Friday, September 19, 2008
"it's like a party here"
I wanted to write about a few fun/good things that have happened this week. And because I can't figure out how to move these videos to a different spot, I guess I will tell my stories in reverse order.
Last night we went to a professional soccer game- our first. Bill had purchased this package through Easter Seals that included 4 tickets to a baseball game (our city's minor league team), 4 tickets to a soccer game, and some kind of tickets for Magic Mountain. We never used the baseball tickets, and I doubt we'll use the Magic Mountain tickets. But I'm so glad we used these soccer tickets! The night was a resounding success!!
Henry watched the entire game with excitement. He seemed to really follow what was happening, cheering and shouting at the right times. Well, he made a lot of noise the whole time, to be honest. That's what I was trying to capture in the above videos- the way he was hopping around and making sound effects for each kick and header. It so happens, though, that both times I started recording, someone fell down (our opponents were the NY Red Bulls), he turned to announce this to me, thought I was taking his picture, and posed. I still posted both videos- I think they're cute (but I'm a bit biased).
I was just floored that the game held his interest like that. You can see that he brought some books with him, and held on to them the whole time, but he never once looked at them. It's been a couple years since Kate played sports, so maybe he has just matured, but we would always need to entertain and/or feed him at her games. I can't be sure if it's something about soccer, or the stars were just aligned properly last night.
Of course Thomas enjoyed himself. He got to meet the mascot, got a free little soccer ball that they threw into the stands, and daddy took him all the way to the top of the stadium when he started getting antsy.
I probably had the least fun of all of us- only because I was freezing my behind off. As soon as the sun went down and the breeze picked up, I was cold. My teeth were chattering as we walked to the car! But no one else was cold. That tells you how much fun they were having! If I hadn't hustled us out of there, we probably could have stayed to get players' autographs and stuff. We'll have to go another time!
The other story I wanted to tell is from last Saturday (the day before the storm). I was having Henry work on his "all about me" poster for school, and of course Thomas wanted to create his own "all about me" poster. (Note to self- always prepare for 2.)
I put on a group of Paul Simon cCDs, set to shuffle, and we worked for awhile. Then Henry moved on to a puzzle, while Tommy continued working carefully on his poster.
At one point I came in to the room, heard The Obvious Child, and started dancing around a little. (I defy you to hear that song and NOT dance.)
Tommy looked around and said "it's like a party here right now."
He elaborated: "One kid drinking water, one big kid doing a puzzle, and a mom dancing. That's a party."
Then he added: "And my new friend is my brother."
A party indeed. Does it get any better?
Monday, September 15, 2008
Ike reaches Ohio
I'm sure this post will induce eye-rolls from anyone living in Florida, the Carolina coasts, Texas, Louisiana...
But around these parts, we've never seen wind like this.
Sunday morning's weather report warned of a high wind advisory for the afternoon. And the winds rolled in around 3 maybe. We had just returned from our trip to the library, and Henry was settling in with a DVD he had borrowed.
A small branch fell from our tree, and the little tykes basketball hoop blew over. The strange thing was that there was no rain accompanying the wind, so we kept going outside to check things out. ("These are sure some high winds!") I was all geeked out about all the pinecones that had fallen in the backyard, and Tommy and I were heading out to collect them, when Bill said "I don't like the way those trees are swaying. I think it's dangerous for you guys to be outside." I rolled my eyes and we came in.
30 seconds later we heard a thump, and looked out the back window to see this:
That's when the power went out. Poor Henry just cannot deal when the electricity is out. Never mind that he normally spends lots of time doing puzzles or reading books. Those activities just will not pacify him when he has a movie he wants to watch.
Tommy, on the other hand, thought the whole thing was a great adventure.
I don't think that Bill and I conveyed too much worry, but Henry was so anxious about the electricity situation. He must have asked every 30 seconds are they coming to fix the tree that fell? Once I ran a quick errand up to the main street, and saw that trees and branches were down all over town, I knew that they wouldn't be fixing our problem too quickly.
A large branch came down from another neighbor's tree:
Every yard in our county looked like this or worse:
Yesterday and today all the schools are closed, as are many businesses. 330,000 people were without power yesterday and they are estimating that some may have to wait up to a week to have it restored. Many of the electric company employees had been sent down to Texas to help out, and are having to be called back.
Our power came back on yesterday afternoon, so we are lucky. I am laying low this morning, though, because yesterday I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off.
(Our house did sustain some damage to the siding. Looks like it used to be painted yellow.)
But around these parts, we've never seen wind like this.
Sunday morning's weather report warned of a high wind advisory for the afternoon. And the winds rolled in around 3 maybe. We had just returned from our trip to the library, and Henry was settling in with a DVD he had borrowed.
A small branch fell from our tree, and the little tykes basketball hoop blew over. The strange thing was that there was no rain accompanying the wind, so we kept going outside to check things out. ("These are sure some high winds!") I was all geeked out about all the pinecones that had fallen in the backyard, and Tommy and I were heading out to collect them, when Bill said "I don't like the way those trees are swaying. I think it's dangerous for you guys to be outside." I rolled my eyes and we came in.
30 seconds later we heard a thump, and looked out the back window to see this:
That's when the power went out. Poor Henry just cannot deal when the electricity is out. Never mind that he normally spends lots of time doing puzzles or reading books. Those activities just will not pacify him when he has a movie he wants to watch.Tommy, on the other hand, thought the whole thing was a great adventure.
I don't think that Bill and I conveyed too much worry, but Henry was so anxious about the electricity situation. He must have asked every 30 seconds are they coming to fix the tree that fell? Once I ran a quick errand up to the main street, and saw that trees and branches were down all over town, I knew that they wouldn't be fixing our problem too quickly.
A large branch came down from another neighbor's tree:
Every yard in our county looked like this or worse:
Yesterday and today all the schools are closed, as are many businesses. 330,000 people were without power yesterday and they are estimating that some may have to wait up to a week to have it restored. Many of the electric company employees had been sent down to Texas to help out, and are having to be called back.
Our power came back on yesterday afternoon, so we are lucky. I am laying low this morning, though, because yesterday I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off.
Despite listening to the news, I didn't fully grasp the scope of the situation. We had no electricity, no phone (our battery backup had run out), and cell phone service was very spotty. I text messaged the kids' sitter, and she had no power either. The university I work for was not closed, so I assumed that they had power. I packed the kids up, grabbed some movies they could watch while I worked, and off we went.
We'll stop on the way to get some breakfast! I promised.
(Our house did sustain some damage to the siding. Looks like it used to be painted yellow.)
So, let's think this through together. 329,999 other people cannot make breakfast at their homes either. How crowded do you think the restaurants that ARE open are going to be? That's right- pretty damn crowded. Unfortunately, Henry and Thomas' mom did not think that through, and instead drove to Starbucks (line out the door), Tim Hortons (line out into the street), McDonalds (line out into the street stopping traffic), etc. etc.
Add in a couple other stops to places that turned out to be closed, and all the intersections that had to be treated like 4-way stops because the lights weren't working, 2 whiny kids saying "but you said we would get something to eat! I'm huuunnnggryy!" And you've got me losing my mind.
We finally found a grocery store that was open, went in and bought cookies, donuts, coffee cake and croissants!!! Henry also picked up a pack of cherry tomatoes. All the refrigerated areas were covered with sheets of plastic, so I couldn't buy any yogurt or Henry's beloved sausage links.
It's just as well, because when we finally got to my office, the power was out there too. We stayed for a few hours, which I finally realized was silly, and we came back home.
I like to think that I am a pretty rational, calm person. But this was a scary experience. If my power were really out for 7 days and there were no grocery stores, restaurants, or gas stations in operation?? What about parents of infants who need to buy and heat formula? Mother nature lets us think that we're in charge most of the time, and then gives us a little slap upside the head to remind us who's boss.
Monday, September 08, 2008
Henry's teacher e-mailed me back that same afternoon. She said I should feel free to contact her anytime, and explained that they'll also be sending home this form to report on Henry's day:
I did a double-take, but then said, "well, that's true. He's not as good at some things as you are. Some things, like coloring, are just harder for him, and that's because he's autistic." Well that was easier than I thought. Now Henry's younger brother understands his disability.
I know it's not really that simple, but then again, it is. To Tommy, Henry is Henry and Henry is also "autism", so Tommy knows about autism. I hope he will someday understand the kid next to him just a little bit better, like our friend Brian does. (Brian's mom's blog is private, so I can't link to it.)
This week Tommy started fall soccer, and also goes back to preschool. He is now one of the bigger kids in both settings, and although he was worried, as always, about being shy, he really wasn't shy at all. He's growing up.
__________
And just when I think I might be getting a grip on things, I'm really not. Henry had his 9-year checkup yesterday, and daddy took him. (Henry's doing fine. 15th percentile as always :-) Then today I realized I needed to get Thomas' medical form signed before he starts preschool. Oh, how dumb am I? I should have sent it along with them yesterday.
I faxed it over, only to have the doctor's office call and tell me that Thomas' last checkup was in February of '07. His 3-year checkup. I never took him for a 4-year checkup. Hello, youngest child, welcome to neglect.
So I need to hurry up and get him in for a checkup tomorrow so that he can go to preschool. 2 well-child visits to the doctor's office in one week. Not the most efficient way to operate, but it's all we've got.
Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.
It looked like she circled the faces on this one, but subsequent forms have been self-evaluations by Henry, and all has been smiley faces.
She also said Henry is a joy to have in class. Well, duh. You can save all that teacher-y sunshine-y stuff for another mom, Miss C. Has he pinched anybody yet? I guess, on that front, no news will just be good news.
Friday evening Henry actually said "I'm going to miss my school. I'm going to miss my teachers." (!!!) I'm not going to put too much stock into that, as I think he was just plugging something in to his "I'm going to miss..." repetition. But it was still nice to hear.
______
Thomas has been quite into coloring lately. For the past month or so he colors in the morning, colors in the evening, brings coloring books in the car... It's nice to see our huge collection of coloring books actually getting colored in. (Henry just likes to look at them.) I worry slightly when Tommy cries about something not being quite right- like he colored outside the lines, but he doesn't seem to be overly compulsive about it most of the time.
I did a double-take, but then said, "well, that's true. He's not as good at some things as you are. Some things, like coloring, are just harder for him, and that's because he's autistic." Well that was easier than I thought. Now Henry's younger brother understands his disability.
I know it's not really that simple, but then again, it is. To Tommy, Henry is Henry and Henry is also "autism", so Tommy knows about autism. I hope he will someday understand the kid next to him just a little bit better, like our friend Brian does. (Brian's mom's blog is private, so I can't link to it.)
This week Tommy started fall soccer, and also goes back to preschool. He is now one of the bigger kids in both settings, and although he was worried, as always, about being shy, he really wasn't shy at all. He's growing up.
__________
And just when I think I might be getting a grip on things, I'm really not. Henry had his 9-year checkup yesterday, and daddy took him. (Henry's doing fine. 15th percentile as always :-) Then today I realized I needed to get Thomas' medical form signed before he starts preschool. Oh, how dumb am I? I should have sent it along with them yesterday.
I faxed it over, only to have the doctor's office call and tell me that Thomas' last checkup was in February of '07. His 3-year checkup. I never took him for a 4-year checkup. Hello, youngest child, welcome to neglect.
So I need to hurry up and get him in for a checkup tomorrow so that he can go to preschool. 2 well-child visits to the doctor's office in one week. Not the most efficient way to operate, but it's all we've got.
Just keep swimming, just keep swimming.
Wednesday, September 03, 2008
why I e-mailed Henry's teacher today
Because when I try to ask Henry a (to me) simple question about his day, here's what I get:
G: Henry, did you eat the Spongebob Cheez-Its I packed in your lunch today? (Always hoping to stumble upon something new that he will eat.)
H: I didn't eat them.
G: Oh, well, where are they then? Did you throw them away?
H: No.
G: What happened to them?
H: Mr. J took them.
G: Mr. J took your Spongebob Cheez-Its? Did he trade you for something else?
H: Yes.
G: What did he trade you?
H: The Spongebob Cheez-Its.
(Bill laughs from the other room and then takes a stab at it): What did Mr. J give you to trade for your Spongebob Cheez-Its?
H: Nothing.
G: So what happened to your Spongebob Cheez-Its?
H: I threw them away.
_______________
Not that I need a note home every day about whether he ate his lunch or not, but I would just like a summary of the school day that has not been passed through the Henry translation screen.
He did tell us about art class yesterday. They drew lines: "jagged lines were mountains, wavey lines were water, swirly lines were clouds" (he worked on the word swirly for a bit).
And he showed us an injury on the palm of his hand: "I was so excited to get my cupcakes! But I fell." It sounds like he slipped and fell to the floor while hurrying over to get his birthday treat to share. Can you stand it?
G: Henry, did you eat the Spongebob Cheez-Its I packed in your lunch today? (Always hoping to stumble upon something new that he will eat.)
H: I didn't eat them.
G: Oh, well, where are they then? Did you throw them away?
H: No.
G: What happened to them?
H: Mr. J took them.
G: Mr. J took your Spongebob Cheez-Its? Did he trade you for something else?
H: Yes.
G: What did he trade you?
H: The Spongebob Cheez-Its.
(Bill laughs from the other room and then takes a stab at it): What did Mr. J give you to trade for your Spongebob Cheez-Its?
H: Nothing.
G: So what happened to your Spongebob Cheez-Its?
H: I threw them away.
_______________
Not that I need a note home every day about whether he ate his lunch or not, but I would just like a summary of the school day that has not been passed through the Henry translation screen.
He did tell us about art class yesterday. They drew lines: "jagged lines were mountains, wavey lines were water, swirly lines were clouds" (he worked on the word swirly for a bit).
And he showed us an injury on the palm of his hand: "I was so excited to get my cupcakes! But I fell." It sounds like he slipped and fell to the floor while hurrying over to get his birthday treat to share. Can you stand it?
Tuesday, September 02, 2008
all-around, a satisfying weekend
A new puzzle--
An uncle who is ready and willing to play with all his cool old toys--
A Grandpa who takes you on adventures, like checking out the attic--
Happy birthday Henry! Thanks for making me your mom 9 years ago.
An uncle who is ready and willing to play with all his cool old toys--
A Grandpa who takes you on adventures, like checking out the attic--
(Perhaps this photo is blurry because mommy was so nervous. Even more so when she heard Grandpa instruct "now stay on the wood beams- don't step on the white part. It won't hold you.")
Temporary tattoos and a slip-n-slide--
Wearing no shirt all day long on your birthday, sitting outside eating watermelon, looking at the cool comic book your uncle gave you--
Covering your ears and blowing out the candles--
And she's not pictured, but the big sister joined us for the celebration. Tommy and I took her home and I saw her apartment for the first time. I was left with mixed emotions: a little bit excited for her; I remember how it felt to go out on my own, a little bit sad to leave her there alone.
I know that's weird as she hasn't lived with us for months now. I guess old mommy habits die hard.
Temporary tattoos and a slip-n-slide--
Wearing no shirt all day long on your birthday, sitting outside eating watermelon, looking at the cool comic book your uncle gave you--
Covering your ears and blowing out the candles-- 
And she's not pictured, but the big sister joined us for the celebration. Tommy and I took her home and I saw her apartment for the first time. I was left with mixed emotions: a little bit excited for her; I remember how it felt to go out on my own, a little bit sad to leave her there alone. I know that's weird as she hasn't lived with us for months now. I guess old mommy habits die hard.
Happy birthday Henry! Thanks for making me your mom 9 years ago.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Well, since I seem to have conveyed all my anxiety well enough to pass it on to everyone else, I feel like I should write a quick post to say that the first two days have seemed to go ok. It's hard to really evaluate, since all my information is coming from this young man of little words. He was already deep into a Disney movie by the time I got home Monday (The Sword in the Stone), and wasn't really psyched about telling me about his day.
I mostly asked him a lot of poorly-constructed questions, so that he just kept answering "yes". (Did you eat your lunch in the cafeteria? Did your teacher eat with you?) When I asked about recess, he responded "I didn't go down the slide." I can only infer that someone wanted him to go down the slide, but he refused. Or he actually did go down the slide, but doesn't want to talk to me about it...
He brought home a "madlib" worksheet he had done at school. Each page had an incomplete sentence- he had to cut out a word to fit in the blank, such as "I come to school in a ____" and he had cut and glued the word and picture for "bus". One page read "My teacher is a real ____." Henry had filled in the blank with "sweetheart". I asked him what some of the other choices were. He looked up at me with an impish smile and said "monster"! So I'm glad he didn't choose that response.
I wrote a note to his teachers yesterday, asking for guidance on Henry's birthday treat next week. They don't do daily communication notebooks at this school. But maybe I'll just force my own by writing them a note every day.
Yesterday evening, when I asked about school, he said "I went to art!" Henry's never been much into art- too challenging to his fine motor skills- so I was happy to hear his excitement. I asked what they did in art and he said "I made a dragonfly!"
This morning he started saying that he didn't want to go to (the new school), he wanted to go back to (the old school). I told him that I know it's hard to start something new and that it would take some time to get used to (the new school). I decided not to push it, and declared that by Halloween he would really like his new school. (Hopefully it happens before then, but I thought that time frame might give him the idea that it would be soon, but not right away.)
Thank you everyone for your support, and I'm sorry for all the nervousness spilling all over the place. As you know, the new school decision has been a stressful one. Of course all parents worry about their children. But our autistic children ratchet that up a level or two. It was very comfortable to have Henry at L's house this summer- a comfortable safe zone where he could also spend time with his brother. But I was caught offguard a couple different times when I realized that L couldn't understand things Henry was saying to her. She has known him his whole life, and spent the most time with him of anyone, outside our immediate home. She loves him like he's her own child. And she still doesn't know what he's telling her half the time. Really eye-opening. And really frightening, if you think about it too much: there are only 4 people in this world who understand everything Henry says.
How am I supposed to send him out in the world, knowing that?
It doesn't help that I've been reading a lot of news stories that I shouldn't. I read about bad things that happen to children, as if I think that reading about them will prevent them from happening to my kids. And then the details get stuck in my head and shake loose in the middle of the night.
This cloud will blow past- don't worry. By the time we get through this fun-filled long weekend and celebrate Henry's 9th birthday Monday, I will be all sunshine and daisies again.
Just keep swimming, just keep swimming... maybe we should all get Dory tattoos (or t-shirts, for the needle-phobes.)
I mostly asked him a lot of poorly-constructed questions, so that he just kept answering "yes". (Did you eat your lunch in the cafeteria? Did your teacher eat with you?) When I asked about recess, he responded "I didn't go down the slide." I can only infer that someone wanted him to go down the slide, but he refused. Or he actually did go down the slide, but doesn't want to talk to me about it...
He brought home a "madlib" worksheet he had done at school. Each page had an incomplete sentence- he had to cut out a word to fit in the blank, such as "I come to school in a ____" and he had cut and glued the word and picture for "bus". One page read "My teacher is a real ____." Henry had filled in the blank with "sweetheart". I asked him what some of the other choices were. He looked up at me with an impish smile and said "monster"! So I'm glad he didn't choose that response.
I wrote a note to his teachers yesterday, asking for guidance on Henry's birthday treat next week. They don't do daily communication notebooks at this school. But maybe I'll just force my own by writing them a note every day.
Yesterday evening, when I asked about school, he said "I went to art!" Henry's never been much into art- too challenging to his fine motor skills- so I was happy to hear his excitement. I asked what they did in art and he said "I made a dragonfly!"
This morning he started saying that he didn't want to go to (the new school), he wanted to go back to (the old school). I told him that I know it's hard to start something new and that it would take some time to get used to (the new school). I decided not to push it, and declared that by Halloween he would really like his new school. (Hopefully it happens before then, but I thought that time frame might give him the idea that it would be soon, but not right away.)
Thank you everyone for your support, and I'm sorry for all the nervousness spilling all over the place. As you know, the new school decision has been a stressful one. Of course all parents worry about their children. But our autistic children ratchet that up a level or two. It was very comfortable to have Henry at L's house this summer- a comfortable safe zone where he could also spend time with his brother. But I was caught offguard a couple different times when I realized that L couldn't understand things Henry was saying to her. She has known him his whole life, and spent the most time with him of anyone, outside our immediate home. She loves him like he's her own child. And she still doesn't know what he's telling her half the time. Really eye-opening. And really frightening, if you think about it too much: there are only 4 people in this world who understand everything Henry says.
How am I supposed to send him out in the world, knowing that?
It doesn't help that I've been reading a lot of news stories that I shouldn't. I read about bad things that happen to children, as if I think that reading about them will prevent them from happening to my kids. And then the details get stuck in my head and shake loose in the middle of the night.
This cloud will blow past- don't worry. By the time we get through this fun-filled long weekend and celebrate Henry's 9th birthday Monday, I will be all sunshine and daisies again.
Just keep swimming, just keep swimming... maybe we should all get Dory tattoos (or t-shirts, for the needle-phobes.)
Monday, August 25, 2008
the circle of life
Could I be any more cliche than this? Henry watched The Lion King a couple times this weekend and took 2 different Lion King books with him to his first day at the new school, so I just can't avoid using the circle of life phrase.Henry has been feeling a lot of anxiety about this change to a different school. But the good news is that he's been expressing that verbally without too much other acting out. This morning he told me he didn't feel too well. And that he was nervous about going to a new school.
Of course I understand how he feels. How nervous do any of us feel when we start something new? He's not quite 9 years old and loves his routine- gulp. I can't let myself get too far inside his head or I'll be trying to smuggle him in to work with me and "office-school" him to never let him out of my sight!
So I tried very hard to remember that a mom's job is to say "I understand how you feel. It's normal to be worried about something new. But you'll be fine. Everything will be great. I think you'll love your new school!"
I remembered that a new infant was starting today at L's house, and I thought about how his parents must feel- leaving their baby for the first time.
I told Henry to think about how scared that baby might feel, but that we knew he would have so much fun at L's house and soon he would love it there.
There was a little mix-up with the bus, so we had some extra time to snap photos while waiting. It finally arrived, although it stopped about half a block from where I had been told...
Henry sat down across from a chatty 5th-grade girl. She introduced herself and asked us our names. Henry pointed to her Camp Rock binder and said "Camp Rock".
"I have a Camp Rock binder, Camp Rock notebook, Camp Rock folders, and Camp Rock pencils", she replied.
"Wow" I said.
"I'm a big fan" she explained. Then she offered to help Henry find his classroom.
This feels as hard as every other first.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
you are the consequence!
Let's just all put our heads down and try to make it through the next few weeks, ok? It seems like families all over the blogosphere are worried about the new school year starting, and over here is no exception. Henry's been talking a lot about missing his old school, missing L when he goes back to school, missing me and daddy, missing Kate.
This is one of his ways of expressing his anxiety. I don't know that he will actually miss any of these things, but it's a phrase he's found that conveys hey, I need some comforting. In reading back through some of my early posts, I remember that he used to miss things much more regularly. And back then he had all his pronouns backwards. So we have traveled from that point to this: where we have just occasional anxiety, with the correct pronouns. But the worry for the mom feels the same.
And the worry spills over to Thomas. He is not starting school yet- has one more safe year at L's house before the big changes start. But a couple of his buddies from L's are going on to kindergarten, and she is taking in 2 new infants. Tommy will be the big boy that the little ones emulate. Time marches on and on.
In a lighter vein, here is how my sons looked when we left the house this morning.
Longtime readers may remember that Thomas used to be positively traumatized when required to wear long pants in the winter. Well, all of a sudden, the past few weeks, he has been digging through drawers to find long pants and long-sleeved shirts to wear. And a long-sleeved shirt with a short-sleeved over it is even better. He thought he looked totally fashion today- down to the sunglasses.
For his part, Henry has taken to sleeping with no shirt (I guess he learned that from Daddy). He often sleeps in boxer shorts and then requests to just wear those for his underwear that day. Well, today he said "I want to keep my jammie pants on under my shorts." Only he was wearing long pants this time. Don't worry, I brought proper changes of clothes for both of them, in case L takes them out in public today.
Yesterday was a rough one for both boys. I was just thinking that we had almost made it through the summer without incident (remember Thomas' black eye last August?), but no such luck. L called yesterday to tell me that Tommy had been stung 4 times (by a wasp or hornet, we think, as bees can only sting once) on the back of his knee! Of course I had a heart attack, worrying that he would be allergic, but he was perfectly fine after she put some baking soda paste on the stings.
Henry's pain yesterday was of a different sort: the sting of shame, perhaps. At our last visit to the library (Monday), I borrowed an X-Men "junior novel"- a chapter book with no pictures except for a few pages in the center, with photos from the movie. Although Henry is a very good reader, he prefers large storybook-type books with lots of pictures. I was hoping to force his comfort zone by having him read this chapter book.
When I called him up for a bath Tuesday night, he had, clutched in his hands, the photo pages from the library book. Torn right out. I couldn't believe it. Henry has never ever damaged a book- library or otherwise. I guess I took it for granted that he understood that you aren't supposed to damage books. But maybe he just was never motivated to do so before.
Heavy sigh. So when I picked him up yesterday, I told him that we were going to go back to the library, return the damaged book, and tell the librarian he was sorry. Henry did not like this plan at all. He argued a bit and said he didn't want to go. I replied by saying that this was the consequence for damaging the library book.
He came over, pushed me right about my rib cage, and said "you are the consequence!"
You almost feel sorry for the kid because you can tell he wants to really tell me off, but he just doesn't have the language. He did a lot of crossing his arms, planting his feet, and saying "hmph!" on the way to talk to the librarian. He looked like he was going to cry and only managed a "sorry", while looking down. But that was enough. I feel like the point was made- I hope he learned a lesson. (Oh, and the librarians are super-nice and know him and I had called beforehand and talked to them, so they were very kind to Henry.)
The book only cost $5, so I am going to make him do a few jobs to earn the money. (In fact, I bribed him to pose for the photo above by telling him he could earn $1. Note his unhappy face.) On the way out of the library I stopped to give Henry a hug and asked if he felt embarrassed. He said yes. It's so hard to help him understand his emotions without putting words in his mouth. Oh, he also attempted to convey his anger toward me by declaring "you are not my mom!" I just brushed that off and said "of course I am." Luckiest mom in the world, even on a day like this!
This is one of his ways of expressing his anxiety. I don't know that he will actually miss any of these things, but it's a phrase he's found that conveys hey, I need some comforting. In reading back through some of my early posts, I remember that he used to miss things much more regularly. And back then he had all his pronouns backwards. So we have traveled from that point to this: where we have just occasional anxiety, with the correct pronouns. But the worry for the mom feels the same.
And the worry spills over to Thomas. He is not starting school yet- has one more safe year at L's house before the big changes start. But a couple of his buddies from L's are going on to kindergarten, and she is taking in 2 new infants. Tommy will be the big boy that the little ones emulate. Time marches on and on.
In a lighter vein, here is how my sons looked when we left the house this morning.Longtime readers may remember that Thomas used to be positively traumatized when required to wear long pants in the winter. Well, all of a sudden, the past few weeks, he has been digging through drawers to find long pants and long-sleeved shirts to wear. And a long-sleeved shirt with a short-sleeved over it is even better. He thought he looked totally fashion today- down to the sunglasses.
For his part, Henry has taken to sleeping with no shirt (I guess he learned that from Daddy). He often sleeps in boxer shorts and then requests to just wear those for his underwear that day. Well, today he said "I want to keep my jammie pants on under my shorts." Only he was wearing long pants this time. Don't worry, I brought proper changes of clothes for both of them, in case L takes them out in public today.
Yesterday was a rough one for both boys. I was just thinking that we had almost made it through the summer without incident (remember Thomas' black eye last August?), but no such luck. L called yesterday to tell me that Tommy had been stung 4 times (by a wasp or hornet, we think, as bees can only sting once) on the back of his knee! Of course I had a heart attack, worrying that he would be allergic, but he was perfectly fine after she put some baking soda paste on the stings.
Henry's pain yesterday was of a different sort: the sting of shame, perhaps. At our last visit to the library (Monday), I borrowed an X-Men "junior novel"- a chapter book with no pictures except for a few pages in the center, with photos from the movie. Although Henry is a very good reader, he prefers large storybook-type books with lots of pictures. I was hoping to force his comfort zone by having him read this chapter book.
When I called him up for a bath Tuesday night, he had, clutched in his hands, the photo pages from the library book. Torn right out. I couldn't believe it. Henry has never ever damaged a book- library or otherwise. I guess I took it for granted that he understood that you aren't supposed to damage books. But maybe he just was never motivated to do so before.
Heavy sigh. So when I picked him up yesterday, I told him that we were going to go back to the library, return the damaged book, and tell the librarian he was sorry. Henry did not like this plan at all. He argued a bit and said he didn't want to go. I replied by saying that this was the consequence for damaging the library book.
He came over, pushed me right about my rib cage, and said "you are the consequence!"
You almost feel sorry for the kid because you can tell he wants to really tell me off, but he just doesn't have the language. He did a lot of crossing his arms, planting his feet, and saying "hmph!" on the way to talk to the librarian. He looked like he was going to cry and only managed a "sorry", while looking down. But that was enough. I feel like the point was made- I hope he learned a lesson. (Oh, and the librarians are super-nice and know him and I had called beforehand and talked to them, so they were very kind to Henry.)
The book only cost $5, so I am going to make him do a few jobs to earn the money. (In fact, I bribed him to pose for the photo above by telling him he could earn $1. Note his unhappy face.) On the way out of the library I stopped to give Henry a hug and asked if he felt embarrassed. He said yes. It's so hard to help him understand his emotions without putting words in his mouth. Oh, he also attempted to convey his anger toward me by declaring "you are not my mom!" I just brushed that off and said "of course I am." Luckiest mom in the world, even on a day like this!
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
autism resource
I received an e-mail from Easter Seals today with an interesting link:
Information on Autism Services in Your State Now Available
Easter Seals and the Autism Society of America have prepared a state-of-the-state report of autism services in the 50 states, the District of Columbia and Puerto Rico. The profiles highlight the number of children with autism, private health insurance coverage for autism, and other state-led resources. This information will be regularly updated throughout the year.
View your state's autism profile at http://www.easterseals.com/autismprofiles.
This information may already be out there, but I've personally never found such a simple resource to see even information about my own state, much less the rest of the country...
Information on Autism Services in Your State Now Available
Easter Seals and the Autism Society of America have prepared a state-of-the-state report of autism services in the 50 states, the District of Columbia and Puerto Rico. The profiles highlight the number of children with autism, private health insurance coverage for autism, and other state-led resources. This information will be regularly updated throughout the year.
View your state's autism profile at http://www.easterseals.com/autismprofiles.
This information may already be out there, but I've personally never found such a simple resource to see even information about my own state, much less the rest of the country...
Thursday, August 14, 2008
Tonight we have "meet-the-teacher night" at Henry's new school. Now, before you get all excited and think that I kicked some school district butt to get him in, let me explain.
It turns out that, if you can't get your school district to agree to send your child to the private school, (I couldn't, not without calling an IEP meeting which couldn't be done until after school had already started) you can send him to the "community school" (called charter schools in most other states) arm of the same school. (If there is a community school slot available, and if the spot is offered to you.) You withdraw your child from the district of residence and enroll him in the community school.
Holy shit, this stuff is unclear. One person tells you one thing and the next person doesn't know anything about that, and you send an e-mail and leave 15 messages and wait a week to figure out what to do next. I feel like I've been through the wringer.
It doesn't help that my husband is still not drinking that kool-aid, while I'm guzzling it by the gallon. At least he's willing to give it a shot, seeing as I'm so flipping sure about this.
I'll agree with him that the place has a bit of a cult-like feel to it. Everyone is so friendly and smiling and talks in such soothing tones. But I like to think that that's because they work with autistic kids all day, and friendly, smiling and soothing are good ways to be in that environment--not because they're trying to brainwash us.
Our school district's refusal to agree to place Henry here just reinforces my feeling that they don't really care about my child. And their argument that mainstreaming in the public school prepares my child for the "real world" he will someday work and live in holds no merit with me. You know what will prepare my child for the future? Being in a safe, nurturing, understanding, respectful environment that works on his weaknesses and works with his strengths to give him an excellent education.
The "real world" can be a pretty shitty place, and I don't see any other parents going out of their way to prepare their kids for that. Why should I be expected to?
I think Bill summed it up pretty well with this analogy: a couple summers ago Henry played t-ball through our city's parks & rec dept. We told them up front that he had autism, and they were quite willing to work with him and include him. And it was fine- it was a decent experience. But then this summer we found the Miracle League. They did more than just let my kid play. The team was made for kids like him, and parents like us, and it was more than we could have hoped for. This is my hope for our new school.
I've realized that part of this is selfish. I went to a parent orientation meeting the other night, and had the most unusual feeling as I pulled into the parking lot full of cars with autism ribbons on their bumpers. The feeling grew as I looked around the room and saw parents nodding and smiling at the school founders who were speaking. I think this feeling that I'm not so used to is belonging. As Drama Mama would say, these are our people.
Just as my son will no longer be relegated to a room at the end of the hall, I will no longer be relegated to the edges of the parental realm. I would not have participated in the PTO at his old school, because he didn't really participate in the school's activities. This new school requires a lot more parental involvement, and I think that will be good for me- for all of us.
I was telling a friend about the baseball analogy- a friend who's son is 10 and plays select-league baseball. I said "yeah, maybe Miracle League isn't 'real world' baseball, but I don't care." She interrupted me and said "Or maybe Miracle League baseball is 'real world' baseball. Just as much as our league is. It's about giving everyone a chance to play."
It turns out that, if you can't get your school district to agree to send your child to the private school, (I couldn't, not without calling an IEP meeting which couldn't be done until after school had already started) you can send him to the "community school" (called charter schools in most other states) arm of the same school. (If there is a community school slot available, and if the spot is offered to you.) You withdraw your child from the district of residence and enroll him in the community school.
Holy shit, this stuff is unclear. One person tells you one thing and the next person doesn't know anything about that, and you send an e-mail and leave 15 messages and wait a week to figure out what to do next. I feel like I've been through the wringer.
It doesn't help that my husband is still not drinking that kool-aid, while I'm guzzling it by the gallon. At least he's willing to give it a shot, seeing as I'm so flipping sure about this.
I'll agree with him that the place has a bit of a cult-like feel to it. Everyone is so friendly and smiling and talks in such soothing tones. But I like to think that that's because they work with autistic kids all day, and friendly, smiling and soothing are good ways to be in that environment--not because they're trying to brainwash us.
Our school district's refusal to agree to place Henry here just reinforces my feeling that they don't really care about my child. And their argument that mainstreaming in the public school prepares my child for the "real world" he will someday work and live in holds no merit with me. You know what will prepare my child for the future? Being in a safe, nurturing, understanding, respectful environment that works on his weaknesses and works with his strengths to give him an excellent education.
The "real world" can be a pretty shitty place, and I don't see any other parents going out of their way to prepare their kids for that. Why should I be expected to?
I think Bill summed it up pretty well with this analogy: a couple summers ago Henry played t-ball through our city's parks & rec dept. We told them up front that he had autism, and they were quite willing to work with him and include him. And it was fine- it was a decent experience. But then this summer we found the Miracle League. They did more than just let my kid play. The team was made for kids like him, and parents like us, and it was more than we could have hoped for. This is my hope for our new school.
I've realized that part of this is selfish. I went to a parent orientation meeting the other night, and had the most unusual feeling as I pulled into the parking lot full of cars with autism ribbons on their bumpers. The feeling grew as I looked around the room and saw parents nodding and smiling at the school founders who were speaking. I think this feeling that I'm not so used to is belonging. As Drama Mama would say, these are our people.
Just as my son will no longer be relegated to a room at the end of the hall, I will no longer be relegated to the edges of the parental realm. I would not have participated in the PTO at his old school, because he didn't really participate in the school's activities. This new school requires a lot more parental involvement, and I think that will be good for me- for all of us.
I was telling a friend about the baseball analogy- a friend who's son is 10 and plays select-league baseball. I said "yeah, maybe Miracle League isn't 'real world' baseball, but I don't care." She interrupted me and said "Or maybe Miracle League baseball is 'real world' baseball. Just as much as our league is. It's about giving everyone a chance to play."
Thursday, August 07, 2008
issues
I would really rather not give everyone the impression that I'm totally neurotic and frantic about my children leaving me at any moment. I kind of thought that I was over that stuff I wrote about in the last post. But then this morning I had a bad dream:
Tommy was leaving. Going somewhere on his own. I'm not clear on the exact circumstances- if Bill and I were divorced and the boy was going off to visit his dad, or maybe he was just going off on a trip by himself. But he was standing out on a street corner in his yellow crocs and blue spiderman t-shirt- not any older or bigger than he is now- waiting for a taxi to pick him up.
I was watching him through a window, trying to be cool, but then just lost it and ran out to him, crying, and begged him to come back home and stay with me for awhile. I was on my knees, hugging him and sobbing, and he was like "ummm, I don't know mommy. Actually, I think I'll go."
Is that messed up or what? I am getting all choked up again, just thinking about it.
It's going to be a long 14 more years for this kid, what with trying to live his life while his mom drags along behind him, holding on to his ankles.
Tommy was leaving. Going somewhere on his own. I'm not clear on the exact circumstances- if Bill and I were divorced and the boy was going off to visit his dad, or maybe he was just going off on a trip by himself. But he was standing out on a street corner in his yellow crocs and blue spiderman t-shirt- not any older or bigger than he is now- waiting for a taxi to pick him up.
I was watching him through a window, trying to be cool, but then just lost it and ran out to him, crying, and begged him to come back home and stay with me for awhile. I was on my knees, hugging him and sobbing, and he was like "ummm, I don't know mommy. Actually, I think I'll go."
Is that messed up or what? I am getting all choked up again, just thinking about it.
It's going to be a long 14 more years for this kid, what with trying to live his life while his mom drags along behind him, holding on to his ankles.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
step out of it mommy (Tommization of "snap out of it")
Last night, driving home after work, I guess I was slipping into a little melancholy. I was thinking about all the ways our children leave us. Some leave because it's time, and some leave before it's time. But most of them do leave.
I've been reading and re-reading posts on the blogs linked above all week. And I wonder why I, a person who eschews watching any sad movie or reading any sad book, seems to want to torment myself with these stories?
So I was pondering these things and maybe getting a little long-in-the-face, when I heard a little voice from the backseat:
"...his son, Chico..."
"...his son, Fabio..."
"...love a duck!"
"LOVE A DUCK!"
My sons were throwing out all my favorite funny lines from Finding Nemo. Were they trying to cheer me up? To tell me to appreciate what I have in my own back seat? I think so. It worked.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
update on the school situation
I am totally drinking the kool-aid on this new school. My husband, not-so-much. And that's good- one more example why it's good to have 2 parents to help make these decisions.
Like, on our tour, when she mentioned that they have early dismissal every Friday? I heard that, but kind of filed it in the back of my mind- we'll figure that out somehow. But Bill was like "what would we do about the Fridays? What if the school district won't pay for it and, even with the Autism Scholarship that our state offers, we still have to pay $8000 a year out-of-pocket?"
Autism moms out there- are you sitting down? Because this will surely shock you: it looks like we will have to fight a little to convince the school district that this is the best thing for Henry. I broached the subject in an e-mail, and the Director of Special Ed wrote back saying (to paraphrase) Henry has made great progress here and I think he will continue to do the same in this community setting where he can spend lots of time in the general ed classroom and remain close to home and can go to school with his brother...
The first time I read the e-mail I was just pissed- she's saying no. A few hours later, I read it again and thought, ok, she is saying positive things about Henry, and I can give her the benefit of the doubt and think that she believes these things and isn't just trying to save money or whatever other political reasons she might have to keep him in the school. The bottom line is that most administrators probably only know the kid on paper. They talk about him once a year at the IEP meeting, and then everything is carefully crafted to be positive. Remember the school psychologist who observed Henry? He didn't happen to observe any disruptive behavior, basically thought the kid was cute as a button and a little renaissance man. Yes, those words can describe my child. But he also has defecits- lots of them. I am his mom and it may sound odd to hear me talking like this. But if no one else will, I have to.
I have been drafting a response that would involve calculating how many days this year I got a note home saying that Henry had hurt someone, and how many times that resulted in him missing out on "the general ed classroom" that day, or even a special activity.
But yesterday I got a big boost: I had e-mailed Henry's classroom teacher, asking her to call me. We decided that she is really the only one who knows the school Henry- day in and day out. (I should have e-mailed her a week ago, but at first thought that might be odd- like asking your current boss about a new job you're interested in.)
In brief, (this is already NOT brief) Mrs. C totally agreed with me. She offered to call around and ask some of her colleagues for any inside scoop on the school, but concurred with all my reasons for thinking this was a good move for Henry. As I suspected, she was basically alone in trying to manage the kids in her classroom, and agreed that a whole school full of people who get it would be preferable. She also pointed out that special areas like art and music would be more accessible to Henry, as the ones in the regular elementary school are sometimes too involved or complex for her kids to participate in.
And then, the kicker: she is actually moving, and won't be back to teach this school year. And when she called to tell her supervisor about this, she was told that her supervisor is no longer working for the county. This type of inconsistency is one more reason I am looking at the private school. Yes, they may still have a high teacher turnover, but the program is more likely to remain consistent.
Mrs. C also offered to talk to the Director of Special Ed about Henry, and I have also received some ammunition from a certain fiery Cuban autism teacher I know, which will help me in my rebuttal. I'm not good with confrontation, especially confronting authority. But I can learn to do it for my kid.
My 20th high school reunion is this weekend. Yesterday I looked through a bunch of old pictures, scanned them, e-mailed them to some friends, and laughed and laughed and laughed. I am looking forward to more laughter this weekend. It seems like I am really thirsty for it lately.
Like, on our tour, when she mentioned that they have early dismissal every Friday? I heard that, but kind of filed it in the back of my mind- we'll figure that out somehow. But Bill was like "what would we do about the Fridays? What if the school district won't pay for it and, even with the Autism Scholarship that our state offers, we still have to pay $8000 a year out-of-pocket?"
Autism moms out there- are you sitting down? Because this will surely shock you: it looks like we will have to fight a little to convince the school district that this is the best thing for Henry. I broached the subject in an e-mail, and the Director of Special Ed wrote back saying (to paraphrase) Henry has made great progress here and I think he will continue to do the same in this community setting where he can spend lots of time in the general ed classroom and remain close to home and can go to school with his brother...
The first time I read the e-mail I was just pissed- she's saying no. A few hours later, I read it again and thought, ok, she is saying positive things about Henry, and I can give her the benefit of the doubt and think that she believes these things and isn't just trying to save money or whatever other political reasons she might have to keep him in the school. The bottom line is that most administrators probably only know the kid on paper. They talk about him once a year at the IEP meeting, and then everything is carefully crafted to be positive. Remember the school psychologist who observed Henry? He didn't happen to observe any disruptive behavior, basically thought the kid was cute as a button and a little renaissance man. Yes, those words can describe my child. But he also has defecits- lots of them. I am his mom and it may sound odd to hear me talking like this. But if no one else will, I have to.
I have been drafting a response that would involve calculating how many days this year I got a note home saying that Henry had hurt someone, and how many times that resulted in him missing out on "the general ed classroom" that day, or even a special activity.
But yesterday I got a big boost: I had e-mailed Henry's classroom teacher, asking her to call me. We decided that she is really the only one who knows the school Henry- day in and day out. (I should have e-mailed her a week ago, but at first thought that might be odd- like asking your current boss about a new job you're interested in.)
In brief, (this is already NOT brief) Mrs. C totally agreed with me. She offered to call around and ask some of her colleagues for any inside scoop on the school, but concurred with all my reasons for thinking this was a good move for Henry. As I suspected, she was basically alone in trying to manage the kids in her classroom, and agreed that a whole school full of people who get it would be preferable. She also pointed out that special areas like art and music would be more accessible to Henry, as the ones in the regular elementary school are sometimes too involved or complex for her kids to participate in.
And then, the kicker: she is actually moving, and won't be back to teach this school year. And when she called to tell her supervisor about this, she was told that her supervisor is no longer working for the county. This type of inconsistency is one more reason I am looking at the private school. Yes, they may still have a high teacher turnover, but the program is more likely to remain consistent.
Mrs. C also offered to talk to the Director of Special Ed about Henry, and I have also received some ammunition from a certain fiery Cuban autism teacher I know, which will help me in my rebuttal. I'm not good with confrontation, especially confronting authority. But I can learn to do it for my kid.
My 20th high school reunion is this weekend. Yesterday I looked through a bunch of old pictures, scanned them, e-mailed them to some friends, and laughed and laughed and laughed. I am looking forward to more laughter this weekend. It seems like I am really thirsty for it lately.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
why can't real life be more like preschool?
Me: Oh, man, tomorrow I have to go back to work.
Thomas: Mommy, do you have to work the WHOLE TIME while you're at work? Do you get breaks?
Me: Oh, yes, we get breaks. (If you only knew how many breaks I take to talk or read blogs...)
Thomas: Do you have snack?
Me: Well, yes, we do have snack breaks. (If you only knew...)
Thomas: Whose turn is it to bring snack next? Yours or Karen's?
Thomas: Mommy, do you have to work the WHOLE TIME while you're at work? Do you get breaks?
Me: Oh, yes, we get breaks. (If you only knew how many breaks I take to talk or read blogs...)
Thomas: Do you have snack?
Me: Well, yes, we do have snack breaks. (If you only knew...)
Thomas: Whose turn is it to bring snack next? Yours or Karen's?
Saturday, July 26, 2008
loss
Sometimes I think this internet community is more real to me than the very street I live on. We are all reeling from the loss of Evan Kamida, a beautiful boy with special needs who would have been 8 next week. Please visit his mother's blog and her column at Literary Mama to read more about Evan and his family. And please keep them in your thoughts. How can one bear such a loss?
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
today
I'm a libra, see, and I guess that's why I need to measure everything. Why a vacation has to have both a glass half full and a glass half empty point of view. Why I need to always take the other side of every argument (according to my husband, anyway). And why a day like today has to be remembered not only for the good that happened.
Our interview for the private autism school was very good. As advised, I really tried to listen to my gut throughout. And I got a good vibe. This spring I started a post (but never finished it) about a new private autism school that I visited in my quest for a summer placement for Henry. I was near hysterical by the time the tour ended. You could say my gut didn't like the place.
Because of that experience, my expectations for this more established school were heightened. I was told when we scheduled the interview that they would be getting to know Henry, we would be getting to know the school at this time, and then I would be contacted later on with their decision. But the administrator who met with us told me after about 20 minutes that she thought Henry would be just right for the position available, and she would reserve it for us. (I attribute this not only to my son's charm, but also to this woman's soft heart. She told me that she's only allowed to do a certain number of intake interviews, because she has such a hard time turning anyone away.)
My head is spinning. The place where we interviewed was the high school location (a former athletic club). The elementary school is several miles away, in a former day care center, and we have scheduled a tour there later this week. I mean, I can't just sign my kid up without visiting the school!
If you're interested in knowing more about the school, e-mail me privately. In brief, they have around 300 students in preschool through 12, and actually have some graduates who are remaining to take community college classes. Henry would initially be placed in an "intensive educational and social classroom" with the aim of being quickly integrated with the peer models.
After we briefly discussed Henry's strengths and weaknesses, Dr. M told me that they would be likely to work closely with Henry to determine why he has such a deficit with math, but also would encourage his reading strength "focusing on his interests", to see how far he could take this ability. "Maybe he could help in the library" is another idea she tossed out, which just about made me melt out of my chair.
We stopped over at the elementary location, just to see where it was and to schedule a tour. Things were chaotic, as it was pick-up time for the summer program. But I kind of liked that. I saw lots of affectionate, smiling teachers, smiling kids, smiling parents. Kind of like any other school, but with a bit more oversight. And as we were getting back into the car, a young woman driving by smiled and waved. It was the same teacher I had met at gymnastics, back when I started thinking about this school again. I haven't seen her since, but she remembered us. Seemed like a good sign.
Assuming we don't think of any reason why we shouldn't grab this opportunity, my next step is to contact the special ed director for our district and basically ask her if they will pay for Henry to attend this school. Dr. M thought they might, because she thinks it's actually cheaper for them than the county program he is now placed in. But if they don't, we will have other options.
Now I guess I was riding some kind of uber-autism-mom wave after the interview, and took both boys to Toys R Us. After exhaustive consideration, Thomas picked out a Batmobile. Henry picked out a 101 Dalmations DVD, which we already have. He's been talking about it for weeks, ever since he lost the papers that were in the first copy.
I've been trying to use logic with him, which is, of course, useless. "Henry, I really don't want to spend $20 for a DVD we already have, just so you can get the papers inside."
His response? "It doesn't cost $20."
Um, actually it does.
I'm not usually one to ask for special treatment because my son is autistic. But today I decided to give it a shot. I went up to the customer service counter, explained the situation, and asked if there was any way we could open up a dvd, take out the papers, and they could, like, wrap it back up and still sell it. A manager was called over, who listened politely, but answered in the negative.
So I bought Henry another copy of 101 Dalmations. And now I'm pissed. I'm pissed because if I were Jenny McCarthy and had a million dollars, I would just buy my kid whatever he wanted to satisfy his perseveration.
But, if I were Jenny McCarthy and went on Larry King and talked about how my son loves the papers from inside DVDs, every yahoo in America would pack up their DVD papers and send them to me.
So, that's why today had a little bit of bad in it, but mostly good :-)
And I do have some other ideas about the DVD papers- I can try asking movie rental places or libraries. And if anyone out there would like a copy of 101 Dalmations (minus the ads inside of course), let me know.
Our interview for the private autism school was very good. As advised, I really tried to listen to my gut throughout. And I got a good vibe. This spring I started a post (but never finished it) about a new private autism school that I visited in my quest for a summer placement for Henry. I was near hysterical by the time the tour ended. You could say my gut didn't like the place.
Because of that experience, my expectations for this more established school were heightened. I was told when we scheduled the interview that they would be getting to know Henry, we would be getting to know the school at this time, and then I would be contacted later on with their decision. But the administrator who met with us told me after about 20 minutes that she thought Henry would be just right for the position available, and she would reserve it for us. (I attribute this not only to my son's charm, but also to this woman's soft heart. She told me that she's only allowed to do a certain number of intake interviews, because she has such a hard time turning anyone away.)
My head is spinning. The place where we interviewed was the high school location (a former athletic club). The elementary school is several miles away, in a former day care center, and we have scheduled a tour there later this week. I mean, I can't just sign my kid up without visiting the school!
If you're interested in knowing more about the school, e-mail me privately. In brief, they have around 300 students in preschool through 12, and actually have some graduates who are remaining to take community college classes. Henry would initially be placed in an "intensive educational and social classroom" with the aim of being quickly integrated with the peer models.
After we briefly discussed Henry's strengths and weaknesses, Dr. M told me that they would be likely to work closely with Henry to determine why he has such a deficit with math, but also would encourage his reading strength "focusing on his interests", to see how far he could take this ability. "Maybe he could help in the library" is another idea she tossed out, which just about made me melt out of my chair.
We stopped over at the elementary location, just to see where it was and to schedule a tour. Things were chaotic, as it was pick-up time for the summer program. But I kind of liked that. I saw lots of affectionate, smiling teachers, smiling kids, smiling parents. Kind of like any other school, but with a bit more oversight. And as we were getting back into the car, a young woman driving by smiled and waved. It was the same teacher I had met at gymnastics, back when I started thinking about this school again. I haven't seen her since, but she remembered us. Seemed like a good sign.
Assuming we don't think of any reason why we shouldn't grab this opportunity, my next step is to contact the special ed director for our district and basically ask her if they will pay for Henry to attend this school. Dr. M thought they might, because she thinks it's actually cheaper for them than the county program he is now placed in. But if they don't, we will have other options.
Now I guess I was riding some kind of uber-autism-mom wave after the interview, and took both boys to Toys R Us. After exhaustive consideration, Thomas picked out a Batmobile. Henry picked out a 101 Dalmations DVD, which we already have. He's been talking about it for weeks, ever since he lost the papers that were in the first copy.
I've been trying to use logic with him, which is, of course, useless. "Henry, I really don't want to spend $20 for a DVD we already have, just so you can get the papers inside."
His response? "It doesn't cost $20."
Um, actually it does.
I'm not usually one to ask for special treatment because my son is autistic. But today I decided to give it a shot. I went up to the customer service counter, explained the situation, and asked if there was any way we could open up a dvd, take out the papers, and they could, like, wrap it back up and still sell it. A manager was called over, who listened politely, but answered in the negative.
So I bought Henry another copy of 101 Dalmations. And now I'm pissed. I'm pissed because if I were Jenny McCarthy and had a million dollars, I would just buy my kid whatever he wanted to satisfy his perseveration.
But, if I were Jenny McCarthy and went on Larry King and talked about how my son loves the papers from inside DVDs, every yahoo in America would pack up their DVD papers and send them to me.
So, that's why today had a little bit of bad in it, but mostly good :-)
And I do have some other ideas about the DVD papers- I can try asking movie rental places or libraries. And if anyone out there would like a copy of 101 Dalmations (minus the ads inside of course), let me know.
Sunday, July 20, 2008
vacation
The place we vacation most summers is a house that's been in my husband's family for generations, on a lake in northern Michigan. It's part of a beach club like you see in the movies- where you can get meals at the clubhouse and play bingo at the beach house on Wednesday nights.
For years I've had a love/hate relationship with the place. It's undeniably beautiful and relaxing, and we could never afford a vacation like this if it wasn't a family home. But the beauty and peaceful surroundings come with so much historical and family baggage: the first person up this year didn't put the rugs in the right spots; the person before you didn't leave any gas in the boat; you drank all of someone else's special bottle of gin; and it's the spot where everyone brings their old kitchen utensils to die.
And then there's the social aspects of the "club" that are so awkward to me, even after all these years. All these families know one another, so you can't take a walk to the dock without stopping to introduce yourself and explain whose wife you are. As a borderline anti-social person, all of the small talk is exhausting to me. I think a perfect vacation would be one where I didn't have to talk to ANYONE :-)
As I was taking photos this year, I thought about how many photo albums we have full of pictures on the boat. They always turn out so well- the lighting and scenery is always picture-perfect, and the subjects are always relaxed and happy. So I took many more of those again this year, but also tried to take some of my other favorite vacation things:
These gladiolas are my personal tradition. I believe on my second-ever visit to the cottage my mother-in-law had glads in this vase on this table on the porch. I have no idea whether this was something she usually did, or the first time ever. But it struck me as lovely and I have placed the same flowers in the same vase on the same table ever since. This year I tried them on a different table, but it just wasn't right and I had to move them.
For years I've had a love/hate relationship with the place. It's undeniably beautiful and relaxing, and we could never afford a vacation like this if it wasn't a family home. But the beauty and peaceful surroundings come with so much historical and family baggage: the first person up this year didn't put the rugs in the right spots; the person before you didn't leave any gas in the boat; you drank all of someone else's special bottle of gin; and it's the spot where everyone brings their old kitchen utensils to die.
And then there's the social aspects of the "club" that are so awkward to me, even after all these years. All these families know one another, so you can't take a walk to the dock without stopping to introduce yourself and explain whose wife you are. As a borderline anti-social person, all of the small talk is exhausting to me. I think a perfect vacation would be one where I didn't have to talk to ANYONE :-)As I was taking photos this year, I thought about how many photo albums we have full of pictures on the boat. They always turn out so well- the lighting and scenery is always picture-perfect, and the subjects are always relaxed and happy. So I took many more of those again this year, but also tried to take some of my other favorite vacation things:
These gladiolas are my personal tradition. I believe on my second-ever visit to the cottage my mother-in-law had glads in this vase on this table on the porch. I have no idea whether this was something she usually did, or the first time ever. But it struck me as lovely and I have placed the same flowers in the same vase on the same table ever since. This year I tried them on a different table, but it just wasn't right and I had to move them.
(We also tried sleeping in a different one of the bedrooms this year and I ended up moving us to our traditional bedroom. I guess I may be just as hooked on the tradition here as the rest of the truebloods.)
Here I was trying to capture the beer bottle on the arm of my adirondack chair with the kids swimming with their dad in the background. As Henry said when we waded out to the raft and sat down for a spell, "this is the life."
Not sure why I took this picture- maybe just to capture the space and comfort of the screened-in porch. You can just see the lake in the background to the left.
Another favorite thing about "Michigan" (we always refer to it with just the state name. Probably confusing to the kids) is these rooster dishes.
There wasn't a tv in the cottage for years and years, and when one was finally introduced, it caused quite an uproar. The bizarre compromise that our family has reached is that the tv sits, unused and ignored, all week. I guess the kids must think it doesn't work- they never ask to watch it.
"I understand mommy. (Sucker!)"
Here I was trying to capture the beer bottle on the arm of my adirondack chair with the kids swimming with their dad in the background. As Henry said when we waded out to the raft and sat down for a spell, "this is the life." 
Not sure why I took this picture- maybe just to capture the space and comfort of the screened-in porch. You can just see the lake in the background to the left.
Another favorite thing about "Michigan" (we always refer to it with just the state name. Probably confusing to the kids) is these rooster dishes.
I can take a glass half-empty/glass half-full approach to describing vacation:
-The weather was cool and cloudy 2 of the first 3 days. We wore the same warm clothes for 48 hours straight./But the boys helped daddy build fires in the fireplace and really loved that.
-Once the weather got nice, but still windy, Bill took both boys out on the sailboat./The boat tipped over at the beginning of Thomas' ride, and although he persevered through the ride, he was quite scared by it and didn't want to try again the rest of the week.
-On Wednesday, I think, the wind even calmed down- perfect for swimming, I thought. I was so proud of how well both boys did in the water. Especially Thomas- diving in and splashing around in the shallow beach water./Until, after a couple hours, he started wailing inconsolably about ITCHING. Turns out you get swimmer's itch from hanging out in the shallow, still water where duck mites can burrow into your skin. Nice.
___
There wasn't a tv in the cottage for years and years, and when one was finally introduced, it caused quite an uproar. The bizarre compromise that our family has reached is that the tv sits, unused and ignored, all week. I guess the kids must think it doesn't work- they never ask to watch it.
Henry was working his guilt mojo on me, though. I think it was the first day there that he said in a mournful voice "I've been taken away from my home." As if we'd kidnapped him or something, rather than taken him on a vacation.
I tried to get him to explain his feelings a little more, and he eventually said he missed his dvds. I wanted to let him watch one right away, but Bill thought Henry was playing me for a softie, and I think he was right.
Wednesday I took Henry with me to the grocery store (mistake #1). I gave in to his repeated requests for the Sword in the Stone dvd (mistake #2). I was even naive enough to say "I'll buy this for you, but you understand that you won't be able to watch it until we are driving back home, on Friday?" (mistake #3)
"I understand mommy. (Sucker!)"
Needless to say, we let him watch the dvd that night. But aside from the one viewing, electronic visual entertainment was not an issue.
We came home Friday night so as not to miss the Miracle League trophy ceremony Saturday morning. We'll definitely be signing up again next year. Tomorrow it's back to work after 2 weeks off :-( I'll try to post after our interview at the private school Tuesday. Thanks for all the thoughtful comments and good thoughts.
Friday, July 11, 2008
just one thing before I go...
We are packing the car to head up to the family house on the lake for a week. But I wanted to pose a question-- I got a call today from the private autism school that I mentioned a few months ago- the one we've been on the waiting list for since Henry was like 4 years old. They would like to "interview" us on Tuesday, the 22nd. So anyone with any suggestions for me, please chime in. Anything I should be sure to ask or sure to look for?
See you in a week--
See you in a week--
Thursday, July 10, 2008
the most specialest day
Well, Christine, we had a great day yesterday. It was our first day at home this week because my parents had taken the boys home with them after the fireworks on Friday night. Bill and I had a weekend at home alone (very low-key- watching tennis and Harry Potter on tv and Arrested Development on DVD) and then I drove out to their house Monday to visit, spend the night, and we came back Tuesday.Yesterday we rode bikes to the nearby elementary school playground for a picnic. A bike ride is still a lot more labor-intensive for mom than it should ultimately be. Thomas seems to have an unusual amount of anxiety whenever a car approaches or whenever he is "left alone" while I run back 20 yards to help Henry over a lip of sidewalk. (Henry pedals so slowly that he has no momentum to carry him over little obstacles.) Then, by the time we catch up to Thomas, Henry is so concerned about why Tommy is crying that he keeps asking him about it...
It's encouraging that Henry is so troubled when his brother is sad. It makes me really proud. But when one son has an anxiety attack about something small and then the other son has an anxiety attack about the first son's anxiety attack... it makes for not the most relaxing bike ride. Also, it was very humid yesterday and also, the city is re-paving a couple of the roads between here and there, so mom had to carry the bikes across the muddy ditches in the road. What an adventure!
But the trek was all worthwhile when we arrived, started eating our lunch, and Thomas announced "this is the most special-est day of my whole life!"
Henry had brought some books and papers to look at while we played, but he did ultimately join us on the playground for some playing, which made Thomas and I quite happy. When Henry came running over to join us, Tommy's face lit up and he exclaimed "Henry! What made you decide to play with us?!" I was wondering the same thing, but of course Henry didn't answer.
Our next stop was Henry's choice: the library. We rode over there (just 2 blocks back toward our house) and browsed the books and movies for an hour or so. I noticed signs for a magic show that afternoon but, bad mom that I am, didn't mention it to the kids. I thought it sounded dorky and wasn't sure that either boy would like it.
But, as more and more kids started showing up, I told Thomas about it, and he said he wanted to go. I was all "I'm a stay-at-home mom today. What the hell, we can stay and check it out." Henry sat in the back and looked at his books and movies, while Tommy and I sat on the floor with most of the other kids.
Thomas laughed and applauded and was amazed by the tricks. I was really glad we had stayed. And I realized that events like this help me feel a little more a part of our community. We've lived here for 7 years, but because I work in a different part of town and the kids' sitter is in a different part of town, we don't know a lot of people close to home.
Well, Henry does, from school. But you wouldn't know it. Perfect example from yesterday: Henry finally came down on the floor by us, to see if it was time to go yet. This boy sitting next to me said "Hi Henry", and waved. Henry gave a half-hearted "hi" and turned back to me. I bet Henry knew half the people in that damn room, but he could care less. And here are his mom and his brother, feeling like we don't know anyone. Oh the irony of life with autism.
One sour note about the magic show: the magician would call kids up to assist him. Since Tommy was sitting on my lap, giving off shy body language, I figured he wouldn't get picked to come up, and he didn't. Each child who helped was given a "magic wooden nickel" to take home. At the end of the show the magician made some throw-away joke about how if you put the nickel under your pillow, a dollar will appear in the morning, but be sure to tell your parents first.
Well, when Thomas realized that the show was over and he did not get a magic wooden nickel, the tears started flowing. He was not the only one, either. The magician might want to re-think that section of the show. Like 6 kids got the wooden nickels and then 94 other kids are feeling left out.
Once again, Henry was quite concerned about his brother's sorrow; inquiring about it long after the matter probably would have been forgotten. Henry used one of his favorite comforting phrases and I think it's really something for all of us to remember:
"Sometimes you don't get the wooden nickel."
Saturday, July 05, 2008
I really haven't been writing so much, eh?
I am becoming a little too conscious of who is reading this blog and maybe thinking a little too much about who I'm writing for, when I really do better to just spew thoughts out her without so much premeditation.
A public blog can innocently begin as a place to air one's thoughts and find some new friends who share them. But it doesn't remain so...
Ah well. Things are fine and there's not a whole lot to report. I've just begun 2 weeks of vacation, which would normally seem like quite an indulgence, but our babysitter takes 2 weeks off and pleasantly "forces" me to do the same.
We will take our vacation to a northern lake during the second week. This week I will be playing stay-at-home-mom with my boys and am quite looking forward to it. I'm developing a short list of ideas of things to do, but I'm sure we'll have no problem filling the days with bike rides and trips to the pool. At the parade yesterday I was handed a flyer about the local movie theater's children's movie series, as well as a flyer about an evening Vacation Bible School program that the kids seemed excited about. Maybe we will get back to church.
Things have settled down after our flurry of graduation and back-to-back wedding trips. Things are quite easy, actually. I don't have to pack a lunch this summer or write in a notebook. We don't have to do homework. Our only activities are Tommy's t-ball (so painful to watch 3 and 4 year olds "play" t-ball. Thomas really does great, but some of the kids... whew) and Henry's baseball (which was rained out last weekend and no game this weekend because of the holiday.)
I dropped the ball on horseback-riding this summer- just put a call in to Ms. Pam like a week ago, and I'm sure she's way too busy to get back to me. Maybe in the fall we can start up again.
A few notes about Henry:
-He has been taking private swimming lessons at Easter Seals for years, and has made good progress. This summer I signed both boys up for group swimming lessons at the pool. Their babysitter, L, took them, and she has no first-hand knowledge of Henry's swimming ability.
So the first day of class, his teacher has them all get in the water and tells them to float. Henry says "I can't float."
Now, if he said that to me, his dad, or his private swim instructor, we would all reply "yes you can- get in the water and do it." But no one else is going to respond to him that way, and I wouldn't want them to! His first reaction is always the little sweet helpless thing, and unless you blast that away, he's just going to go with it.
So they put him in the same class as Thomas and a bunch of other kids half Henry's age. It was fine- I decided Henry was learning different skills- like how to participate in the class and follow instructions with a group. He enjoyed himself and had no shame, or even awareness, that he was with a bunch of littler kids. I'm sure he just enjoyed it because it was easy!
But a hard question raised for me: no matter what my child knows, if he refuses to share it, or show it off, what good does it do him? In this case, I can hope that if (God forbid) he were in an emergency situation in the water, the skills he knows would kick in and help him survive. How can I know this for sure?! Throw him off the boat on vacation and see what happens??!!
-We're thinking about getting a Wii for his birthday. I've always been kind of down on video games. But last weekend we visited some friends for the evening; their kids are just a bit older than ours. For most of the evening Henry did his usual thing: watched their DVDs inside the house while the rest of us were outside.
I don't like this dynamic, but feel that it's Henry's best way of coping with a new situation and making it fit his comfort zone, so it's what we do. After one movie was over, we all wanted to try out their Wii- partly because we thought it would engage Henry- he has seen it played at L's house.
Henry loved it! He would have loved just watching, but we forced him to play too and he did pretty well.
We have a little less than 2 months 'til his birthday, so I'd better figure out how to get one of these things.
I hope everyone is having a nice holiday weekend. The 4th of July is always the *%&#*^ longest day of the year for me. As soon as the parade is over at 10:45 am Henry starts asking if it's time for the fireworks. Just 11 more hours buddy!
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