Meep Meep

Week 8, Meeting 8

So we met with the Math Differentiation Teacher, whom we can call Ms. Math, today to discuss Joey. She had given him the third grade test and the fourth grade test. Funny enough, he flunked the third grade test, and passed the fourth grade test. How's them apples?

First, I'd like to say that my first impression of Ms. Math is that she rocks, and she's just the kind of person Joey responds well to- very huggy, happy, and enthusiastic. Her idea was that Joey needs to have the material presented, but clearly picks things up so fast that he needs a lot of "enrichment"- activities to use the skills and expand upon them. She's going to go check him out in person and for herself next week. She seems very excited. I'd say Joey is about to rock her world in a totally fabulous way.

We'll see what happens.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOEYANDYDAD!

We love you. Hope you have a fantabulous birthday!

Added: Joey's birthday card for his Dad:

Week 8, Meeting 7

This week's meeting: the Functional Behavior Assessment. This is the meeting you have when your child's behavior is challenging and disruptive, so the school decides they better figure it out quick. Let's not get into a discussion of the meaning of "quick." Personally, from the time I agreed to the FBA to the time of meeting, in school terms, I think they did really well.

This was one of the better meetings I've been to. After, how cool is a meeting that is specifically for sitting around brainstorming about what is possibly causing behavior, and how to help him learn to cope with those antecedents? I took my mom with me, which always helps, because she tends to cut right to what we are seeing from home without beating around the bush, and she has no fear of our school psych. Fortunately, the school psych was actually helpful this time. Oh, and the OT? Nowhere to be found. We'll count that as a positive, too.

So we had a room full of Joey's teachers, all of whom are interested in helping him. This last couple of weeks I think has really helped Joey- not only have we gotten his anxiety levels into his normal range, but his teachers have gotten a chance to see what Joey is really like. This has given people a chance to fall in love with him. Or at least in like. Or at the very least, see what he is really capable of if he is supported properly. Any of these three things can make a huge difference, because it gives these teachers a chance to realize they can make a huge difference. That's why most of these people went into teaching in the first place. Hey, I teach, too. I know how much more fun and awesome it is to teach a student who rocks, even when they need support and lots of attention. When you see the potential and the determination is there, you are more ready to go for it. Joey has potential and determination. And he's squishy into the bargain.

So everybody came out with some new ideas, new strategies, and new things to try. I think we can call this one a "win."

Up next: Meeting 8: What To Do About Joey the Math Genius.

How do we spell "awesome"?

T-R-I-C-Y-C-L-E.



It's a Schwinn Meridian. You know you want one.

Considering: The Joeymom Avatar

My boys are growing up. Kids grow up whether you raise them or not. It's a time thing. Time keeps marching on.

Some folks have asked me why I am Joeymom and Not JoeyAndyMom (especially since my husband is JoeyAndyDad, and the blog address is joeyandymom). It's a time thing. When I set up this blog, I was using an older blogger account, and just set up a new blog instead of starting it all from scratch. I had been Joeymom for a couple years before Andy came along. Funny enough, I don't think anybody who actually knew me online in those two years is anywhere on the radar now. Something about no longer being able to compare my kid's milestones to theirs. Moms can be funny things.

When I set up the blog, the new thing was picking an avatar: a little picture to represent me to the internet world. This was new and exciting for me four and a half years ago. I started my internet life with text-based MUDs. Even chat rooms had minimal choices for little pictures to go with your name. I knew this was important, though. When your contact with a person is exclusively online, that little visual image is how they think of you. Art is a powerful addition to a world based entirely on the visual. Now I would be more than words, I would be a little picture.

Should it just be my face? That may sound logical, and in fact, is the option selected by many online. But what does my face really say about me? After all, an avatar is a mini-portrait: a creation of your online presence, much more about who you are than what you look like. An image that gets recalled and connected to you, to your presence, to your "I was here!" in the comments section, something to search for along the many tweets and have that leap of, "oh good! something from you!" when it is scanned and found. Is my face a powerful enough message? How about using the boys?

Besides, the avatar is usually pretty small. About a half-inch square. How legible is my face at that size? And trying to fit two faces in there? Ha! Perhaps something a little more legible in mini would be better. Something like Maddy's goldfish- clear, loaded with symbolism and meaning, and yummy. Maybe something like Miss Kitty's cat, which goes with the name and expresses love for cats. Or Stimey's gerbil. Actually, that kinda fits her to a T. She kinda look like that gerbil. Cute and fuzzy with the tiny claws ready in case you threaten to mess with her, if you know what I mean. Seriously, meet this woman, and tell me I'm wrong. Stimey totally rocks, in a comforting, wonderful way.

Maybe something more graphic. Sunday's banshee comes to mind. Or one of my favorites, mommydearest's gothgirl.

Right. So I made my choice. And I chose...

Uma.

For those of you unaware of our history, Joey basically learned to talk watching Oobi, with the help and support of intensive early interventions. He loved Oobi, the talking hands on Noggin. The show is hilarious, gentle, imaginative, and beautifully captures the concerns of young children. Uma is Oobi's little sister. No, that isn't my hand. I can tell you that the voice is Stephanie D'Abruzzo, but I am not sure if she is also the "puppeteer" or not.

I have been Uma now for four and a half years. I wonder how many people think of me as a hand puppet with googly eyes. Hey, Stimey, do I look like Uma? Or more like a Shmoo?

My kids are 6 and 8 now. Oobi has been left behind with a world of preschool cares and joys. They are growing up. I do sometimes miss those little babies, so squishable and giggly, but I do so love the boys they have become, and I look forward to teh men they are going to be. Perhaps it is time to move along, and find something new.

Maybe a shmoo.

Enjoy the Ride

Sometimes when the boys are all bouncy and out-of-sorts, we find it a good idea to break it up, so each little guy gets some 1:1 time with Mom or Dad. Such was today.

It was my turn to have the Joey-Boy all to myself. Joey has been too overwhelmed to be able to actually pick out a nice pumpkin or enjoy the pumpkin patch, one of his favorite activities. I was so glad when he said he wanted to go for his activity. Off to Snead's for a fun-filled afternoon of chickens, hay, and pumpkins!

I didn't take a camera. I just spent the afternoon enjoying being with my son.

As part of the treat, he got to sit in the front seat with Mom. We drove through the fields, looking at the growing Christmas trees, the overgrown asparagus fields, and of course the pumpkins. We drove through the ford to the back fields, a very exciting moment as we were in my little neon, not the jeep, and it rained yesterday. We took our time picking out pumpkins. He picked a green one, of course, and then we picked out a really big orange one together. We wandered back to park near the barns, so he could play in the hay. We patted goats. We hugged baby cows. We giggled at alpacas. We even touched a baby chicken!

Then we went for a hay ride. The lady who runs the tractor saw us and laughed about us being return customers. Something to the effect of "you should get bulk rates!" But she didn't give us bulk rates. Besides, it was just the two of us today. Our hay ride was a small group. Joey bounced around the cart- looking through the floor slats at the ground passing beneath and the wheels turning, checking out the different places to sit in search of the best view, trying out laying down, sitting up, laying on his back, laying on his tummy. He called out random words to the pumpkins and to the people we passed. He giggled. He leaned against me. He wrote in the air with a stick. He looked at me like I was crazy when I pointed out the pumpkins and the trees and the horses. He was busy.

We played in the corn teepee for a while. It really needs some restoration now; it was really lovely when it was first done, now it is about to fall over. We wandered past the alpacas again, and picked out some gourds. Then he found the golf cart. Folks from the farm use it to tool around and check on things. Apparently, they leave the keys in it. Joey loves golf carts. He wanted to get in it, but I managed to get him over to the gourds to pick some out. He liked ones with lots of colors and bumps. When I was young, the popular gourd was a little white one that looked like a shmoo. I like those, but you don't see them anymore. (If anybody remembers them and can tell me what they are called, I would be very happy. It is not a white cushaw, they are too bumpy; these were smooth).

As I was paying for them, I heard the golf cart start up. I looked up to call Joey so he could see one of the farm people riding in it, and wave... to find that it was Joey. One quick call and he stopped, thank all goodness! But it also was a good signal that it was time to go home. Joey started on his "I'm a stupid boy" routine because he was upset (and probably embarrassed) about his golf cart adventure, so I softened it a little by letting him look at the baby chicks one more time (they were right next to the car). Then we had a talk about safety and how you have to be 16 to drive a golf cart as we started for home.

He said he'd like one for Christmas, anyway.

A Day Off

Today is Friday. That means it is my "day off." This is the one day I don't work any of my jobs. The children are in school. The husband is at work. The purpose of this day is to nap. That never seems to actually happen.

What usually happens is it gets cancelled. And I end up running around getting nothing I intended to do done.

Today, I totally kicked butt and took names.

I got the guys on the buses with no pouting, screaming, or tears. Win.

I went home and moved the rest of the boxes I needed to move out of the guest room into the attic. Win.

I moved some furniture that also needed to be moved. Win.

I got dinner going in the crockpot (Autumn succotash stew!) Win.

I removed my entire fabric collection to the attic for the holiday season, so we can stop tripping over it in the livingroom or kicking it under the table in the kitchen. two large plastic storage bins, five bankers' boxes, and three assorted shipping boxes' worth. Not counting the collection already in the attic. I love fabric. Win.

I made my bed. Win.

I made Joey's bed. Win.

I cleared the mantel to prepare for Halloween decorations. Win.

I got the Halloween decorations out and the mantel decorated. Win.

I bought cat food and fish water. Win.

I dropped off some baby toys and books at school to be used or passed on to Ms. Macy's little darling. Win.

I got to talk to Ms. H and Ms. Macy. Bonus Win.

I got to have lunch with Mom. Superwin.

We tried to go to Joey's book fair, and discovered the school was in lockdown. Fail. And we never did find out why it was in lockdown.

So we went shopping at Tuesday Morning instead. I got a new roaster pan for Thanksgiving. Very win.

I got the fish tank cleaned and the water changed. Win.

We got the boys, then dropped Mom off at her truck, and spent the afternoon playing games and watching Halloween movies and squishing boys. WIN.

That's a rockin' day off!

How to Define "Dramatic Change"

So we went to the doctor, we made the decision, and we started the meds. I can tell you it was not an easy decision, and not one made lightly. The doctor said we'd probably see a change right away.

But holy freakin' COW.

I have notes from teachers about how Joey is asking permission to have breaks or leave the room. He is sitting and doing work. He read ten pages of a book for one of his teachers on Monday. He spent 25 minutes on a single activity on Tuesday. HE gives his teachers hugs, says please and thank you, and takes turns. He's being silly and smiley and... who is this child, and where has he been for the last five months?

If nothing else, Joey's teachers are getting a taste of what he can really do if he's given the correct supports. We just need to figure out what those are. Joey gets break from the overwhelming anxiety that was dragging him into the abyss. Maybe he can then help us by being able to better communicate what he needs, and have a chance to settle in to his routines and get used to his teachers.

I much prefer the giggly Joey, I can tell you. I bet he does, too.

Happy Digital Day!

Don't you just love the digital age? We do! So Happy Digital Day!

Why do I love the digital age?

I can scan all of Joey's paperwork into my computer. If I lose anything, I just print it again. In meetings with really savvy folks, I don't have to print it at all; I can just search the desktop for what I need. Oh, and can cross-reference with supporting studies and articles, which I can also keep on my laptop for quick access.

I can get research materials delivered right to my laptop. Most journal articles are available in digital formats through my library website, which makes them searchable and instantly retrievable. Many books are also available this way. No need to go plowing through card catalogues for hours trying to find something that might or might not be relevant to what I am researching.

I can talk to my friends and send them awesome cards instantly.

I can send a letter to a friend in India, and get a reply as soon as they log in- sometimes in 15 minutes.

I can carry my entire collection of music and books in my hand, all the time.

If somebody asks me to back up facts about anything with hard study, I don't have to come back in a couple days. Now I can just say, "OK. Give me five minutes... oh, wait, here you go."

I can shop for fabric online, not just be limited to whatever they happen to have at my local store.

With one tweet, everybody can know what's up.

I can have a lot of photos in one frame on my wall- it changes every 2 minutes.

My students have Instant Access to their professor, any time of day or night.

I can watch movies in my house.

I can work from my house- and have a job that is sufficiently challenging and well-paid.

I can reach my son's teachers with important information, day or night.

I can own a computer, and have it fit in my hand.

I know you. And that is totally awesome.

He's good at math.

I had my sixth meeting with school folks today. This one was completely different. For one, the principal called me and asked for the meeting. For two, I didn't go in with a powerpoint or notes about my kid's strengths and weaknesses, drawn up specifically for the meeting. I just took The Notebook.*

Apparently, they figured out that when I said Joey is "good at math", what I meant was, "he's frickin' BRILLIANT at math."

So the principal wandered into Joey's class, mostly to see how he was doing. Often if Joey is having a hard time, and Mr. R walks in, Joey can pull it together and at least get to his desk (kind of like having the CEO come in to your office, even if the politics around there are awful... you do your best to pull it together so you don't get fired). So he sometimes just pops in and checks.

It was math time in the inclusion room, and the class was busily working on a math test. Well, everybody except Joey, who was at his computer. Mr. R immediately asked why Joey wasn't also working on his math test, and Ms. C handed him Joey's test: he completed it in about two minutes, and got a 100% on it.

Yeah, Joey is good at math.

Whatever else I might say or think about Mr. R, he definitely has this going for him: he knew this was Not Right, and that having Joey bored in a classroom would aggravate the problems we're already having. Hence, the meeting today.

The plan is to see where he is in math skills, and get him in a proper math section, even if he has to be in a fourth or fifth grade section. If he goes to a fourth or fifth grade section, he will absolutely have to have his own aide to take him and help him navigate all the non-math stuff that one deals with in a classroom while learning math. As I said to Joey's kindergarden teacher, Ms. S, long ago: It's not the academics that are the problem. It's Everything Else.

It was a really interesting meeting. We were seriously trying to get a general idea of what might happen if he blew away the fifth grade test and needed sixth or seventh grade math instruction. They saw it as a very real possibility. They were serious.

So was I.


*The Notebook contains all the papers, IEPs, letters, emails, etc. for a given school year. We're already into a 3-inch binder for this year.

Back to School Blues

Welcome to Week Five of the school catastrophe. If there was a mistake to be made, we've made it; we now stand as an example of why appropriate service is absolutely vital to the success of a disabled child in school. You can't just shove a child into a program, it has to be individualized with appropriate support- both in quantity and quality, and year-round. Poor transitioning results in disaster.

Transitioning seems to be a major weak point in our school system and faculty training. The teachers Joey has are, to be clear and honest, working their butts off trying to get his puzzle figured out and come up with appropriate solutions to support Joey. However, it is hard to think of solutions when you don't have sufficient understanding of or training in the problem. When one tends to focus on behavior rather than understanding communication and issues, everything becomes a problem of discipline. This can be reinforced when Joey can pull himself together enough to be functional when someone such as the principal or one of his old teachers comes into the room. That the distraction might give him extra incentive to swallow the frustration he is trying desperately to communicate is something that seems ignored, or at least unrecognized. How does one get teachers to recognize that my child is so overwhelming, he has shut down?

And in the meantime, what to do? I have a child so completely overwhelmed, his teachers feel the need to separate him, and have gotten to no academic work in five weeks. When I say this child has shut down, I mean he becomes so completely non-functional that he is removed to a 1:1 self-contained setting- and still gets nowhere. How do I help my child survive this problem of transition, this overwhelming new-ness, this bump on his road?

When the stress is overwhelming, what do you do? After all, shut-down is not an option for most folks who read this blog. We have to keep going, keep functioning. Our children are depending on us to be functional. We're not allowed to be tired and overwhelmed. How do we dive through anxiety, exhaustion, depression, and frustration, to come out the other side with smiles, clean clothes, and possibly a cooked dinner?

Tomorrow, we are going to the doctor with Joey. I haven't yet gotten him into a psychiatrist, so we are going to try a back door- our family physician- to see if there is anything we can do; in other words, we're exploring medication. This is a touchy subject, and I am sure I will get comments and emails, some in great detail, for both sides (pro and con); but sometimes you realize you are fast running out of options, and running out of time, and damage is being done. Sometimes you have to examine the options, so that educated, reasonable, and informed decisions can be made. If Joey continues to be overwhelmed and uncomfortable at school, we could go from bad to worse in a way that would be even more catastrophic.

We'll keep you posted.


P.S.: What she said. That's kind of my life right now.

And How Was Your Weekend?

Well, it's a good thing we went to the farm and had a hayride, so we could get this:




Because the rest of the weekend, we had this:



It may be a long week, folks.

I think Andy likes his teacher.

Andy and I had a little chat about his teacher. Her name is Mrs. Woodfolk. Every now and again, we refer to Andy as an elf, fairy, or (more often) brownie, because he has that sparkly, elfish quality about him.

"So, Andy, how do you like your teacher?"
"Oh! She is named for the people who live in the woods, the Wood Folk! You know, fairies! Because she is one! Just like me!"

I think we may have a winner here.

Meeting #5

Three IEPs, one meeting with the principal, and now one meeting with the Director of Student Services later...

Well, I think I made some things very clear today.


I think the school OT sucks, especially professionally.

Summer for Joey is going to look very very different from now on.

I know what a transition is, and everybody else better get on board with how it is done.

I expect people working with Joey to get some training in autism.

If this happens with the next school, I am going to have a conniption. I mean, a worse conniption.


But once again, by actions shall all be judged...

Happy Mountain Day!

Wish I could take the day off and go play in the leaves today!

We had a meeting.

Nothing makes you feel quite as much of an ineffective failure as an IEP meeting. I went in with a 31-slide presentation about Joey, a 3-page handout of concerns passed out a week before, and I came out with... a flip-flopped schedule. He'll go to math in the inclusion room, and language arts in the self-contained room.

Some things got said. The school OT insisted the IEP go back to consult-only because she "can't deal with his behaviors in 1:1". She's right. She can't. Because she doesn't have the skills to provide my child with appropriate OT. And I said so. I don't think I beat about the bush, either. I'm not happy because my child clearly is in desperate need of OT services, but this lady definitely does not have the skill set to provide them, and there is no other OT in the school. Is that clear enough?

We tossed around some strategies for dealing with Joey's issues, because I learned at this meeting that 3 weeks into the school year, and the inclusion folks have been able to do zero academics with him. The school folks asked how long it took for Joey to settle in at the last school. They were a bit unhappy when I noted he was settled in within a couple weeks there. We're not even close to settled here.

But in the end, what actually happened? We flipped his schedule. Woo. Hoo.

It may help. It may not. Im not sure they understood why they were doing it, just that it was a suggestion tossed out there to try.

I'm working on a follow-up letter. This is starting to get ugly.

At the Fair

We arrive, all in one piece. Which is pretty good for us this year.


Watching the hog judging with Dad.


Looking out for Wilbur. The boys really enjoyed watching the pigs being judged. We actually watched two and the start of a third category in pig judging.


Hooray for the fair! I have a picture of my Dad and his Mom in this very same little cut-out.


Andy liked the rabbits.


Joey loved them, too. They're soft.


There was some unusual livestock, a few different breeds than we usually see- totally awesome.


We got to watch some sheep shearing, and there were plenty to pet this year.


Joey liked the 4-H projects, too.


Andy dreams of winning his own ribbons someday. And owning a bunny.


Joey and Andy both liked the alpacas. The alpacas were not too sure if the feeling was mutual, but Joey did get to touch one.


Time to get on the midway! Rides first, then games. But Mom doesn't do so well in taking pictures of playing games.


Joey on his Crazy Bus ride, one of his favorites.


Andy is still small enough to go on some of the kid rides, like the pony cart.


Joey went on the bumper cars, but got "stuck in traffic."


He liked the jalopies mostly because he could just sit and ride.


Andy liked them, too!

Aftershocks: Follow-up

The boys are very excited that they are not going to school tomorrow. It is a half-day, so I am going to pull them both and go adventuring at the St. Mary's County Fair instead. Happy happy boys.

In talking to Andy, we do have a teasing issue at school, a child who was in his class last year. Fortunately, the child is not in his class, but apparently he sees him enough for it to be a problem. But I armed him. The child is calling Andy a silly name Andy doesn't like, so I told him to say he wasn't that name, and to say he was one he likes, even if it is silly. And if he kid insists on teasing him, informing the child he doesn't like that name and is going to go play with someone else, and turn his back firmly on the child. Andy's got enough to worry about, he should be spending his time with nice kids, not mean ones. I think Andy caught on.

No tears getting on the school bus today.

Joey is a little more complicated. He is saying he is all alone at school, that he has no friends. He relented and said there was a little girl who was friends with D, and that she was nice. But then it was right back to "its just me and Ms. A and Ms. C and Ms. W." The isolation is something I see a lot more with Joey, and it is all the more poignant because he loves people so- he wants to socialize. Also, I remember that feeling. It haunted me through most of my school years, and is likely to become a self-fullfilling idea. You can't force kids to socialize, and Joey is really running into roadblocks in initiating social contact. The anxiety about school isn't helping that.

Want to know why appropriate placement and service, including ESY, is so vital? Come look at my Joey.

Aftershocks and Mysteries

Joey melted down yesterday morning because it was 38 degrees when he woke up and checked the weather. He bolted from the bus stop, running down the street with me hot on his heels, and him yelling, "Help! Help!" I'm actually interested to know why none of the neighbors who were giving me odd looks did not call the police, as they weren't folks we actually know. But, deep breath, they didn't, and I got him on the bus.

Is this just reverberations from summer? Or is there more going on at school? Or is there some need not being met here?

Today was Day Three of Andy bursting into tears upon the announced approach of his bus. He says he wants to stay home with Mom and watch TV. And I see we have a wet bed this morning, also three in a row.

Is this reverberations from trying to cope with Joey? Is there something going on at school? Is there a problem on the bus? Is there something he needs at home?

I stood in my livingroom a minute after I got them on the bus. I cleaned it up Thursday. It is already an explosion of Zhu Zhu pets, Star Wars figures. sundry detritus and pizza boxes, with my tubs of fabric stuck in the middle. School papers are scattered over the little table next to my chair. Wrappers from strawberry juice bars are on the floor. I can see the diningroom needs to be vacuumed, and is also a den of toys, used spiral notebooks, crayons, and unplayed games.

I was looking at card games in the store last night, after the boys were in bed while I was grocery shopping. There was one with dinosaurs. I looked hard at it. When I was six and eight, I loved games. Board games, card games, I was up early playing them by myself I loved them so. My boys don't play games. I try now and again. Joey liked Chutes and Ladders and Hi Ho Cherry-o for a while, but taking turns is a real challenge. Complicated rules and gameplay is another challenge. Instructions we find simple enough are a real hurdle for these guys. Maybe its time to have a family game night.