Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Out in the Challenger Field
I got to stand out in the field and be Joey's buddy on Saturday for his baseball game. Apparently the Courtland baseball season is coming to a close (Courtland is first seeded!), so the volunteers are now thin.
He had a nice game, even hitting a ball to the outfield! He's becoming one of the big hitters for his team! He's also running better. It is amazing what a little focus on a skill can do for Joey, and a little motivation. He is losing that toddler trot and even leans forward a little to run to a base.
It is striking to see all the Challenger kids working so hard, even as they are having a good time. I suppose all play and activity is really "therapy" for everyone, but most folks don't call it that, or even think about it. Joey gets upset when he doesn't get to field a ball, but he's still learning to pay attention to the game enough to know when it is coming- before one of the other kids gets the ball. We have a child who goes around the bases in a walker, their dad cheering them on every step of the way. We have a child learning to pitch, working on coordination. We have a child in a wheelchair who likes to play shortstop, and lets folks know it. We have a child who can spin the bat around their hand like a fancy sword move. We have a child who is a runner, and just being out there playing a game is a challenge. We have kids who have been doing this for four years, and some, like us, who are new. They are, each and every one, absolutely amazing. Maybe I ought to write a play.
Joey and I worked on playing second base, but that wasn't really good for him, not enough balls coming his way to hold his interest. JoeyAndyDad had him more in the infield later on, and that was better in some ways- more balls hit his way- and not in others- more kids up there trying to field the ball and crowding Joey out. He also doesn't like getting tagged (he knows from school that when he's tagged, he's supposed to be out).
We still encourage him to steal home. He's our little hero.
He had a nice game, even hitting a ball to the outfield! He's becoming one of the big hitters for his team! He's also running better. It is amazing what a little focus on a skill can do for Joey, and a little motivation. He is losing that toddler trot and even leans forward a little to run to a base.
It is striking to see all the Challenger kids working so hard, even as they are having a good time. I suppose all play and activity is really "therapy" for everyone, but most folks don't call it that, or even think about it. Joey gets upset when he doesn't get to field a ball, but he's still learning to pay attention to the game enough to know when it is coming- before one of the other kids gets the ball. We have a child who goes around the bases in a walker, their dad cheering them on every step of the way. We have a child learning to pitch, working on coordination. We have a child in a wheelchair who likes to play shortstop, and lets folks know it. We have a child who can spin the bat around their hand like a fancy sword move. We have a child who is a runner, and just being out there playing a game is a challenge. We have kids who have been doing this for four years, and some, like us, who are new. They are, each and every one, absolutely amazing. Maybe I ought to write a play.
Joey and I worked on playing second base, but that wasn't really good for him, not enough balls coming his way to hold his interest. JoeyAndyDad had him more in the infield later on, and that was better in some ways- more balls hit his way- and not in others- more kids up there trying to field the ball and crowding Joey out. He also doesn't like getting tagged (he knows from school that when he's tagged, he's supposed to be out).
We still encourage him to steal home. He's our little hero.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
The New School Waltz
Our little school system is set up with a split upper and lower elementary. What this means for most kids is that the older elementary kids- third, fourth, and fifth graders- are not housed with the wee ones (K-2), so that programming and instruction can be more focused on the needs of the two age groups. What it means for us is we have to start from scratch trying to claw for the services Joey needs, with a whole new group of people with a whole new attitude towards special education, special ed students, and what services should entail.
And so far, I am not impressed.
We had a separate meeting for ESY, partly because there was this huge gap called August, five weeks of black hole in service that would be a disaster for Joey. And what I learned was that our new crew believes my son's education is less important that waxing the floors. Really.
Not. Good.
I've listened to these folks at the Sped Parent meetings. The impression I get there is no better. There is a sense of dividing and isolating cases instead of a broader view of service in which the children's services and strengths are interconnected and interwoven for an effective educational netting- or better yet, fabric. You can't have social skills for one. The problem is I know they have at least three, likely more. Can't do this for one, can't do that for one. If I hear it again, I'm going to stand up and say, "You have one that needs this. Not wants. Needs. Figure it out." I'm starting to look up the numbers for lawyers again. I suspect I will need one in the next, oh, three years. And it is likely to be sooner rather than later. Better to go ahead and put in a retainer, rather than have to come up with one in a super-hurry.
As I left the meeting, the new administrator made the usual "Everything is going to be fine" speech. I think she meant well. However, if she thinks she's building any trust here, she is sadly mistaken. When your concern is about having to have a whole month to strip the floors, rather than being concerned about the needs of your students- even just one student, if you must- there is seriously nothing trustworthy there.
I'm going to have to start seeing some serious effort and creative support soon if we're to get any trust going on this side. And folks, it's looking like its going to be a long three years ahead.
And so far, I am not impressed.
We had a separate meeting for ESY, partly because there was this huge gap called August, five weeks of black hole in service that would be a disaster for Joey. And what I learned was that our new crew believes my son's education is less important that waxing the floors. Really.
Not. Good.
I've listened to these folks at the Sped Parent meetings. The impression I get there is no better. There is a sense of dividing and isolating cases instead of a broader view of service in which the children's services and strengths are interconnected and interwoven for an effective educational netting- or better yet, fabric. You can't have social skills for one. The problem is I know they have at least three, likely more. Can't do this for one, can't do that for one. If I hear it again, I'm going to stand up and say, "You have one that needs this. Not wants. Needs. Figure it out." I'm starting to look up the numbers for lawyers again. I suspect I will need one in the next, oh, three years. And it is likely to be sooner rather than later. Better to go ahead and put in a retainer, rather than have to come up with one in a super-hurry.
As I left the meeting, the new administrator made the usual "Everything is going to be fine" speech. I think she meant well. However, if she thinks she's building any trust here, she is sadly mistaken. When your concern is about having to have a whole month to strip the floors, rather than being concerned about the needs of your students- even just one student, if you must- there is seriously nothing trustworthy there.
I'm going to have to start seeing some serious effort and creative support soon if we're to get any trust going on this side. And folks, it's looking like its going to be a long three years ahead.
Friday, May 21, 2010
Happy Birthday, Andy!
When I was one,
I just begun.
When I was two,
I was nearly new.
When I was three,
I was hardly me.
When I was four,
I was not much more.
When I was five,
I was just alive.
But now I'm six,
I'm as clever as clever.
So I think I will be six now,
forever and ever!
-A.A.Milne
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Taking all the help we can get
We're back from the big OT eval. I managed to get a script from the doctor's office this morning (I forgot to ask for it yesterday during the annual checkup, because I am, yes, an idiot), so off we went!
After Ms Lisa took a good look at the little guy, we had a chat about what he needs to be productive in school. I told her the bare and terrible truth: we need all the help we can get, so we can provide proper guidance to the new school folks. Stuff that we've done on the fly now needs to be formalized and simplified. We discussed sensory needs, we discussed social skills, we discussed lunch bunch, we discussed the problems of skill generalization (what good is a skill being performed before the school OT if he doesn't perform it anywhere else? Sometimes I wonder if the school OT thinks, "Well, see, he can do it... he must not want to!"... ie, "What a spoiled brat!"). I'm hoping for a fabulous report in 7-10 days which says he needs these things to access the curriculum. She was particularly interested in the phys ed curriculum that he is clearly not accessing in the general phys ed program... having something more geared to him would be fantastic.
I'll keep you posted!
After Ms Lisa took a good look at the little guy, we had a chat about what he needs to be productive in school. I told her the bare and terrible truth: we need all the help we can get, so we can provide proper guidance to the new school folks. Stuff that we've done on the fly now needs to be formalized and simplified. We discussed sensory needs, we discussed social skills, we discussed lunch bunch, we discussed the problems of skill generalization (what good is a skill being performed before the school OT if he doesn't perform it anywhere else? Sometimes I wonder if the school OT thinks, "Well, see, he can do it... he must not want to!"... ie, "What a spoiled brat!"). I'm hoping for a fabulous report in 7-10 days which says he needs these things to access the curriculum. She was particularly interested in the phys ed curriculum that he is clearly not accessing in the general phys ed program... having something more geared to him would be fantastic.
I'll keep you posted!
Tuesday, May 18, 2010
New Directory of Autism Blogs: Come Join Us!
When the Autism Hub went down, I had no idea what happened. I still have no idea what happened. I'm kinda clueless about stuff like politics and gossip and drama and stuff like that. I always have been. When stuff starts hitting the fan, I'm the clueless one going, "Huh? What fan? And why am I all damp?" Yes, I often wonder how much I might have contributed to the problem; I often never find out because I never find out what the problem was. How much of being clueless made it worse? Am I really that much in La-La Land? And I have this problem all the time in real life situations, when I should be able to read the social cues swirling about me, and just don't. Online? Gah!
So apparently the Hub went down, and I didn't know about it for a few days. And now it is back up, and I found out because someone on Facebook mentioned they weren't on it anymore. In fact, a couple of folks mentioned it- folks I consider very central voices to the parent discussion side of things. I wasn't surprised to find my own blog gone, after all, I'm just a little blog, and I did kinda crash the party instead of being invited. In fact, the vast majority of the comfy-couch section seems to have been axed.
But salvation is here! Kim Wombles has put together a new lovely directory of autism blogs, and it looks fabulous: The Autism Blogs Directory. Lots and lots of blogs, so you can check out plenty of online voices saying lots of thought-provoking things about topics I never even knew might be an issue! Do I agree with everybody? Heck, no! And I think that's a good thing!
So come check it out, find some new blogs to read, grab some hot beverage of your choice, and join us on the comfy couches!
So apparently the Hub went down, and I didn't know about it for a few days. And now it is back up, and I found out because someone on Facebook mentioned they weren't on it anymore. In fact, a couple of folks mentioned it- folks I consider very central voices to the parent discussion side of things. I wasn't surprised to find my own blog gone, after all, I'm just a little blog, and I did kinda crash the party instead of being invited. In fact, the vast majority of the comfy-couch section seems to have been axed.
But salvation is here! Kim Wombles has put together a new lovely directory of autism blogs, and it looks fabulous: The Autism Blogs Directory. Lots and lots of blogs, so you can check out plenty of online voices saying lots of thought-provoking things about topics I never even knew might be an issue! Do I agree with everybody? Heck, no! And I think that's a good thing!
So come check it out, find some new blogs to read, grab some hot beverage of your choice, and join us on the comfy couches!
Monday, May 17, 2010
Renaissance Faire
This week's adventure was a trip to the Renaissance Faire, which opened at the Lake Anna Winery this weekend, and runs (weekends only) through June. It is $8 per person for everyone 6 and older, free for under 6 (Andy was free! Last time!), and we had a roaringly good time. Maybe a little bit of a roller-coaster, but what did I expect for taking two kids who decided to wear long sleeves to a strange place full of people wearing funny clothes?
Andy started shy, but Joey jumped in with both feet. He learned about sword fighting, and then played tambourine with the wandering minstrels (who really do stop and sing to you!), and then got right down to business learning to write with a quill, and showing off how well he can already write with a quill. That's my boy!
Andy started warming up when he found the toy box and dress-up center. The Faire is arranged in a large ring of Stuff to Buy around an open field, but there is a back walk in the woods, with more Stuff to Buy. Among the Stuff to Buy are various stages with something always going on, and in the field, they are playing Renaissance games (you can join in!) or dancing (you can join in!) or putting on impromptu naval battles (yep! Join in!). For folks who remember the old Virginia Wine Festival, it isn't as big, but very similar set-up, and yeah, it works very well for the Ren Faire, too. :) The back woods also had stages and things to do, including some games (throw battle axes, 3 throws for $2!) and a lot of the children's stuff, and the Queen's Court- really smart, as it was shady and lovely. The kid's section (Poppet's) included crafts that changed every half-hour or so, and could be done for free (though donations for materials accepted).
We did catch the Archery Show (there are folks who wander around in costume telling you what's going on when, and what shows are about to start and where they are), and the boys liked the arrows and the shooting. The archery guy wasn't too impressed with us, however, and seemed to have minimal experience with children. He kinda got annoyed that JOey was moving around and asked questions over and over.
We started off as the only ones there, which worked OK, but when more folks came and he basically restarted the program (which was understandable- it was a cool trick shot with four arrows!), we took our leave and got out of the way. Andy wanted to toss axes, so we did that instead.
We got some ice cream and a drink, and then wandered back over to the armoury to take a peek. This was out in the sun more, and it was getting pretty hot, but I hoped the ice cream would hold them until I could scout around for food stalls, which were not immediately apparent. Joey got interested in the helmets.
So this is what I saw: a happy Joey trying on helmets and giggling, and a gentleman enjoying watching him giggle and trying on the different helmets. Happy child. Not ten feet away. Lovely.
Let's turn to the other child, who is busily pestering the guy talking about the pikes and spears. What's that one? What's that one? Oooh, why is that one all spiky? Happy child, not ten feet away, but ten feet away in a slightly different direction. What could go wrong?
Both of these photos are prelude to a melt down. I have no clue what happened. I was taking the picture of Andy when the Wail of Warning went up, and I turned to find Joey making a break for the woods at top speed. Much to the annoyance of the staff, I darted into the woods after him, with Andy on my heels, both of us calling for Joey. Oh, and several folks in funny clothes right on our heels, explaining to me none-too-patiently that we weren't allowed back there. No kidding! I finally had to stop and explain that Joey was autistic, that I would get him, that I understood we were not allowed back there, this was not me allowing him to run (what idiots are these?), and could they please back off, they were scaring him?
I managed to get him back to a tent and calmed down some, and Andy went back to the pikes (and the folks, once they understood, were actually very helpful), and one of the folks who hadn't run after us, but remember Joey from earlier, came over and sat down to talk to him a little and help calm him down. After another brief melt, I figured out that Mom the Idiot needed to feed her children lunch.
So we found the food, bought some, and headed back to the woods to consume it. Corns dogs, fish and chips, cold drinks, yay! With everyone feeling better, we returned to Poppets to see what craft was happening and take a breath. They boys rediscovered the toy area.
Since they were happy, I let them dress up and play to their heart's content. Andy became a cowboy. Joey was a "boy princess", which I explained was a prince, so he became "Doctor Prince"- who helped animals who are sick, and wears a beautiful crown. Happy boys.
Joey talked to himself in the mirror, and announced himself to all and sundry, as Andy played on the horse and explored the other toys. At one point, we had a good crew of dressed-up kids running about, though most of the kids (and most of the adults!) came already in full costume!
Then we had a puppet play, and the boys now want me to make a stage and puppets. I have a surprise. They are going to make the puppets.
Then the craft of the hour was making dolls, and the boys wanted one, so they got busy making dolls. That was lovely, though Andy wasn't so keen on knots, and wanted his doll to have a red hat. I made him one when we got home.
Then came the Knighting Ceremony! Joey was knighted by the Queen, along with many of the other children. We got cool certificates and Joey got a pin, but Andy was too nervous to be knighted at the ceremony. Too many people in funny (but gorgeous!) clothes. Oh, and there was a real sword involved.
After the ceremony, we were permitted audience with the Queen. Joey got up and let everybody know he liked math, and the very gracious Queen chatted with him for a minute before sending him to the treasure box for a present. These people knew what they were doing with this. During the Knighting, they knew where parents needed to stand to get good photos, and insisted on waiting until parents were in position and ready before doing the knighting. Then they made sure everybody was happy with the photos before moving on. She did the same for the audience, making sure everyone got the "portraits" they wanted with their "faerie boxes."
Joey picked a coin from the treasure box. He was very pleased with it, and ran about showing everyone in the glade. Seeing a treasure box made his brother bolder- a chance for a toy! Wow! We were all about that!
So up brave Andy went, and even gave the Queen a hug! She talked to him for a while, then asked if he was ready now to be knighted. He said yes, so the ceremony commenced! So I now have two Defenders of the Realm, Sir Joey and Sir Andy! Andy was also fascinated by the jewels on the Queen's gown, which she thought amusing.
Huzzah, Sir Andy! For being so brave, he got to pick two prizes- a red glass pebble and a coin! (He didn't get a pin, because he didn't get knighted in the first ceremony, and the girl with the pins was gone).
We went on to play more games, and buy wooden swords. I couldn't take pictures because I was holding two iced lemonades and handing out money.
So overall, a good time had by all. Put on your medieval duds and head over there. Oh, and they serve beer, wine, and hard cider, they card you at the front and give you a bracelet, and the pub looked lovely, and had lots of singing and stuff going on. The folks at the front laughed when I explained I didn't want a bracelet- I had two little guys to keep up with, I needed my wits. Definitely worth the $8. Much better than a movie.
Friday, May 14, 2010
While you wait...
While you are waiting for inspiration to strike me, please take a nice stroll in my garden. Lemonade is on the deck.
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Non-Update: School Incident
You may remember that we had an incident at school a couple weeks ago; Joey was taught a bad word and then paraded about the class to repeat it, to the amusement of his classmates. Want a textbook example of bullying a child with a disability? Here it is.
You may remember I was assured there was teaching, there was "consequences" for the other child, there was discussion. However, with such an event happening even when the next school is assuring us that "our kids aren't like that", and the possible supports I could arrange through his OT and speech therapists, getting a report on the incident has been... frustrating.
I went to the school office and requested a report. I was told to see Ms. D, and someone went to tell her I was there. I waited. Then I was told Ms. D was busy and had appointments waiting, so I put my request in writing. The response was an email to the effect of, "I have no incident report on this incident." Um... wait a minute, I thought there were "consequences" for the bully involved? If there were "consequences", surely there was a report, and the victim should have access to such a report (with the name of the other child's name and ID info redacted for privacy- we are talking about minors here)? Or since I have requested one, perhaps one could be created to document the incident? No, I was referred to the gym teacher, Mr. P, who left a message on my phone.
Talking on the phone is not documentation.
What, I'm not happy that Joey is fine and the other child has had "consequences"?
Well, no. No I'm not. Joey isn't fine. I want a frickin' report. In writing. Now.
I stumbled upon the teacher in question when Joey missed the bus one morning, and I had to take him to school. The teacher was upset, and perhaps a little nervous to realize who I was, and not knowing whether or not I knew who he was. I certainly know now. I was promised a summary of the incident via email by the following Monday.
Sound good? Yeah. Too good. Two weeks later, I've got nada. Last week, I contacted our awesome case manager to make sure the email I had sent confirming the conversation had not fallen into the nethers, and had her re-forward my email. I still have nothing.
Today is Tuesday. If I still have nothing come Thursday, Hell breaks loose on Friday. Just saying.
You may remember I was assured there was teaching, there was "consequences" for the other child, there was discussion. However, with such an event happening even when the next school is assuring us that "our kids aren't like that", and the possible supports I could arrange through his OT and speech therapists, getting a report on the incident has been... frustrating.
I went to the school office and requested a report. I was told to see Ms. D, and someone went to tell her I was there. I waited. Then I was told Ms. D was busy and had appointments waiting, so I put my request in writing. The response was an email to the effect of, "I have no incident report on this incident." Um... wait a minute, I thought there were "consequences" for the bully involved? If there were "consequences", surely there was a report, and the victim should have access to such a report (with the name of the other child's name and ID info redacted for privacy- we are talking about minors here)? Or since I have requested one, perhaps one could be created to document the incident? No, I was referred to the gym teacher, Mr. P, who left a message on my phone.
Talking on the phone is not documentation.
What, I'm not happy that Joey is fine and the other child has had "consequences"?
Well, no. No I'm not. Joey isn't fine. I want a frickin' report. In writing. Now.
I stumbled upon the teacher in question when Joey missed the bus one morning, and I had to take him to school. The teacher was upset, and perhaps a little nervous to realize who I was, and not knowing whether or not I knew who he was. I certainly know now. I was promised a summary of the incident via email by the following Monday.
Sound good? Yeah. Too good. Two weeks later, I've got nada. Last week, I contacted our awesome case manager to make sure the email I had sent confirming the conversation had not fallen into the nethers, and had her re-forward my email. I still have nothing.
Today is Tuesday. If I still have nothing come Thursday, Hell breaks loose on Friday. Just saying.
Saturday, May 08, 2010
The Hardest Half Minute
When I take pics and film of my guys, it is a rare thing to see them doing anything but being their smiling, happy little selves, being boys and doing stuff boys do. When I send out movies and slide shows of my kids, it becomes hard for some folks to believe that our lives are so divergent from normal. It spreads a sort of myth that my kids just do "more of the same".
I don't use the word "myth" lightly, as many of my students can tell you. That general misuse of the term to indicate "complete falsehood" makes properly talking about myth difficult. Myth is not false. Myth is about deeper Truth. Perhaps Truth on the Slant. An oblique view of realities, in terms that are understandable to the audience. The image I put out of Joey and Andy, that "like other kids, only more" is an oblique look at the Truth of living with my kids. But what does it mean to have "more of the same"? Does intensity make a difference?
I took footage of about 30 seconds of the start of a spiral today. Joey fell and scraped his knees, poor little guy, and the instant overload commenced. Few get to see this part of Joey, that "everything is perfect until something goes wrong; then I'm completely D.O.N.E." side. Those who do see it, see it so often, we're used to it, it just becomes par for the course, and you know what to do to mitigate and have the best chances of avoiding meltdown.
However, our new school folks have not seen it. The folks who think none of their little darlings would tease a special needs child have no clue what this looks like, or what to do; and it becomes so matter-of-course to the old crew that I think it gets overlooked. It is a part of our lives left undocumented, and I worry about it being ignored. Ignoring it can cause a whole host of problems; not having safeguards in place to deal with the unexpected spiral means meltdowns are on the way. Meltdowns are scary- for Joey as well for anyone around him. They are also avoidable, if you know what you doing and how to diffuse a situation (which is hard enough to do when you are prepared and keeping it mind!) I'd say, prepared, you have about an 80-90% chance of averting meltdown. Unprepared? Eep.
So I took about 30 seconds of footage of the beginnings of a spiral. I didn't catch the first initial shock and scream from the actual fall. I started with him hugging on his Dad and getting hugged, and yet things were still not right. He was D.O.N.E. It goes up to when he decides "I'm leaving now" (and says so), and I have to stop filming to go catch him. We didn't melt, and I'll probably never get footage of a melt. I'm too busy trying to help him to be filming something like that. But this was enough to see the storm clouds brewing. Hopefully dark clouds on the horizon are enough to indicate the strength of a potential storm.
Watching those 30 seconds was hard. I look over the clips, and erase ones that are better tossed to oblivion- unfortunate angles, bad focus, accidental exposures, that sort of thing. I also wanted to get an idea of what I had captured, because to be honest, I was paying more attention to Joey than to the camera, even though it was in my hand; those little markers that say "I'm about to melt!" are important to catch. I think it is important to get across to the school what skills we need worked on and able to generalize to home, and the potential issues over things we consider insignificant. It is also important to document the issue so we can measure improvements- or track regressions. I'm nervous about next year in a big way. The questions asked by the new teachers at the IEP made plain how unprepared they are.
It is all the harder to watch because we are through the early spring regressions, and have made our leap forward. Joey helped his Grandma make her bed- mattress cover and all. He is better able to locate objects in a room, even bringing things from one room to another. He is improving in his ability to control himself and cope. His language use is looking up. His attitudes are generally improving. He's doing so well. It makes the harder moments that much harder to witness, and to get others to understand. We've come so far, and yet have so far to go; we can't get stuck in a rut in the middle. Not now.
I don't use the word "myth" lightly, as many of my students can tell you. That general misuse of the term to indicate "complete falsehood" makes properly talking about myth difficult. Myth is not false. Myth is about deeper Truth. Perhaps Truth on the Slant. An oblique view of realities, in terms that are understandable to the audience. The image I put out of Joey and Andy, that "like other kids, only more" is an oblique look at the Truth of living with my kids. But what does it mean to have "more of the same"? Does intensity make a difference?
I took footage of about 30 seconds of the start of a spiral today. Joey fell and scraped his knees, poor little guy, and the instant overload commenced. Few get to see this part of Joey, that "everything is perfect until something goes wrong; then I'm completely D.O.N.E." side. Those who do see it, see it so often, we're used to it, it just becomes par for the course, and you know what to do to mitigate and have the best chances of avoiding meltdown.
However, our new school folks have not seen it. The folks who think none of their little darlings would tease a special needs child have no clue what this looks like, or what to do; and it becomes so matter-of-course to the old crew that I think it gets overlooked. It is a part of our lives left undocumented, and I worry about it being ignored. Ignoring it can cause a whole host of problems; not having safeguards in place to deal with the unexpected spiral means meltdowns are on the way. Meltdowns are scary- for Joey as well for anyone around him. They are also avoidable, if you know what you doing and how to diffuse a situation (which is hard enough to do when you are prepared and keeping it mind!) I'd say, prepared, you have about an 80-90% chance of averting meltdown. Unprepared? Eep.
So I took about 30 seconds of footage of the beginnings of a spiral. I didn't catch the first initial shock and scream from the actual fall. I started with him hugging on his Dad and getting hugged, and yet things were still not right. He was D.O.N.E. It goes up to when he decides "I'm leaving now" (and says so), and I have to stop filming to go catch him. We didn't melt, and I'll probably never get footage of a melt. I'm too busy trying to help him to be filming something like that. But this was enough to see the storm clouds brewing. Hopefully dark clouds on the horizon are enough to indicate the strength of a potential storm.
Watching those 30 seconds was hard. I look over the clips, and erase ones that are better tossed to oblivion- unfortunate angles, bad focus, accidental exposures, that sort of thing. I also wanted to get an idea of what I had captured, because to be honest, I was paying more attention to Joey than to the camera, even though it was in my hand; those little markers that say "I'm about to melt!" are important to catch. I think it is important to get across to the school what skills we need worked on and able to generalize to home, and the potential issues over things we consider insignificant. It is also important to document the issue so we can measure improvements- or track regressions. I'm nervous about next year in a big way. The questions asked by the new teachers at the IEP made plain how unprepared they are.
It is all the harder to watch because we are through the early spring regressions, and have made our leap forward. Joey helped his Grandma make her bed- mattress cover and all. He is better able to locate objects in a room, even bringing things from one room to another. He is improving in his ability to control himself and cope. His language use is looking up. His attitudes are generally improving. He's doing so well. It makes the harder moments that much harder to witness, and to get others to understand. We've come so far, and yet have so far to go; we can't get stuck in a rut in the middle. Not now.
Thursday, May 06, 2010
At the Park, Part II
After school, it was such a lovely day, we just had to wander over to the park for some serious playtime. There were some families we knew already there, so that was exciting, and I stood around with a bunch of other moms while our kids ran wild over slide and swing.
Its always a little odd to be in a group of "regular" moms. This particular group is very interesting, because the women are all so different, and here we are tossed together because our kids run in the same age cloud. One mom is a powerhouse who has her kids in Montessori schools. One is a health nut from South Africa who doesn't believe in vaccinating her child because she thinks it is "more natural" for her child to simply get diseases (but she's doing something right- her child is an absolute wonder). One is a hippie-type laid-back mom who doesn't say much, but hears much. The other is a very strict mom who doesn't seem to think her kids ought to get dirty... at a playground... One of them works, the others are all stay-at-home (though I suspect the quiet one is actually a work-at-home). The variety of life experience always makes for interesting insights and ideas bouncing about.
Then there is the odd part. The topics of conversation are odd to me. Working mom had a job interview, hoping her job goes full-time permanent, because she is in the process of a divorce. There was talk about working and giving up work. Having just had an interview myself, we managed to have some common ground there. Then there is the discussions of school activities. Since we have speech on Tuesdays, and the after-school programs require that you attend all sessions, we can't participate in them. Then there was the discussion of packing lunches. This was an extensive conversation about a fancy lunchbox that is divided into a lot of little sections, so you can provide a variety of foods, "not just a sandwich and carrots!" The swapping of lunch ideas was mind-bending. Do 8-year-olds really eat sushi and hummus? Does cous-cous keep well in a lunchbox? We're a bit of a sandwich, carrots, and fruit family. I'm not very creative with the lunch thing. Maybe I ought to be. Then the topic of movies and TV... I hate that one. I have never seen Titanic. I have seen exactly one scene of Desperate Housewives, and that is because Marlee Matlin is in it. And it didn't make me want to see the show. On the flip side, these ladies have never heard of Buckaroo Bonzai or Ground Force. They apparently have a book club, but I had never heard of the book.
No one talking about IEPs. Nothing about teachers, services, therapies, or odd behaviors. They let their kids run without even turning their heads to check them. A group of slightly older boys came straggling through, boys that have given Joey a hard time before, and I quickly clicked into watchfulness, and had to intervene. The other moms gave me a Look. There isn't a good way to explain that your kid was about to be seriously abused, and the words you heard suggested the abuse might go physical, and you had to do something because your kid doesn't understand to just walk away, doesn't understand that what was being said to him in that tone was intended maliciously. Also, how can you explain that your child is a little off-kilter because you are not sitting in your usual spot, even though you are in full and clear view?
The little group broke up, probably due to the time rather than my intervention in "playground politics". There were goodbyes and exchanging of new cell numbers amongst them, pleasantries. I'm perfectly welcome among them, but definitely different. I have very limited ground to share. I've spent my life that way, so it is nothing new, but it always feels odd.
Its always a little odd to be in a group of "regular" moms. This particular group is very interesting, because the women are all so different, and here we are tossed together because our kids run in the same age cloud. One mom is a powerhouse who has her kids in Montessori schools. One is a health nut from South Africa who doesn't believe in vaccinating her child because she thinks it is "more natural" for her child to simply get diseases (but she's doing something right- her child is an absolute wonder). One is a hippie-type laid-back mom who doesn't say much, but hears much. The other is a very strict mom who doesn't seem to think her kids ought to get dirty... at a playground... One of them works, the others are all stay-at-home (though I suspect the quiet one is actually a work-at-home). The variety of life experience always makes for interesting insights and ideas bouncing about.
Then there is the odd part. The topics of conversation are odd to me. Working mom had a job interview, hoping her job goes full-time permanent, because she is in the process of a divorce. There was talk about working and giving up work. Having just had an interview myself, we managed to have some common ground there. Then there is the discussions of school activities. Since we have speech on Tuesdays, and the after-school programs require that you attend all sessions, we can't participate in them. Then there was the discussion of packing lunches. This was an extensive conversation about a fancy lunchbox that is divided into a lot of little sections, so you can provide a variety of foods, "not just a sandwich and carrots!" The swapping of lunch ideas was mind-bending. Do 8-year-olds really eat sushi and hummus? Does cous-cous keep well in a lunchbox? We're a bit of a sandwich, carrots, and fruit family. I'm not very creative with the lunch thing. Maybe I ought to be. Then the topic of movies and TV... I hate that one. I have never seen Titanic. I have seen exactly one scene of Desperate Housewives, and that is because Marlee Matlin is in it. And it didn't make me want to see the show. On the flip side, these ladies have never heard of Buckaroo Bonzai or Ground Force. They apparently have a book club, but I had never heard of the book.
No one talking about IEPs. Nothing about teachers, services, therapies, or odd behaviors. They let their kids run without even turning their heads to check them. A group of slightly older boys came straggling through, boys that have given Joey a hard time before, and I quickly clicked into watchfulness, and had to intervene. The other moms gave me a Look. There isn't a good way to explain that your kid was about to be seriously abused, and the words you heard suggested the abuse might go physical, and you had to do something because your kid doesn't understand to just walk away, doesn't understand that what was being said to him in that tone was intended maliciously. Also, how can you explain that your child is a little off-kilter because you are not sitting in your usual spot, even though you are in full and clear view?
The little group broke up, probably due to the time rather than my intervention in "playground politics". There were goodbyes and exchanging of new cell numbers amongst them, pleasantries. I'm perfectly welcome among them, but definitely different. I have very limited ground to share. I've spent my life that way, so it is nothing new, but it always feels odd.
Monday, May 03, 2010
Saturday, May 01, 2010
On the Emerald Walk
Some time ago, I mentioned one of the haunts of my childhood, a place we called the Emerald Walk. It is a stretch of bank along the river covered in moss, where I grew up. The entrance to the Emerald Walk was an outcrop of rock we scrambled over, and it ended just before the island in the river began, walking upstream. I spent many hours along this little stretch of bank when I was young, and the world moved more slowly, and life was a lot more lonely.
This was the world before widespread computers, before internet stretched into homes, before cell phones were attached to many ears. None of those thing, by the way, make the world less lonely. Just more noisy.
The world of the Emerald Walk was one where summers lasted forever, and you could spend whole afternoons stretched out on the cool moss and watch the leaves turn in the eddies, minnows flash through the current, river grass bob and sway as if in the wind, and if you strolled a little way down to the stream, there were frogs and tadpoles and fool's gold, and nice fine sand for making mountains that looked like melted sugar. The sun sparkled on the water and danced on the moss, filtering down through a shifting coolness of thick green canopy. Places like this are disappearing fast in a world that prefers Walmarts, cell towers, and asphalt.
I took the boys to the Emerald Walk today. I wish I could say it was a glorious introduction to a world of peace, or at least boyish adventure, to my little guys. At least it was something new for them to think about, a place that, to me, still spoke of dragons and fairies and all manner of wonder.
Joey did discover the joys of throwing things into the river, including a few clumps of moss. He howled at having to deal with the saplings and brush and steep slope down and up, though. I need to recut the old deerpath down to our old starting point, so that the descent to the river is a little easier. They could then enter as we used to, by way of the rocks. I'm not sure how well Joey will rock-scramble, though, even at this rudimentary level. I also couldn't convince them to actually step into the water.
They did do some playing, too. Andy brought his box of plastic frogs with him, in anticipation of finding real ones, and real tadpoles. And Joey threw things into the water. Perhaps they did recognize a little of the magic of the greenworld, after all. At least so long as we weren't scaling the steep slope or having to press through brush and trees and slippery leaves. Or walk through spider webs.
It might have helped if we had actually found some pollywogs. Although there were many, many changes to the river- there always are- there was still a nice spot in the stream for a tadpole nursery, though we appear to be between clutches, or at the very start (where the eggs would still be small and hidden in the algae and stream vegetation). The boys did get into the spirit later, when I pulled out their wading pool on the deck, and they played "I'm an egg! Now I'm a tadpole! Now I'm a froglet! I'm a frog now!"* However, it also did not help for me to look down on this end of the bank, beyond the Emerald Walk, and realize all that green around our feet is actually poison ivy.
And I can't deny that seeing your children play in places you loved does hold some kind of magic, a look back to echoes of a past that now is lost. Or perhaps found.
*Yes, we thought of you, Team Stimey.
Friday, April 30, 2010
Baseball Adventures
Another weekend is upon us, so it must be time for baseball! Joey's Challenger's league teams up with the local high schools, and a high school player "buddies up" with a Challenger player to support them through the game. We get helpers from both Courtland and Spotsy, but mostly Courtland. All of Joey's helpers so far have been Courtland players.
Courtland played Spotsy at Courtland this evening, so Joey and I went to cheer on our friends. Now, this was a kind of odd situation. See, Joey's team is obviously Courtland, since all his helpers have been from there (and really, they have been fabulous!). But I went to high school at Spotsy. So it was very, very, very strange to be sitting in the Courtland stands, cheering for the boys in blue instead of big red. Very odd indeed.
We did get to see one of our friends make a home run, and another get on base. Joey was very excited about the home run. The game started after Joey's usual bedtime, so we only got to see a couple innings, but he insisted on getting a Courtland cap. It's always a good thing to support your friends.
Thank you, Courtland High School baseball. Go Cougars!
Courtland played Spotsy at Courtland this evening, so Joey and I went to cheer on our friends. Now, this was a kind of odd situation. See, Joey's team is obviously Courtland, since all his helpers have been from there (and really, they have been fabulous!). But I went to high school at Spotsy. So it was very, very, very strange to be sitting in the Courtland stands, cheering for the boys in blue instead of big red. Very odd indeed.
We did get to see one of our friends make a home run, and another get on base. Joey was very excited about the home run. The game started after Joey's usual bedtime, so we only got to see a couple innings, but he insisted on getting a Courtland cap. It's always a good thing to support your friends.
Thank you, Courtland High School baseball. Go Cougars!
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
The Big Questions
Well, it happened. That day we tried hard to prepare ourselves for, watch for, warn others to try to avoid. But it was, unfortunately, inevitable. I wish it wasn't, but it is. A sad statement, that.
One of Joey's classmates thought it was funny to teach him to say "bitch." Then they thought it was hilarious to take around the room and have him repeat it to his classmates- who all laughed and thought it was funny. So Joey thought he was being funny, and went with it. I'm sure we all know that those kids were laughing at him, not with him.
What tools does Joey have to defend himself against such an attack? What does it say about our society that such an attack, child against child, would even be imaginable? Yet not only was it imaginable, we had already started trying to teach those skills of coping with anti-social behavior of others. Teasing. Bullying. Nastiness.
I am assured that there was discussion and teaching and correction all around, action taken, the substitute who was supposed to be with him spoken to, etc. etc. etc. Certainly Joey understood what had happened at some level by the time he came home and we talked about it, some with Grandma, some with me, some later at bedtime. We have not heard the word repeated here, other than when Grandma asked what had happened, and he explained to Grandma what had happened, including the detail of what the word was. We knew enough about the incident to fill in the blanks he had left in his description of the event.
All of these things are already in his IEP to address, but it leaves ringing in my brain the response to the goals: Our kids aren't like that, the new teacher insisted, backed up by another staff member of the new school. Sorry, folks, but this is a very small system. We have one school per level. Joey will be going to school with the same kids he is going to school with now. If your kids "aren't like that" now, get ready. It only takes one.
***********************************************
Andy and I were engaged in a new routine of bedtime activity, the Watching of the Videos. He loves him some Fuzzy Fuzzy Cute Cute, and Nigel Marven, and Walking with Dinosaurs: Live Edition. He's allowed three before storytime, and we were coming to the end of our third, a clip from Chased By Dinosaurs, when he burst into tears.
I was shocked. I stopped the film. He's seen the show a million bazillion times, its one of his favorites, and this clip is of funny bird-penguiny-things swimming around, and Nigel mentions most them do not live to a ripe old age because there are so many ways to be eaten in the Cretaceous oceans. Eaten? Uh-oh.
"I'm afraid I'm going to die!" he wailed, inconsolable.
Death has been a huge trigger around here since the fish died. Both little guys are having a lot of difficulty processing death and the loss of their fish, made worse by the fiasco of trying to replace them. Joey is constantly getting caught in cycles of talking about this person died, or that toy died, or his fish died. For the last two days, Andy has piped up and asked him to stop talking about dead things.
Then came the terrible blunder of our YouTube moments, one of the videos of silly dinosaurs included the eating of a pig, and Andy loves pigs. To get around this, I showed him the Warm Bath video, which he loves. He made the connection between the two pigs, and we finally settled on that the pig wasn't eaten, that he was just joking with the little dinosaur and drew a picture to fool him, and the big dinosaur carried the pig to the farmer to be put in the nice warm bath, and the big dinosaur burped because he thought burping was funny (see the video to see what I'm babbling about), and that's what happened. No eaten piggies.
Are you with me? Because now I have a child who, about to turn six years old, is suddenly petrified by death.
"I dont want to die! I don't want to go back to God!" How does one cushion the fear of death in a six-year-old? I haven't a clue, honestly. We did the best we could. We assured him that we love him, that he wasn't likely to die anytime soon, the God takes good care of all of us. And we love him, and do our best to keep him safe and help him learn to stay safe. And we love him. And Grandma wasn't going to die right away, and Mommy wasn't going to die right away, and Daddy was still here, and Joey was safe. And we love him.
It's the kind of discussion that makes you wander into his room and check to make sure he's OK every, oh, fifteen minutes. All night long. Just in case. Because we love him.
One of Joey's classmates thought it was funny to teach him to say "bitch." Then they thought it was hilarious to take around the room and have him repeat it to his classmates- who all laughed and thought it was funny. So Joey thought he was being funny, and went with it. I'm sure we all know that those kids were laughing at him, not with him.
What tools does Joey have to defend himself against such an attack? What does it say about our society that such an attack, child against child, would even be imaginable? Yet not only was it imaginable, we had already started trying to teach those skills of coping with anti-social behavior of others. Teasing. Bullying. Nastiness.
I am assured that there was discussion and teaching and correction all around, action taken, the substitute who was supposed to be with him spoken to, etc. etc. etc. Certainly Joey understood what had happened at some level by the time he came home and we talked about it, some with Grandma, some with me, some later at bedtime. We have not heard the word repeated here, other than when Grandma asked what had happened, and he explained to Grandma what had happened, including the detail of what the word was. We knew enough about the incident to fill in the blanks he had left in his description of the event.
All of these things are already in his IEP to address, but it leaves ringing in my brain the response to the goals: Our kids aren't like that, the new teacher insisted, backed up by another staff member of the new school. Sorry, folks, but this is a very small system. We have one school per level. Joey will be going to school with the same kids he is going to school with now. If your kids "aren't like that" now, get ready. It only takes one.
***********************************************
Andy and I were engaged in a new routine of bedtime activity, the Watching of the Videos. He loves him some Fuzzy Fuzzy Cute Cute, and Nigel Marven, and Walking with Dinosaurs: Live Edition. He's allowed three before storytime, and we were coming to the end of our third, a clip from Chased By Dinosaurs, when he burst into tears.
I was shocked. I stopped the film. He's seen the show a million bazillion times, its one of his favorites, and this clip is of funny bird-penguiny-things swimming around, and Nigel mentions most them do not live to a ripe old age because there are so many ways to be eaten in the Cretaceous oceans. Eaten? Uh-oh.
"I'm afraid I'm going to die!" he wailed, inconsolable.
Death has been a huge trigger around here since the fish died. Both little guys are having a lot of difficulty processing death and the loss of their fish, made worse by the fiasco of trying to replace them. Joey is constantly getting caught in cycles of talking about this person died, or that toy died, or his fish died. For the last two days, Andy has piped up and asked him to stop talking about dead things.
Then came the terrible blunder of our YouTube moments, one of the videos of silly dinosaurs included the eating of a pig, and Andy loves pigs. To get around this, I showed him the Warm Bath video, which he loves. He made the connection between the two pigs, and we finally settled on that the pig wasn't eaten, that he was just joking with the little dinosaur and drew a picture to fool him, and the big dinosaur carried the pig to the farmer to be put in the nice warm bath, and the big dinosaur burped because he thought burping was funny (see the video to see what I'm babbling about), and that's what happened. No eaten piggies.
Are you with me? Because now I have a child who, about to turn six years old, is suddenly petrified by death.
"I dont want to die! I don't want to go back to God!" How does one cushion the fear of death in a six-year-old? I haven't a clue, honestly. We did the best we could. We assured him that we love him, that he wasn't likely to die anytime soon, the God takes good care of all of us. And we love him, and do our best to keep him safe and help him learn to stay safe. And we love him. And Grandma wasn't going to die right away, and Mommy wasn't going to die right away, and Daddy was still here, and Joey was safe. And we love him.
It's the kind of discussion that makes you wander into his room and check to make sure he's OK every, oh, fifteen minutes. All night long. Just in case. Because we love him.
Connections: Bunnies
Mom just reminded me that I forgot to tell you guys: I have solved the mystery of why the Tooth Fairy is a blue bunny.
The reason is actually very simple. In 2008, when we got our first visit from the Blue Bunny, Joey was into blue. He liked bunnies. And he was into this:
The ice cream truck.
Mystery solved.
The reason is actually very simple. In 2008, when we got our first visit from the Blue Bunny, Joey was into blue. He liked bunnies. And he was into this:
The ice cream truck.
Mystery solved.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Keeping Us Awake
I worry when I get the sheet for gifted and talented screening for Andy and find it fits both boys to a T. Only they have never screened, nor offered to screen, Joey.
I worry when one of the teachers in Andy's room says things like, "He's such a delight!" because it implies that if he was disabled by his ADHD, he wouldn't be (especially in the context in which it is said). And the reason right now that he isn't disabled by his ADHD is because he had a totally rockin' teacher in there- the other teacher.
I worry when teachers at Joey's new school react to suggestions for Joey's program with "Oh, we've never had our teacher do that before." I especially worry when the suggestion is about providing him with social skills and language training- two fairly common needs for educating autistic kids.
I worry when the school SLP praises Andy's speech skills, when I have now seen and heard in him the company of whole rooms of peers, and can still hear how very different he sounds. Heaven forbid he get excited or upset, because then you can't understand him at all. (Did I mention the child has ADHD? Excited or upset happens a lot).
I worry when the discussion of ESY includes a program that had field trips every week, when every time he has a field trip at school, Joey gets off-kilter... often for days. Oh, and one of the weeks without an aide, in a room of 40 kids. I worry a lot.
I worry when the reaction to having IEP goals about coping with teasing are scoffed at ("we don't have that problem with our kids!"), only have a serious teasing incident not a week later. The kind you have to really mull and process before blogging about.
These are the days when I get little sleep.
I worry when one of the teachers in Andy's room says things like, "He's such a delight!" because it implies that if he was disabled by his ADHD, he wouldn't be (especially in the context in which it is said). And the reason right now that he isn't disabled by his ADHD is because he had a totally rockin' teacher in there- the other teacher.
I worry when teachers at Joey's new school react to suggestions for Joey's program with "Oh, we've never had our teacher do that before." I especially worry when the suggestion is about providing him with social skills and language training- two fairly common needs for educating autistic kids.
I worry when the school SLP praises Andy's speech skills, when I have now seen and heard in him the company of whole rooms of peers, and can still hear how very different he sounds. Heaven forbid he get excited or upset, because then you can't understand him at all. (Did I mention the child has ADHD? Excited or upset happens a lot).
I worry when the discussion of ESY includes a program that had field trips every week, when every time he has a field trip at school, Joey gets off-kilter... often for days. Oh, and one of the weeks without an aide, in a room of 40 kids. I worry a lot.
I worry when the reaction to having IEP goals about coping with teasing are scoffed at ("we don't have that problem with our kids!"), only have a serious teasing incident not a week later. The kind you have to really mull and process before blogging about.
These are the days when I get little sleep.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
As The Mind Turns
Did you guess that it has been a long week?
I sit now, in a break from reading essays, curled in the bedroom chair, the cats asleep. One is sprawled over the bed, taking up the whole thing as only a cat (or small boy) can. The other has languidly spread herself over the top of the chair. With the boys downstairs, stillness reigns. It is an odd, rare moment here. The IEP is mostly done, and we take a breath before working on the ESY piece and putting together the material for fighting the OT piece. The job interview has come and gone, and I now find myself worrying about what I said or did or what I might need to do, for a job it is highly likely I will not get. The mind races, the wheels spin, and I begin to wonder what things I ought to be doing but haven't done yet, what should be done first in the long list of things that are needful.
The mind spins.
It is supposed to storm today. I can see the deepening grey of the clouds, the stark green of spring leaves against the gathering storm. The greying sky makes the new leaves seem almost neon, almost glowing in brilliance. You don't get that effect in summer. The light doesn't play through the older, darker greenery of summer in the same way. It's a spring thing.
I'm gearing up for summer. I know I have at least one week of both boys together, and one week of Joey alone. I wish I could get my embroidery machine up and running- the toy I asked for two Christmases ago now, and still haven't gotten far enough in life to even get out of the box- I could make merit patches for the boys to earn. If I knew how to get my own designs into the computer of the machine, of course. That first week we could do some traveling, I am putting some money away for it. Down to Williamsburg. Up to the zoo. The usual, familiar haunts to greet the coming of summer. We could put our feet into the water at Colonial Beach, maybe find some shark's teeth in Westmoreland Park. Or maybe we could find something new. That second week, it is time to send Andy off to camp, and find something for Joey. He did weather camp last year, and space camp, and vehicles. It is a little too soon to really ask him- we're almost two months out- but I need to start thinking about materials and projects and what we can do.
I've signed Andy up for t-ball and camps, and Joey looks like he'll have four weeks in a big school program, and I've requested at least two more weeks of programming of some kind for him. A five-week school hiatus in August would be a disaster. On the other hand, where they plunk those two weeks could be important for us; when will we go to the beach? Joey so loves the beach. Which school will I be working for? One semester starts sooner than the other.
Whirr, whirr, whirr.
What materials should I put together for Joey's new teachers? I wish they had several inclusion rooms, instead of just one for each level. Is there such a sharp drop-off in kids in special ed? I wonder if he's being "stuck" into an inclusion room instead of sent out into the "regular" rooms because he needs an aide, and they don't want to hire one. What happens if they find they need to send him out, for academic and/or social reasons? Should I have pressed for an aide? Should I have asked more questions? Who will be Joey's case manager in his new school? Why wasn't it made clear at the meeting?
I need to find something fun for Andy to be doing while we are at Joey's games. He's feeling left aside, the game is boring to him since he can't play in it. There are a few other siblings hanging around, maybe something can be organized for them. Some way they can participate and join in. There must at least be a way to let them know they are not forgotten. What do siblings normally do at the games of their brothers or sisters?
I need to go to the grocery store tonight. We're out of yogurt and cat food.
When does the spin cycle end?
I sit now, in a break from reading essays, curled in the bedroom chair, the cats asleep. One is sprawled over the bed, taking up the whole thing as only a cat (or small boy) can. The other has languidly spread herself over the top of the chair. With the boys downstairs, stillness reigns. It is an odd, rare moment here. The IEP is mostly done, and we take a breath before working on the ESY piece and putting together the material for fighting the OT piece. The job interview has come and gone, and I now find myself worrying about what I said or did or what I might need to do, for a job it is highly likely I will not get. The mind races, the wheels spin, and I begin to wonder what things I ought to be doing but haven't done yet, what should be done first in the long list of things that are needful.
The mind spins.
It is supposed to storm today. I can see the deepening grey of the clouds, the stark green of spring leaves against the gathering storm. The greying sky makes the new leaves seem almost neon, almost glowing in brilliance. You don't get that effect in summer. The light doesn't play through the older, darker greenery of summer in the same way. It's a spring thing.
I'm gearing up for summer. I know I have at least one week of both boys together, and one week of Joey alone. I wish I could get my embroidery machine up and running- the toy I asked for two Christmases ago now, and still haven't gotten far enough in life to even get out of the box- I could make merit patches for the boys to earn. If I knew how to get my own designs into the computer of the machine, of course. That first week we could do some traveling, I am putting some money away for it. Down to Williamsburg. Up to the zoo. The usual, familiar haunts to greet the coming of summer. We could put our feet into the water at Colonial Beach, maybe find some shark's teeth in Westmoreland Park. Or maybe we could find something new. That second week, it is time to send Andy off to camp, and find something for Joey. He did weather camp last year, and space camp, and vehicles. It is a little too soon to really ask him- we're almost two months out- but I need to start thinking about materials and projects and what we can do.
I've signed Andy up for t-ball and camps, and Joey looks like he'll have four weeks in a big school program, and I've requested at least two more weeks of programming of some kind for him. A five-week school hiatus in August would be a disaster. On the other hand, where they plunk those two weeks could be important for us; when will we go to the beach? Joey so loves the beach. Which school will I be working for? One semester starts sooner than the other.
Whirr, whirr, whirr.
What materials should I put together for Joey's new teachers? I wish they had several inclusion rooms, instead of just one for each level. Is there such a sharp drop-off in kids in special ed? I wonder if he's being "stuck" into an inclusion room instead of sent out into the "regular" rooms because he needs an aide, and they don't want to hire one. What happens if they find they need to send him out, for academic and/or social reasons? Should I have pressed for an aide? Should I have asked more questions? Who will be Joey's case manager in his new school? Why wasn't it made clear at the meeting?
I need to find something fun for Andy to be doing while we are at Joey's games. He's feeling left aside, the game is boring to him since he can't play in it. There are a few other siblings hanging around, maybe something can be organized for them. Some way they can participate and join in. There must at least be a way to let them know they are not forgotten. What do siblings normally do at the games of their brothers or sisters?
I need to go to the grocery store tonight. We're out of yogurt and cat food.
When does the spin cycle end?
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