (where the main door is), getting to know Joey a little. I stopped to thank Ms. J, and ran into another teacher I knew and said hello.

I glanced down the hall to the boys and the teacher, now well ahead of me. Beyond them was a stairwell, and a glass door to the outside. They were framed there, haloed silhouettes against the bright sunlight streaming through the glass into the much darker hall. And there was frozen moment, when you know what you are seeing is not right. The teacher was calling his name. He was headed to that door. Andy called. I called. He was still moving toward the door. I broke into a run. So did the teacher- right out of her shoes, to run the faster.

I must say, I was totally impressed. She caught him outside. But it was the speed and efficiency of her action that really caught my eye. She wasted no time- she was already on the move when she called his name. She knew she couldn't run in those shoes, and they were off her feet without breaking stride. The instant understanding of the danger, and the effort made to help my child were, to be honest, stunning.

I hope we all expect each and every teacher who works with our children to do no less; yet I remain grateful to see caring in action. Combined with the efforts and comments she put forth in the meeting, I say we're in for a good year, or at least have the best opportunity possible for one. I think we're oriented now.

A Stroll Down the Road

It was Joey's turn for a break, a quick stay at Grandma's. Joey did great. Grandma's house is nice and quiet, and Grandma is particularly good at letting Joey take life at his own pace. He played in Grandma's truck and with her new cat, take a nice bath, and had a generally good time. I arrived nice and early to take him home after his breakfast, as he prefers. We were worried he might get anxious, but everything seemed great. Grandma put Wubbzy on the TV via Netflix/Roku so we could review the visit and talk about the upcoming school meeting.

Unfortunately, the connection out there s a little slow right now for reasons unknown. Every few minutes, the movie was interrupted to "load." The third time, he ran for the door (leaving it open enough for the new cat to sneak in).

I was prepared. When Joey runs at Grandma's, he runs for the car; so I left the doors unlocked and a toy for him to calm down. I cut off the conversation, packed up Joey's bag, helped mom put the cat out, said goodbye, and headed for the car. I put the bag in, looked in the back seat with a friendly greeting, and...

No Joey.

He wasn't in the back of Grandma's truck. He wasn't in the garage. He wasn't answering to my calls. I ran back to the house, shouted into the door that Joey was gone, and ran down the driveway. Whenever I could get him to take a walk at Grandma's, he always preferred to stay on the driveway- a nice, clear line and path to follow. I made it to the circle, and down the road a little way, with no sign of him. I turned and ran back to Mom's. Maybe she had found him, he was just hiding in the back bedroom, or behind the house.

"You you have him?" she called as I appeared. No, I don't. I don't have him. He's gone.

Those are not words you want echoing through your head.

I hopped into the car. "Keep calling," I said, I suppose to my mom, "I'm going to see if he followed the road." I started down the road, watching the woods to either side, for any sign of him, praying he had gone this way, and not into the woods to the river. Please be on the road. Please be on the road. Please be on the road.

He had gotten about 3/4 of a mile down the road. I turned the corner and saw him, and he looked glad to see the car. He was hot, tired, and scared. He had probably met a number of dogs along the way, which would have sent him into more panic, and sped him along the road. If I had tried to continue to look for him on foot, he would have gotten out to the main road, and we would have been in more serious trouble. All the way back to Grandma's, he told me how he had gotten off the road whenever a car had come.

We got a lot of hugs when we got back to Grandma's. And a drink. And more hugs. And now I have him home, with our double-key locks, set up with his computer and his brother. And I'm looking up GPS.

Painfully Obvious

There are those moments in life when you not only realize your mistakes, understand the real consequences of them, and know without a doubt that you are, at the core, a bumbling idiot; those consequences are presented to you in such a way that makes them so palpably and undeniably real, that you wonder how on earth you could be such a bumbling idiot and know that there are some mistakes you can't go back and really fix. It is in those moments that you know that people do really depend upon you, and that sometimes, you let them down; and it is in those moments that screaming is probably the only appropriate response- even those in that moment, that is the one thing you can never do.

One of those moments came at us on highway 50 on the way home from Ocean City. We're damn lucky it didn't come at us at 55 miles an hour, because somebody would have been seriously hurt.

When Joey's ESY meeting was held, and we saw the options, we saw no good ones. We settled for placing Joey in the summer enrichment program designed for regular ed students with an aide, with the "everything's going to be fine speech" tossed in, and then 2 weeks of OT tacked on. We could have sent him to a camp an hour away with a trip home in heavy traffic. That was kind of our only other option, and that would have replaced the OT, not the Summer Scholars. They were dead set on putting him into that summer scholars thing.

We weren't comfortable. We had been told there might be 40 kids in the class, but "everything will be OK, because there will be two teachers, and we'll transition Joey to the new school and new teachers" by having two weeks with the old para, then two weeks with one of the new special ed folks each week. The realities of the program were that it was a large, noisy group with two field trips a week- one in-town, one in Richmond- our para got usurped by another special ed student who was put into the program as a regular participant, most of the kids seemed to shun Joey whenever I saw him and were unfamiliar to him. We already were having increased anxiety issues as Joey realized he was going to be in a new school and not have his same teacher and para anymore- the point of putting him in the program was to decrease that anxiety, not increase it. The reality was instant and dramatic increase in anxiety, depression, and the associated behaviors such as bolting and self deprecation.

When we saw the increase the first week, we were told he was getting settled, give him more time. I should have pulled him.

When he really freaked out the second week, we sang our own praises in figuring out the CD player and getting him through the long field trip and the noisy days. I should have pulled him.

In the third week, when I got the note from the new aide that Joey was having trouble, but that she was sure "Everything would be OK", I should have pulled him.

By the fourth week, it was too late. I should have pulled him anyway. By then he was bolting almost daily, sometimes multiple times in a day. At any frustration, he was saying he was a bad person, he couldn't be a good boy, and that no one liked him. He was saying that people thought he was ugly and mean, but he was really a nice boy. He was saying he was stupid and clumsy and he waned to die so Andy could have a little sister. He wanted to break things, he wanted to kill me (when I didn't give him his way), he wanted to kill Andy (when Andy was annoying him), he wanted to die. Everything was most definitely not OK.

The beach trip he looks forward to every year was a series of struggles to get him to do anything new, sprinkled with familiar favorites to coax him out of the hotel room- some of which failed to do so. He was bolting there, too. Do you know how hard it is to lock a hotel room door from the inside, to keep someone in?

Then, just before the bridge on our way home, it happened. He was frustrated, tired, annoyed, hungry, cramped in the car, feeling the anxiety of heading home and who knows what else was exploding in that head of his. He was done, he was leaving, goodbye! And he opened the door.

Fortunately, we were in a traffic jam, so the car wasn't moving very fast, but folks, it was fast enough. A sharp cry from me got him to close the door, and JoeyAndyDad found a place to get off the road pretty quick. We engaged the child safety locks, got everyone calmed down, and started off again.

I dont think I need to go into the "might have" situations here. Thank God, none of them happened, we just got the door shut, the locks engaged, and no one was injured in the process. The tacked on OT turned quickly into a blessing these lat two weeks, as Miss Lisa got to see what has occurred, and put together a brilliantly clear letter about the issue of bolting and that this is a dramatic and new behavior, as well as the self- deprecation issues. On Tuesday, I get to sketch out the consequences of not providing Joey with appropriate ESY.

I get to look straight into the face of the consequences of not holding my ground and fighting, every single day. This is what happens when I fail him.

Nature Adventure

The other failed attempt to get Joey to a boat ride was our now-traditional Assateague Adventure, the boat ride out to the island to get your feet sandy looking for nonexistant seashells. I didn't really blame him this round. JoeyAndyDad wanted to sleep in, a luxury equated with things like hot showers and glasses of wine to many of us, and the boys were up and bouncy. We had a coupon, and I thought if I managed to shuffle the boys out, the other adults could have a nice, quiet morning. But then Joey staunchly refused to go, so he got to stay in the room with Dad, and Grandma came with us on our adventure.

In the rain.

Fortunately, it wasn't pouring, but it was grey, misty, damp, and by the end, definitely raining.

As usual, we took a ride through the fishing docks to look at the boats, then out to the island. In past years, we've had really good sightings of the ponies. This time, we learned that ponies are smart, and know not to wander around scrubby little points of island in the rain.

So we grabbed our net and went ashore, where Andy promptly ran off and mixed with the tons of other people who had come. There was an unusually high tide, so there wasn't a lot of space in the area we were permitted to wander on (much of the island is protected, so you can't just roam anywhere).

We did manage to see a hermit crab, and Andy found some bluecrab shells that were probably shed by growing crabs. One very excited young woman actually caught a small fish in her net, so Andy got very happy about seeing a real live fish in a net. Mostly he liked wading around with the other people and trying to catch stuff and talk at the same time. He actually got a bit grumpy because he didn't get to catch a live crab or fish himself.

He did, however, catch himself some seaweed. And insisted we take the crab shells home. They're downstairs somewhere...

Then the rain started rolling in at a decent clip, and we washed off our feet and got back on the boat for the ride back to port.

On the way back, the guide shows off aquatic life, having the kids help by showing live creatures to the rest of the audience. We got to see spider crabs, whelks, clams, starfish, and a horseshoe crab. Andy got to help with the starfish. He was a good helper, and very proud of himself. He really liked the excursion, despite it not having toys or pirate gold involved. Unfortunately, the picture they take when you get on the boat, we didn't get to buy, because the guy can't print and stuff in the rain.

Yo Ho Ho, To Sea We Go!

One of the great adventures we planned was a pirate adventure, aboard the great Duckaneer! Unfortunately, this was one of the side trips that Joey staunchly refused to leave the hotel room for. In fact, he refused to go on any boat rides, saying they were scary. So we left Joey in the hotel with Dad and Grandma, and Andy and I went pirating!

We arrived to explore the docks, and Andy was very excited to see live crabs on the piers. We also discovered a place to get shirley temples, an office with stuffed sharks on the wall, and the gift cart. Oh, and a place to buy a hat for Mommy, as we realized there would be little shade on the Duckaneer.

We were soon off to find pirate treasure! The treasure in the end turned out to be, as Andy suspected, small toys. The folks were very generous with letting all the kids have a handful of treasure.

They were also very clear about the fact that everybody would be getting wet. They are serious. Don't go on pirate adventures if you are afraid of getting soaked to the bone. After all, there are ten water canons on the Duckaneer!

The boat is wonderful. Andy thought it was amazing. There is a big pirate map painted on the deck, and the folks are in costume and character. They sit the kids around the map and spin a wonderfully fun yarn about the adventure. Parents are encouraged to participate in everything, too.

Andy loved the map. He started looking for the "X" right away (there isn't one- the adventure is more adventurous than that!) He especially liked that the places marked on it were places we had talked about and been to, such as Assateague Island.

Andy was soon ready for high adventure! He actually sat and joined in the story, and really got into the whole thing. He had some trouble now and again with processing instructions, but overall, he was having a glorious time as a salty sea dog. Yo ho, Yo ho, a pirate's life for me!

Andy manned the canons when we first got on, but in the thick of the battle against the enemy pirate, he spent a lot of time just trying to avoid being soaked. He was actually pretty successful. The enemy pirate would also reach in and grab shoes off the kids' feet, and Andy was very proud that he didn't lose his shoes (they all reappeared in the treasure chest at the end of the adventure). He did get a few good squirts in, though.

Here's the map on the deck.

It really is a fun thing, and worth the money. The folks that run the thing make it lots of fun, you get lots of toys, and you also ride around the bay and see Assateague. The pirate battle lasted a good long time, and everybody got into it, adults and kids alike. After the battle is won, they have games and dances for the kids to do on the way back to port.

Also, what is a pirate without his mustache, beard, and tattoo? They had quick "facepainting" which involved drawing two lines for mustache, a line on the chin for a beard, and an anchor on the kids' arms for tattoos. Oh, and one pirate ran around doing the same to the adults. I managed to avoid being mustached and bearded. Andy, however, hopped right into line. He got excited because they ran out of blue pencil, so he got to have red instead.

That's my little pirate! Arrr, Matey!

This Made Joey Laugh So Hard...

You may have guessed by now that Joey is having a major bout of anxiety and depression this summer. However, this made him laugh harder and freer than I have heard him giggle and squeal in months.

Crabby: The Beach, Part Three

Not every side attraction was a complete disaster. The ride to them, yes. The destination, not always. For example, we decided to take a ride to "North Ocean City" to see the Discoversea Shipwreck Museum (which is free!). Joey was not fooled. He knew we were driving, and it was longer than ten minutes. Chaos reigned all the way to Fenwick Island.

When we arrived, the museum is actually on the second floor of a schlock shop. We got a little nervous, and Joey's anxiety was almost overwhelming, as the shop was crammed with... schlock.

Then we managed to get upstairs, with much coaxing and promises of pirate gold. It's a darling little museum of items found in the area from shipwrecks. The labeling convinced me that the curators are either bad at labeling, or are not really sure what they have, but the objects are actually pretty decent. They also had quite a bit of information about actually collecting items and how underwater archaeology is done, including a really cool model showing what a shipwreck looks like compared to the boat exploring the wreck above. That kind of caught Joey's attention, enough to keep him in the room. Andy was fascinated (he's discovered a love for Time Team, too. That's my boy!)

Andy spent a lot of time looking at the objects, including this "mermaid" (which he knew right away wasn't real, smart boy). He liked all the sparklies (I did mention this child is my son, right? Like there was any doubt now...) and the pirate stuff, since he had been on something of a pirate kick and even on a pirate adventure (to be blogged about later). He wasn't quite as interested in the china and pots as I was, but the coins and jewelry rocked his world.

As I prefaced this, the trip was not a complete loss. Although mildly distracted by the shipwreck model, what really caught Joey's eye was the baby blue crab and fish in a small, floor-level tank, He plopped himself down in front of that sucker and stayed there happily for half an hour, while Andy explored the museum. Then he happily went downstairs and picked out toys and a bag of tumbled stones with his brother, and complained about the ride all the way back to the hotel.

He liked that tank so much, when some of the stones got broken on the hard tile floor and the boys were antsy in gray weather, we actually drove back and went again!

We also had a much-anticipated yearly visit to Hooper's Crabhouse. This is just across the bridge, so no long ride to complain about; and JOey had been talking about wanting to go from the time we announced the date we would be arriving at Ocean City. Strangely, neither of them ate much. Andy staunchly refused to eat crab (wait, did I say this was my child? How can any child of mine not eat crab?), except the legs, since he could smash them with the hammer (ok, I'll still claim him). Joey got too frustrated to pick one. However, he did not refuse any crab meat offered him until he got too full to eat anything at all. That didn't actually take that long; anxiety slows Joey's stomach way down.

So crabby boy because something of a theme through the trip, to the chorus of "Let's go back to the hotel!" (said in a sing-song, "Let's go to camp now!" sort of voice). Oh, and those morning trips to the surf? The first morning we went out and the sun hit his eyes, and he he had to walk all the way back to the hotel room to use the restroom almost immediately after reaching the waves, that was the end of those.

So how did we manage to get him out of the hotel room? Stay tuned...

The Best Laid Plans: The Beach, Part Two

Since we were heading to the beach for a whole week, JoeyAndyDad and I did some lightning research online for things to see and do besides our usual triangle of sand, pool, and boardwalk. In the last few years, we had expanded to include Assateague, a boatride, and yummy dinner at Hooper's, but basically, we did the sand, pool, boardwalk thing. Hey, its the beach, right?

So we put together a list of fun stuff, and set it to the beat of a schedule: breakfast, beach, ride to something fun, lunch, rest, something fun like the boardwalk, pool, dinner, more pool. We found some pirate museums, a pirate boat adventure, and a new nature center to check out. We even had some breathings of trying to visit Niksmom and Nik. I thought the boys might also like another trip to the Salisbury Zoo. We all know planning is everything, right? So we were so ready.

Joey hasn't been riding in the car well, so we thought of that, too. It's a four hour drive to the beach, so we pulled out the stops: videos, his CD player, plenty of books, toys, notebooks and pens. Hey, if it will get him through four hours, thirty minutes should be a cinch, right? I mean, the fact that I had been trouble even getting so far as Grandma's all summer was of no consequence at all, right? We had made it to Jamestowne before Summer Scholars began, after all!

So what happened?

Well, first, the Bay Bridge happened. This made a four-hour trip into an eight-hour slog. We went through our bag tricks, but the trauma of the long ride lingered. Whenever a ride was suggested, Joey insisted he wanted to stay in the room. In fact, we had a hard time getting him from the room even to go on to the beach or into the pool on enough occasions, we were afraid he might even be sick.

When we did manage to get him into the car, the results were, at best, mixed.

We managed to pry Joey from the car in Salisbury, after much complaints that he didn't want to go, and that it was too far. And that nobody likes him, and he doesn't want to go.

He showed mild interest in a couple of animals, then insisted on returning to the car. So JoeyAndyDad took him back to the car, and Andy and I roamed about, looking at animals and chatting. Then we discovered the little nature center, and managed to pry Joey out of the car to touch a frog. Hey, wouldn't you get out of a car to touch a frog?

We managed to lure him into the zoo some by promising him a look at otters. Joey loves otters. However, this time he was unimpressed. He did look at a few things- then wanted to go back to the car. So the zoo visit was over for him.

I didn't allow that to dampen Andy's visit, however. We saw the animals, some of them twice so he could get a closer look without the chorus of "Let's go back to the car, now!" Andy thought the flamingos were fabulous, and very very pink. He thought his friend Kylie would like them. He also was fond of the bobcats, though I didn't get any good photos of them. We also saw a black jaguar, which was awesomely beautiful.

It is a lovely little zoo, lots of shade, some nice benches placed around and about, and even these wooden walkways through parts of the exhibits. The focus is mostly on American animals, though there are a few exotic things like the jaguar (OK, South American... no big tigers or lions or anything). There were llamas, bears, otters, and peacocks. OK, India, too. But colonists had peacocks, so there. They have a cool exhibit with beavers and wood ducks, too. h, and a fancy wolf exhibit, though once again, we didn't see a single wolf.

The nature center was small, but air conditioned, and they had a turtle shell to crawl through. They had lots of turtles and snakes to look at, oh and frogs. They also had a young lady who would bring things out to touch (like the frog), or happily tell you all about any animal there in great and fascinating detail. When she wasn't talking, she had a chair to one side to sit. JoeyAndyDad noticed that she liked to rock. Yes, there really are wonderful options for people with ASD, if you find their interests and give them the opportunity.

The Delmarva Discovery Center was less successful.

Andy loved it. He got to look at real horseshoe crabs, and there were aquariums of fish, and a model of a steamboat to walk through, and a model of a Native American house, and trains to play with and... and... it is an impressive little center. I recommend it.

However, Joey got through the door and ran screaming through the building with me hot on his heels. I finally cornered him in a back room (no, I didn't actually catch him, I cornered him), and we gathered ourselves together. The ride was too long. The place was scary. He was a ball of anxiety and frustration. He wanted to go back to the car. He made a break for the car, and again, I was on his heels, so we managed to cross the parking lot safely, and get into the car with Grandma.

I then wandered through the museum taking photos of the exhibits and Andy having fun with his Daddy: touching the crabs and watching them swim, looking at different seashells, exploring a cool computerized globe thing and learning about satellite launching, and even looking at a reconstructed hut for duck decoy carving.

I then took my camera out to the car and showed Joey what was in the museum, the cool stuff he could see and do, to see if i could take the edge off the unknown factor and get him to come have some fun. He was finally convinced by the beaver lodge.

After all, I said he could go in it. I wasn't lying. He was happy to go in, but unfortunately scratched his arm on a stick on his way out, and it was kind of downhill from there. Even the big fishtanks were no use. The horseshoe crabs spooked him rather than interesting him. The big boat was overwhelming.

He did ply some with the trains, but then he wanted to go back to the car. And back to the hotel. And back to Ocean City. Because we were now "far from Ocean City."

Next segment: more successful ventures. Though not by too much.

Arrival: The Beach Part One

There is no place on earth Joey loves better than the beach. He looks forward to our beach trip every year with enthusiasm. Say "beach" to Joey, and if he hears you, he smiles. So the boys' grand arrival at the beach was, as always, a hit. First we put our feet in the sand, no camera so we could just enjoy and not worry about the camera getting wet.

Then the next day, it was time to hit the boards- and Trimper's, of course! The boys were so excited- better than Christmas!

Andy's favorite is the fishing the game, which is kind of a fancy version of pick-up-a-duck. Getting a stuffed toy every time helps its popularity, but fishing really clinches it. Now that we are home, Andy wants to set up a carnival of his own, and a fishing game is to be the centerpiece. (Stay tuned).

Joey also joined in the fun of fishing, and caught two sharks, so he got a bigger prize. Joey prefers the rides. Andy prefers the games.

Joey was so happy, the noise of the rides and the people were tolerable, if not exactly comfortable. Joey has had a huge uptick in noise sensitivity. Even at home, he prefers the TV set to a volume I can barely hear, and is increasingly unhappy about going into places that used to be only minor irritations, such as Walmart or the grocery store. I had his earplugs along, just in case, but he was fine without them.

We got the boys wristbands, so they could ride as often as they liked. They both would take several spins on their favorites, and tried a few others. The roller coasters are now a great favorite, even with Andy.

One problem with Trimper's is a lack of shade. They have benches, but almost all of them are in bright, sunny locations, and are therefore of limited use. To get cooled off, the best option is to slip into the indoor section, where the kids' rides and the carousel are, and sit on a bench near the door to take advantage of cross breeze.

One of the rides the boys tried was a pirate ship that was something like a funhouse. You go in and it rocks, and there are little sections of things to walk through, like big rubber bands or moving floors, and on either end are little rooms with fake pirate scenes in them. Then you go up onto the deck and slide down a big moving slide. Andy wandered in while Joey was taking an extra turn on the roller coaster, but he decided it was too scary and he didn't like it.

The boys then played games and won lots of prizes. Joey's favorite games are the water pistols- he seems to beat Mommy a lot at those. Andy like the frogs ponds and Whack a Mole, both of which require you to beat on things. Hmmmm...

While Andy was taking a turn at a game, Joey decided to check out the pirate ship. In he went, and I directed my attention to the slide, as Andy had not been in the ship long, and I figured JOey would probably run right through, too. However, the film of them sliding down stuff is often nice, they like slides.

Only he never appeared.

I started getting nervous. He had been in there a while. Alan had the brilliant idea of asking Andy to go look for his brother, even though he thought the ride was a little scary. A minute later, he came down the slide and said Joey wasn't there.

Baffled, I bought the required tickets and went in myself. Sure enough- no Joey. Can you say, "panic"?

I came back out to see Allan leading Joey over to Grandma and Andy (having that extra set of hands is a godsend, I can tell you)- he had decided he was hot, and gone in to the shady indoor section to cool off, smart little guy. Nearly gave us a heart attack, but we were cheering that he was recognizing his needs and thinking of ways to meet them, rather than melting down. And besides, he was OK, and we now had him.

We all went in and let the boys ride the carousel to their hearts' content. Joey rode it six times. Andy went four, then wandered over the the bumper cars (the kid ones- he's really in-between the kiddie ones and the big ones, but he's definitely NOT ready for the big ones).

When Joey finally decided to change animals, he gave his giraffe a hug and kiss.

Andy first rode a deer, then fell in love with the sea dragon. We were impressed with him voluntarily riding it. Remember, two summers ago, we couldn't get him on anything at all! Carousels are actually a lot more exciting than they look- the speed and passing all the lights and colors and people, it can be really something.

Joey rode it until he almost fell asleep. And so ended our first Trimper's adventure. But don't worry. We went back.

It Was The Best of Times, It Was the Worst of Times

We're back from the beach. We'll be blogging after I get a good couple shots of vodka in my system and a few deep breaths, and lots of boy hugging.

Coming attractions:

Joey loves the beach, so why won't he leave the hotel room?

Andy joins a high sea adventure upon the Duckaneer!

Trimpers. Woo-hoo! Boys win lots of prizes!

We find pirate gold and baby crabs.

Mommy forgets to bring the earplugs to Marty's.

Joey opens the door- while the car is still moving. (No one fell out or was hurt. But, HOLY FRIJOLES!!!)




The good news is that both boys are already planning next year's Ocean City vacation. They want to go back to the Majestic (where we were last year). Andy is plotting on making his own carnival here, so he can win his own prizes and make his own games. Joey is planning on how to practice his skeeball, and bragging about his score.

The bad news is Mommy needs a drink.

We Is Here

See you on the other side!

The Blue Bunny Strikes Again

Can you tell which tooth is gone?

The Summer As We Saw It.

"Joey did great! He's had a great time! He's really adjusting! He's going to be fine."

You'd think these words would be comforting. I honestly believe they were intended as comforting. We sent my child to four weeks of summer programming- an excellent summer enrichment program, by the way- to try to transition him to a new school and new people. We knew it wasn't going to be a waltz through the tulips. However, what I saw was not encouraging.

What I usually see is a happy Joey pitching in and hamming it up, grinning to be in front of people and showing off, or at least showing off for Mommy. You get used to seeing Joey having fun doing stuff, even when he isn't the most perfect or graceful about it (well, to other people. To me, he looks absolutely wonderful.)

I am not used to seeing this:


He then had to have the teacher come get him from my arms, and go for a walk with the special ed teacher. Oh, he had earplugs in; but it was all too much. Too many people, too much noise, too much to try to coordinate and do. The other child you see the teacher working with? He didn't get ESY services in his IEP, he's there as a "regular" attendee. I could rant on about that from several different angles. Let's just stick to noting that Joey is unhappy, and bolting- something that occurred all of twice at school all of the previous school year, but was apparently a regular occurrence during the summer program, and certainly has become a regular enough occurrence here that we are considering upping the security on our doors (he's figured out the keys, and soon will figure out how to reach them). I had been thinking our parking hangtag was going to be obsolete by renewal time, now I'm thinking, no, we'll be renewing it- and that is still two years away. About the time we will be transitioning to the next new school.

I love hearing that Joey is doing great and fine and having fun. But it would sure be more convincing if we saw some evidence of truth in it.

A New Fairy Arrives

Andy thinks his tooth fairy might be a dinosaur. But he's not sure yet.