My Side of Typical

My Side of Typical

Saturday, December 29, 2012

Ashamed

Yesterday we spent the evening with our good friends, kids included. Bambam loves to go to our friend's house. He's known them his whole life. Their girls are 2 and 5 years older than him and they adore him. Almost like older sisters or even little mothers. They are fiercely protective of him. 

We had a great evening eating leftover Christmas dinner and snacks, a couple of cocktails, and a game of dice while the kids played. Then, towards the end of the evening I looked over and saw some dark spots on the back of Bambam's shirt. Uh oh. My heart sank. I quickly grabbed his backpack and hearded him into the bathroom. Just as I suspected, a complete blowout. 

This is not unexpected. Bambam has been fighting a bug for about 4 days now. Between that and the holidays, he hasn't exactly been regular. In fact, we had nothing for a couple of days. I've been waiting for the blowout to occur. And when I say blowout, I mean up the back, in his shirt, in his pants, up to his belly button, down his legs, almost in his socks BLOWOUT. Had we been home, I would have dumped him in the shower. Instead I'm in a small powder room trying to clean him up with toilet paper and wipes. He doesn't want to stand still, tries to open the door, wants to go play. And I find myself getting impatient. 

To add insult to injury, I don't have a complete change of clothes with me. I have extra pullups (always) and a shirt, but no pants. Now I have to go ask for a pair of sweats to borrow for the ride home. And I found myself embarrassed. Somehow almost overnight I feel like things have changed. It's never bothered me before when he's had an accident at their house, I've even borrowed clothes before. There is nothing new here. But now he is 7. And he seems so much bigger. And he's made such huge gains in so many other areas. And it just feels wrong. And I want to leave quickly.

These are new emotions for me. I've never been embarrassed by anything about Bambam. He is a loving child with special needs doing his best to navigate through this world. And I was embarrassed. And now I'm ashamed. Ashamed that I was embarrassed. I feel like a bad mom unworthy of the love of this sweet boy.

Thursday, December 27, 2012

A Fraud

Usually I feel like an open book. I don't really hide much. My life is what it is and if you are willing to listen, I will share it with you. But, lately I've been feeling like a fraud.

I can not tell you how often I hear the words "you are such a great parent" or "I don't know how you do it" or "I could never do what you do" or "Your kids are so lucky to have you" or my favorite (which came from the LRC teacher at school) "Bambam hit the jackpot when he got you for parents". Really??? I don't feel like any of this is true. And if this is the picture I present to you, then I'm a fraud. Because here is what my days are really like:

I barely even say hi to my teenagers as they get themselved up, ready, and out the door to school. Our conversations in the morning exist of "bye mom, we're leaving" answered by me with "have a good day, love you guys". That's it. Most days I don't even know what they are wearing as I'm in my bedroom getting ready when they walk out the door and the words above are yelled down to the front door. Great parenting? I think not.

Bambam watches Curious George and The Cat in the Hat every morning so I can get his breakfast made, our lunches done and get myself ready before getting him ready for school. Seriously, TV first thing in the morning, every morning. And, I don't have time in the mornings to patiently wait and work with him on dressing himself. I know more than anyone that we are supposed to work on adaptive skills. I just don't have time in the mornings so I still dress him at 7 years old. Some days we are still late for school. Not exactly parent of the year.

My teenagers go either straight to their sports practice or to the athletic club from school. Often they are not home by dinner time so we eat in shifts. Sitting down for a family dinner is a rarity at our house. And Bambam doesn't really eat dinner, it's just not his thing. So he sits in the family room doing his iPad while Mr. Fixit and I eat dinner. Now that's good parenting.

The dinner dishes don't always get done after dinner. In fact, some days they don't get done until I get home from work the next day. And my house is not always dusted, vaccumed, swept and mopped. The laundry piles up. I will never win the Betty Homemaker Award.

Miracle Boy has been on the varsity golf team every year in high school. I have never yet watched a golf tournament. In 3 years, I've never seen him play. Granted, they play during the week when I'm either at work or have Bambam with me. And its not convenient. But a great parent would make it happen.

I do not get to all the things I'm supposed to work on with Bambam every day. The fine motor work, gross motor work, sensory diet, academic work, social skills, play dates, adaptive skills, speech and language skills, theraputic listening, brushing, etc. Some days we don't even read for 10 minutes. Some days I fail him miserably.

I am not a great parent. I'm just a parent, just like all the other parents out there. I really want to be a good parent. But life is not perfect. It's messy and chaotic and the days are shorter than necessary. I often make mistakes and fall short. I'm impatient, I yell, I make snap decisions I regret later. And when people tell me what a great parent I am or how lucky my kids are, I feel like a fraud.


Monday, December 17, 2012

Trapped in the Car

As luck would have it, The Quiet One and I were in the car today. Just the 2 of us. I love it when I have one or the other teenager trapped in the car with me, just the 2 of us with no distractions. OK, maybe some Christmas music in the background. But they are my captive audience. I have the best conversations with them in the car.

Since they both now drive, this doesn't happen very often. Don't get me wrong, I love that they now drive. It makes my life so much easier. I'm no longer a taxi for 3, now it's just 1. But, I sometimes miss that one on one time in the car. So I try to create situations where it happens. And today it happened with The Quiet One. And this is awesome. As his alias implies, he is quiet. He doesn't volunteer information unless you ask. So the time in the car with him is great.

With the holidays coming up, I asked him if he was excited to go see his mom. Of course he is. So we talked about that a little bit, what they had planned, would he see his grandma, etc. Then I asked him if he sees his old friends when he visits there. And he said not really. He sees one, but not the rest. And then he went on to say that the kids there are different. Different how I ask. And he says "There sort of all punks." I find this to be an interesting comment, these were his friends. And then he goes on to say "You know, I'm really glad I moved up here." Say what?

This is the child who moved into our household under duress, for lack of a better word. He was failing high school, getting in trouble, had been arrested twice, smoking pot, etc. He was sullen and angry when he got here. Did not want to be here, was angry at his mom for shipping him away. Angry at us for making him come. Angry he was taken away from his friends. He was counting the days till he could return.

This same child is now telling me how glad he is that he lives here. He went on to say that the kids here are nicer, that even when they are joking and having fun they are still respectful. He actually used that word "respectful". He likes that there is no need for a police officer at the high school here, that there is no graffiti on the walls. It's nicer.

And I'm sitting there in awe. I'm in awe that he not only sees these differences, but that he is acknowledging it. That he is outwardly saying "I like it here, I'm glad I live here now." And I got a little teary. But I kept it in check because teenage boys don't appreciate a little happy cry. But what I did say is "Honey, I'm so happy that you like it here. Thank you for sharing that with me. You just made my day."

I have the best conversations with my kids in the car.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Birthday Parties

Bambam was invited to a classmate's birthday party. This is HUGE. This is the first birthday party invitation he's received. Granted, the entire class was invited. But they included Bambam. I was both touched and intimidated at the same time.

I do not remember what a typical 7 year old birthday party is like. Bambam has never had a birthday party with his peers. His parties include our family plus both grandparents. And even that can sometimes overwhelm him. I can't imagine him at a party with 20+ kids.

On the plus side, the party was at the indoor bounce place. Bambam loves the bounce place. Imagine, a boy who's stim is to jump; the indoor bounce plance is like heaven to him. Jumping grounds him, calms him, helps him to block out overwhelming stimuli. He begs to go there ALL.THE.TIME. Plus, that probably means that there will not be organized activities, but rather free play time. This might just work.

The invitation asked for an RSVP. I would have called the parents anyway. In a situation like this, I want to make sure they know who Bambam is. That they understand his... uniqueness. So I called and clumsily ask the dad if he knew who Bambam was. And I will forever remember his response. "Of course I do. He's the cute little blond boy with the aide." And that just about made my heart melt. What a sweet way to identy my boy. Not "the special needs boy" which honestly doesn't offend me, he is a special needs child. I just really thought that he identified Bambam in a very sweet, respectful way. And I knew we had to attend the party. Especially after he went on to say that his son has specifically asked to invite Bambam.

So, Bambam and I went shopping to find a birthday present. I had asked the dad what his child liked so we were armed with good info. And, as luck would have it, this little boy loves sports. Just like Bambam, any sport with a ball is awesome. Bambam picked a football with the team logo from our local university. Then he helped me wrap it in a gift bag with tissue. It may not have been the prettiest present, but Bambam was so proud.

He was so excited the morning of the party. He almost drove us nuts. It was all he talked about. All morning long we heard "go to bounce house now?",  "go to party now?", "see my friends now?". Over and over until we finally left.

When we arrived it was a little chaotic and Bambam hung back for a little while. But with some promting, he greeted the boy with a "Happy Birthday" and gave him the gift. Then he ran off to go bouncing. Throughout the 2 hour party, the other kids would invite Bambam to join in what ever game they were playing, and sometimes he did. But when the noise and chaos got to be too much, he would go find a quieter corner to bounce by himself. I was so proud of him that he knew what he needed and was able to get it without a single melt down. This is true progress. He even invited another little boy from his class (who is shy and reserved) to come play with him in the quieter corner. 

When it was time for cake and presents, we were all ushered into a room that was already set up. I knew this would be the hardest part for Bambam. The room was a little hollow and echoed. With 22 ampted up kids and half a dozen parents, it was loud and chaotic. A recipe for sensory overload. Bambam took a seat next to the shy little boy he had previously asked to play. He ate about half his cake before he turned to me and said "I need to go home now." Not wanting him to go home yet, I suggested he go find a quiet corner and jump for a while. He ran off with a smile. 

When it was time to open presents, I called him back to the room and he watched from the doorway as the birthday boy opened all his presents. After which, all the kids ran out of the room to go bounce and play. And you know what? That football, the one Bambam had brought for the birthday boy, it was the favorite present. The birthday boy carried it all around the bounce place. And all the other kids wanted to play with it. And Bambam was grinning from ear to ear as he ran after them.

That was about the best birthday party ever.

I will forever be greatfull to the amazing kids in Bambam's class. They are caring, understanding, tolerant, accepting, etc. The list goes on and on. They amaze me on a daily basis. They are being lead and taught by wonderful adults. The parents of the birthday boy were so gracious. They both went out of their way to make sure he was included, comfortable, and having fun. The mom even gave Bambam the balloons at the end of the party. This was a success on all levels. 




Thursday, December 13, 2012

Seven!

My boy is turning 7. My sweet,cherubic, happy baby boy is now a big kid of 7. I'm not sure how this happened in the blink of an eye, but it did. You'd think I'd be used to it, he's not the first. But it still makes me pause.

First grade. He's in first grade now. Not quite at school all day (he comes home an hour early, that seems to be all his sensory system can take) but still much longer than kindergarten. And I'm so proud of him.

He still spends much of his day in the LRC with a one to one aid. But he is now ASKING to go to his class. He will sit with the other kids for 20 minutes as they read to him. He participates in art and is so proud of his masterpieces. He works with his teacher to check in all the kids and their homework in the morning. He knows and greets all his classmates by name. He goes to library with them and uses a quiet voice (wish I knew how they accomplished this, he still only uses very loud at home). He wants to be with them, interacting with them. And I'm so proud.

He is now eating lunch in the cafeteria with his class. And actually eating his lunch. Without an aid by his side. And going to recess with all the other kids. And not getting overwhelmed or melting down. He's playing with his peers. And I'm so proud.

He is taking swimming lessons. I sometimes wondered if he would take lessons of any kind. But now he's in swimming. And he loves it. He looks forward to seeing Teacher Brad. And Teacher Brad is awesome. Honestly, about 10 minutes is spent on actual swim lesson stuff. The other 20 are spent on more social interacting. But my kid is kicking, and using "big arms", and blowing bubbles, and going underwater. There is no actual swimming yet, but I know there will be in his own time. And I am so pround.

He has grown and gained skills in so many ways. I simply can't write about them all. My baby is now 7 and I couldn't be prouder of him. Happy birthday big boy!

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

My 30 Days of Thanks

My Daily Facebook posts during the month of November:

Day 1: It's November, the month of thanks. Today I'm thankful for a successful Halloween yesterday! Hope everyone had a safe and fun holiday. 

Day 2:  Spent the morning on a college visit with Miracle Boy. Reminded me how much I loved college. So today I'm thankful for all the opportunities he has coming up. What an exciting time for him.

Day 3: Today I'm thankful for our health insurance. Although it dosen't cover everything, actually not a lot of Bambam's therapies, I am still thankful for what it does cover.

Day 4:  Awesome day. Today I'm thankful for a 75 degree sunny day in November!

Day 5:  Today I am thankful for no phone call from the school. Some days it's the little things.

Day 6:  Today, like many others, I'm thankful for the right to vote. I sent in my ballot 2 weeks ago, even more thankful for our state's mail in ballots. 

Day 7:   Today I am so very thankful that this election is over. Enough said.

Day 8:   Today I'm thankful that Bambam slept until 6:30! Time change is always hard.

Day 9:  Today I'm thankful that I don't work on Fridays. Which really means I have 5 hours in which to make all my phone calls, schedule apts, pay bills, clean the house, do laundry, etc. But that's OK, cuz I can do it with the stereo on and no one pestering me! Have a great Friday everyone.

Day 10:  Today I'm thankful for the fun house! And snow, and college football, and homemade chili in a bread bowl. Life is good.

Day 11:  Today, like many others, I am thankful for our veterans who serve our country to protect our freedoms.  I'm also thankful for a safe drive home from the fun house and for the portable DVD player.

Day 12:  Today I'm thankful for my boss. When I told him that I was going to miss work yet again today his response was "Don't worry about it. You need to take care of Bambam first." He is a wonderful person who embodies patience and understanding and is very accommodating. When I stumbled into this job a couple of years ago, it was a blessing. This is clearly where I am supposed to be and I'm very grateful.  

Day 13: Today I'm thankful for Bambam's swim teacher. He is a college student who teaches swimming on the side. And he is awesome. He's patient and understanding and most importantly fun. He keeps Bambam engaged and motivated and honestly gets more out of him than I thought possible. My kid will learn to swim, despite all his special needs!

Our world is full of amazing people if we just open our eyes and look. Everyday heroes who go the extra mile to make someone else's life just a little easier or better. I'm very thankful that Bambam is surrounded by such people.
  


Day 14:  Today I'm thankful for Miracle Boy. He is a great big brother. When Bambam had a bad morning on Monday, Miracle Boy stayed with him so I could go to work for a couple of hours. His words, "Don't worry mom, I can handle it. He'll be fine." And he was.

Day 15: I couldn't possibly go through the month of thanks without again saying how thankful I am for our Elementary School, and Mr. D, and Mrs. M, and Mrs. E, and Mrs. H, and Miss C, and Mr. P, and all the other teachers, specialists, and aides who give 120% everyday to help Bambam learn and grow. I know I sound like a broken record, but it truly does take a village. 

Day 16: Today I'm thankful for my personal chef, Mr. Fixit. Even though Bambam and I get home hours before he does, he still makes dinner every night. And it is rarely anything less than fantastic. He is an amazing cook.

Day 17: Today I'm thankful for my parents. They are fantastic grandparents. I don't think my children and I would have survived without them. And although they sometimes drive me nuts, I know that no one else loves my kids as much as they do.

Day 18: I'm thankful for a warm house and yummy food on the table. We often forget how many people in this world don't have these basic necessities. I'm thankful that we do not have to worry about where we will sleep and what we will eat. We are truly blessed.

Day 19: Today I am thankful for a very fun evening out with my girlfriends. Thank you ladies, it was a much needed break.

Day 20: Today I'm thankful for the treadmill in my basement. I'm a fair weather runner and would never run in the winter time without it.

Day 21: Today I'm thankful for a 4 day holiday weekend! Be safe in your travels and have a fantastic Thanksgiving.

Day 22: As I look around my Thanksgiving table today, I am overcome with all the blessings I see:
Bambam who is honestly the sweetest, happiest child I have ever known. For his smile that not only lights up his face but his whole body. He quite simply glows. You can't help but smile back. Even strangers in the store respond to his glowing smile and happy disposition.
Miracle Boy who is so full of opportunity, potential and promise. My "typical kid" who has given me the opportunity to experience "normal parenting", whatever that is. This young man who at 17 still likes to have date night with his mom. I am so very greatful for him.
The Quiet One who is, well, quiet. I'm not sure our household could have accommodated another noisy, high energy child. The Quiet One has merged into the household with ease. The changes I've seen in him over the past year and a half are truly a blessing. He is growing in countless ways. Watching him emerge as a young man is amazing.
And of course Mr. Fixit. I am so grateful for him. He provides for us very comfortably, he fixes anything that breaks, he makes dinner every night... The list goes on and on. I'm thankful for my "tag team" partner. As anyone with a special needs child knows, sometimes you just have to be a tag team.
I have so many blessings in my life.

Day 23: Today I'm thankful for the small airport at the fun house. We visit this airport every day that we are there. The employees are kind and accepting of Bambam's obsession with airplanes. They allow him to get up close and personal with the airplanes, he often gets to sit in one. I think they've adopted him as their mascot. Again, everyday people going the extra mile.

Day 24: Today I'm even more thankful for the iPad and headphones. As we headed off to a fun college football viewing, we could feel confident that Bambam could join us and be successful even in a crowded, noisy room. Yeah for technology!

Day 25: Today I'm thankful for all the fun, festive activities in this small community where our fun house is located. There is lots to do for the teenagers as well as Bambam. Its a great way to kick off the holiday season.

Day 26: Today I'm thankful for my sister, she is amazing. She is always there for me, to celebrate, to commiserate, to cheer me on, to pick me up, to do whatever is needed. I would not be the person I am today without her. She inspires me to be better.

Day 27: Today I'm thankful for modern medicine. I know the decision to medicate or not is a very personal one. But for us, medication has made life so much better (even possible) for Bambam. He simply cannot function without it. I'm very greatful that this option is available.

Day 28: Today I'm thankful for all the people who spend their efforts, time, and money on research, education, and acceptance of autism, or any special need. They make the world just a little bit better for everyone.

Day 29: Today I'm thankful for Bambam's classmates. They are an amazing group of young people led my amazing adults. They are accepting, understanding, and just plain nice to Bambam. And not just at school. When we run into one of them in town, they always run over and say hi and talk to Bambam. It simply warms my heart. Inclusions is not only beneficial to the special needs child, but to the whole class of typical kids as well. I really think we are raising a whole generation of individuals who will make our world a better place.

Day 30:Today I'm thankful the chance to step back and be reminded of all the things I have to be thankful for. I am truly blessed.

  

Monday, November 26, 2012

That Kid

When Miracle Boy was little and I would take him places that kids like to go, I always noticed That Kid. You know what I'm talking about. That Kid who is just a little too noisy, a bit too rambunctious, too rough or wild, etc. And I would watch That Kid and wonder: Where are his parents? Where is the discipline? What is wrong with him? Yes, I am ashamed to admit that I would watch with judging eyes. Never bothering to wonder what his story was, what his circumstances were.

Now, I have That Kid. As I sit here at the edge of the pool watching Bambam play in the water, I notice that he's splashing a little too hard. Jumping a little too close to the basketball game. Running full speed into the water. He's careful not to actually run into, jump into, or touch anyone else, but he sure gets close and splashes A LOT. And it does not matter how many time I say slow down, calm down, move down the pool; this is who he is. He craves this impact with the water. Its part of the sensory thing. I cannot take him to a pool and expect him to act otherwise, it will never happen.

So I look around at the other parents and I wonder. Which ones are asking themselves where are his parents. And which ones are asking why he's not disciplined. And which ones are wondering what is wrong with him. Because I know it is happening. I know because once upon a time I was That Parent.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Broken Hearted

My heart is breaking. My soul is heavy. I'm not even sure how to express in words the sadness I feel.

I took Bambam in for evaluations today. And all I can say is it was an epic fail. I know people throw that phrase around all to often these days. Its lost some of its meaning. But this was, in every sense an epic failure.

The evaluation was to start with an IQ test, move on the some social response testing, and finish up with some testing for ADHD. He lasted 15 minutes. During which he answered about 3 questions before his anxiety rose to the point that all he would say is "go home now, go home now". He didn't even respond to the question "can you show me your mouth". And I mean no response. Wouldn't look at the psychologist, didn't point, didn't have any expression, just repeated over and over "go home now, go home now." The doctor wisely stopped the testing at that point.

I am desperate. Desperate for some answers. (which I may never get) Desperate for some guidance and a path to follow. Desperate for anything. If no one can administer a meaningful test to this child, how can we determine where he is, what he needs, how best to help him. He knows where his mouth is. But he is unable to function in a testing setting with a stranger he doesn't know. And it breaks my heart to see him with so much anxiety, unable to do the simplest of tasks.

We realize that there is a very good chance we are dealing with some intellectual disability along with the autism. (one of the reason for today's testing) But my 6 year old knows where his mouth is. How do we determine how much of his response (or lack there of) is the result of intellectual disability and how much is the result of autism or anxiety or dyspraxia or sensory processing disorder or any of the many other labels that have been attached to him? Its overwhelming. And heartbreaking.

The next best thing is to have us, his parents, fill out several questionnaires about his behavior and abilities. I hate these. We've done them before on many occasions. And it never gets any easier. Being faced in black and white with the struggles my child faces on a daily basis is hard. Hard really isn't the right word. It's heartbreaking. Really. No, my 6 year old is not completely potty trained. No, my 6 year old cannot button his shirt independently. No, my 6 year old does not know his phone number, cannot read, does not play with peers his age... Yes, he perseverates on the same topics, talks incessantly, doesn't understand facial expressions... The questions go on, and on, and on. And I know all of this, I see it every day. But to have to put it down on paper where everyone can see it in black and white. Well, it nearly breaks my heart.

This is such a painful process. But I am so desparate for answers, or at least some guidance and help. And I'm not sure I'm going to get it.  My heart is breaking and my soul is heavy.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

More Evaluations

On Monday Bambam goes in for another round of evaluations and tests. 4 hours of testing with a neuro-psychologist. A new Doctor that he doesn't know. In an unfamiliar setting. In an environment where he knows he's being evaluated and wants to do things "right". It is a familiar formula which always equals a very anxiety riddled little boy. I wish I could do it for him. 

I do not like being the one to take him, exposing him to what is for a him a hostile environment, a painful experience. As parents we want to protect our children. Keep them from pain, anxiety, fear. But sometimes it cannot be helped. I know it is for the greater good. Making sure we are on the right track, providing him with the services and accommodations needed to reach his full potential. But that won't make Monday any easier. Sometimes being a parent is hard.

Thursday, November 1, 2012

Halloween

A text to my friend on Halloween 2009:
"Wow. Trick-or-treating has never been such an utter failure. Didn't want to put on his costume. Refused to wear the hat. Wouldn't knock on any doors, didn't say anything other than "home, home", threw the few pieces of candy he did get. And when we turned a corner and saw a fire pit, it was all over. Full blown meltdown, crying, screaming, trying to claw his way into my shirt, total chaos. I just want him to have fun."

That was 3 years ago. Before a diagnosis of Autism. Before we learned about Sensory Processing Disorder. And all the other idiosyncrasies that go along with the label of Autism. Knowledge is so powerful. 

After 3 years of intensive (on going) therapies we have a different child.

Halloween 2012:

Bambam: "Hawoween coming"

Me: "Yes, do you want to dress up and go trick-or-treating?"

Bambam: "Yesssss"

Me: "What do you want to dress up as?"

Bambam: "Buzzzz...or Spyermn"

So I found a Spiderman costume and paid $30.00 for it. To which Mr. Fixit said, "You paid $30 for a costum that he will only wear 60% of (he won't wear anything on his head, so much for the mask) as he goes to the 3 houses of neighbors he knows and then insists on coming home?" Yup, my kid TOLD ME WHAT HE WANTED TO BE FOR HALLOWEEN. You bet I spent $30 on it, even if he doesn't end up trick-or-treating at all! He brought up Halloween unpromted, and then told me what he wanted to be. That alone was enough for me. I would have spent $100.

Yet, I still had no expectations. After several years of unsuccessful attempts at trick-or-treating, I had finally learned to just let it go. After dinner I casually asked Bambam if he wanted to put on his costume and go trick-or-treating. To which he answered a resounding "No!" OK, I told him to let me know if he decided he wanted to go and went about cleaning up the kitchen. About 15 minutes later he brought his costume to me and asked to go trick-or-treating. 

I helped him get into the body suit and set the mask aside. But he pointed at it and said "I need dat". Really??? Yup, he put it on! A full over-the-head mask with 2 eye holes and tiny nose holes. This kid who has refused to even wear noise cancelling headphones has a full head mask on! And out the front door he went, running to the neighbor's house.

In the end he not only went to the 3 houses of the people he knows and talks to regularly, but up and down the next 2 streets. We had to run to keep up with him. He sometimes forgot to say "trick-or-treat" and just said "please" instead (scripting is not his thing). But he never forgot to say thank you. He kept the mask on for about 4 houses, then it ended up in the candy bag. But I couldn't have been more proud of him. My kid enjoyed Halloween. HE HAD FUN.

Best $30 I've spent all year.

Wednesday, October 31, 2012

The Mean Mom

When Miracle Boy was 6, he and I spent a week at the coast. Just the two of us. It is one of my favorite memories. We spent time playing on the beach, going to the aquarium, a whale watching trip, browsing the tourist shops, and generally having a great time on our mini-vacation. 

While browsing in one of the tourist shops, Miracle Boy happened upon a framed poem entitled "Mean Moms". After reading it, he quickly and with a grin deemed me a mean mom. I don't remember all of the poem, but it went something like this:

Mean moms make their children eat vegetables.
Mean moms give their children a bedtime.
Mean moms don't let their children watch TV all day.
Mean moms make sure homework is done.
etc

You get the idea. And then the last line of the poem was "The world needs more mean moms!".

Ever since that trip 11 years ago, Miracle Boy has referred to me as a mean mom, almost always with a grin. I hope this means that he understands that all my decisions, discipline, consequences, praise, etc are made with his best interest at heart. I'm certainly not a perfect parent, and I make more than my share of mistakes. But I try to put my kid's best interest at the heart of everything. 

The teenage years are hard, even under the best of circumstances. And I'm not sure ours is the best of circumstances: A blended family, a special needs little brother, a step brother with his own struggles, and a biological father with major issues. Miracle Boy is a great kid, but during these teenage years I find that we are butting heads more and more. He of course is pushing the envelope, fighting for his independence, wanting to live his own life. I of course want to keep him close, protect him, try to save him from learning the lessons that I learned the hard way. I cannot tell you how many time a week I hear the words "but it's my life to live, my lessons to learn." 

I just hope that during these turbulent teenage years he remembers why I'm such a "mean mom". I love that boy with every fiber of my being.

Wednesday, October 24, 2012

Least Restrictive Enironment and Inclusion

Mr. Fix it picked up Bambam from school yesterday. This does not happen very often (read hardly ever). But circumstances were such yesterday that he had the privilege of picking up the little man. (Bambam of course loved this, an afternoon with Daddy all to himself!)

So, it seems this led to a comment by Mr. Fix it last night. He indicated that he thought Bambam should be spending more time in his home classroom. This is a little bit of a touchy subject for me. I of course would love nothing more than for Bambam to BE ABLE to spend his whole school day in a typical classroom. Is this not one of our end goals? For him to function and learn in a typical classroom? But is that what is best for him right now? I don't believe so. He is simply not there yet.

Time with his typical peers is invaluable to him. He learns so much from them. But as far as being able to concentrate and learn academics in a classroom full of them? Forget it, he simply cannot do it at this time. I've been in there with him, I've seen what its like for him. There is way too much going on. He struggles to focus on one thing, to listen to directions, to even answer simple questions. In the hustle and bustle of dropping him off in the morning, he doesn't even respond to kids saying hi to him. I don't think he even hears them. There is too much background noise, movement, chaos. He doesn't know where to look. A simple task like putting his snack in his cubbie (which he could do with no help or prompting in an empty classroom) requires constant prompting and assistance when all the other kids are there. Right now, I think the best place for him to LEARN is one on one in the Learning Resource Center. And recess, gym, library, field trips, etc are the places he can interact with his typical peers.

I don't believe it will always be this way. He is miles ahead of where he was last year. But it will take more time, maturity, and lots more ability to cope before he can actually sit at a desk in a typical classroom and learn from group instruction. He will get there, I know he will. But we need to be patient.

Tuesday, October 16, 2012

The Not So Fun House

We are fortunate enough to have a small vacation house about 3 hours from home. Every time we go there, I thank my lucky stars that we had this house before Bambam was born. He has been going there since he was 10 days old. To him it is just an extension of home, a place he is comfortable and free to be just him. And all his favorite things are just a bike ride away, the airport, the horse stables, the pool. Without this house, we would probably not have had a vacation in the last 6.5 years. And sometimes we just need to get away. 

Last weekend we went to our beloved "fun house" as Bambam calls it. We hadn't been in over a month and were looking forward to a relaxing weekend. But it was not to be. The drive over, which normally takes a little less than 3 hours, ballooned to over 4.5 due to an accident that blocked the highway in both directions. Perhaps this should have been a sign to turn around and go home as we sat for over an hour without moving. But Bambam was a rockstar. He played with his airplanes and looked at his books and really did a great job of going with the flow.

Since we arrived so late, we barely had time to eat dinner, read a couple of books, and head off to bed. The first night's sleep is always a little bit shakey with the change in venue. But it usually only takes one night and then he's back on track. Not this time.

When we got up Saturday morning it quickly became obvious that hunting season had started. Gun shots went off frequently all day long. And Bambam fell apart a little bit more each time he heard one. His whole body would get stiff. If he was close to me he would grab hold and squeeze with all his might. There was crying and teeth grinding and basically an all out "fight or flight" alert all weekend.

It was painful to see my sweet boy like this. It felt like we had regressed 2 years. His anxiety level hadn't been this aroused in a very long time. His words were unclear, and when we could understand them they made little sense fleeting from one thing to another. Not even his favorite things could calm him. He was quite simply, a mess.

I did manage to get him to the pool Saturday afternoon where he found a quiet, empty corner and proceeded to jump in, get out, jump in, get out, jump in...over and over again, almost obsessively, seeking some comfort. And as I watched him, I cried. Sitting by the edge of a public pool, the tears streamed down my face as I watched my boy uncomfortable in his own skin, unable to help him, unable to provide him the comfort he was so desperately seeking. Sometimes I hate this.

And then finally, finally later in the weekend he found his words. "Guns are too loud, they scare me." And with that one sentence, a way to express what he was feeling, a way to gain some semblance of control, he began to come back.

Wednesday, October 10, 2012

The Onslaught of Mail

The mail at our house has gotten a bit ridiculous. Now, instead of asking if anyone has gotten the mail today we ask if anyone has gotten Miracle Boy's mail. Miracle Boy is a fairly good student and did reasonable on the SAT. Apparently that means every school in the country has to send him mail. And I'm not kidding. He gets at least 8 pieces of mail a day.  Every.Single.Day. Our mail box is littered with postcards, letters, DVDs, and 8 x 10 full color, glossy, multi-page catalogs. I cannot imagine the expense that goes into producing these. Perhaps tuition wouldn't be so high if they weren't sending out these catalogs.

I do not remember this from 30 years ago when I was a Senior in high school. And I wasn't a slouch. I was in a comparable position to Miracle Boy. Yet I do no remember getting an onslaught of advertising from every college or university in the country. I find it irritating. And may possibly wallpaper the playroom in college advertising. It is bright and colorful and full of promising looking young people. Perhaps it will inspire the other 2 kids.

Saturday, September 29, 2012

The Sock Hop

Bambam's school does a back to school sock hop every September. The gym is decorated, the lights dimmed, the music loud, spot lights, disco balls, lots of kids, parents, laughter, fun. Its a familiar scene played in many schools this time of year. Its a time to kick off the new school year, reconnect with families you haven't seen over the summer, meet new families that are joining the school, and just have a good time. Last year we made it as far as the gym doors. That was it. We never made it inside. After 10 minutes, we went back home.

But this year? This year was a whole different story. This year we not only made it into the gym (after a 5 minute wait outside the doors to take everything in), but we stayed for 45 minutes! And there was dancing and eating snacks and saying hi to classmates! Granted, most of the dancing was by himself just at the edge of the dance floor and there were three 5 minute breaks outside and sitting in a (quieter) corner to have snacks. But 45 minutes! And once, he even let one of his classmates take him by the hand to the middle of the dance floor. Where he stood and watched her dance for about 30 seconds before retreating to the edge. But 45 minutes, without a meltdown. And when he said "I go home now", we calmly left. A HUGE success.

In this journey with autism it is so easy to get caught up in the day to day struggles. Some days it feels like we are not making any progress. Many of the same issues rear their annoying heads day after day after day. But when I step back and compare this year to last year, I can see how far he's really come. How much progress he has made. And my heart sings. 

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

The Fortunate One

We are so very fortunate. We are one of the lucky ones. Yes, we live with autism day in and day out. And yes, it can be stressful and overwhelming at times. But we have amazing support. From family, from friends, from teachers and aides and neighbors. The list is long. And every day I'm thankful for each and every one of these people. The teachers who are endlessly patient, the aides who are loving and caring, the doctors who don't dismiss us and listen when we say there is an issue, the friends who include us in their gatherings, their kids who take Bambam as he is and do their best to engage him in their play, grandparents who will babysit anytime...

But, today, at this moment what I'm most thankful for is my amazing sister. I could never do this without her. She is my sounding board, my support, my cheerleader, my adviser. When I call her upset that Bambam can't do the activity the other kids at school were doing, she listens. And then she reminds me what he can do. And that he will do the other things too, in his own time. When I'm on my last nerve, she invites me to her house for an afternoon of "sister time". And if the stars line up and the gods are smiling, maybe, just maybe an overnight sister trip. She sends me mismatched socks in the mail with a picture of the other mismatched socks on her own feet. The note says: When having a very bad day, put on the sister socks and know that I'm standing with you in solidarity. What 49 year old woman does that? One who sees the fear, anxiety, pain, anguish, the overwhelming feelings that can sometimes accompany raising a child with autism. One who knows and understands that mama occasionally needs a break, or she might break. One who loves me unconditionally, no matter what, period. One who's been watching out for me my whole life. I am truly the fortunate one.

Tuesday, September 25, 2012

The Dentist, Round 2

After school started, it was finally my turn to go to the dentist. I haven't been in a "while". But with Bambam now in first grade, I'm hoping to have a little time to get some of these much neglected items done.

The first thing the dentist says (after no decay, yeah) is "I see you grind your teeth". I do not grind my teeth. He insists he sees wear patterns consistent with grinding. I insist I do not grind my teeth, never have. He is smiling and nodding his head. Its irritating. Then he asks if I have any extra stress in my life. At which point I laugh. Out loud. Almost hysterically. I think I scared him. He asks if I can reduce some of the stress. Am I seeing a therapist or my dentist? Not unless I get rid of the children or my parents. It is what it is and I deal the stress the best I can. And most days I think I'm doing a pretty good job of it.

He asks that I pay attention to what I'm doing when I feel the most stressed. I love my dentist, he's a great guy. But really, what I don't need is someone else telling me I'm too stressed, I need to slow down, take care of myself, blah, blah, blah. So I assure him I will, but I DO NOT GRIND MY TEETH. And off I run to pick up Bambam early for lunch so he can avoid the fire drill.

Skip to later that afternoon when Bambam is resisting getting changed and the whole house is smelling like poop. I'm trying to get him into the bathroom when I notice that (I'll be damned) I am CLENCHING MY TEETH! In my attempt to not yell, I've clamped my mouth shut. Hard. Huh. Stupid dentist. Now I have to tell him he was right, which he already knew.

How could I have not noticed this? Now I'm sure I've been doing it for several years.One more thing to stress about...

Thursday, September 13, 2012

The Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

I understand that there are bad days. How would we recognize the good days if there were no bad ones? The bad ones serve a purpose, one being to help us recognize and savor the good ones. Even during the bad ones, I've always been a "glass half full" sort of girl. I believe in the motto "this too shall pass" and generally don't stay down for very long. At least in my prior life.

Enter Autism. A bad autism day is like a typical bad day on steroids. It can test my "glass half full" theory of life. And if there are several in a row, look out. Life with an autistic child is like living life through an intensifying magnifying glass. The bad days can be really bad. The meltdowns, the hypersensitivity, the inability to focus, listen, relate, sit for more than 1 minute. The constant jumping and bouncing, throwing, hitting, yelling, stimming, obsessing. Some days I wonder where this will all lead.

But just as the bad days can be really bad, the good days can be so amazing that I stand back in awe. The break throughs are hard fought and won and are such amazingly sweet victories. Absolutely.Nothing.Compares. Watching him successfully accomplish a new skill and then look at me (and I mean really look at me, in the eyes) and say "I did it!". There is just no sweeter moment for a mom. Little victories are just as sweet: a successful trip to the dentist where he actually opens his mouth, a completely clean and dry 24 hours, an appropriate social interaction with a child at the park, a successful day at school.

And sometimes you have to look for the silver lining in the dark cloud of a bad day. Yesterday was one of the bad ones. Really bad ones. A "call from the school" bad. After dropping Bambam back at school after lunch (yes, he comes home for lunch every day to decompress) I headed back to work. Within 20 minutes the school had called me. He was out of control. Hitting, kicking, throwing things. Unable to calm down. A full blown meltdown. After apologizing to my boss, I rushed to the school. 

Not wanted to start the precedent of "if I act out, I get to go home", I instead stayed at the school all afternoon helping his team come up with ways to avoid this type of total meltdown, and what to do if it did happen. Step one was getting him to calm down. School is not the best environment to accomplish this, but we did our best. And after several 5 minute stints in the quiet spot, he eventurally got himself back in control. But as for working and learning, that part was done for the day. He was exhausted, eyes red and swollen from crying, and hungry. So, he had a snack, colored, told his aide about riding "Bert", looked at books until the school bell rang and I finally took him home. 

However, once we got home, he did not get to use his favorite of all things, his iPad. We are trying to teach him the concept of rewards and consequences. We've been talking since school started about how he needs to be nice, stay in control, and work hard at school in order to get iPad when he gets home. This was the first day he didn't get it. And he was very dismayed. I wasn't sure if he was getting it, if he was making the connection. He just kept asking for his iPad. But, when Mr. Fixit came home I got my answer. Bambam almost attacked him with his monologue that went something like this: "Hi daddy I not nice school hitting kicking I no get iPad." 

And that is my silver lining in this dark cloud of a day. He is beginning to get it! In the midst of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, he is still learning and growing. And that quickly my tears of frustration turn to tears of joy.
 
Raising any child has its challenges with highs and lows. Raising an autistic child seems to me to have higher highs and lower lows. The roller coaster is that much bigger with sweeping hills and dropping valleys. It is exciting, scary, exhilarating, and most of all unknown. And yet isn't it the biggest roller coaster that always has the longest line? I've always said that parenting is not for the faint of heart. Parenting an autistic child? Well that's a whole new ride. Life is about the journey, hold on and try to enjoy that ride.

Tuesday, September 4, 2012

Personal Responsibility

In our house getting ready for the new school year includes not only school clothes shopping, and haircuts, but also trips to the dentist. In the past 2 days I've dragged all 3 kids to the dentist.

Miracle Boy was first. Teeth look great, no decay. But a broken tooth from an unfortunate incident with a surf board last summer! I remember the incident. He told me about the 2 broken brackets on his braces and we got those fixes. No one mentioned a broken tooth, not him, not the orthodontist. Sigh. It's getting fixed now. Luckily, there is no decay and he should be good as new shortly.

The Quiet One was next. Not so great. 8 cavities. 8 cavities in one year??? At least I think it's 1 year. The Quiet One came to live with us full time last summer. I'm assuming his mom took him to the dentist regularly before that. I'm pretty sure she did. But, 8 cavities??? Wow. A BIG lecture from the dentist on personal hygiene and diet (read stop going to 7-11 and buying junk food and energy drinks). 

As I stand listening to the dentist tell me about his 8 current cavities that need filled and the dozen more they can see forming in the x-rays, I'm left speechless. This is difficult for me. For lack of a better term, I "inherited" The Quiet One last year at the age of 15, almost 16. Let me repeat, almost 16. Almost grown. Habits formed. Attitudes firmly in place.

And here I'm going to insert the back story:

Mr. Fixit and I starting dating when The Quiet One was 2 and Miracle Boy was 3. 6 years later, when the boys were 8 and 9, we married. I've been around for potty training, starting school, learning to tie shoes, learning to read, etc. But, since The Quiet One lived primarily with his mom, I was always sort of on the outskirts. I was not the primary caregiver, disciplinarian, teacher. I offered support and reinforcement when he was with us, but didn't take a leading role. I don't like to step on anyone's toes.

When The Quiet One was 10, he was living out of state with his mom. Due to distance, our visits were less frequent. And we could see changes happening. At that time I had a frank conversation with Mr. Fixit which went as follows: "You need to do what you can to get him up here full time. We can see what is happening. He is struggling in school. He is struggling with making appropriate choices and gaining personal responsibility. He needs more assistance and guidance now. I do not want to wait until he is a teenager with bigger issues before he is shipped up to us as a last resort." There were a myriad of signs that things were starting to go in a questionable direction for him. My big fear was that I would get a teenager failing school, dabbling in drugs, etc. With another teenager and a younger child in the household, that was cause of great concern for me. Right or wrong, those were my feelings. 

Flash forward 4 years and we get a call in early June. The Quiet One's mom caught him smoking pot and is sending him up to us right now (2 weeks before school is out) for the whole summer. He is just finishing 8th grade. He has a cumulative GPA of a 0.83. I do not understand how a kid with a 0.83 GPA is promoted from 8th grade into high school. (In my humble opinion this symbolizes what is broken in our educational system. But that is another post.) 

So we spend a summer trying to convince everyone involved that he should remain up here for the coming school year. But It's a no go. In August he goes "back home" to begin his Freshman year in high school. We did get an agreement that if he failed any classes his first semester or had any other trouble, he would return in January to live with us. January came with an F on his report card, but no child. Frustration does not begin to portray what I was feeling. Being in a position with absolutely no authority, who's opinion really doesn't count, and watching a child slowly failing was more than I could handle. I needed to either step in and do something, or wash my hands of the whole affair and not be forced to watch. I could do neither. 

During the 2nd semester of his Freshman year he proceeded to get charged with arson (set a garbage can on fire at school), fail 2 more classes, and get charged with possession of a controlled substance (on the school campus). Finally, at the age of 15, failing school, experimenting with drugs, and with 2 serious charges against him, he was shipped up to us as a "last resort". My worst nightmare, right?

Really, not so much. What I need to explain about The Quiet One is that he's not the "bad kid" he may sound like. He's a kid who needs a lot of guidance and quite honestly still needs some hand holding at the age of 16. He needs very clear rules and guidelines. Personal responsibility and accountability are not high on his list. His biggest problem is that he's a follower. And he got mixed up with "the wrong crowd". Being a follower, he did what his friends were doing. No homework and making very poor choices. We knew the first step to turning things around was getting him away from the kids he was "following". 

And what a difference a year can make. He has made up 2 of the classes he failed (tutoring through summer school), passed all his classes his sophomore year (not without struggles, loss of privileges, and lots and lots of hand holding), works part time in our business, and has not been in any trouble. School will always be difficult for him, our goal is to see him graduate. He is polite and respectful, his new friend's parents (whom we all know) enjoy having him over, he even has a girlfriend. That's not to say life is all rosy and perfect. Remember the 8 cavities? Its a far cry from arson, but we don't want him running around toothless at the age of 20.

As I said, personal responsibility is not high on his list. His room is a pig sty, he clearly doesn't take good care of his teeth, he leaves dishes and garbage all over the house, home work will not get done without reminding, nothing will get done without some prodding. This leads me to my current frustration: How to teach personal responsibility to a 16 year old. This is the age where we should be backing off, not stepping in. In two short years he will be moving on to whatever comes next for him. And I fear he will not be prepared. Is 16 too late to teach these things? I don't know, but we're on a path to find out. And we'll start with letting him know that after this round of fillings, he will be paying for any future fillings out of his own money. Welcome to real life consequences.

Wish us luck.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

Panic

The panic is creeping in. I feel it in my bones, pulsing through my veins. It's the kind of panic that wakes me up at night. I may be over reacting, probably am. But it's how I respond.

School is starting in less than a week, 5 days. Bambam is transitioning into first grade. And we do not have an IEP in place, we have no plan for supports, no 1 to 1 aid. He has not met his teacher or seen his classroom. I have no idea how he is going to make it through a 6 hour day of first grade.

This child who struggles with transitions and change, who struggles to sit for 20 minutes of table work, who cannot follow multiple step directions, who has visual and auditory sensitivities, who struggles just to BE in a classroom, let alone function appropriately and learn. This child who had a 1 to 1 aid in kindergarten and still had to leave the classroom every 20-30 minutes to decompress and regroup. How will he possibly make it through 6 hours of a chaotic first grade class?

I know deep down that his school will take care of him. We are one of the lucky ones with an amazing team who do everything they can to help Bambam reach his potential. They care about him, they enjoy him, they celebrate his talents, they do what they can to alleviate his struggles. They are honesty on his side and we refer to them as "Team Bambam". Even so, I feel unprepared. And that makes me uncertain how to prepare Bambam. And he needs preparation.

Even with preparation and supports in place, first grade is going to be a stretch. I worry daily about this. What will we do if he cannot function through a 6 hour day? Will we need to consider a "self-contained" classroom? This is one of my biggest fears. He learns so much from being around his typical peers, I do not want him isolated. The panic is creeping in.

Monday, August 27, 2012

Want to Play?

3 little words. Or in our case 2 as it sounds more like "wawna pway". As I sat trying to pay bills today, I was interrupted by those 2 words repeatedly. My quick response is "not now baby" or "I need to get some work done, I'll play in a little bit". But Bambam is persistent. Honestly, sometimes it can be irritating. I really needed to get the bills paid, I'm sure some of them are late. And, I really didn't feel like playing "Lets Go Fishing" for the 8th time.

And then I stop myself. How long did I wait to hear those words? Almost 6 years. A year ago he couldn't say them, didn't know TO say them, had no idea how to approach another person and initiation interactive play. For months we worked on not only the words, but the desired result. And last November when he came to me the first time and said unprompted "wawna pway?", well I almost cried.

So the next time he approached me and said "wawna pway?", I looked at his hopeful, cherubic face and said "Of course baby, I want to play with you". And we went fishing...again.

Wednesday, August 22, 2012

What Happened to Common Sense?

I've had a couple of experiences lately that have made me wonder what has happened to common sense. I understand rules and the need for them. In fact, for the most part I'm all about following the rules. Not doing so gives me anxiety. But, having an autistic son has also made me realize there are times when common sense must trump the rules. At least when it's ethical, moral, and legal to do so. I have my limits to breaking the rules.

Recently Mr. Fixit brought a new pair of sandals home for Bambam. That child is harder on shoes than any kid I've ever known. He goes through 5 pairs of tennis shoes every year, 2-3 sandals every summer, and countless water shoes for the pool. And he has bad feet so no synthetic materials, must have Velcro, yadah, yadah, yadah. We need a separate fund just to keep the child in shoes. But that is a different post. Bambam loved the sandals and they fit, success! However, the very first time he wore them, the strap broke. Now I'm the first to admit that he's hard on shoes, but the first time? That is unacceptable. Insert into my busy day a stop at the store to exchange them.

Off to the store I go, Bambam in tow. Anyone with a  kid on the spectrum knows that shopping with them is interesting at best, traumatic at worst. The lady at the counter is quick to inform me that without a receipt I cannot get a refund. OK, I don't want a refund. I want sandals for my kid. She takes us back to the clearance section (it is mid August) where they have a 2, 5, and 6 left. He wears a 2, awesome. She takes them out of the box and stands there while I try them on him. They fit, he likes them, no meltdowns while trying them on, success! I'm thinking this is a great trip to the store.

Then I follow her back to the checkout where she informs me that I have to take the sandals off Bambam so she can verify they are the same size and then I can put them back on. At which point Bambam starts crying and shouting "no shoes off, no shoes off". He's hypersensitive about his feet and he's quickly melting down. All I want to do is pay the difference and get him out of the store as soon as possible. So I say, "The only sizes back there were a 2, a 5, and a 6. It's clear he doesn't have a 2 and a 5, or a 2 and a 6, you could see the size difference.  And you handed me the shoes from the box. Can you make an exception please?" To which she replied, "It's the rule, you have to take the sandals off so I can check the sizes." Really? What happened to common sense? At this point if I try to take those sandals off, he will start kicking. I've been kicked too many times. 

I'm standing there not really sure what to do. What I want to say is, "Lady, I am not taking those sandals off. If you want to do it, you have my blessing. Go for it." But I bite my tongue. Many thoughts run through my head at the speed of light. One is to tell her he is autistic. To her I'm sure he looks like a spoiled 8 year old having a tantrum. He has no outward appearance of being different or special needs. But he's a 6 year old autistic child who is now in the full throws of a meltdown. This will not get better until I get him out of the store. So I have to make a decision, tell her or not. I struggle with this one constantly.

I do not like to wave the autism flag like a free pass. And I REALLY do not like to do it in front of him. Who knows what he comprehends from that. I don't ever want him to feel damaged or sub-par, or to use the autism as an excuse for not trying his hardest. We really work with Bambam to act appropriately and try to provide the supports he needs to do so. But there comes a time when we must cut our losses and run for the hills, regroup, and try again next time. We had passed that point 10 minutes ago.

I honestly do not know how the situation was resolved. I know I did not take the shoes off, I paid the extra $1.19 and we left the store as quickly as possible. But with a 6 year old screaming at my side, I do not know what she or the manager (who had miraculously appeared) said to me. All I heard was "no shoes off, no shoes off".  This was not our finest hour.

Now, in reflecting on this whole scenario, I'm still wondering what happened to common sense. And what I could have done better.


Monday, August 20, 2012

Scissors

I have a long failed history with scissors. When Miracle Boy started preschool at 2 and half (a topic for another post) he could do all the things the other kids did, except cut. His teacher asked me if I ever worked on cutting with him. My response was, "He's 2. No I don't let him play with scissors". My bad. He entered remedial cutting and was cutting like a pro 2 weeks later.

Flash forward 14 years and I now have a 6 year old autistic son who's fine motor skills are basically non-existent. He goes to Occupational Therapy once a week. They work on cutting every week (among many other things). And every week he struggles to cut on the lines. Miss Ashley, our very sweet OT, asks me how often we practice cutting at home. Ummmm, look down, shuffle feet. I'm not good with cutting. Sharp instruments in the hands of little people make me very nervous. Especially unpredictable little people who don't always follow directions or respond when you say STOP. I feel like I have failed my kids.

So imagine my surprise last night when I walk into the kitchen and find that Bambam really can use scissors. Granted, it was to cut a chunk of hair off his head. But I do not care that he now looks like a street urchin...my kid can cut! I call this success.

Despite our many failures as a parent, our kids not only survive, but thrive. God bless them.


Thursday, August 16, 2012

The Players

Just in case anyone else ever actually reads my posts, I thought it might be helpful to introduce the players in my game of life. Although I could write volumes on each one of them, I'll try to give a concise snapshot.

I'm a 46 year old mom of 3 boys, two teenagers and a 6 year old. We are a blended family with a "yours, mine, and ours". I work part time for a boss who is amazing, flexible, understanding, and just plain awesome. My husband and I are also part owners in a business in our small town. And lets not forget the whole sandwich generation thing. My parents are elderly and I now have many responsibilities for them.

Mr. Fixit is my husband. He can truly fix anything. I have no idea how he does this, I believe it is a talent he was born with. And one he has to use daily. 3 boys means many broken things: toys, furniture, windows, cars, appliances, and sometimes skin, teeth, or bones. He's  also known as the resident medical personnel who takes out stitches, digs out deep splinters or performs other minor medical procedures. All this in addition to his own full time job which sometimes takes him out of town. I'm thankful that he is at my side most days.

Miracle Boy is my 17 year old son (the "mine"). He was given his moniker at 3 months of age when he had emergency open heart surgery. Given a less than 1% chance of surviving, he has proven all the doctors and specialist wrong. He is now a senior in high school, an honor student, a soon to be 4 year letter athlete, and generally a "typical" teenager. He is our kid that pushes the envelope on everything. Sometimes I think this is the result of knowing he faced death and won...he simply thinks there is nothing he can't do.

The Quiet One is my 16 year old stepson (the "yours"). The Quiet One became a full time member of our household a year ago. Even though he'd always spent a fair amount of time in our house, making the move here full time came along with some adjustments on everyone's part. I'll probably write more about that later. But, things seem to be working out pretty well. The Quiet One can easily slip under the radar as he is quiet, doesn't challenge you on most things, and simply goes about his day. Which, if he had his way would mostly include sitting in the basement playing video games.

Bambam is our 6 year old son (the "ours"). He was given his moniker by family friends as he is a BIG boy, very strong, and well, he actually looked liked Bambam from the Flintstones as a toddler. Bambam is on the Autism Spectrum, has sensory issues, is hypotonic, and very likely has ADHD. In spite of all these labels he is very loving and affectionate and is the a happiest kid I've ever known. He seems perfectly content to walk his own path in life, where ever that may lead him.

So there they are, the players in my game of life. Not perfect, but mine. And I'll keep them.

Monday, August 13, 2012

Welcome to blogging

So, am I really doing this? Am I starting a blog? I guess I am. So here goes...my first post.

I've toyed with starting a blog for some time now. And then I think, seriously? Its not like I don't have enough items on my ever growing To Do list. With 2 teenagers, a 6 year old with autism, a job, part owner of a business, responsibility for my aging parents (can we say Sandwich Generation?) and lets not forget the husband with his own job, what I need is one more item to add to that my list.


But that's not really how I look at it. Writing can be a release, almost therapeutic (and a lot cheaper than a therapist).. It helps me work through issues. It helps me clear my thoughts and gain perspective. Blogging isn't meant to be another responsibility, but an outlet. Like running. Something that I can do for me, to help me, and hopefully my family. Because as anyone can tell you, when you're dealing with teenagers, a stepchild, and autism, there are plenty of issues to chew on! So I'm going to give it a try and see how it goes.

In all honesty I've been stalking several bloggers. Reading them regularly and enjoying them immensely. Bloggers talking about autism, teenagers, raising kids, and family life in general. And I think I'm finally ready to take the plunge. I don't know if anyone else will ever read this or if it's just for me. But I'm giving it a try. Wish me luck.