My Favorite Autistic

Speak up and ask

2011-07-13T11:21:00.003-04:00

Connor and Daddy had been counting down for over a month to the day when Cars 2 would be released. Unfortunately after all our preparations Connor was only able to tolerate other children for about 20 minutes before informing Daddy "I gotta get outta here!"

I am so proud that he informed Daddy that he needed to leave rather than bolting. I really wish he could have enjoyed more of it.

I call my friend M and told her of the problem. Miss M has a boy the same age as Connor and they share a similar diagnosis, so I know she can empathize. She tells me about a theater in Newport (hours away) that has a sensory friendly movie once a month. I find myself whining "That's so far to travel with him for a situation that may or may not work." Wha

"Gas is so expensive" Wha Wha

So my friend Miss M calls the theater 5 minutes from my house and tells them.

"You know the theater up in Newport has a sensory friendly movie once a month and that is something the kids and parents around here could really use."

The manager: "We can do that. What do we need to do?"

Miss M: "Only dim the lights and turn the volume down."

The manager: "OK, and we can block off that theater for only special needs children."

Miss M: "Great, but a lot of these kids have dietary allergies."

The manager: "They bring their own snacks and drinks in."

Miss M: "Great! When can we do it?"

The manager: "How about this Saturday at 10am it will be $5 a person."

Miss M: "Thank you thank you thank you."

That one phone call made amazing things happen. That Saturday over 400 people with sensory issues and their parents got to watch Cars2 in a theater. They had to open 4 theaters and the staff was awesome. They let our local FEAT (Families for Effective Autism Treatment) set up a table inside the lobby. They were at every ones beck and call. They informed Miss M that they would like to start doing that once a week even though Miss M told them she couldn't promise that big of a turn out every week.

Not a single meltdown was had and if there had been, so what every person there would have understood. A few of the most moving things were the adults with autism coming in excited to see a movie at the theater and not at home and the mother that told Miss M that this was the first time ever that she even considered bringing her 19yr old son to the movies.

Thank you Miss M for speaking up and asking for us. You are continuing proof that one person can make a difference.

Back from Hiatus or somewhere

2011-07-12T11:32:00.004-04:00

I know it has been a LONG time since I posted. Actually that is an extreme understatement. It's been a long hard road and it took a moment for me to put my big girl pants on and take care of business. That's all sorted now but it started with this note from Connor's kindergarten teacher.

'Mrs. Gibbs,

Connor has had a rough day - there was an episode that lasted for 55 minutes this morning (9:45 - 10:40). Everytime he kicked the desk, I held him, til he was quiet to the count of 5.

There were several several episodes the rest of the day including him kicking a classmate instead of a chair during lunch.

Trying to get out of my hold, he blew his nose on me, spit, and then urinated. I tried to make sure he was safe, but his squirming and other movement against the rug, has caused some rugburns on his face.

An ECE resource person was here to observe another child, but she took notes and will be at our IEP meeting too.'

How mad are you just imagining this being your child? He was 5 at the time.

I spy

2009-08-27T10:48:00.004-04:00

We were told shortly after my mother awoke from coma that she would have a period of up to a year to recover cognitively. Four short months later and I believe the gains she has made have begun to plane out. Which we were told was also a possibility.

As such we have got a few things to work on her brainpower. A subscription to reader's digest and a computer game that is a lot like the children book 'I Spy'. The game gives a list of objects (clues) to find in the picture and once you have found them you unjumble another picture. She really enjoys it but has a hard time remembering what some of the words are or what they look like.

"What does a fiddle head look like?"
"It's the top part where you can adjust the strings."
'OH OK."

A few minutes later I hear her practicing how to spell the word as she comes down the hall.

"S-c-p-e-t-e-r"
"You mean s-c-e-p-t-e-r, scepter?"
"YEAH! What is it?"
"Sort of like a large wand a king or queen would carry."
"Oh yeah OK."

"Is a tortoise a bird or a rabbit?"
"It's a turtle."

"I know I've asked you a thousand times, but what is a decoy?"
"A duck."
"A t-r-i-d-e-n-t?
"Trident, it's looks like a three pronged pitch fork."
"A l-y-r-e?"
"Lyre, looks like two harps put together."

I'm in the bathroom getting ready for bed and I hear her come out muttering"Molecule, molecule, molecule.."

She finds the girls in the living room. "Whats a molecule look like?"
"A Molecule?"
"Yeah whats it look like?"
"You cant see a molecule."
"It's part of a er those one things that your body is made of isn't it?"
I hear other mutterings but I can't make them out, shortly mom makes her way back to her room. When I get in to the living room I ask the girls "Did you get her straightened out?"
"No."
"No? Well next time she asks about a molecule, just keep in mind that what she means to ask is what does a Monocle looks like."

Gone fishing!

2009-08-26T10:47:00.008-04:00

For the huge achievement of being fully potty trained (which I never thought would happen) Connor received his very own Sponge Bob Squarepants fishing pole. So after seeing him cast and reel his line over and over Daddy took Connor to his grandpa's to fish.

And not only did he catch his first fish, but went on to catch eight more! Everyone else was lucky to catch one or get a nibble. A true test of his sensory for sure as he put worms on his hook (with help of course) and held the fish to throw them back in the pond. A great day for Dad who always dreamed of taking his boy fishing and didn't know if it would ever be possible.

P.S. Happy 15th to my baby girl Gracie! You are loved so much by so many!

Deb

2009-07-23T09:32:00.002-04:00

I am awake and standing beside my bed before I am aware that I am awake. This in itself isn't an uncommon occurrence as of late. Many times during a night I find myself on my feet thinking about warfarin levels and having conversations with doctors about the health of family members. A few times a have woke myself up uttering one word "heart".

This time however I realize why I am up, and sleep deprived as I am, I am pissed. The phone is ringing. I stumble my way down the hall. My eyes are so sensitive I can barely register the blue digital numerals on the cable box in the living room, it is 2 am. Reaching for the phone and about to make someone feel my wrath if it isn't a death, the fax machine picks it up. Ha! Let the loud screechy sound play in their ears!

I look on the caller ID and see it is one of my eldest daughters friends. Grr they should know better. Especially this one, she is close to the family. Her mother and I share many of the same views about rearing children. I start to wonder if I shouldn't go check and she if Melody is still up and maybe texting on her computer when the phone rings again.

"Hello!"
"Dortha, is Melody there?"
"Well yeah!" Of course she is where else is my daughter going to be at 2 in the morning?!
"Can I talk to her?"
"I would imagine she is asleep!"
"Dortha please let me talk to her!" I can hear in her voice that something is wrong and it isn't the normal teenage drama.
"Baby whats wrong?"
"My Mom died."
"Oh my God! What happened?"
"I don't know. My brother went down stairs to tell her goodnight and she was dead."

Shortly we are at her house. My sleepy head couldn't wrap around the fact that this had just happened and I am shocked that the ambulance is still there. She had not been moved yet. We didn't get back home until they finally got ready to move her mom around 5 am.

Deb was a great lady, we weren't extremely close ourselves, but cared a great deal for each others children. She was the first adult to take the news of Connor's autism as if it were not a horrible thing. She gave lots of great advice about schools and teachers that would be great for him. The first teacher she suggested is to be his Kindergarten teacher this year. She had called me one day while the kids were at school to tell me that That Boy was going to try and have Melody sneak out of Uptown that Friday. Uptown was the local churches way of giving the kids something to do on Friday nights. So hubby stayed parked outside all night to make sure Melody made the right choice, which thank goodness she did without her Daddy's help.

Deb went downstairs the early morning of July 14th with her Taco Bell, sat on the couch, covered herself up with a throw and began to watch a movie. She died shortly after from massive heart failure. She was only 45. She left a very distraught husband, a 19 yr old son, and a 16 yr old daughter. It is clear that the core of their family has been taken from them.

New addition to the household

2009-07-15T20:38:00.005-04:00

So now not only do we have a favorite autistic in the house, we have an older lady with a mechanical mitral valve, pacemaker/defibrillator, and healing from a hemorrhagic stroke. My mother thought she had a sinus infection and when it didn't clear up a xray showed a very enlarged heart.

A mechanical mitral valve was placed the end of January and a pacemaker placed in early February. She came through all of this with flying colors. She switched to the heart healthy diet and was taking her meds with no problems. She was going to cardiac rehab three times a week and was really enjoying it.

She was staying with us until she could return to work and take care of herself again. We used social stories with Connor so he would understand that he had to be gentle with Grandma and everything was going great.

Then the morning of April 6th she got up and was singing and humming. She couldn't find her teeth so she couldn't be caught at cardio rehab, but her mastectomy side was bothering her a little anyway so we decided to call in and just go back Wednesday. After finally finding her teeth we took a little trip up to Kinko's to fax out a certification papers for her job. On the way home she asked if she could use my makeup because she thought she looked so old, and she asked if we could stop at Krogers to get some decaf tea.

My husband calls as I pull into Krogers parking lot and after deciding he was going to talk for a little bit Mom and I get out of the car and head into the store. She goes through the doors and grabs a cart while I finish up my conversation just outside. When I got off the phone a minute later and go through the doors, a fireman runs past me. I remember seeing a big yellow firetruck leave as we pulled in and think to myself "I think they left without you buddy."

I stop once through the doors and wonder which way I should go to catch up with her when I noticed there are two more firemen surrounding what I at first think is a small child on the floor. I don't want to be a rubbernecker or get in the way so I try to think of which way to go to catch up and stay out of the way, when I notice the purple sleeve and gray lining of my Mom's coat.

"Mom!?"
"Is this your Mother?"
"Yes! Is she breathing?"
"No"
"Have you got a heartbeat?"
"No."
"What the hell you mean no? She has a pacemaker!"
"I don't know what to tell you ma'am we can't get a heartbeat."
"OK"

I then slide down to the floor with my back against the feminine hygiene aisle and rattle off dates of surgeries and dosages of coumadine and the like. The fireman I saw running out the doors returns with a defibrillator. The defibrillator had a nice calm female voice and I listen to her giving instructions as I call my sister to tell her what is happening. That conversation is another post in itself. She remembers it way better than I do. I call my husband after that to have him pick up Connor from school.

While they are working and waiting on an ambulance I know she would be mortified that they cut her new bra and have her chest showing in the middle of the grocery. She tries to take a couple of breaths and open her eyes, but she can't do it by herself.

When we get to the emergency room I expect them to tell me she is gone, but instead they lead us to ICU and tell us she is a candidate for Arctic Dawn, a new procedure that lowers the body temperature slowly and keeps it at 96 degrees for 24 hours and then slowly warm her back up.

It was Easter Sunday when she first shows her eyes, she pulled out her vent and a trach when it is placed. We don't let her know about the feeding tube in her stomach. She doesn't remember everyone at first but slowly gets things back, and needs the same information repeated every few minutes. She also developed a sailors mouth. The first words she mouthed were "Momma" and I thought my 82 year old Grandmother would do cartwheels. The she said "I need to used the bathroom" then "I want to go home!" and that soon turned into "I want to go home! I hate this g*d damn fucking place!"

She was really out of it for a while but she is getting better and better. At first she had more hours of therapy a week than Connor did, and I must admit for a bit I was wondering if ABA would be to her benefit. Mom is now at home to stay with us. It will be a chore and then some to get her house fixed up and sold and then the big problem, to find her something to do so she isn't so bored all the time.

A few notes to clear things up.

What happened: her heart went into ventricular tachycardia which cause a cardiac arrest, when she fell she hit her head causing a brain bleed (hemorrhagic stroke).

How were the firemen there that fast: They were shopping. A lady saw Mom fall and went to the next aisle to ask the firemen to help. One of the firemen was named Mike, mom was the first person he had ever saved.

Yeast or insanity giggles

2009-05-27T12:49:00.001-04:00

So many times I have heard him giggle this mad cackling laugh. A mix between the goofiest nerd you can think of and woody woodpecker. Some of the events that would set these giggles off are not obvious and sometimes I would wonder if I should call the doctor. My poor child sitting there laughing at nothing in particular, but laughing so hard that his face is red and tears are streaming down.

Having taken the trouble to ask other Moms with little ones on the spectrum I heard a lot about yeast in the digestive track. Many children (as mine once was) are placed on gluten free and casein free diets in order to combat this yeast and start the process to clean up and heal the gut.

It didn't sound too far fetched to me really. So I would chalk these mad giggling outburst to yeast. Then things started happening that would lead to an epiphany...

It was the first day in a while that I hadn't had to hit the floor running. Yes I had to get Connor fed, dressed, and on the school bus and get laundry started and mom bathed, but there was no running to be done until later in the afternoon. I took the chance to read up on some neglected emails (sorry Sis) and forums. Laughing my head off at crazy pictures a friend had sent.

The more pictures I saw the more I laughed. Even running down stairs to check the dryer a picture would pop back into my mind and I would start laughing again. Before long I realized that I was laughing so hard I was crying. I hadn't really laughed in a good while and it felt really great. If anyone had seen me not in front of the computer they would have wondered what in the world was wrong with me, maybe I had too much yeast.

That's when it occurred to me that in Connor's case it may be a coping mechanism, or maybe it's just an inside joke ;-)

P.S. this is in no way a slam on any mom or dad out there trying to get their kid healthy with the gf/cf diet, just an observation of myself and my child.

A visit with Santa

2008-12-15T07:54:00.002-05:00

For the first year ever Connor is truly enjoying the Christmas holidays. He sings carols, "We wish you a Merry Christmas", "Rudolph the red nosed reindeer". Of course those are the only lines he sings of the songs and sings them over and over and over. His enthusiasm over everything to do with the holiday has caused whole sentences to erupt from him such as, "Look at that snowman!". Every inanimate Santa Clause gets pointed out and several times he has attempted to get to the neighbors sleigh and drag it home.

I was still nervous about his reaction however when I found out that they were to have Santa at the Occupational therapist office. Plastic and pictures of Santa are not the same as a "real" Santa. We had already found out that our OT had double booked herself for our slot and we would be seeing the male OT, something we had never done before. Connor took well to Mr.R and soon was letting him chase him through the halls while he rode a bike.

I wait near the kitchen area of the gym for them to make their next round, but after awhile they hadn't come back. So I started to go up to the front and hunt them down. As our usual OT passes to clean up from being vomited on from her other client she informs me that Connor and Mr.R are going to see Santa.

Mr.R meets me on the way to the Santa room. "Connor's Mom! Come on, quick!"
So I rush to the Santa room with him not really knowing what to expect, to see my boy half skipping, half running around the room shouting "SANTA!" "SANTA!"
He had already had his picture taken with Santa and was now running and dancing around the room.
"SANTA!" "SANTA!"

Connor would stop running, come up to Santa, get near his face and say in the lowest voice possible "HO! HO! HO!"
To which Santa would respond, "HO! HO! HO!" while Connor examined how his mouth moved in the sandwich of mustache and beard.
Santa would interrupt Connor's running by throwing his arms in the air and yelling "Connor!"
In response Connor would put his arms up and yell "SANTA!" and they would give each other a bear hug.
He danced with Santa and wore the biggest smile ever.

It couldn't have went better than if I had dressed up as Santa myself.

Strides in achievements

2008-10-27T09:44:00.003-04:00

January 9th, 2007 we got Connor's diagnosis. We cried off and on for a few days, read everything we could to get an idea of what we would be up against. We researched the best proven treatments. Most tell you the basics; speech therapy, occupational therapy, gf/cf diet, floortime, and ABA. In everything we read it said get ABA and get it now, 20 hrs a week or more if you can get it.

But we couldn't get it. Medical insurance would not pay and every charities' waiting list was full and seemed quite comfortable telling me I had to wait another year. All the time I keep hearing about this window. A small sliver of time in which I have to pull my child out to join the real world and not remain trapped in his own. After finding one program that would pay for the ABA, we were shot down because he was not in danger of becoming a ward of the state and was not in danger of becoming hospitalized due to self injury.

We had decided to try one more time after we were turned down. The next person to take our application was good. Very good. Now we have ABA and the new therapist has already started working with Connor. He loves her and tells her so.

We are only 1yr 9 months since we got his diagnosis and he has made more progress than I could have ever dreamed in such a short span of time.

The main things; He talks! He says Mommy ( and everyone elses names). He knows kisses are good for ouchies and sadness. He knows happy, sad, and scared. He knows how to argue "No, you broke it!". He is beginning to tell the difference between girls and boys. He is now using the potty, even though it is only to urinate and only if he is semi clad. He knows his alphabet and can put the letters in order if they get mixed up. He knows his shapes. He can count to 60. He knows his colors and loves to show off how smart he is.

This past Friday he let my daughter's friend know that she is brown. I thought it was great, he is so pure of heart and loves to show off for the ladies. There was no doubt that there was no racism in it, he has no idea about race. I am steadily waiting to lose an eye when he discovers mine are brown and tries to point out the fact. I am also waiting for him to tell me I am pink or peach with brown spots.

Another birthday...another chance for disaster

2008-09-09T09:22:00.002-04:00

The end of August til the end of November, we have a large amount of birthdays and anniversaries in my family. Followed in quick succession by winter holidays.

The first of two end of the year birthdays at my sisters was coming up. This one for my dear brother in law. We prepare ourselves to head off triggers where possible and to give sensory when needed. We pack pressure garments in the car for Connor and Excedrin in my purse for the rest of us.

Our first obstacle was to be the entrance.

Usually it goes like this, ring doorbell or knock, person answers, Connor melts down on the entrance way, Connor recovers after a bit and enters premises. This time; door opens before we ring bell or knock, Connor enters happy as a lark.

Second obstacle, food.

Usually he is not interested in eating, but enjoys crumbling any bread substance to crumbs. This time he was thrilled to see "waterbolen!" (translation: watermelon) on the table and sat down and ate.

Third obstacle, singing 'Happy Birthday'.

Usually we all join in for a very out of tune version of the song and Connor either screams "NO!" or just runs from the room. This time he walked into the hallway and when we were done came back out to blow at the candles.

Usually after this we have had to pick up a completely out of sorts little man and carry him to the car and go home. This time he was enjoying himself. He was cooperative. He was talking to his aunt. He even made sure that he got his uncle's attention to tell him "Happy birthday! I love you!" Which is huge!

We all had a great time and stayed for a few hours, during which time Connor identified his uncle as "Damy". No one, and I mean NO ONE would have gotten away with this nickname. I don't think anyone would have even dared to call this very large man "Damy". Of course Connor gets away with it, we were all thrilled that he knows who he is and "Uncle Damy" couldn't be happier.

p.s. To my sister and her family, Thank you for a great afternoon. :)

Birthday cake anyone?

2008-08-21T08:47:00.003-04:00

Connor got his first invite to a friends birthday party. Getting there was half the fun as Walmart was his preferred destination and when I pulled over to detangle the seat belt around his neck he thought we had arrived at the party. A few scratches later we did arrive at the party.

Guess what happens when you have three autistic toddlers, a couple NT children, and a bunch of adults at a child's birthday party. A good excuse to install a Xanax dispenser!

One toddler (mine) ran terrified looking for a dark place to hide when "Happy Birthday" was sung. One toddler withdrew and stimmed. One ate his cake, while looking for an escape route. One mom (the birthday boy's) had an anxiety attack. Then we moved the party out to the back yard.

Connor saw that there was a riding tractor exactly like his. He promptly grabbed it tipped it on it's back wheels and placed it where he could keep an eye on it. He scared one little girl away who tried to ride it, and ran faster than I had ever seen him when a boy said he wanted to ride it. He then hid it in some bushes. The birthday boy walked the perimeter of the yard and then went to stand behind a different bush. The other toddler ran from swing set to pool and back again rubbing his nipples.

It was really nice meeting up with the other parents and when we got home we were all nice and exhausted. Connor was fed, bathed and in bed when I happened to walk past his potty chair and saw PEE! I have never been so happy to see pee in my life and even though my youngest daughter suggested he may have poured some liquid in there, I was ecstatic.

He has been using his potty chair ever since Sunday night and I couldn't be happier for the progress he has made. But there are a few things to work out. First, if he has pants or underwear on he will not use the potty chair. He is to start school next week and I'm afraid of him regressing as I can't send him half naked. Secondly, he takes the potty chair to whatever room he knows he is going to be in, last night he grabbed it and ran to the living room so he wouldn't miss any of his video. Bowl movements still require a diaper and no one around, but I think the other problems should be remedied before we work on that one.

Any suggestions are appreciated, and a special thanks to Hubby, who modeled what to do for Connor even in that tiny chair!

Thankful Thursday...or is it Friday already?

2008-08-14T11:31:00.003-04:00

After much thought and being quite sentimental this morning, I thought it time to thank a few people in my life that keep me from going over the ledge into insanity.

My daughters. Beautiful, intelligent, driven, and considerate young ladies, who see to it that I get a few minutes each day to breath! You are the walking, talking pieces of my heart.

My husband. Hot headed, quick tempered, and potty mouthed, and yet takes the time to listen to all my crazy theories and ideas. Gives me sound advice, supports whatever I decide to do, and takes it upon himself without being asked to help me with calls that have to be made. I love you more than I can stand to put down in words.

My sister. The absolute poster child for fierce love of family. She listens. She also gives me sound advice. She understands about Mom. She doesn't judge. You give me more strength than you can possibly know.

My Grandmother. Who understands and lets us have a few minutes on her front step so Connor can adjust and let himself in the house when ready. Reassuring me it's no problem 'she has read all about them'. It means alot that even though we don't see her often, she bothers to take the time to read up on his condition.

My Friend M. To be honest, at first I wasn't sure I liked you. My opinion was you were too damn chipper to be the Mother of a little boy so similar to mine. How wrong I was. You have helped me realize just how lucky the both of us are. You have inspired me with your relentless drive. You celebrate the little things with me because you truly understand how "big" they are. You let me rant and sometimes let me listen to your rants. I am lucky indeed that your truly annoyingly cheerful ass saw fit to invite me and Connor to your play group.

Yesterday Afternoon

2008-08-05T08:52:00.004-04:00

There is a new boy in my oldest teen's life. As much as I would like not to have these worries of teenagers and their hormones, I must admit I like this boy. I also like that the parents are involved in his life much more than the last boy, making it much easier to for me to keep tabs on my daughter.

His mother had invited Melody over for dinner. She was to be there at 4:30. The poor child was a case of nerves and the effect was that we were ready to leave the house at 3. I had to pick up some things from the store anyway and knowing how it may or may not go well in the store for Connor I decided it was good to leave this early.

Once strapped in his car seat he begins a chat "Hat, hat, hat, hat..." all the while pointing. He directs my driving all the way to the store of his choosing at which point the chant gets more intense and higher pitched "HAT! HAT! HAT! HAT!" As we are turning into the parking lot his sisters try to get more information out of him about this hat.

"What kind of hat is it?"
"Is it."
"Is it a Lightning McQueen hat?"
"Lightning McQueen hat."
"What color is it?"
"Color is it."

I am convinced at this point he is too excited at the prospect of getting the hat, he is only going to echo whatever is said to him in hopes he says what he needs to in order to get it, but they continue.

"Is it a black hat?"
"Black hat."
"Is it a red hat?"
"Red hat."
"Is it an orange hat?"
"Orange ha........NO!" I could hear the annoyance in his voice and thought that if I could have seen him at that moment he would probably be rolling his eyes.
"Is it purple?"
"Nooooo!"

Once inside he leads us not to the hats but to the toy department in the car aisle. He goes to one spot and points up. I don't see anything but a collections of Cars the movie figures that he already has. He is pointing at one in particular so I ask him "You want this one?"
"Want this one. Yes." he replies.

I pull it down and he doesn't take it but continues to point to the one behind it. One he doesn't have, one with hats. He must get a better view of things at his height. His memory of where he sees them amazes me though.

GF/CF chicken nuggets and other misadventures

2008-07-22T09:04:00.003-04:00

We have jumped on to the bandwagon of the gluten free/ casein free diet. This has been tough! It seems everything in the known world has gluten and or casein in it! If you add to this the fact that my little guys craves bread and breaded things like a crack addict, then you can see the recipe for disaster.

I've had help along the way with removing all offending foods from the house. Other Moms have directed me to Whole Foods Market with lists of gf/cf items, things that are soy, almond, loaded with proteins, and other good things. My daughters, Connor, and I made a trial run to this store, just to see if the atmosphere was acceptable. Check the lighting and glare of the frozen food section. There is no toy department so this is a major plus. Though my youngest daughter did say the seafood section smelt like a penguin exhibit.

We all loved this place! Connor had his little basket and we did manage to get cf soy cheese, a watermelon, spinach, and juice smoothies before we had to go. He never had a meltdown or run across anyplace in the store he couldn't stand to be, but he had his engine on high and wanted to see every bit of the place at lightning speed. The girls and I did our 'divide and conquer' move, and made sure he was in someones sight and safe at all times.

After our trip it was time for me to make the gf/cf versions of his favorite foods; cheese bread and chicken nuggets. The cheese bread was easiest. A premade personal sized pizza crust, soy cheese, cf butter with garlic microwaved for a minute and he ate the whole thing. The chicken nuggets have been a bit more challenging.

Every single recipe I have tried he has looked at the nuggets then looked at me and said "No! Chicken nuggets!". So I tried to fix the shape of the nugget to look more like what you would get from fast food places or the store. "NO! Chicken Nuggets! No! Chicken Nuggets!"

I bought the microwave dinners with chicken nuggets and french fries, taken out the nuggets that come in it, replaced them with the gluten free ones and popped the tray back in the box and back into the freezer. This seemed to work until he picked one up. "No! Chicken Nuggets! No! Chicken nuggets!" Have you ever picked up a chicken nugget from a fast food place? If you squeeze it a little it is kind of spongy. If you take a bite and look at the meat inside it you will see that it is preformed meat. After lots of research I found out that those little beauties my sons loves so much are not only preformed Frankenstein meat but it yields a surprisingly large amount of skin. Yeah, I don't know how I'll get over this stumbling block. I'll figure out something.

I would like to give a special thanks my sister and her co-worker Mrs. Kimbrough
for directing me to A Year of Crockpotting.
The family has enjoyed 2 solid weeks of gluten free/ casein free meals! While Connor has enjoyed his chicken nuggets.

Facial Expressions

2008-05-13T07:52:00.001-04:00

We're working on them!

You say Good-Bye, I say Good-bye

2008-04-22T07:46:00.005-04:00

My young man has become very dependant on his schedules. Where he goes and when is very important for him to know up front. Every trip is planned out on his picture schedule, the number of pictures dependant on the number of steps to get to the final destination. Preparation to leave the house is to become another picture schedule since he now believes if you have your jacket and shoes (on or just carrying them) you are ready to go, regardless if you have any other piece of clothing on.

At school after I leave he is a different kid, closer to the one he was at home half a year ago. He barely speaks and does not express his wants. It was baffling at first to find out that the speech therapist at school had a goal for him to make 2-3 word utterances, while his out of school speech therapist is working on getting him to answer questions. It is a different world for him at school with overly busy walls, and children that he has no interest in.

I prepare the picture schedule with the PECS appropriate for each step;

Car, when we get in the car with seat belt on he removes the card, places it on the backside of the board and I prompt him to tell me where we are going next.

School, When we're parked I come to his door and he removes the card.

Office, We must sign in at the office every morning, this is the step that has caused the most trouble because at first he didn't want to go in, and then his bravery got the better of him and he decided to explore. This was fixed however with a "Don't get yourself in trouble, Connor." Yeah I couldn't believe that stopped him either.

Connor's class room, this is the last picture on the schedule. I had first tried to include a picture of a person waving "good-bye". I thought this would let him know that I was going to say "Good-bye". This backfired, upon seeing the goodbye card he grabbed his things and headed to the door.

The other obstacles in our way of completing the Office to Connor's classroom step is the occasional teacher and or therapist in the hall. To Connor this makes no sense what so ever. They are to be in the classroom, they do not exist anywhere else. The first sighting out of the classroom caused a meltdown in the hallway leaving me wondering how in the world I was going to get around this. Connor fixed it himself, now when he sees them in the hall or out the classroom he averts his eyes and does not respond to them. Yes, I'll have to come back to this one and remedy it.

The teachers and aides have always asked what they could do to help and have been most helpful, even adding the picture schedule to his IEP. However follow through has been hit or miss, causing them to have to deal with a meltdown in the hallway. They had left the classroom to go to the library, Connor is used to the idea that if the class leaves the room they go to the gym, lunch, or home. Not being shown a picture of the unexpected library before hand left him unprepared.

When talking to the aide and asking about using the pictures she told me he hadn't needed it as much since he got used to the normal routine. I was glad her boss was behind her listening to the conversation. The aide is the sweetest lady but she needs to be pointed back into the right direction occasionally, as do we all.

Respect and value

2008-04-16T15:19:00.005-04:00

These two simple things are something I never really thought I had to worry about when it comes to Connor. He is sweet, endearing, funny, just one of the best kids ever put on the planet really, when you come right down to it. Or is that only in my eyes?

I am sure this Mom from my state thinks the same of her 8yr old boy. Educators trusted with his well being while at school obviously do not agree. If you respected or valued someone you would never lock them in a closet sized room.

My own Mother was so upset by this article that she woke me up bright and early on Sunday to make me read it. I don't know what is worse actually, the terrible situation this innocent young boy was in, or the dimwitted people that have posted comments on the article. Things that translate into; "That boy was making it difficult for the precious normal kids to learn. He shouldn't be allowed to be there." or "So what? He was being difficult. Teachers don't have enough resources to deal with that.". The resources these teachers do or do not have is not this little boys fault nor should he be kicked out of school because people believe the normal children should come first.

HBO recently aired a documentary called 'Autism the Musical'.
A Mom in the documentary made a comment that I really identify with. She said she could use the moments when people stare or make rude comments to enlighten them and get the word out but she could not make them respect or value her daughter. How true is that? Even though people are informed about the condition they fail to see that the person has a mind, thoughts, feelings, etc. The thought that the person they are smirking at may have intelligence totally eludes them. One comment made on the article about the little boy makes this quite clear, "If he wasn't taking anything in why have him in there? Put him in a class with other kids like him."
I will not even start on that one because I fear I will be typing all day.

The comments weren't all bad, but there were enough to put me up on several soap boxes, they were all mostly to do with autism so maybe you would say I was on several spectrums of soap boxes. Funny enough a little post about "special needs Moms" not having anything better to do than to stir up trouble (are freaking kidding me?) made me realize that was my new label.

I am a special needs Mom. I clean, cook, clean some more, taxi children to school and therapies, try to be a decent wife to my husband, make sure everyone in the household is healthy and happy, between all this I scramble for a moment or two to breath, find a second or two for me. But for all this I have no life and must stir up trouble where ever I can and put my poor child on display, it's quite sad really.

I know I don't have to worry about this sort of thing happening to my kiddo, but know this. If I found out someone locked Connor in a closet I would not be as calm as this lady and just sue the school. I would never have the chance before the person who locked him in got to sue me for bodily injury. OK stepping off my many boxes for the moment. Happy Hump Day!

Eat my chicken!

2008-03-26T07:44:00.003-04:00

After the last few weeks wondering if my darling toddler had indeed been possessed by demons, we have finally landed once again in a very good place. He has abandoned his pursuits of knocking everything in reach over or running at windows with hands outstretched. Finding himself in solitary time outs until he could remain calm to the count of 5 has taken his heart out of it. What good is it to do these shocking activities if no one is going to act properly upset?

Good behavior has been abundant and so when it came time to make dinner and he wanted to watch a few videos on the computer I was very accommodating. It can be hit or miss with his communication about what he wants to watch so an amount of patience is requires from both of us.
"Rabby" he squeaks.
"Rabby? Can you point to it?" I am puzzled because we are looking at Thomas and Friends videos and I don't know of an engine with that name.
"Rabby, Rabby, Rabby!" He repeats and finally touches the character he wants to watch.
"Oh! Cranky."
"Cranky!" He smiles at me happy that I was able to figure it out.

As the video begins he sings to the music, "Dun da dah, dun da dah dah."
Perfectly he keeps the beat and then with out warning, "Eat my chicken!"
"Huh?"
"Eat my chicken! Eat my chicken!" He squawks, bouncing in his seat being very pleased with himself.
"Yeah, we are having chicken for dinner." I offer thinking maybe that was what he was going on about. Only to get a 'What the hell are you talking about' look in return. I leave it wondering where he might have picked that up and he watches another short clip this time about George the steamroller. It is only 40 seconds long and he sings along with the music waiting for his favorite part at the end. "Wooooo!" and he slides at of his chair on purpose to the last note of the music. It sounds like a sound effect that would be added when someone slips on a banana peel.

"Rabby! Rabby!" He squeaks when the George video is over.
"Cranky?" I ask
"Cranky!"
"OK, this is the last video before we eat. After this one we are all done with videos." I explain before I start it so he will know what to expect, even if he isn't happy with it.

"Dun da dah. Dun da dah dah! Eat my chicken! Eat my chicken!" Obviously I need to watch more Thomas and Friends or judging how he barely ate anything, especially not his chicken (it wasn't breaded and reformed into nugget shape, therefore unfit for consumption), I need to eat his chicken for him.

Old man grocery shopping

2008-03-10T13:07:00.004-04:00

This an Email I recieved from a friend today. It reminded me of experiences in the store with Connor, except I could laugh about it.

An old gentleman was grocery shopping with his grandson. The toddler was crying and at times screaming at the top of his lungs.

As the old gentleman walked up and down the aisles, people could hear him speaking in a soft voice...
"We are almost done, Albert...
Try not to cry, Albert...
Life will get better, Albert..."

As he approached the checkout stand, He carefully brushed the toddler's tears from his eyes and said again, "Try not to cry, Albert...We will be home soon, Albert..."

As he was paying the cashier, the toddler continued to cry as a young woman in line behind him said, "Sir, I think it is wonderful how sweet you are being to your little Albert."

The old gentleman blinked his eyes a couple of times before saying.
"My grandson's name is John... I'm Albert."

Bad, bad Mama!

2008-02-25T10:10:00.002-05:00

There had been so many things within the last week I had wanted to share and had not found the time to do so. Looking back all I can say is I have not been on my A game. I believe it had all started shortly after I made my last post on the 14th.

I answer the phone to hear...
"Mom, I've done something really stupid."
"What did you do honey?" I was really afraid to ask.
"I had a safety pin in my mouth while I was talking and swallowed it."
"How the fuck did you manage that?!" <----Bad Mama!
" I didn't mean to."
"I know sweety, I'm sorry. Was it open or closed?"

Thank goodness it was closed and after a few calls I found out we would have to wait for it to make it's grand reappearance. I did go pick her up early however because I could tell she was on the verge of tears from embarrassment.

A few days later, after I had taken the girls to school, I discover Connor has a low grade fever and can't go to school. He is tired not feeling well and will barely move from his bed when hubby answers the phone. My sister was calling to make sure we know that Melody's school is on lock down. I turn on the news to find out a girl reported seeing a male talking to two other young males in the cafeteria and he made a gesture that suggested he may have a gun.

Full panic! I want to go retrieve my daughter right now before some lunatic goes on a shooting spree! My hubby has to explain to me that lock down means I can get nowhere near the school much less get to her, even though I know this, I feel an exception should be made. I want to call her but she has very little units left on her cell. <--Bad Mama! So I decide to text her instead. I get no response. I find out later that this is the day she forgets her cell at home.

I do get information while I wait from my cousin who is a senior at the same school. He calls another of my cousins, who then calls my sister, who then calls me. They are all in their classrooms with the doors locked, lights out, and on the floor in the far corner of the room. I can only imagine how scared my baby must be and I break into fresh tears, again.

I let guilt get the best of me as I see swarms of parents wait outside the police barriers. I can't go. Hubby has went to work, Connor is sick and shouldn't be out in the cold like that. Even if he wasn't sick he is 3 1/2 and autistic, he isn't going to just stand there and behave. No there would be much running, kicking, screaming, scratching, and lying about on the ground. A police barrier isn't the place for a young child anyway. It also occurs to me that after the scene we would cause I may find myself questioned by police and the new subject of a social worker investigation.

They finally give the all clear and Hubby picks Melody up at the normal time, because some 250 parents were in front of him in line. The male seen that morning was from another school and did have a gun but had left shortly after being spotted. He was picked up by police later that day in a stolen car.

The next day I take Connor to the doctor. The trip there is a post in itself. He has a double ear infection. As we are leaving at around 10:10 Melody calls and asks "Mom, are you ready to pick me up?"
"Why do I need to pick you up right now?" I begin to feel nervous that they are having a repeat of the day before.
"They released school early because an ice storm is coming."
"I'm just leaving the Dr's office I'll be there as fast as I can."

Grace's school was nice enough to send teacher's out to the parking lot with walkie talkies to announce the name of the student when the parent showed up. Saving the kids from freezing their rears off. Melody's school however, the same one that protected her so diligently the day before, tossed the students out in to the ice and snow. I picked up one very pink, cold, annoyed teenager. Well at least she was only flash frozen.

Doctor, Doctor!

2008-02-14T10:11:00.004-05:00

Give me the news....

I've got a bad case of lovin' you!!!

Happy Valentine's Day!

Coping with Progression

2008-02-11T08:52:00.000-05:00

"Hey Melody!"
We had just got home from school. She was making herself a snack, when her little brother decided he was going to be social. It was a shock, she stood there slack jawed and brow furrowed until I prompted her to respond. She had suddenly become socially challenged.
"Yeah?"
"Whatcha doing?"
"Ah, making a soft pretzel. You want a bite?"
He looks down at the plate she has in her hand, reaches out and takes off with the whole thing. Stopping a few feet from her he looks at the pretzel in his hand and asks "What is it?"
"It's a pretzel." She explains.
"Pretzel!"

We are bewildered and ecstatic over this sudden development, but we also know there may be hell to pay. Every time there is progression in any form with him, there is also an adjustment period when sleep isn't great, extreme pressure is needed, more Mom-mom time is required, and a general urge to run amuck slamming and pushing on everything. This is a far sight better however than the meltdown fest that use to occur right before a major spurt of progression. For this we are grateful. However the amount of discontent usually coincides with the amount of progression. The bigger the achievement the more out of sorts.

I had thought that would be it for a little while, he made good eye contact and asked questions just to be social along with using the name of the person he was addressing. It was conversation, words spoken not to ask for something (even though he stole the pretzel). Not script or description of cars, dinosaurs, numbers, letters, or movies. This just a few days after spelling his name aloud for his aide. This was major!

However the next day he let us know he was not done. He and his sisters were playing in the basement when the urge to socialize hit again.
"Gracie. Melody. Mom-mom. I running!" He informs us as he darts here and there across the room. The girls pretend to be mimes, making it appear they are going down stairs behind the sofa. He thinks it's funny but has to ask "Where are you, Melody?" When it gets closer to bedtime and I inform him he has so many minutes before we have to go upstairs, he turns from me, starts climbing the stairs, waves his hand behind him saying "Bye bye Melody, see you later."

I have to prompt her again to respond so as to make it worth his effort. I can tell from the look on her face that while she is delighted she is wondering, as am I, how much more he can handle doing before he turns his head 360 degrees, projectile vomits pea soup, and starts speaking in tongues like the girl from The Exorcist.

Graceful equations

2008-01-31T07:25:00.000-05:00

Once upon a time, it seems a long time ago, I was a highly intellegent youth. Or so I was told. I took my SAT's while in middle school and had colleges calling to recruit me before I ever stepped in to highschool. Yes I was quite full of myself and my brainpower. Now that I am a little older and have children that have just entered or about to enter highschool it seems to me that either I or the educational system back then was highly deluded.

The flu has picked on our household member by member starting with my husband last Friday. Connor and I are finally fever free but now my Gracie is ill and worse than that, she has been incredibly bored just hanging out in bed watching T.V. Strange as she would be perfectly happy to sit and watch T.V. if she were well. Being so bored, she ventured out into the dining room during dinner to sit with the rest of the family although she had no appetite.

She brought along paper, pencil and calculator, sat with us, and did equations. It is something I can imagine Connor doing at nauseum when he discovers what you can do with numbers. She does this for something to do often. I think she she does it for fun. I watch her amazed and proud, as well a tad ashamed that my brain is dimmer now and for the life of me could not tell you what all the numbers and signs mean.

Her older sister looks over taking a gander at what she is up to and exclaims "Oh let me see it for a sec!" She takes the paper and pencil, pausing only a few seconds to go over it all scribbles a bit more down then hands the paper back to her younger sister.

"What did you do?" Gracie asks lazily.
"I found the slope." She answers proudly.
Looking at her sister as if she was a lower life form she replies, "OMG we learned that last year!"
My mom voice had escaped me "Grace Ellen!"
"What?!" her and her father ask at the same.
"What did she do?" He asks as he wasn't listen to the first part of the conversation.
"She's a being a math snob! Gracie honey, sometimes it's not what you say but how you say it."
"I know, I know. Sorry." She offers to her sister who now has her feelings hurt.
"But Mom she's an English snob!"

Funny how they can always salvage an argument out of every conversation.

Primative man and the mullet

2008-01-15T10:05:00.000-05:00

Like many, my son is protective over parts of his body. Mainly his head. He can stand for hands to touch it and even being massaged with finger tips, for a limited amount of time. The problems occur with the presence of tools. Same with his hands or fingers, again touching is fine if not in a restrictive or forceful manner, until the appearance of tools.

I do manage to keep his nails trim and clean for the most part, because I get one maybe two a night before bed when he is calm and attempts of escape are not as effective. His hair however is a different story. With both of these problems I have been told "Do it in his sleep." The problem with this is I always hit the spot on the floor that squeaks and causes him to arouse from a deep sleep. If I miss the spot and reach him it is only momentary. The feel of touch during sleep causing him to slightly open his eyes to check out his surroundings to make sure all is well. I am sure I could not find many people to say they would be fine with dozing back off to dreamland after awakening to find your mother towering over you, scissors in hand.

Assuming I do get in and get a snip in here or there and beside the fact I am wary of having scissors near my sons head at the wee hours of night, if I start at the top/front do I just pray mullets temporarily come back in style? We are in Kentucky it may play off. If I can start in the back does that make things much better? A tellum? Then there is always the Victor/Victoria option, where I am able to only get half of his head. Also what about the hair that does get cut off. How to keep it from him and his bed so the rest of the night isn't followed by tears and meltdown due to itching.

I have seen a few boys with long hair that look just fine, but then again being able to brush or comb the hair does help to keep that grizzly appearance at bay. No it seems the answer may be to slowly desensitize (it that a word? if it is, is it possible?).

The OT suggests that I continue touching his head as often as possible to get him to realise all is well. Letting him hold the clippers while on and covered to protect. Going to a barber shop and explain the we need to visit a few times to watch and then make an attempt. Make sure that he is given a thorough bath after to make sure no hair is on him and make it a pleasant experience.

Those OT folks make things sound so obvious and simple don't they? Wish us luck!

Speech therapy and cows

2008-01-11T08:10:00.000-05:00

Whoopie! We have a new speech therapist!

Connor had been missing his speech therapist that moved back to her hometown. His OT is in the same building so everytime we would visit the OT he would try to go to his speech therapist's old room and then meltdowns would follow.

We were told about the new therapist on Wedsnesday and had an appointment the following day at 1 right after school. When she comes out to the waiting room and starts talking to him he warms up to her immediatly.
"Hi, Connor!" she is very soft with him but shows she is very happy to see him.
He looks at her and takes her hand and I ask him "Can you say hello to Ms. B?"
He looks at her again, a huge smile on his face, and leans in to give her a kiss.

We brought his book along to show her the song that Ms. H had taught him before she left. Alot of Ms. H's old clients have been taught this song and Ms. B was glad to finally get the full scope of what it was about. We went over the old goals and I was surprised about how much Connor has improved since they were wrote up.

Transitioning is still a major goal as is attending to nonperferred activities, but labeling is in the past as he does this as well as ask for things that he doesn't see. She decided we should skip ahead a little to start the use of 2 -3 word sentences even though he was telling us "I got triangle.", "It's a letter T." as we were talking. As the use of these sentences are VERY new I consented to this being the starting point.

He had me baffled however that since the moment we arrived on the premises he started asking for a cow. I tried singing "Old MacDonald" and that do the trick for a little while, but as the session ended and we were leaving he says "Want Cow!" and it was a job to get him up and out to the car. Once out in the car he decides to abandon his request and instead ask for "Hamburger?".

Surely he doesn't know what hamburgers are made of! He never really wants a hamburger when he asks for them anyway he always wants fries and chicken nuggets. He just knows that the places you get such quality food always have pictures of hamburgers. I talked about this situation with his older sister when she was out of school. The child actually looked at me with pity in her eyes, her poor old mother just doesn't have a clue about what's going on, how do I make through the day alone she must wonder.
"No he doesn't want a hamburger." She sighs.
"Well what then?"
"While you were at the therapist's he wanted the farm animal puzzle the OT has down the hall! When you got out to the car he was hungry and wanted nuggets and fries." She explains.

I wonder if they will let her answer her cell phone at school in case I have any other questions for her?

Playtime over!

2008-01-08T12:51:00.000-05:00

The holidays are over and children back in school. I drop each off then recline in my desk chair taking a deep breath; "ah" followed by another. I love the holidays and loved having my children home with me during the days, but there is always too much of a good thing.

Holidays meant that the only therapy Connor was getting was occupational and there were 3 appointments in 2 months that were cancelled due to days off. Connor was in a right state, music therapy being halted because of ear infections, brushing halted due to aversion after an accidental scratch. When we arrived for therapy last Friday I think the OT didn't know which one to she should put to work, him or me.

He is obviously missing his speech therapist that moved back to her hometown and we are patiently waiting for the next one appointed. He sings the song she taught him constantly "Apple, Apple, ah ah ah. Baby, baby, ba ba ba...." So the girls and I printed up all the pictures that go with the song and made him his own book.

Today the happiness on his face as we passed the water tower on the way to school showed on his faced as it dawned on him where we were heading. I am actually excited to see the planned curriculum for the week although some will be old hat for him some is new stuff and some is more involved ideas than he cares for.

Learning about: Happy Birthday!
He knows all about Happy Birthday! It is the proper greeting at all times!

Letter: H
"Happy! Happy! HA HA HA" will be sung at no end.

Number: 1
He counts forward and backwards all the time.

Things they will talk about: Birth dates, month and day. First Middle and last names. He will probably memorize these no problem if he is interested. "Talk about the New Year and resolutions", this is where I am interested to see if he has interest in participating. Not being academics, involving numbers, letters, colors or shapes I just don't see why he would take an interest. They are ideas. Not saying that he doesn't have ideas, he is intelligent and imaginative, but there are many factors (audio reception among them) that make it likely he will tune them out, like a man tuning out a gaggle of women talking about their feelings.

Then again he is always making a liar out of me and making steady progress. I hope that trend continues.

Christmas travels

2007-12-28T08:50:00.000-05:00

It is nerve racking for the majority of us. For those with sensitivities it can be torturous. I fully expected that Connor would sleep his way through the hour and a half drive to my father's house and then hide in a bedroom the whole visit. Which is OK if that's what he needs to do.

To my delight however he didn't. He named cows, horses and various other things the whole way there and stayed out in the crowd playing with toys and the other children while we were there. The fact that he has discovered those pretty little wrapped packages contain toys has helped bring him out. The presents are where the people are and he can tolerate them for presents.

While I color a pretty picture of a well modulated boy breaking through and being a perfect angel, as with most toddlers this is not the case at all. He still had troubled bringing himself down to a regulated state anytime he was disappointed (mainly if told he couldn't have something). I am also afraid that this is made worst by a mother that still despite all well intentions is not quite grasping the situation until it is over and then smacking herself on the forehead.

The perfect example is the stop at the truck stop. My husband decides that since Connor seems to be in such a good mood he can go in the store with him. My daughters and I who sit in the car with scratches on arms and faces from this same delusional thinking, have our doubts about the outcome. However I talk myself in to believing that since he acts different for the two of us, he will be fine. I somehow, even though I know it not to be true, talked myself into believing that his outburst and tantrums were due to being spoiled and he wouldn't try to pull that on his Daddy.

After a moment or two of thinking this I hear crying and screaming and know that my son and husband have exited the store. I get out to see if I can help because I am sure he is on the ground at this point. Hubby has him picked up off the ground in a fireman's hold. He brings him to the car and wrestles him in with Connor making wildcat noises as he fights back. He would much rather lie in the parking lot, cars be damned! When he is in and is hiding his face behind my daughter (he likes dark enclosed places to come down) I notice my husband has a spot bleeding on his face.

Hind sight is 20/20. Writing about this I can see that Hubby handled the situation well even though he had a few minor outburst of his own. Looking back at it really lets me see how marriages become strained. Most couples I see or know of that have autistic children have a father working outside of the home and the mother being the main care taker. A snide inconsiderate remark from one, especially about if the meltdown is due to the child's condition, and tempers more than flare. Which makes any situation worse whether you are wrestling to keep a child safe or not.

I am happy to report that the flaming tempers were kept to a minimum however and after we talked about what was to blame for Connor's distress, we were fine. Later on our trip however I showed that my husband was more the visual learner than I when my daughter pipes up "Mom, help get him off of me."
"How big are you? You can get him off."
My husband looks at me and laughs saying, "Well he kicked my ass and I weigh 250, she might have a little trouble."

Thursday's Thirteen

2007-12-20T08:33:00.000-05:00

13 things that we (he) have done this week.

1. Spelt "Pixar" while seeing the word on a car package. Yes, he spelt his first word! Or read the letters of the word...whatever it is good stuff.

2. Jumped on a huge trampoline in the mall while attached to some major bungee cords. He flew so high in the air and squealed causing many of the adults nearby to stop and "Ohh" and "Awh". To be fair though, I think we had already grabbed their attention while flailing, crawling, and screaming around the kiosks.

3. Painted Popsicle sticks for an ornament made at school a bright red and came home looking like an accident victim.

4. Discovered while scaling the microwave cart, that the top of the refrigerator was an easy next step.

5. Only got ready for school at mention of seeing a certain little girl, and then the certain little girl told on him to his Mommy about going out in the hall by himself. She says that he was probably looking for me.

6. Decorated a gingerbread woman. It is definitely a woman due to the two strategically placed pom-pom balls.

7. Fell in love with the "Land Before Time" movie and has temporarily forgotten about "Cars".

8. He has started to put his hands together during prayer before dinner and starts to sing "Away in a manger" instead of saying the prayer.

9. Has randomly started saying "HAHA you so funny bunny!"

10. Has proven to me that he isn't quite so easily portable as I thought. Results of the x-ray is pending.

11. Has started naming his dinosaurs after the characters in the "Land Before Time" movie and acting out the scenes with them, complete with "Awh! Sharptooth! Run!".

12. Tolerates consumption of raw spinach calling it "Tree stars".

13. For the first year ever he is labeling and singing about; Christmas tree, snowman, reindeer, Santa Claus, and stars.

You know, just the normal being his amazing self.

Show and tell

2007-12-14T07:49:00.001-05:00

This is my oldest daughter's. The darker portion is from a magazine, she drew the rest. It was showcased at the winter festival of her highschool last night before she and the rest of the school's orchestra played. She is multi-talented beyond belief!

Thoughts for Thursday

2007-12-13T08:13:00.001-05:00

1st. My life has recently taken a weird turn. I know this when my son's aide at school tells me, "Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. Connor tried to jump out the window yesterday."

No worries the whole school only has one floor and the aide is so dedicated I believe she would have went out the window after him.

2nd. The first grade teachers at my son's school are having a bad week. I know this because I over heard one tell the other, "Excuse me, but I need to go chew up a few valiums now."

It was only Monday morning, wait till she has my son in her class, hehe!

7 more things

2007-12-12T07:55:00.000-05:00

Another one of my favorite bloggers, Jade at The Mixed Up Thoughts of a Jaded Soul has tagged me to tell 7 more things about myself. She assures all that she has tagged that it is bad luck not to follow through, so.....

1. Unlike Bill Clinton, I will admit that I did in fact inhale. The result was after one inhale I was extremely paranoid. My friends were quite happy when I announced that it was not something I enjoyed.

2. The people that were involved in my upbringing would have had it that I would be racist and very closed minded. Thank God for rebellion.

3. I was raised Catholic mostly, except for when my father had visitations, then I was baptist.

4. I have a sister and a brother born the same year, four months apart. I share the same Mother with one and the same father with the other. I was told I had another sister when I was in 6th grade, she was taken from her mother not long after. I now also have a step sister and brother from my father's 4th marriage.

5. "When bad things happen we have to pick ourselves up and keep going. Especially us women we have to do what is best for our families." These is the motto I live by. I often hear the sweet southern voice I heard it from in my head saying it over and over. The woman who said this has had several stillbirths due to being RH-, had lost the 3 men that she had loved, is adored by all, and turned 81 this past August. I am proud to call her my Grandmother.

6. Owing to the fact that I quit my job to be at home with my son, I have no medical insurance. This led to my sister having to triage me yesterday before seeing a nurse practitioner. She was very professional about it and said she was fine as long as there was no pelvic exam involved. We are of one mind, thanks Sis!

7. My mother does ludicrous things that drive me absolutely insane, and then I feel guilty about being aggravated with her and avoiding her phone calls.

Now I will tag my victims to tell 7 things about themselves.

1) The Kimbrough Family
2) Identity Crisis uh huh I tag you back!
3) Crystal Jigsaw
4) Down River Drivel

I wont go for the full 7 as most that I would tag have already been tagged.

Annie get your guns!

2007-12-05T11:06:00.000-05:00

I have embarked on a new mission. The "Be strong and stick to your guns" mission. My children have left soft spots on my heart and Connor's, because I am afraid of the big bad world mistreating and taking advantage of him, has left a spot that resembles a bruised and rotten peach. Using enforcement to get him to say "Want" or "I want" when asking for something has not been hard for me. The thing that has been hard is the cutoff point.

When first trying to needle speech of any form out of him I heard over and over if they ask for it, give it to them. If he asks for cookies and says the word give him the whole thing, jump up and down, make a big fuss. Make saying the words rewarding. I did and he said more and more. Then we added "Want" word or sign, and then "I want". Every time rewarding, encouraging more communication.

A trip to the store rarely ends with out Connor getting something. Even when faced with the big expensive toys, his sisters would up their allowance to stop the crying and screaming. He spotted the fire engine from the Cars Movie, "Life would be a dream." he calls him, because that's the song that plays in the movie. We stop and look at the toy. Connor picks it up and admires it from every end. After a while I tell him we are going to put it back and say goodbye. "NO! MINE!" and tantrum from hell begins. Big tears splash down his face as he scrolls through all of his asking for signs and words. Obviously we are stupid and don't understand what he is saying, because despite him getting louder and repeating his pleas we are putting it back and leaving the toy area.

"Life would be a dream, where are you?" he cries and his sister can't take it any longer.
"Mama can we get it if I give you my allowance? She asks as she is now on the verge of tears. We leave with the fire engine in tow.

The latest trip to the store for a quick dash in and out, he gets his sister to take him to see the fish. I grab what I need and head back over to the pet department to find them not there. I start to panic a bit as I envision Connor somewhere laying on the floor and Grace trying desperately to get him to cooperate, when I hear "Mine!". He had forewent the fish and led her straight to the toys. He is now carrying a box through the store a tad bigger than him. The Cars Movie people strike again with a huge Mac that opens in to 3 different types of tracks. Mac talks and comes with cars, he is Connor's dream come true.

The problem with this is it is so close to Christmas and this is one of the items on Santa's list. Not to mention that it is expensive and would kill the mission and cause the downward spiral down a very slippery slope. I am wondering now how do you go from "Want" to "I want" to "Get a job, learn the value of a dollar, and buy it yourself."

It took a lot of patience and muscle power to keep him from falling out on the floor and hurting himself, but slowly we left the toy at the store. I told him what good asking he had done, which I am afraid fell on deaf ears. The meltdown that followed only lasted roughly an hour and ended with Connor falling asleep in exhaustion.

Other peoples' children

2007-12-05T10:33:00.000-05:00

Use to be that I didn't like other people's children. The children I did like or love were of course my own, my sister's, my friend's, and maybe some of the neighborhood children. Though most of the neighborhood children didn't make the cut.

Other people's children were rude, spoiled, and annoying. Our neighbor's children were a direct influence on this as they were let to go wild. The boy would walk across our yard to demand cups of water and Popsicles from my husband, to which Hubby would tell him to take his butt home and get it himself. The teen aged girl I had to tell off more than once for talking to my elementary aged daughter like she didn't have any sense.

I realize the fault was not the children's but of the parents and maybe mine as well as I have little patience. Connor however has made that different. Because of Connor I have learned tolerance and patience, although reluctantly. Being an overprotective mother has reached new heights and because of that I am thrown into the midst of other peoples' children for the well being of my son.

At the beginning of our school experience I felt a little guilty about being overprotective as I would watch parent after parent come into the class and drop off their child and I would leave 15 to 20 minutes later. I would tell myself, So what I am helping him adjust! It was true but part was not wanting to leave him.

We have since seen 2 aides come and go because they can not cope with so many of other peoples' children and they have no incentive to do so. So I stay longer and longer and help with other children and pair myself with them so they will be more willing to play with me and more importantly Connor. I make great animals noises and sing all the songs. I tell them how great they are and laugh with them. The rewards are wonderful. The kids want to be near Connor, the mother hens of the group want to help him, and to my great surprise, when my little guy is too busy to tell me good-bye and give me a hug, ten other little ones come and do it for him.

7 Things

2007-11-29T08:11:00.000-05:00

One of my favorite people, Suzy over at Identity Crisis has tagged me to tell seven things about myself. So presuming these things should be at least mildly interesting I may have some trouble but here goes.

1. My favorite show of all time is a tie between Big Bang Theory and The Andy Griffith Show. I know rather random isn't it.

2. I sent off my application to join the Marines when I was in the 8th grade. They sent me a nice letter telling me to reapply in a few years with an iron-on logo.

3. When I am upset or worried I clean or make improvements on my house. The night before my sister gave birth to my first niece (prematurely) I wallpapered my kitchen.

4. I used to be able to drink my husband and his friends under the table. I have since had children and grew up, now two beers and I am searching for the nearest pillow.

5. I was named Dortha because my mother liked the name after seeing it on my paternal grandmother's headstone. They had misspelled Dorothy.

6. I had a dream when I was a child that I was playing at a boy's house and he bit me. The parents didn't do anything about it and it turned out they were aliens. I escaped from the house that was in the middle of a car scrap yard, and as I was running from it I caused a domino effect of falling cars. Have no idea what it meant but I have never been able to forget it.

7. Of all the things I have taught my children, including all the curse words they know :(, I am proud that they enjoy laying with their heads under the Christmas tree imagining miniatures of themselves walking the branches. It will keep them young at heart for a very very long time.

Acceptance in the Community

2007-11-28T09:57:00.000-05:00

She is a small framed lady, but the kind you suspect could kick some butt if need be. The lines on her face show her age, even though she has long bleach blond hair styled like a teenager. She runs a convenience store on the far side of our neighborhood. One of those places where things cost two or three times what they would in a grocery store merely because of the convenience of running in and grabbing it quickly and the ability to get your gas at the same time if you wish. A place where they keep the flimsy attractive kids' toys on display right at the front door where hard to manage children can't miss them.

She adores Connor. If I go into the store and leave Connor in the car with his sisters, she will come out to see him. He smiles every time he sees her because he knows that she is so happy to see him. I had explained to her last spring that he has autism and may not answer questions for her like typical children his age and to my disappointment she seemed distant the next time we went in. I guess we all have bad days and I chalk it up to such as she has been her normal loving self since.

This morning when we stopped by to get a juice for Connor's lunch she met us at the door arms opened wide and a big smile on her face. "Connor! How's my little buddy? I'm gonna get all your huggings.". She squeezes him and he smiles and giggles. He shows her how great the toy display is with "Ohhs" and "Ahhs", then we grab a juice and make our way back up to the cash register.

She is slow ringing us up and is looking every which way for something. Finally she stops "I had a little toy up here waiting for Connor and now they've gone and done something with it."
"That's OK, he's on his way to school and would probably lose it in class."
She continues to look around and points to a marshmallow, chocolate covered treat and asks "Can he have one of these?" She frowns a little as she asks, my face must have gave me away.
"Oh you don't want him to have that do ya?" she says.
"Well not really. If he wasn't on his way to school it would be OK, but I'm afraid he would be covered with it by the time we got there."

As we leave she still makes a fuss over him even though there are customers waiting. Her making a fuss on him has an effect on those waiting however and they can't help themselves from smiling at him and waving or saying "Hi little guy!"

It seems funny to me that adults are still so prone to peer pressure. What she does makes it OK for other adults that see it to do the same. What she does is so important, she promotes acceptance of him in our community.

Occupational Hazards Part II

2007-11-21T07:39:00.000-05:00

"Pizza? Pizza? Pizza?". We had left the OT's office and Connor's stomach has decided that it's needs pizza, so I hear him ask over and over.
"OK, honey. We'll stop and get some pizza." I decide we will brave the grocery and get a couple of the self sizes because there are a couple of other things I need.

He has to ride the horse and fire engine at the front of the store first and then pick his own cart. Sometimes he likes the car shaped carts and sometimes he likes the one with the big blue seats added on the front. Today he picks the big blue one and when I try to strap him in I realize the strap in broke. I look around for another one and decide to just go with what we have as I am being told off by a total stranger's toddler for taking the cart they just replaced.

"Hey, that's our cart!" she yells at me.
"I'm so sorry. I thought you were finished with it." I apoligize.
"We are she is just being cranky and hateful." her Dad explains. I knew that was the case and all the while I am stuffing the end of the innertube still around his waist into the cart and heading in the door.

He does his usual labeling of everything as he searches and takes it all in. After a few minutes he realizes he is not strapped in and ventures to stand on the little foot sized lip of the seats, putting the handle of the cart at chin level. He is content to ride but occasionaly checks back to see if I am going to scold him. I smile at him, grateful that he is enjoying himself and that I am allowing it. Not so long ago this would have escalated into a scene simular to a prison escape. Prisoner running, not knowing where to just away and tired wore out warden following behind the best they can to recapture.

In the frozen food aisle we both dare to take it a little further. He steps down off the lip to walk beside the cart. I watch and discover as the the strap of innertube pulls he comes along easily. This freedom is new to him and he scans the store as if he had never seen it, often running into the side of the cart.

We have since tried it again with them same great results. We do get looks from people, but they are mixed. Parents our own age look unsure, while older people smile. I remember my mom telling about her father tying a rope around her waist and tying the other end around himself. I guess maybe this was the norm back then for those who had trouble keeping their children by their sides.

The Big Bang Theory

2007-11-19T14:54:00.000-05:00

Part II of Occupational Hazards will be up tomorrow. In the meantime I was wondering who else has seen the sitcom The Big Bang Theory.

One of the main characters, Sheldon, has to at least be mildly autistic. He is upset by eating hamburgers other than at Big Boy. He can not stand for a routine to be messed around with. Sneaks into a neighbors apartment to clean and organize it. He even has to go as far as cancelling his membership to the planetarium because there are only eight slots in his wallet. It was a tie between the planetarium or the museum of natural history, the planetarium doesn't have dinosaurs.

The thing that closed the deal for me was when he unwittingly stole his friend's date. He didn't understand that what he did was wrong. When asked if he would see her again, he looked very confused when answering that she is a dentist and he already had a dentist.

The show comes on tonight at 8:30 ET on CBS. I would be interested in what others think.

Occupational Hazzards Part I

2007-11-18T08:36:00.000-05:00

My OT is full of ideas to help us. Even though it is her fault that we have to wait in the waiting room an extra 15 minutes on average and Connor loses patience, she tries to give me tools to help the situation. It had been suggested before that I get one of the cute little backpacks shaped like an animal. They clamp shut in the front and the parent can hang on to the "tail" to stop the child from wandering off or in our case just flat out fleeing the area.

The problems we happened upon were great with this contraption. My son is big for his age and out grew the pack quickly, but not before his strength caused the tail to be ripped off almost completely. The stroller was a no go, he is too tall and can stop and redirect it with his foot. I could have bought a bigger and better one, but wheeling this boy around for a good long time was not the way I wanted to go if I could help it.

The OT suggested to get a bicycle innertube and cut it, tie one end around his waist in a square knot so it doesn't tighten too much around him and hold on too the other end. So during one of our many trips to the bicycle department I pick up an innertube. The next time we had an appointment with her I wait till we get to the parking lot to loop it through his belt loops, and we walk together into the building. It didn't go perfect, but it went well. There was sometime spent on the floor but that was ok, there was no chasing.

She was almost on time that day and as we walked back down the hall I reported on the week's assignments. Brushing every two hours with joint compressions and mouth swipes. The mouth swipes consisted of taking my finger and running it along behind his front teeth where the gums meet up with them five times with the amount of pressure you would apply eyeshadow, followed with compressions on the lower jaw with two fingers pressing down behind his back teeth. I was sure I was going to lose a finger or two, or have to have one stitched up at the very least. We had also started "Ease 4", a new CD in the listening therapy.

I reported that I hadn't lost any fingers and that he seemed to enjoy all of it except for the occasional resistance to the brush on his hands. I told her of progress made during the week as she sat at a child's table writing everything down. As I take the innertube out of Connor's belt loops she stops writing and looks up at me smiling, "Do you know how many people I have told to try that?"
"No."
"Well it has been alot, and do you know how many people I have seen try it?"
"How many?"
"Well, counting you. One."

I stop at that and think why none of her clients before me had tried it. Surely if they are clients of her's they are used to having people look at them as if they have extra heads. Was there something extra wrong with it that I wasn't seeing? I then I remember how she brought it up to me. What you can do is go to a bicycle shop and get an old innertube from their dumpster.

"You know it was only $2.50 at the store." I offer
"But if you go to the bicycle shop their free and it would be recycling."
"Good point, but I think the idea of having to climb in a dumpster to try something might scare people off."

Making friends

2007-11-16T06:54:00.000-05:00

Every morning when I take him to school, after we make the five minute trip down the hallway, I linger in the classroom for awhile. Connor and I seem to be part of the "early club" along with a little girl with Down's Syndrome and her Mom, the twin boys that wear hearing aides and their dad, and the little girl who has just arrived in America with her family and learning English.

At first being in the same room with other children only awoke his need to claim what was his and remove it from peer infested areas. When the twins started showing interest in what I was doing when playing with Connor and responding with "I love you too." or "Bye Mom." when telling Connor goodbye, I became one of the items he needed to claim. This forced him to recognize that he was not the soul person in the class. He had to make eye contact to glare and give sidelong looks as he pulled me in the other direction.

There is a poster of different animals in his class that shows his favorite, the elephant, and he makes a point to show me so we can clap our hands to the syllables as we sing "El-e-phant, el-e-phant, eh, eh, eh." The sound of my elephant noise, which is very good, draws the twins over. They want to sing and label and hear the elephant noise again and after Connor takes my hand and makes sure I only have eyes for him, he allows it.

The day following when the twins come in to the classroom Connor is ready to show them that he has found even another elephant in the room. "Elephant? Elephant?" he says and pulls one of their little hands to place on the picture. The one shows interest and is rewarded with Connor taking the boy's hand and putting it up to his face and squeezing so hard I can see the back of Connor's head shaking. The DI and I know right away that this says "I am so glad to see you, buddy!" the little boy however doesn't know this and turns to me with a look that says "What the hell did he just do to me."

"That means he is glad to see you." I offer.
"Oh" and the little boy continues playing after finding out that he wasn't really assaulted.

I am beside myself that he has shown interest in making friends and interacting and then I am hit with a second surprise, his aide tells me that Connor no longer walks to lunch holding a teacher's hand. He now has a friend that he holds hands with and walks to lunch with her. I had never met of this little girl as she arrives on the bus. She is normally developing.

I get to see this phenomena that very afternoon as I watch the children walking toward the front doors to be released. I pick out where the teachers are and then look at the child they are leading. None of them are mine. Not to be fooled again, I assume he has pilfered another armload of toys, shame on me. Near the end of the line I see them, Connor and M. They are holding hands and walking with the rest of the class. I see him notice different things as they walk and M gives gentle tugs and pats to keep him in line.

As he sees me his eyes widen as much as his smile and he runs through the doors to me. I pick him up and carry him to the car asking him if he had a good day. I'm happy to report that I actually made it out of the parking lot before my eyes started leaking.

Monday Morning Blues and Good Deeds that Burn

2007-11-12T09:58:00.000-05:00

After consumption of one cup of coffee I take the eldest to school. I return to take the middle child after her clothes had finally dried. I return to wake Connor and spend a huge chunk of the morning wrestling to
............................................................
And that, gentle reader, was when my space bar gave out. It was really shaping up to be a top notch Monday.

Hubby and I both being low on gas in the vehicles went to the gas station together. He paid for gas for two pumps, a tall coffee, and a fruit juice in a sport bottle and then pumped my gas for me because he is my knight in t-shirt and blue jeans.

We tell each other goodbye, he heads over to pump his own gas and I start to make my way out of the parking lot when a man yells for my attention. "Ma'am! Ma'am!"

My window is half open so I hear him loud and clear. It is also because of how my window was opened that when I stopped the car and turned to see what was the matter, the trajectory was perfect for me to have a tall coffee spill from the roof of my car on to my lap, arms, steering wheel and hands.

The would be good doer is a few yards away but still reaches out as if to catch the coffee he wanted to tell me about. He did walk over and catch the empty cup and hand it to me all the while apologizing. I take the cup and yell for my hubby "Honey! You forgot your coffee." Laughing I assure the man I am fine.

Thankfully my knight is an impatient sort. The coffee had ice added to it so he could drink it right away. I could hear the man that tried to help me out mumbling to himself that he should have just let me go at least I wouldn't have had to wear it. A good point in theory, but what could have happened if coffee had spilt on me while braking in traffic?

There have been many times I have tried to help someone and wished later I had kept my mouth shut. The saying "No good deed goes unpunished." comes to mind. All in all I am glad for people like the stranger at the gas station, the ones who pipe up and say something in order to help someone else. Ideally I would have braked easier, got out and retrieved the coffee and went on my merry way and he would have had a mild sense of accomplishment. In reality he could have saved me from wrecking my car while hauling precious cargo. I wish I had told him that.

Remember when it rained?

2007-11-07T09:58:00.000-05:00

Isn't it strange how a smell, taste or song can bring a rush of memories flooding back in your mind? So was the case with me this morning as I sat at a stop light, taking the kids to school. I had brought my coffee with me because I am weak and must have a caffeine infusion so early to stay awake. Waiting for the light to change I take a sip and although it was my normal cup o' joe with cream and sugar, for a split second I tasted a hint of orange cognac.

We boarded Sovereign of the Seas, Mother's Day 2002. Parker, our first son had passed away the previous September and our family was strained. I had quit my job, because I didn't want to get out of bed unless I had to for my girls or husband. I felt our girls had lost faith in us because we weren't able to keep their brother from dying and there for probably not capable of keeping them protected either. So what better to do than to take a big chunk of my 401k and put us all on a plane thousands of feet in the air and then get on a boat the size of a shopping mall for a week.

My husband and I had made this trip a few times before, but always in November when the weather was milder. The girls were excited, but scared. As the plane took off Melody did a chant of "Oh my God! Oh my God! Oh my God!" with her eyes squeezed tight until we were up in the air. Once we arrived on the ship she was officially bored and pouting because I forgot to put the swim suits in the carry on so we had to wait on our luggage to be brought to our cabin. I should have realized then that she wasn't feeling well.

The next day at breakfast she barely had time to tell me she wasn't feeling very well before she was sick in the dining room. With a patch behind her ear, some pepto and crackers she was mending, but that night Gracie and I went to eat dinner together while Hubby and Melody stayed in the cabin and had room service. Even though we felt guilty we had fun and the servers fawned over us, showing us tricks with balancing silverware and folding napkins.

When Melody was well again and able to go to the kid program we were docked in Nassau. Hubby and I, seeing that they were having the time of their lives reluctantly went on shore to look around at all the shops. We were walking and holding hands when it started to rain. We didn't run to find shelter or curse our luck. Instead we looked at each other and laughed. We held our hands out and lifted our faces toward the sky and then kept walking. We happened upon a liquor shop with their french doors wide open, welcoming in tourist to have samples.

Hubby laughed at me when I attempted to say Grand Marnier and it sounded like Grand Mariner. I had never tasted it or heard of it before, but as I stood there soaked the liquid warmed me down to my sandals and broadened the smile on my face. We bought a bottle and went back out into the rain before going into a little hole in the wall coffee shop. He had espresso with Grand Marnier, I had a glass of Grand Marnier and a slice of rum cake. We sat in the little shop and talked, laughed, looked around at the natives, and stared at each other. When we were ready to head back to the ship we were both disappointed that the rain had stopped.

Halloween or Happy Birthday!

2007-11-05T10:27:00.000-05:00

We were ready, Connor as Superman, Melody as a Fairy, and Grace as....well I'm not sure but she looked like a 1980's Madonna. As is tradition with us, my sister and nieces join us on our annual candy begging pilgrimage. The men can come if they like, but they can not be put in charge of how long the children get to be out. They are weak and give up too quick, leaving the poor dears with a pitiful amount of loot.

I was a tad nervous, I hadn't really prepared him. A short time ago a trip like this, that may cause confusion would have resulted in me carrying Superman or with him laying on the ground as if he had just been given cryptonite. After a house or two and kissing the neighbor's duck lawn ornament we heard "Hmmm" which we took to mean OK we go up to the door say "Trick or treat" they give me candy!

It went great with very few obstacles placed in the way. One was a giant television that showed a basketball game through the living room window. It stopped him dead in his tracks (as it would most males) and he yelled "Fooball!" Second obstacle was a jack-o-lantern. He tried to remove the top and blow out the candle, but once seeing the man who owned it he concluded the proper thing to say was "Happy Birthday!" in his growly Daddy voice. Obviously if there are candles about it has to be someones' birthday, right?

My sister, being the hell of a trooper she is, decided to talk her girls into telling the next person "Merry Christmas!" or "Happy Thanksgiving!". Then there was the older gentleman that decided he wasn't going to give Connor candy until he said "Trick o treat". Connor gave a "Tit or teat." and I didn't have to get smart with the poor man, who didn't know he was talking to a child with a speech delay.

There were a few social things I spotted that needed work. Such as we do not open other people's doors, but at 3 there is time. I will post pictures when a certain someone figures out how to get pictures off of the camera, or my memory card reader starts working again. Hopefully one or the other will happen soon.

Welcome to Kentucky

2007-11-01T11:41:00.000-04:00

I have always thought that Kentucky was a beautiful place to live. The amount of green fields, forest, and streams are breath takingly gorgeous. Daniel Boone had once said that a squirrel could cross the entire state and never touch the ground due to the amount of trees. Fall truly shows off the beauty of the state with her colors, and this place in which I grew up turns in an enchanted forest.

Winter she takes a break from all her flashiness to be revived in spring with a burst of freshness to show off her tulips, grape hyacinths, and dogwoods. The Derby Festival begins and we show off the thoroughbred colts, those majestic animals that show our spirit. We start off the celebration with the worlds largest firework display, one that cost over $1 million. Our hometown corporations ban together and sponsor the event so that it just gets bigger and better every year. The ladies wear their grand hats while sipping mint julep's. The gentlemen sipping their bourbon. Both exhibiting our southern hospitality to visitors from far and wide.

I have lived here for 35 years and have always loved it and it had never really occurred to me that what I loved were the aesthetics not the underbelly of the beast. The deep parts of the good ol' boy politics that you don't get to see the ugliness of unless you need it on your side. As I sat with an agent that informed me that Connor was probably not severe enough for insurance to cover ABA, I was shocked. Well I was several things all at once; happy someone would say he wasn't severe enough for anything, enraged that there had to be a severity level for a proven treatment, and desperate that I might have reached another dead end.

"This is a last resort type thing. For those who are uncontrollable, the insurance wants to make sure you have tried everything else first." she informs me. He had showed too much cuteness, he didn't stay hidden or run and scream at the sound of her voice, he didn't lay in the floor crying and throwing a tantrum. I didn't look distraught or tired enough. He dared to look her in the eyes and smile at her! Grrr....Shape up and act like you have autism Connor!

I take a deep breath trying to grab a thought and wrestle it down. "So where are all the non last resort programs?" I ask. She looks at me with sad eyes and says "We are decades behind on autism treatments and the ABA around here is the watered down version. Their are no other programs to get you the treatment other then private funding. This is only in place for the time being because we can not get the state autism bill through yet."

I look at her in disbelief and shock and she replies, "Welcome to Kentucky."

Balking against therapy

2007-10-31T06:25:00.000-04:00

He had been doing this new treatment every morning and every evening. It had been producing mild improvements, or at least we think. It seems that he is a constant improvement in motion. Words he can not say today will be uttered tomorrow and things he can not do today will be done with ease in the near future.

Giving that I was unimpressed with the treatment, the therapist suggest to mix it up a little bit, intensify it a tad. So with all the instructions in hand this is exactly what I do. The rule is; It should last at least 20 minutes no matter what.

After his evening bath I thought would be a good time. Hopefully this will relax him and he will have a better sleep, and in turn so will I. The start was easy enough, six whole minutes he participated and then excitedly announced to all, waving his hands as a sign "All done! All done!"

I try to persuade extra minutes from him "Just a little bit more?" with terrible results. The situation was escalating and my commitment of 20 minutes was losing ground. His nervous struggling to get away was going to quickly become dangerous to me. The visions of a very short person climbing up my body, grabbing each ear and headbutting me into unconsciousness did not seem so far fetched.

I relent, I let it go. 10 minutes in and I cave. I let him run and hide in his bed and meet him in there with his choice of sour candy or a fruit leather, and a drink because these treatments always get his jaws working. It makes no sense to me that this should make his mouth react in this way, but there is so much I don't understand about my little guy just yet.

He chews through the fruit leather quickly, drinks his juice, and is out like a light in a matter of moments. I gather up my CD player and Godly awful expensive headphones, knowing that for now he is not quite ready for Mozart.

The Family Bed and Infirmary

2007-10-29T10:26:00.000-04:00

"Momma, I don't feel good." the middle child moans. I feel her head, normal, and ask her whats wrong. "Stomach." I send her to lay down in hopes that a little rest will help whatever ails her. When checking on her I see that the barrel bolt installed to deter her brother is not teen proof as she is laying in our bed.

Our room is not large. Aside from the king sized bed and bedside tables there is an armour that contains a television. There is no room for anything else. We have made our little section of the house cozy and warm, a retreat for ourselves. I think our children appreciate the effort being that is the spot they prefer to "hang out".

I am bathing Connor a short while later when I hear "Mom, can you come here?"
"What's wrong sweetie?" I yell from the bathroom.
"Mom, I need you now!"
I am now panicky and turn this way and that. I can't leave him in the tub by himself! My daughter needs me! "Melody can you come sit with your brother for a minute?"

Melody comes to my rescue and I run to my room to see what is so urgent. She is on her side in a fetal position on her Daddy's side of the bed. Her face is white and sweaty, a bowl of sick by her side. I take the bowl away and return with another receptacle, washcloths, and a glass of water. I place a cool washcloth on the back of her neck and try to persuade her to try some alka-seltzer. She is willing to try anything with her stomach hurting so bad, but she can't do it. The taste makes her gag although I only put in one tablet.

I return to the bathroom and get Connor dried off and dressed for bed. Finding my bedroom door is wide open he climbs in bed next to his sister and the oldest climbs in next to him. All three of them snuggle up in the bed and watch a movie together and I take the chance to dash off to the corner store to get some Pepto.

I am dressed in my nightshirt which I have tucked into a pair a sweats with a heavy jacket over top. My main objective is to get the medicine as quickly as possible and get back with out drawing any attention to myself. I place the bottle on the counter and am greeted by a cashier that has now decided to use me a exhibit A for her case "See I told you some stomach bug was going around!" she tells the other cashiers. Five minutes later of them recounting their symptoms and who else has been eating pepto tablets like candy with me holding my cash out to them to try and pay for the stuff I was finally able to get back home.

The fresh receptacle is quickly filled with the same bubblegum pink of the Pepto, so I decide to not medicate anymore and try to let it run it's course. A short while later she informs me she is going to her own bed and is looking like she has a bit more color to her face. The oldest then leaves the bedroom to take a shower and go to bed, leaving the boy in the room by himself.

I go in to see what as been left behind and see that Connor has taken his diaper off and has laid it on Daddy's side of the bed. It is wet and not suitable to touch his skin, which is a new development. I take the old one and come in to put a new one on. I give him a few minutes warning that we will soon be going to bed in our own room which causes him snuggle in even further. When the minutes are over I come back in to find him asleep, with yet another diaper wet and discarded. I grab another, put it on him and carry him to bed. Zipping up his sleeping bag that he has to have on his mattress, I am rewarded with a sleepy smile and a kiss before he folds his hands under his cheek.

I recount the events to their father as we turn in for the night.
"Why do they always want to be in our bed?"
"Because they find comfort in it." I explain.
He looks at me like I had just answered him in Greek. It comes to mind that I would never want to be in my mother's or any of my stepfathers' room and he probably felt the same about his dad and stepmother's room. Feeling that the subject may get too serious and I might never get any sleep I take an escape route. "Obviously we don't call them names or beat them enough."

It's the great bumpkin Charlie Brown!

2007-10-27T21:07:00.000-04:00

My husband got a call to check on a house today near the place he grew up. He had not seen the old neighborhood for a few years his parents had divorced and sold the place eight years ago. He was disappointed coming across the railroad tracks to see the little shops were dilapidated or gone as he started up the winding road to the top of the hill.

The years gone by have made him a less careless person and the winds and turns seem even more dangerous, the road more narrow. The new owners of the house where he had spent his adolescent years have kept the place up nicely to his relief. He decides to drive back a little further to see how else the neighborhood had changed when he see what at first looked like a farmer mooning him from the side of the road.

Slowing down and taking a closer look he realizes it is a scarecrow someone had cleverly constructed, both "cheeks" being pumpkins. Pulling over to the side of the road he starts to take a picture when an older woman tries to pull into the drive.

"I'm sorry, was just getting a picture. I'll move." he says

"Oh, did you get a picture?"

"Was just about to." he holds his camera up.

"No, honey there is a box right there with pictures in it. Go ahead and take ya one." she points out a white wooden box with a sign saying "Please take only one"

He steps up to it and opens it to have a giant spider pop out at him and scare him out of his skin. The older woman is cackling and then he hears a full hearty laugh coming from the farmer that had stopped in the middle of the field. Still sitting on his tractor, he had stopped to watch the joke played out on this unsuspecting stranger.

My husband being a good natured man couldn't help but laugh as well. That older couple had made his day, and he could tell that he made theirs.

We are experiencing technical difficulties

2007-10-25T13:49:00.000-04:00

Really we are. The broadband connection is giving me trouble due to needing what they call a booster. That should be remedied tomorrow, but until then I am on (of all things) dial up. Sorry if I haven't been round to read up on your site, but things on dial up take time and lots of it.

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Connor and I have continued the practice of using his toys to transition. With his hands full, I don't have to hold his hand going down the hall, and without the feel of a hand restraining him he does not crumple to the ground. Things go great getting out of the car, putting on the pack back, loading the boy down with toys (some were hidden before we left) and he walks straight to his classroom. Reminders to walk and not run have to be given, but not too often.

When we arrive there is another boy already in the room. I observe how Connor leaves his own toys behind and takes off with the barn and farm animals. The other little boy noticing the toys comes over to inspect, but Connor has noticed his movement towards them and comes running.

Even if he isn't playing with them it doesn't mean someone else can touch them. Nor can you play with the farm animals or the barn. Oh and even though you found that horse first, he will be confiscating it. The toddler's credo goes through my head.

If it's mine it's mine,

If it's yours it's mine,

If I want it it's mine...

Sharing has not become his strong point. I try to produce harmony and sharing or at least turn taking but it isn't happening. The teacher and the aide aren't much help as they seem to not notice. I draw Connor's attention to a giant book on an easel and he names the animals on the cover for me. Instead of retrieving what Connor has taken from him, little boy decides he wants to come over and name animals too. He plants himself in between Connor and I.

I watch to see Connor's reaction to this boy joining in. Connor steps in front of him moving in closer to me and glares at the boy out of the corner of his eyes. I pull Connor close to me and squeeze him and he takes off to play with farm animals. He leaves me and the boy to the book.

A few hours later I stand in front of the school watching him come down the hall, he spots me and we smile at each other until the aide bring him through the front doors. We hug and then I spot the aide, wide eyed looking at me. My stomach is momentarily in knots as I wonder which kid he stole a toy from or knocked down. "He um did REALLY well today!"
"He did?"
"Uh..yeah ...um...we were counting today." her eyes still wide.
"Oh yeah?"
"He counted pretty high. I mean he really got up there!"
"Yes, he counts alot." I explain as I sign the sign out sheet.
"I couldn't believe it, he just counted and counted."
"That's so good. He likes to do that. He knows all his letters too." I explain as I keep a hand on his shoulder to stop him from going to the car without me.
"I am so impressed!"
"You all didn't know he could count?" I ask as he tugs for me to follow.
"Well no. It's not in his IEP."

I found it curious that this is his second week and they have just got to counting, but there again there are only so many hours in half a day.

99 Questions

2007-10-24T19:26:00.000-04:00

Saw this over at Whitterer on Autism and thought it was some good fun.
99 questions if you are reading this you can consider yourself tagged if you like.

1. How old will you be in five years? 29 for the eleventh time
2. Who did you spend at least two hours with today? Kids
3. How tall are you? 5’5
4. What do you look forward to most in the next six weeks? My Daughters’ concerts
5. What's the last movie you saw? Memoirs of a Geisha
6. Who was the last person you called? Husband
7. Who was the last person to call you? Sister
8. What was the last text message you received? A “Happy Birthday” from my husband
9. Who was the last person to leave you a voicemail? My Mother
10. Do you prefer to call or text? Call
11. What were you doing at 12am last night? Sleeping
12. Are your parents married/separated/divorced? Divorced 30 years.
13. When is the last time you saw your mom? Sunday
14. What color are your eyes? Brown .
15. What time did you wake up today? 6:14 a.m.
16. What are you wearing right now? Tee Shirt and Jeans
17. What is your favorite Christmas song? it’s Christmas Time Pretty Baby by Elvis, because strippers need Christmas music too :D
18. Where is your favorite place to be? Coco Cay
19. Where is your least favourite place to be? Toy departments
20. Where would you go if you could go anywhere? Somewhere with sand, sun, palm trees, and a frozen Bahama Mama
21. Where do you think you'll be in 10 years? Somewhere cheering on my kids or husband.
22. Do you tan or burn? Freckle and blister
23. What did you fear was going to get you at night as a child? Axe murderer, or my stepfather
24. What was the last thing that REALLY made you laugh? An email from a friend.
25. How many TVs do you have in your house? 2
26. How big is your bed? King
27. Do you have a laptop or desktop computer? Desktop
28. Do you sleep with or without clothes on? Semi clad
29. What color are your sheets? white
30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 2
31. What is your favorite season? Fall
32. What do you like about fall? The color of the leaves changing and the mild temps
33. What do you like about winter? The holidays, and snow
34. What do you like about the summer? Having cookouts
35. What do you like about spring? The new flowers, and Easter
36. How many states/provinces have you lived in? 1 Kentucky
37. What cities/towns have you lived in? Maryville, Okalona, Fairdale, Ferncreek
38. Do you prefer shoes, socks, or bare feet? bare feet
39. Are you a social person? Sometimes, depends on the people available to socialize with.
40. What was the last thing you ate? Buttered popcorn flavored rice cake
41. What is your favorite restaurant? Ruth’s Chris Steak House
42. What is your favorite ice cream? Death by Chocolate
43. What is your favorite dessert? Plain Cheesecake
44. What is your favorite kind of soup? Chicken tortilla
45. What kind of jelly do you like on your PB & J sandwich? grape
46. Do you like Chinese food? Yes
47. Do you like coffee? It is my life substance
48. How many glasses of water a day? 1 or 2
49. What do you drink in the morning? Coffee, duh, see answer to question 49.
51. Do you sleep on a certain side of the bed? Left side
52. Do you know how to play poker? yes
53. Do you like to cuddle? Depends on my mood
54. Have you ever been to Canada? No
55. Do you have an addictive personality? Yeah I think so
56. Do you eat out or at home more often? Home
58. Do you know anyone with the same birthday as you? No
59. Do you want kids? Only the ones I have thanks
60. Do you speak any other languages? Only bits of Spanish and sign language, and a word or two of Japanese and Russian. Oh wait does hillbilly or redneck count?
61. Have you ever gotten stitches? Yes Both big toes, right ankle, forehead, right side of neck, and lower abdomen.
62. Have you ever ridden in an ambulance? yes
63. Do you prefer an ocean or a pool? Ocean
64. Do you prefer a window seat or an aisle seats? Either is fine with me
65. Do you know how to drive stick? Yes
66. What is your favorite thing to spend money on? I don’t like to spend money, but I guess on my kids.
67. Do you wear any jewelry 24/7? Wedding band.
68. What is your favorite TV show? Heroes
69. Can you roll your tongue? no
71. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? No
72. What is the main ring tone on your phone? 10 seconds
73. Do you still have clothes from when you were little? No
74. What red object is closest to you right now? Juice box
75. Do you turn off the water while you brush your teeth? Yes
76. Do you sleep with your closet doors open or closed? Closed
77. Would you rather be attacked by a big bear or a swarm of bees? Been attacked by a swarm of hornets and made it threw OK ….I think I’ll stick with them.
79. What do you dip a chicken nugget in? Mustard and ketchup together or BBQ sauce80. What is your favorite food? Anything made by my Grandmother
81. Can you change the oil on a car? No
82. Have you ever gotten a speeding ticket? No, but have gotten other traffic tickets
83. Have you ever run out of gas? Yes
84. What is your usual bedtime? 11 pm
85. What was the last book you read? Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
86. Do you read the newspaper? No, but the comic section makes good wrapping paper
87. Do you have any magazine subscriptions? No
89. Do you watch soap operas? Never.
90. Do you dance in the car? Every chance I get, if nothing else I manage to embarrass my children
91. What radio station did you last listen to? The one that says, “Songs from yesterday, today, whatever”
92. Who is in the picture frame closest to you? Connor I think…whoever it is has a hat pulled down over their entire head, so it must be him.
93. What was the last note you scribbled on a piece of paper? Phone number for ABA
94. What is your favorite candle scent? I don’t care much for scented candles, I would rather make my sister smell them.
95. What is your favorite board game? I don’t care for board games, but I am pretty good at Candy land
98. Who was your favorite teacher in high school? Mr. Rump because he would flatter me by letting me go on and on about Greek Mythology and Einstein
99. What is the longest you have ever camped out in a tent? 3 days and I don’t ever plan to do it again. Camping = work.

I noticed while doing this that 50 and 57 is missing so if you have 2 questions let me know.

The Family Table

2007-10-23T10:37:00.000-04:00

All of our morning and evening meals are ate as a family at the kitchen table. It has long been this way except for the current disappearances of Connor, who may or may not be interested in the food prepared for the occasion. Interest would depend on sugar, bread, and cheese content.

Sunday morning, not feeling like cooking, I went to the local doughnut shop. I came back home laden with a dozen glazed, a dozen assorted, and a dozen doughnut holes. Just enough to help each of us slip into diabetic comas. I have two of his favorite food groups covered and could have had the third with a cheese danish but alas there were none to be had.

We sit around the table and talk about the week before, school, work, friends, etc. when a discussion about ancient times one of us had seen on the history channel causes us to go off in a tangent induced by sugar. Giggling and laughing, we try to imagine school in ancient times and the problems of using caves with huge stones that had to be rolled aside to open and close, in lieu of modern day lockers. This prompts the oldest teen to exclaim, "Look someone put a man in mine!" which brings about more laughing.

The younger teen informs us that we are all most likely going hell as a burst of gas erupts from her and lifts her an inch from her seat. Laughter stops as her face turns a blotchy red from embarrassment and squeaks "Excuse me." We try not to embarrass her further but are forced into laughing again as her little brother looks at her and asks "Bubbles?"

The theif and his transition

2007-10-22T20:11:00.000-04:00

After wowing me with an "I wuv you." unsolicited I was on cloud nine. I was sure I was on to what was to be a great day, maybe even week. Nothing was impossible. So I returned to the school to pick him up.

I get out of my car and wait with the other three regulars, parents who drop off and pick up instead of putting their tots on the bus. I am already beaming from ear to ear before I see fifteen little heads bobbing through the hall in a single line. A little head peeps in and out of the line looking towards the window, the face attached to that head is also beaming.

He looks just like my guy, but it can't be, no one is holding his hand. My guy wonders off, he can not go through the hallways expecting to follow the crowd. They may not notice all the wonders there are to discover. I look at each aide and teacher in turn to see where Connor is. They are not holding his hand.

Oh wow, it is him walking all by himself, look how big he is! He looks so proud of himself. Wow oh wow!

I am beside myself as he comes bursting through the front door towards me and then I see and hear about the cause of this miraculous event. His arms and hands are filled overflowing with farm animals, that it turns out, he nicked from another class room.

Hey, so what! A smooth transition and he still walked down the hall following the class as expected. Even if it was because if he found anything else, he had no room to carry it.

What is autism, revisited

2007-10-18T11:26:00.000-04:00

I had finally come across a website that explained autism without controversy (I think). That really just explained the Triad of Impairments.

1. Impairment of social interaction
2. Impairment of social communication
3. Impairment of imagination

In addition, the following observations are often made in individuals with autism:

Delays in development of language
Inconsistent patterns of sensory responses (egs: apparent insensitivity to pain; an apparent deafness at times, yet distress at certain everyday sounds like a dog barking; over-reaction to being touched)
Uneven patterns of intellectual functioning/ special (savant) abilities in certain areas, yet poor development in other areas
Marked restriction of interests and activities/ tendency towards repetitive stereotyped activities.

Pretty short explanation I think. Not the run of the mill "Autism is blah blah blah enter what ever degree handy here to further understand droning explanation." nor the BS of "Robot, lack of empathy, only literal, no emotions, no personality..."

The best part of the site was the FAQ. These were the questions I needed answers to when we first found out, and questions I needed polite answers to for others. Questions like;

Is autism caused by bad parenting?
Is it a mental illness?
Is it the same as mental retardation?
Do they look different? (I know my sister loves this one!)

Short quick answer for me to give in order to keep it polite...NO!

I still stand by what I said in the previous post that autism is personal. What is said about one person with autism can not necessarily be said about another. What one family goes through in their daily lives are not always what another family goes through. What helps my son may not help your child and vice versa.

Yet I have another explaination as well. Autism is what makes it so emotional when my 3 yr old son, with out being prompted or had it said to him first tells me "I wuv you" when I dropped him off at school this morning.

Wordless Wednesday

2007-10-17T12:54:00.000-04:00

That Boy!

2007-10-16T15:34:00.001-04:00

from Saturday...

After returning from the zoo, Hubby took the girls to a classical guitar concert. Connor and I being totally exhausted from our trip lounged lazily around the house. I was tired and irritable and was thinking of calling my sister to lean on her a moment when the phone rings. It's her.

"Whatcha doing?" she asks
"Nothing, thinking about calling you." I answer, and we continue our chatting about the day's events with our children and how things went. I can feel myself getting in a more uplifted mood and the tension in my shoulders dissolve the more we chit-chat and swap stories.

Then I hear a knock on the door. I can see through the drape that it is that boy. That boy, that calls my oldest teen all the time. That boy, that keeps her on the phone forever. That boy, that comes over and sits on my couch and tries to kiss her. That boy, that I had nearly pulled his ear off because rough housing appeared a little too rough. That boy that is not to be trusted because that boy is...well...that boy! With deep breath and still on the phone I open the door.

"Yes?" and as he peers over my shoulder, he moves toward to enter the house. I move forward to block this rudeness because I have not invited him in.
"Is Melody home?"
"No, she went to a concert with her Dad."
"What time is the concert over?"
"I have no idea."
"Well, do you know what time they will be home?"
"No." As I endure the questioning I hear my sister in my ear.
"What the hell? You just said she wasn't home! He's isn't her parent he doesn't need to be questioning you about where your daughter is!" she is furious.
"Well, Melody said they would probably be back by now." he continues as if I have my daughter hidden away and am lying to him.
"I tell ya what, call her Dad and ask him." and as I think about the conversation that would provoke I am sure I am smiling like a Cheshire cat.
"OH! Dortha, you messed up! Daddy is gonna kill him!" my sister says.

I assure her I know what I am doing and invite the boy in so I can write the number down for him.
"So what do I say when I call?" he asks
"Just say what you said when I answered the door." I advise.
"Wouldn't that be kind of rude?"
"But, you just said it to me!"
"Oh ... err....sputter....sputter." and I usher him back out the door.

Blubbering, Crying, OMG, My Babies First Day of School Monday.

2007-10-15T10:14:00.000-04:00

With a spray bottle of water and hair brush, Daddy and I tackled Connor's head. I wanted so much that he didn't resemble a wolverine, but closer to a proper young man instead, least the kids try to pet him.

With backpack on, he holds my hand calmly and only has to be lifted off the floor twice once inside. After he realizes we are going to his new classroom there are no problems and two doors away his energy propels him down the hall and into his room. A little girl puts a arm out to hug him as he flies by and I hold my breath to see how badly this poor child will be flattened. Surprisingly she is stock still, arm still in the air wondering what happened, and my child is the one laying on the floor. He jumps right back up and continues his running through the room.

The proper picture of smiling child in uniform with backpack on and holding lunch box in hand, looking at the camera eludes us. Such is my condition of being a deer in headlights and his condition of being 1000 volts of electricity.

Look at that grip on the chalk!

The resource teacher said there were a couple of issues today when I asked how things went, but didn't elaborate. They had obviously went outside today as he and the afore mentioned little girl both came out looking like they had rolled around in dirt. Which is probably what they did.

I missed him while he was in school and even found myself going to the passenger side of the car to bring him in the house after I had just dropped him off. I did however enjoy my couple of hours of solitude. I relaxed in a hot tub of bath salts, with the phones by the bathroom sink of course.

MEME'd

2007-10-14T13:56:00.000-04:00

Suzy of Identity Crisis has tagged me to write a meme. I love her and her blog dearly. I have no idea what I'm doing, but (deep breath) here I go.

1. I rarely write anything out on paper, ever. So I have several files of notes, numbers, and messages saved on my computer. My daughters (especially the toungest) call me a geek.

2. This is one of several writing projects. The others include a fictional book and top secret memoirs. I love this one the most as it is the most inspired.

3. I don't listen to music when I write. I love music, but find it distracting. Distraction is not something I need as I have already been led from my seat three times while attempting this post..four...five.

4. The best compliment I ever got was from my husband when he said he liked my writing style. He reads things like Raphael Sabatini, Robert Jordan, and C.S. Lewis. Am I comparing myself to them? Hell no, but he found my writing worthy which was very nice. I myself like to read books where the words seem to be of candy floss. Yes I am a Harry Potter fan.

5. I was inspired to keep this blog soon after Connor's diagnosis. I was feeling awful and was searching "autism" on Google. One link stood out amongst the others, one that was surprising full of humour, despite the title, The Misery of Autism.

I now tag Self Employed Mum that has just embarked on a brave journey.

The Zoo

2007-10-13T14:42:00.000-04:00

One boy in a wagon and another in a stroller, both are sitting calmly with big smiles on their faces. They are meticously clean and every hair in place. One echoes everything that is said to him or sings Barney songs, the other never says a word but does a cute little flapping of his hands when he gets excited. My Connor is shoulders and head bigger and beefier than them. He has outgrown his stroller and makes it apparent as he has trouble with every transition and uses his foot to stop the stroller from moving on to the next thing.

The Moms and Dads are nice and patient. They understand what it's like, and one Mother suffocates me with offers of help and suggestions. This has the result of making me tense and Connor picks up on this making the transition harder. Yes he was the king of meltdowns today.

Even though I felt like an outcast among them it was of my own doing. Most of the time spent at the zoo was enjoyable for all. I will never understand what possesed them to put a Thomas and friends train set in an exhibit, that caused us so much trouble, but again most of the time was nice.

The best part of the trip however was coming home!

Three days until

2007-10-12T17:45:00.000-04:00

With visitors arriving any moment I check the house over again to make sure it is spotless. I then turn my attention to my son, he is dressed and in a good mood. No his hair isn't brushed as that is something he can't stand. You can't have everything.

The Special Ed lady arrives first. She is a nice older woman and she gets right down to business about what things we use to transition. I give her information on PECS, timers, and reminders of "X amount of time until" because of all the words he picks out, until is the word with most meaning. Special Ed lady informs me that the classroom teacher will arrive shortly, that she is a very sweet lady and was excited to find out that she would be having an autistic child in the class. She had taken a course on autism over the summer.

Oh really? This is why I had been waiting months for proper placement? They couldn't have found someone that had taken a course in autism before now? I took a course in VBA, maybe I should be her Verbal Behavior Analysis Assistant. Actually, I wasn't mad, I was amused.

Ms. One Course in Autism showed up and I have to say that she measured up quite nicely. She is very sweet and caring, she has been in the classroom for nine years and has just recently got into special education. She has picture maker, timers, picture schedules, and she knows how to use them. She knows about meltdowns, sensitivities, transitioning, and a multitude of other important things. SHE ASKS IF SHE DOESN'T KNOW!!! That is huge in my mind!

When asked by Special Ed Lady what I had done to give Connor a chance to know the school, Ms. One Course defends me and explains I had only known about the placement for a week. She also offers me a chance to bring Connor over to the school because she plans to be there till 4:30.

As we walk into the school everything is fine Connor is excited to see the library but consents to come along to his new classroom. WOW!! What a classroom! It's big and beautiful and filled with lots of nice toys and areas. Connor found so many things to play with, and I sway a bit as he picks up two baby dolls and carries them around. They don't have wheels, not dinosaurs, nor zoo or farm animals. They are of human likeness, it is one for the record books. Upon seeing a pair of stuffed dragons however these poor dolls are dropped on their heads.

Ms. One Course is very personable and answers any possible problem with "It is/will be OK." I call hubby to tell him how things went, which is answered with "That must have been one hell of a course! Where do I sign up?" Indeed.

I have a good feeling about this.

Expectations

2007-10-11T12:40:00.000-04:00

He has learned his landmarks.
"Elephant!" he squeals as we get closer to the putt-putt.
"Feesh!" as we get toward the area of the Moby Dick.
"Super per per man!" as we near the Wal Mart. It is now a routine every time we stop here to ride the Superman train before getting in a cart.

After we are properly in the store "Bicycle, bicycle, bicycle!" and we make our way to the back of the store to visit the bicycles and try to avoid the toys all together. Many more trips in that department and I will be very broke and my house will be an even closer equivalent of Toy R Us.

We are there for two things, the oldest needs a flash drive for a business and marketing class, and I need to see what earphones they have available after breaking the very expensive pair the OT loaned me. As we try to wind our way through to electronics, Connor is beginning to look frantic. He reaches over and his hand makes enough contact with a display to knock part of it over. His sisters are kind enough to pick it up while I continue to the desired destination.

Now over the threshold that places us officially in the electronics department Connor can't take anymore. He is standing up in his seat and trying to climb over my head. The back of the cart seat is folding forward me, trapping his legs. Finally removing him from my head with hair covering my eyes he sits back down. His bottom lip is pooching out threatening to take over his face. We refer to this phenomena as cup holder lip. Big tears are welling up in his little eyes and he looks up at me whining "Mater, Lightning McQueen, Tractor?"
"You have all of those at home Honey."
"I wanna bicycle!" he cries.

This what I had been hoping to hear voluntarily. The one thing we had been working on is saying "Want" when labeling something that he wanted. He surpassed that goal and added "I"!

Well of course he got to see the bicycles! We grabbed a flash drive and went back to see them. Even though by now we are being tailed by a female security person for our weird antics. My oldest teens becomes therapist to help him through his transition and we go through taking our time and saying "Bye-bye" to each bicycle. Yup, my girls surpass expectations too.

New Friends

2007-10-10T20:26:00.000-04:00

With the littlest one in the bed I was ready to post on my blog. I had something of importance to say, big news to report! I get comfortable in front of the screen and attempt to log on only to find I can't produce an @ symbol. I try again, nope, nadda. Assuming that it is just one of those things that only takes a restart of the computer to fix, that's what I do.

Computer starts back up and now I can't produce a, s, d, j, k, l, or anything that requires the shift key. OK, I try and restart again. Same thing. Crap! I am starting to get nervous about computer hijackers and key loggers. I run my anti-virus, Spybot search and destroy, and windows defender, because woe be the world if the vital information on my computer should land in the wrong hands. Nothing.

I walk downstairs in the dungeon my husband calls the library and ask his advice.
"Try another keyboard." He doesn't bother to look away from his screen.
"You have another one?"
"Yeah, just outside the door near the...."
"Near the what?"
"um..err.....just....there...by the refrigerator." Not being able to multitask it is hard for him to give me directions while banded together with nine other people to save the world of Azeroth from evil. (He is playing on multi player online game.)
"What, stuck in the Mountain Dew box that you've have used as a trash can?"
"Yeah."

Since it was only paper trash I pull out the keyboard, wipe it down and use a can of compressed air on the keys. As you can tell, that did the trick and I am saved from disappointing my devoted readers (at least 2 people anyway).

I had asked the question in my last post of how would you explain autism to someone who asked. I had started on a post but got a little lost in the things it is and is not, as it pertains to Connor. I have poured over it repeatedly and it just doesn't portray what I would like just yet. So for now the answer to "What is autism?" is "It's personal."

Oh and the big news? Well, Connor and I have been invited to join a playgroup. All of them 30 something moms and dads with 3 yr old autistic sons or daughters. We are going to the zoo this Saturday and I can't wait for Connor to get to finally see the baby elephant. I talked to one of the ladies in the group today and it helps that she has a great sense of humour and explained that if any kids have a meltdown during these outings no one is there staring at you wondering what is wrong with your kid, or wondering why you didn't have them under control.

I feel like a kid who has just met a new friend. I haven't made many since high school and had not managed to keep many of the ones from those days. One of the ones I had made since then had got divorced and I guess gave custody of our friendship to the husband. The one thing that I find a little concerning is when I was young I would be really hoping that they liked me. Now what I really hope is that I will like them.

What is Autism?

2007-10-09T07:34:00.001-04:00

How do you answer this? Of course I know what Autism is, I just have a hard time explaining to anyone that asks.

Last December we went to my Aunt's house for the family Christmas party. We did not have a diagnosis yet, even though we knew what diagnosis we were going to receive. Most of the family members at the party did not know anything was wrong with Connor other than a speech delay. So as Connor was more disregulated, we got those looks that said, You need to control your kid. and He sure is high spirited isn't he? We didn't stay too long as it was just too much to handle for all of us. We went through and said our Good byes and my uncle chimes in, "Dortha, he reminds me why I don't have anymore kids at my age."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah, I wouldn't have the energy, even when they weren't being bad."

Fast forward to now. My uncle lives in another state but has come home for a funeral. It was just my Grandmother, Aunt, Uncle and Mother in the car and evidently he had been clued in to what was going on.
"So what is wrong with Connor?" he asks.
"He has autism." my Mom explains. Thinking that that says it all.
"Yeah, but what exactly is Autism?"
She was lost for words on how to explain, just as I find I am at times.

My uncle isn't a mean person and didn't mean to hurt any ones feelings with what he had said at the party. He honestly did not understand and I didn't take time to explain. My Grandmother found an article in People magazine about a celebrity that has an autistic son and has some idea now. However, I can't throw an article at everyone who asks.

I wonder how to explain so as not to use words like, receptive, proprioceptive, vestibular and modulation. Also how do I explain without it sounding like I'm singing that old Hee Haw song;
“Gloom, despair and agony on me,
Deep, dark depression, Excessive misery,
If it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all,
Gloom, despair and agony on me”

So long explanation made into a short question. How do tell people what Autism is?

Occupational Monday

2007-10-08T16:02:00.000-04:00

Within a small space of time things change. It is human nature to change and it is human nature, I believe, to find this a tad annoying. As being one of those little people that hates transitioning, Connor loathes much change. With that being the case I fully expect next week to be a pain in the rear.

Late last Friday afternoon the county school system called to say they had finally found proper placement for Connor. The rise in specials needs students was such that is took several months to place everyone. I find the whole thing rather interesting that all of the sudden the county has so many special needs students, mainly 3 yr olds. Surely it hasn't always been that way.

Anyways, new schedule is 9:30am - 12:40pm, Monday through Thursday, meaning all therapies now have to be rescheduled. I spoke to the scheduler thinking this was going to hard to accomplish. Restricted times were 9 - 12, Mon - Thurs, and 2 - 3 Mon - Fri. Doesn't leave alot open does it? The scheduler was a pro and had it sorted in no time. Speech on Thursday right after school and OT on Friday.

I am excited and scared all at the same time. I have fantasies of the 3 hours I will have all to myself. Time to put my feet up and relax, or catch up on a few of the many things that get neglected on a regular basis. I also have fears that I will barely return home before I am called back to retrieve my son. I fear all the different scenarios that could arise; meltdowns, hitting, kicking, biting, non-cooperation, hiding under tables, running.

My mantra for the week, He will adjust and will be making huge progress. He will be playing with other children his age. He will do great!

Occupational Monday will be no more, instead it will be Occupational Friday. Monday, or least this coming Monday will be Blubbering, Crying, OMG, My Babies First Day of School Monday.
I will be sure to take pictures.

Let me get this straight

2007-10-05T09:30:00.000-04:00

We had a lazy day yesterday. Well that is to say Connor did as I only insisted he do very few activities as I went through a box of four Mr. Clean magic erasers. I know it sounds like a horrible thing to do to yourself when you are recovering from a frustrated overwhelmed mood. However coming home in that mood and seeing your house looking as if it is occupied by a pack of bachelors rather than a family of five has an unpleasant effect to say the least.

Sparkling surfaces and fingerprint free walls were mine! Most toys and therapy devices were in their proper place. I wasn't able to find my regular CD I would listen to while cleaning but was instead treated to a concert of Connor making up his own tunes. I couldn't understand but very few words but the melody was nice.

I suspect that my frenzy of deep cleaning must have popped up on my mother's radar, as that afternoon she arrived with laundry in tow. Connor is glad to see her and demonstrates for her how to run through the house like a mad person. He comes to a stop and points at me "Mommy"
he states, then points a finger at his Grandma "Mmm..mmm".
"Mamaw." I help identify. He has said it before but it seems he wants to make sure he has it right.
"Mommy." He points at me.
"Mamaw." He points at her.
"Yea!! Good job Connor!!" She claps and squeaks.

Happy with himself he continues to fly through the house with a huge smile on his face. When she is done with her laundry and ready to leave, Connor comes over to watch her go. She steps out the door and turns around to tell me to lock the door back because it wouldn't occur to me otherwise. She bends low and asks "Connor can you tell Mamaw bye-bye?" He runs forward at full speed and slams the door almost on her nose. She pushes the door back open.
"Bye-bye Connor."
"Bye-bye."
"Can Mamaw have a kiss." He leans forward and with his lips loosely puckered to oblige.
She thanks him and says her good bye's again then turns away. He takes off full speed again.
SLAM! and the door just misses her back side.

As I lock the chain back in place Connor is locking the doorknob and deadbolt singing "turn, turn , turn." We are now less concerned with working on fine motor and more worried about modulation. I consider a digital lock with keypad but he is good with numbers. I take solace in the fact he isn't near tall enough to reach the lock at the top of the door. Soon enough though I fear we will rival Fort Knox in security.

Weight of the world

2007-10-03T11:07:00.000-04:00

Most normal people, whoever or wherever they may be, would boggle at my want for half of a well planned out thought in my head. I am finding more and more that forgetfulness is evading my brain and I find myself doing silly things. Like calling the grocery right after I leave to ask them if they would please hold the smoked sausages for me, that I just forgot in the self check out.

I am also getting very tired and stressed. Meltdowns have been getting far less often and in less intensity, except for the last two weeks. Wednesday seems to be the day for the long drawn out screaming, kicking and flailing sessions. Last week he had no speech therapy, his therapist had gone on vacation. Going back this week we sat in the waiting room and Connor couldn't keep his eyes off of another little boy in the room. The little boy walked over to Connor and as soon as he reached out to touch Connor, the boys mother gets a little panicky. "Don't now, be easy. Leave him alone he is sitting there being good!" She squawks as her son does joint compressions on Connor's head and by accident sticks a finger in his eye.

I wait calmly to see if this is what will send him in to flight mode. He sits there rubbing his eye and making small attempts to get free of the stroller. The speech therapist shows up right on time, I set him free and he walks with her hand in hand. When he sees we are going to her room it is too much. Aggravation followed so quickly by disappointment sends him over the edge and he collapses onto the floor.

Half the session is over before he calms down and participates. I sit in front of the door to bar escape and brush my arms and hands. My face, arms and hands are scratched, my hair pulled, and my shoulders popping. My feelings are hurt and my heart in pieces about what he must be going through to do such things.

When we leave he is perfectly fine as if nothing has happened, so I head to the store to pick up forgotten sausages and get pull-ups. He was a perfect gentleman in the store until we head to the exit and he sees "APPLES!"

"Honey we have already checked out and we have apples at home." Have to be told no sometimes, right?

I wrestle through the parking lot trying to keep my toddler from diving head first out of the cart, hold on to the groceries he is trying to throw out, and stop the contents of my purse spilling out. Once he is in his car seat and everything is calm enough to pull out, I can't find my keys. I check the bag, I check my purse 15 times, I check my pockets over and over. I stand behind the car looking at the ground to see if I dropped them. I can't find them. I sit in the drivers seat and let my shoulders slump. pop! pop! pop! They attempt to place themselves correctly.

I want to scream or hit something. I want to cry, but I wont. I am the adult here I have to figure this out. I have to buck up, get him back out of the car and go find these keys.

"OK, now that you have calmed down. Would you like to go get an apple?"

I found my keys in the cart he tried to escape from, and he was happy as can be with a 3/4 pound Fuji apple. I do fear I forgot to get some Aleve. Maybe I can order by mail?

An award!

2007-10-02T08:20:00.000-04:00

Walksfarwoman from Kissing the Dogwood has bestowed upon me the Schmooze Award. Thank you Walksfarwoman, I am quite honored.

“Good schmoozers effortlessly weave their way in and out of the blogosphere, leaving friendly trails and smiles, happily making new friends along the way. They don’t limit their visits to only the rich and successful, but spend some time to say hello to new blogs as well. They are the ones who engage others in meaningful conversations, refusing to let it end at a mere hello - all the while fostering a sense of closeness and friendship.”

I pass this award to;

The Mixed Up Thoughts Of A Jadedsoul

Occupational Monday

2007-10-01T19:43:00.000-04:00

The same ammo as every Monday.
Pressure vest? Check
Stroller? Check
Toys, books, wax candy? Check, check and check
Get there by the 11 o'clock appointment time? Why the hell bother but, check.
OT 15 minutes late for the appointment and send someone up to say she had a kid in a meltdown? Uh huh, what is she doing to this kid?
My kid in meltdown mode because his therapist has exhausted his patience? Yep, and he has hit his foot and is escalating to flight mode.

I have my suspicions about OT's being of the late persuasion. His last OT was always late and now this one is. I should just expect it by now but it still irritates me. When he sees her he has already started to recover and grabs her hand. He was delighted that she didn't take him to the same old room but instead to the gym. On the way she apologizes and tells me all the things I should not be hearing about the patient before us.

I get right down to business, I am to report how he did the past week after the listening therapy. "Monday he did a couple of good things and then Wednesday and Thursday were pure hell. I was at a point that he was never going to listen to music again if I had any say over it."
"What happened Wednesday and Thursday?"
"Any type of redirection or reprimand was met with whatever was handy thrown at my head, or things within reach knocked off of cabinets. He would stand there looking straight at me and doing whatever came in to his mind that might make me upset!" I am almost in tears thinking about it.
"So what happened the rest of the week?"
"The rest of the week was filled with REALLY good stuff. More words, more sentences, and he was able to hum to tunes better, where as before he was so offbeat. He told his sister Turn light on. He asked me What are you doing? He has been having some small steps toward potty training. Most importantly at bedtime when he is patting my face and nose, he isn't pinching them off. It's like he is realizing his strength." Once again I am close to tears.

"So do you want to try the therapy again this week? I'll try a different CD this time and maybe that won't cause the problems he had last time." She waits looking at me for an answer while nightmares of Wednesday and Thursday come flashing back in my mind. Then I think of all the good things he accomplished and a wise statement from Mcewen at Whitterer on Autism, there is no such thing as a free lunch.

Turn about is fair play

2007-09-30T21:01:00.000-04:00

My mother doesn't know about my blog and if she did she doesn't have internet connection at her house. Just not a techno savvy person. However I was thinking over this weekend and what good is it to laugh at someone else if you can't laugh at yourself. So in this spirit, I give you the following story.
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When hubby and I were first married we were very monetarily challenged. We had bought our first house, a tiny little one bedroom house that looked like it could have been made of gingerbread.

I had taken a job babysitting for a friend's son during the day so I could be at home with our daughter who was only a few months old. The boy was about 4 at the time and we would play all kinds of games and entertain each other throughout the day. He even on occasion helped out with the house work.

One day when he was helping with the vacuuming, I remembered what my Mother in law had told me about cleaning the coils under the fridge. She had told me if I vacuumed the coils it would reduce the energy bill. I figured it didn't hurt to try as we could use every penny pinched. I pulled the hose off the upright, bent over and started cleaning. The little boy, being the good little helper that he was, pushed the upright a little closer so I would have enough hose to reach.

The phone rings, I reach around and switch off the vacuum and as I go to stand up the vacuum falls over, the roller brush stuck in the back of my hair. Turns out that when he moved it closer to me the brush of the vacuum was still rolling, and my hair that was quite long got sucked right in. I am quite upset as I am now a Siamese twin to a vacuum cleaner with no means of separation. I finally answer the phone in tears.

My husband was on the line demanding to know what was wrong with me and in between my sobbing and trying to tell him what happened, he decides he had better come home. The little guy had grown quite concerned and I laugh for him when he asks "Are you stucked?"

A short while later, still not able to get the evil thing out of my hair, I hear a knock at the door. It's the little old lady that lived two doors down. She knows I am home but I am not keen to open the door in my state. I go to the door, the vacuum hanging from my head and open the door a tiny tinny sliver to see what she wants.
"Honey, are you OK?" she asks.
"Yes I fine. Did you need something?"
"Well...uh..your husband. A lady came over and hit his truck head on."
"Is he OK?" I forget about my little problem for second and start looking up and down the road my stomach in knots.
"Oh yes, he is fine. The EMS are checking him out. The wreck was right before our house. He keeps telling the police that he has to get to his wife that somethings wrong. I told him I would come check on you."

I fully open the door in a new state of tears and show her the vacuum hanging from my hair. She in turn goes to get her husband to see if he has any tools to get me loose. They were a great old couple and I'm sure they had one hell of a laugh when they got home, but for the time it took to get me loose they never cracked a smile. They were even so kind to watch over the two children while I ran down the road to see for myself that my hubby was OK. He was fine, though I was feeling incredibly guilty.

Round brushes and dicie boxers

2007-09-28T09:48:00.000-04:00

Sleep was not easy to come by with the constant rumbles of thunder and flashes of lightning. When I allowed myself to fully awaken the teens were ready, so I threw on some jeans and a t-shirt, socks and shoes, did a quick brush through my hair, then grabbed coffee and keys and we were out the door. The lightning and thunder had not relented and the rain was coming hard and constant making the air cold. I didn't much care for driving on this ominous morning, but responsibilities are not put off for inclement weather.

There is a five car pile up on the road going the other direction across from Connor's favorite elephant that is safe in the confines of the putt-putt. As we near the high school I grew even more nervous as I know there are teens with very little experience in driving on the very wet streets. I drop the oldest teen off at the front doors of the school safely and relatively dry.

The youngest teen and I find an alternative route to the middle school as the traffic has thickened considerably from the 5 car pile up. We do eventually run into a bit of traffic but thanks to the detour she arrives at school with time to spare.

I get back to the quiet and dry house, hubby and Connor still asleep in their cozy beds. I try to take a bit of time to sit quietly with a cup of coffee and read email. I barely get signed in and my in box opened when I hear knocking at the side door. I am startled at first but the urgent rapping on the door tells me it's my mother.

Swearing under my breath at the inconvenience I go to the door. As I get closer I see her outline silhouetted on the drapes, but something seems strange about it. On the left of her head there appears to be a horn. I dare a peek out of the window and realize the problem straight away. The poor thing is standing at my door step with a round brush sticking straight up in the air, relentless stuck in the hair by her left temple.

As I open the door she pleads for help. I try to restrain myself from laughing and instead ask her if she drove all the way over like that. When she looks at me I realize what a stupid question I had asked. She sits at the table and drinks some coffee as I go gather supplies that may help in freeing her head without leaving a bald spot. About this time the two layabouts have gotten up from bed to see what the noise is about. Hubby asks me to turn her head so he can run through in dice and flame decorated boxers to get to the basement laundry room. I am glad her head is turned when he comes by, she is too emotionally fragile for the look on his face when seeing her plight.

As I start to work on the problem Connor wanders over to see what is going on. He doesn't understand why she has a brush fixed so close to her head. Being one who does not like a brush to be anywhere near his head, he is terrified. Aversion to people with brushes stuck in their hair, who would have guessed.

After Connor is calmed and attention directed elsewhere I continue to work. Hubby comes back upstairs to asks the same stupid question I did. "You drove all the way over like that?"
"Well it's no different than those kids wearing picks in their afros!" she defends, arms flapping.
"Yeah it is. They can get those out when they need them. How did that happen anyway?"
"I sneezed. I was curling my hair and I sneezed." she explains.

Thankfully he doesn't go on about it any longer so I don't have her here in a blubbering mess while trying to get this brush out. She is so tender headed that every touch is meet with "eeks" and "ohhs" and hands flying in the air as if I was ripping the hair out of her skull by the handful.
"Can you just cut it out?" She is reaching her limit.
"No I can't have you going around looking weird. You just went through all the trouble of having your hair done and we are going to keep it in tack!" I wouldn't like to see her back in frizzy ponytails.

That gave me an idea and I run to the bathroom and grab a pair of nail clippers. I clip off the bristles of the brush and have her free in a matter of moments with a majority of the hair still attached to her head.

Later that night as I am recounting the story to my sister over the phone she starts to laugh. Not just a giggle but a tears in your eyes and face hurting kind of laugh. I thought it was a funny situation but hadn't thought it that hilarious. "What's got you in stitches over there?" I ask
"Well it was on her left side so she couldn't hide it from other drivers could she?"
"No I guess not." Still not clued in.
"Well imagine you are going down the road and you happen to look over and see a rusty old white 72' Chevy pickup with pink and purple pin striping, and then you see an old woman driving it with a brush sticking up out of her head! Just goes to show you can't go on a first impression can you?"

Breakfast with Friends

2007-09-27T21:35:00.001-04:00

Very rough evening so I guess I am kind of cheating and taking a Wordless Wenesday late. Oops guess not totally wordless.

Just say it, please!

2007-09-26T18:03:00.000-04:00

For awhile I thought he had problems with the muscles in his mouth (Apraxia), because sometimes when he opened his mouth to say something his tongue would just dart around everywhere and words would fail to come. Now I believe he can say anything. Sure some of the consonants could use refinement and his grammar isn't the best. He always pronounces cookie as tookie, lion as wion, water as wader, but I look at these as 3 yr old kid pronunciations.

He has short sentences, most scripted but we all have to start somewhere. His conversations have few exchanges but we are seeing more and more back and forth.

He shows his teasing sense of humor at the dinner table while we eat. Putting his knees in his chair he puts the weight of his upper body on his elbows, leans sideways, looks at his Dad and says "I gonna fall!" in the cutest sing-song southern drawl.
"You're not gonna fall if you straighten up in your seat." Dad responds.
"I gonna fall!"
"No you're not, sit down right and eat."
"I gonna fall Daddy!" He screams and laughs. Daddy just can't help but smile because it is too darn cute and he said "Daddy."

I had swore that if he ever said "Mommy" I would probably faint from shock. I used to spend so much time teaching him that word, just to have him stare blankly back at me or say something totally different. He started talking never saying it and then when he did, he was only making noises. He wasn't talking about or to me at all. I was sick of all the evaluators and his OT calling me "Poor thing." when they found out.

One night at dinner we were playing a game of "who is that?". We would point to another person at the table and ask "Connor, who is that?" Finally one night I was blessed and he said "Mommy" and was talking about me! I didn't faint or fall out of my chair but sat there and cried a little, hoping that it wouldn't discourage him from saying it again.

It hadn't discouraged him and we are hearing it more and more. One night last week when it was Daddy's night to tuck him in, he sat up real fast looked around his room and asked "Where Mommy?" I was in the bathroom and heard him. Between you and me, that felt really really good.

Bobby and life lessons

2007-09-25T13:14:00.000-04:00

He was a year younger than me and we lived next door to each other since he was 4. In many ways he was just like any other boy. He would catch turtles, frogs, crawdads, fish, and any other creature of the creepy crawly variety from the nearby creek. He taught me where to hold a turtle so as not to be bitten. Taught me the different types of turtles and showed me soft shelled water turtles I had never seen or heard of before. He taught me that crawdads swim backwards and in order to catch one you had to have your net behind them.

He could walk, jump, and ride bikes with the best of us. He couldn't run very well, although his fist were balled up in front of him and pumping, his lower half didn't fully cooperate so he barely got up to a jog.

We played together often but as we got older I found less and less time for him. Truth was, as time went on I didn't like him much. I was getting more mature and engrossed in who liked who, and who said what about who while Bobby was still catching creepy crawlies. He was gross too, eating jelly and ketchup on eggs, rarely having his mouth closed. He would get off of the short yellow bus in the afternoons and if I was outside, he would declare to everyone that I was his girlfriend. At his house he would often come out of the bathroom without his pants. Though not something I cared to witness his was the first I ever saw of the male anatomy.

My Mom told me that Bobby was mentally retarded. When I asked what caused that to happen to him, she said these things happened sometimes when the Mother was malnourished during pregnancy. So I imagined my poor neighbor not being able to feed herself while pregnant and now having to pay the consequence.

This is what Connor has taught me;

1. That goofy run Bobby would do was the cutest, though I didn't think so at the time, I do now.

2. Bobby's Mother was not starved during pregnancy. She was/is a hardworking, brave, and caring woman that loves her son very much.

3. Either my Mom didn't like to admit she didn't know something or she was misinformed.

4. Autism and Mental Retardation are different animals when it comes to eye contact, communication, socialization. Bobby had no problems in these areas.

5. They are the same in that they both have special needs.

6. Don't judge a parent by the actions of a child.

7. I had been a very judgemental person.

8. Don't Judge!

9. I could have been a better friend to Bobby.

10. Sometimes it is the youngest and smallest that teach the best life lessons.

Occupational Monday

2007-09-24T13:36:00.000-04:00

A trip to the Goodwill to drop of a trunk full of old unwanted stuff didn't take as long as planned, so we showed up 10 minutes early for our 11 o'clock appointment. She was 15 late when another OT came out to tell us she was dealing with a meltdown and would be out as soon as she possibly could. "OK, no problem." I say with a smile.

With the same techniques as last week, using the stroller and superman vest, I added a few picture books and wax candy. We were good to wait for awhile yet with no tantrums. She arrived a few minutes later and when Connor sees her he starts to unbuckle himself and I take off his vest. He follows her through the halls bouncing and humming.

I have no idea what she was planning to do with us today, but I told her I would like for her to model joint compressions for me again. Connor had been adversive to it the last week when I get to his hands. I also let her know we were interested in trying the listening program. She had told me that they didn't move forward to the listening program until a good sensory diet is in place.

So when she runs off to get the CD player and headphones, it occurs to my that she must be under the mistaken idea that I have a clue of what I am doing. For those who wonder what listening therapy is, well I have a hard time explaining it but the link is here.

He was hesitant to wear the earphones at first but soon he was zooming around wearing them with no problems. She told me to watch him to see if there were any positive or negative effects. Apparently sometimes good things happen immediately and sometimes it takes a few tries.

When we get home he ate a peanut butter sandwich. He didn't tear it apart and play in it as usual, he ate it. When we went to my niece's volleyball game tonight he stayed in his stroller watching contently for the most part. The loud noises and lights did eventually get to him, but it was much better than usual.

No he didn't walk up to me and say "I need to go potty." or get himself dressed, or sit with me on the bleachers at the game like other children his age. Nor am I sure that it was the listening therapy that caused the good eating and temporary calmness. He could have been starving. He could have been just tired or very interested in the game.

At the end of the day however, progress is progress, and I will take whatever progress that comes our way as a huge blessing.

Proud Mommy

2007-09-20T20:57:00.001-04:00

We are all proud of our children. Many different reasons for being proud of them, just for being ours is a big one. Just recently I have been bursting at the seams with pride because of a daughter making honor roll for her first time, finally getting past the constant forgetfulness stage. Proud of a daughter for being talented beyond all reason in playing viola and making All County. Proud of a son that has slowly started to show empathy and follow directions.

For example, tonight while I was tucking him in and we had read our bedtime story, I hung around to snuggle and rub noses. We were getting giggly and I was pretending I had to sneeze.
"AH, AH, AH, CHOO!" and I blew a raspberry on his belly. He thinks this is hilarious and after the first time he starts to imitate me.

"AH, AH, AH, CHOO!" Clunk! We bang heads. He puts his little hand on my forehand and asks "OK?"
"I'm OK. Are you OK?" I rub his forehead and when he smiles at me I tell him "OK I think we need to try that again."

He puts a hand on either side of my head and before I realize what he is doing his head comes toward mine. Clunk!

Routine of routinely having routine messed up

2007-09-19T19:30:00.000-04:00

We have a schedule in our house. It isn't a strict schedule laying out every minute of the day. Connor doesn't seem to need such strenuous steps taken for routine. He has come to expect when a certain event happens that another particular event will follow. Human nature I think to expect things a certain way, we all do this to a certain degree.

When he gets up in the morning he knows I will take him to the bathroom. I will help him get dressed and groomed. After he knows breakfast will be on the table. I have come to expect that depending on the bread and sugar content, it may or may not be eaten.

He knows when we will play and when therapies are coming. A pitiful little timer helps us transition through. Sometimes there are discrepancies when Connor thinks the timer is wrong, sending it flying across the room when it sounds time is up.

His favorite part of the daily routine is getting in the car and picking up his sisters from school and seeing the elephant statue at the local putt-putt. So as always, I put him in his car seat, I walk around, get in and fasten my seat belt. The car would not start. It sounded like it was trying but just couldn't fire up. I call Hubby and tell him the problem and he offers to go get the girls.

No sense sitting in the car any longer so I get out and go around to get Connor. I unbuckle, he rebuckles. This happens a few more times and then he decides to climb over the backseat into the hatchback. I keep myself calm and chase him through the car all the while explaining that we can't go, the car wont start.

I finally get a hold on him and take him back into the house. Once inside he is furious and goes into a fit of turning toy tubs over and throwing and screaming. I could just imagine what he was thinking...You didn't do it right Mommy! Where's Gracie? Where's Melody? I've already said Bye-bye to the duck! I wanna see the elephant!

I try to console when I can and stay out of the way when I can't. I let him have his fit, because honestly it ticked me off a little too. Dumb thing said it had over a half tank of gas when in fact it was empty. I more than empathised with him.

After awhile things became more normal and Connor was returned to his calmer state. I pick this moment to have him help clean up the destruction of his fit. He wasn't happy about it at all, but it was expected.

Hopefully his Mommy will get things right tomorrow and realize the logical thing to do after getting into the car, is to leave the driveway.

No, I hadn't heard that!

2007-09-18T10:55:00.000-04:00

Tell-tale words from a gossiping woman. My neighbor has caught me outside, unloading the car. She and others on our street must think we are strange, coming and going at all hours of the day (therapy), digging in the back yard and not planting anything (heavy work), loads of sand in the yard (sensory and heavy work), and Connor momentarily standing on the window sill naked (showing off his stripping and climbing skills). I tease my husband every so often when we are outside and see neighbors peeking at us, "Honey, come look at what the Osbourne's are doing now!"

"Hey! Can I throw a ham at them?" he asked.

When I was young the neighbors thought our household to be odd as well and they thought correctly. My first step-father parked his Harley in the living room. He would also stand out in the yard and yell "Kick back!" at the police, that were constantly at a suspected drug dealers house but never arresting anyone. When a strong downpour of rain came with out lightning or thunder, my Mom urged us to go out with a cake of soap or a bottle of Dawn dish soap and play in it. The neighbors would also witness Mom wrapping a frozen pizza in aluminum foil and putting it on the grill from time to time. Weird as they are I still recommend the later two if you can manage it, great fun.

This particular neighbor is nice enough although a tad nosy. We stand in the yard and make small talk. It occurs to me that even though I see her brow furrow at times, looking at us outside doing "odd" things, she is still nice and speaking to us. It then hits me that I have never bothered to tell any of my neighbors about Connor's diagnosis. Not that it would stop them from thinking we are strange, but I wonder if it isn't something they should know.

So how do I bring it up? It would never do to follow up "Nice weather we're having." with "Connor has autism." I wait for an opening and she provides it.

"So how are the kids doing in school?" she asks

"There doing great. Connor is starting school this year too. Although it will be later in the year. They have a lot a placements to work out yet for 3 yr olds."

I know that she knows that school programs in this area are not provided before kindergarten unless it is for special needs or you have a low income. I see the wheels turning and I wait. Right before smoke pours out of her ears she looks at me, eyes bulging and looking scandalized.

"Why!"

"Connor has autism." I explain

"No, I hadn't heard that!" she exclaims. I can't tell if her look is that of shock and concern, or shocking glee of being handing a juicy tid bit from the horses mouth.

I excuse myself "Lots to do, car to unload. Nice talking to you."

As I continue to unload the car of children and various belongings, that phrase keeps playing in my ear No I hadn't heard that! and I start laughing. It sounds like maybe she has heard alot of things about my family, just not that.

Occupational Monday

2007-09-17T16:35:00.000-04:00

I switched up the tactics today. We put the superman vest on before getting in the car. On arrival I put Connor in his stroller. We all know she was late to show, we were too. Just a few minutes of looking at a book about a train with animals in it. It went beautifully.

She appears and as I promised Connor, I released him from the stroller and vest and he walked calmly to the "Bean Room" with her. He spent most of his session in the tent with all the dried beans and rice again. The amount of words coming out of that tent was astounding and it hasn't stopped all day.

On the way home when he would normally be wiped, he has turned into the spotter.

"Hey bicycle!" and I could barely see it but, in front of the car wash down the road was a bicycle.

"Horse! Horse!" Sure enough there was one of the horse statue they placed through out Louisville.

"Truck..cars..Hello duck."

"Hey! What abouwowt me?" Upon hearing this I decide to take the advice some of you gave me and turn this into a conversation.

"What about you?

"Hey! What abouwowt me?"

"Do you need something, hun? I ask, feeling like I need to come up with a more original and engaging repertoire.

"Oh no!"

"What?"

"Oh no!"

"Whats wrong?"

"Naughty Gnomes."

"I don't see any gnomes." I fear I'm losing grasp of the situation as he starts scripting Thomas and Friends.

"On on faster faster....stop stop I wanna stop......I'll runaway."

"Ice cream? Popsicle? Yellow?"

We are home, we go to the kitchen and look in the freezer together. He pulls out a box of ice cream sandwiches that someone put back in the freezer after taking the last one. Grrr! He looks in the box, turns it upside down and says, "Empty! All gone! All done! Where did it go?"

He changes topics quickly "Diaper. Poopy."

My jaw drops at this late breaking news. Neither words have been in his vocabulary. Is he dirty? I don't smell anything, does he need to go? I try to steer him to the bathroom. Getting him through the doorjamb is more difficult than putting a cat in a tub of water.

"Diaper. Poopy."

"You need to go to the bathroom?" still giving gentle pushes toward the door.

He is getting frustrated with me and takes my hands to his hips making them go in a downward motion. He wants to be changed. Changing him in front of the bathroom door, determined that what ever is going on in that pull-up, I will somehow steer the event toward the toilet, I find he isn't dirty or wet. His has a large amount of dried beans and rice stuck to various private areas.

Baby Mine

2007-09-16T18:55:00.000-04:00

Family reunions are tough for most of us, and he did well for the most part. It's the times when he takes flight and runs, not walking willingly back, instead having to be carried while he is fighting us that gets me. I didn't feel any stares, I had turned that sense off a few months back. I would not disparage my family and say they did a thing wrong at all. No staring, snickering, whispering, no it was all me. I was tired and low on patience and instead of taking my time to do things correctly and make it easier on all of us, I made things worse.

First mistake was taking a boy with five stitches in the bottom of his foot to the waterside. DUH! What on earth did I think he was going to do? When I told him not to get in the water he didn't, but his little foot was still in a puddle of mud in between the pebbles. Had I taken the time to think it through I could have moved him over, fixed a spot to put his foot, gave him a certain amount of time before we had to go. Alas, I didn't do any of these well thought out things. I made a second mistake and told him we were going back to the pavilion and my poor little guy that does not transition well flipped out.

The duty of carrying pressure and weighted vest and having the intuition about when to use which one, figuring out what is sensory and what is bad behavior, these are things I do happily (although not always well) because they are what my kiddo needs, but I would be lying if I said it was anything less than daunting at times. I have come to the realization that the daunting times turn out to be when I am working against myself, like today.

I am tired and having driven 200+ miles round trip to spend an hour and a half with family I have not seen for awhile makes me feel like I could curl up in my computer chair and sleep till morning.

I leave you with a song Hubby likes, it makes him think of Connor and alot of other special kids.

The lyrics "Baby Mine"
By Alison Krauss

Baby mine, don't you cry
Baby mine, Dry your eyes
Rest your head close to my heart
Never to part, baby of mine

Little one, when you play
Don't you mind what they say
Let those eyes sparkle and shine
Never a tear, baby of mine

If they knew sweet little you
They'd end up loving you too
All those same people who scold you
What they'd give just for the
Right to hold you

From your head down to your toes
You're not much, goodness knows
But you're so precious to me
Sweet as can be, baby of mine

T.G.I.F. or not!

2007-09-14T21:35:00.000-04:00

Sometimes Fridays are just so darn good. We hadn't done much heavy work but instead concentrated more on floor time, just enjoying being with each other. He behaved so well and even helped me clean up when he spilt an entire box of Trix cereal.

He said the cutest things. Seeing the cookie dough he had gotten on a DVD he ask "What did you do?" It was so cute I couldn't help but laugh. At one point during the day I even heard a happy little bird chirping outside my window.

Time came to get the girls from school and we got in the car waving "Bye-bye Duck" to the lawn ornament in the neighbors yard. The weather was nice and breezy and the sun wasn't shinning too brightly. When we got home I decided it would be nice to get the heavy work out of the way outside. It's Friday so that means Hubby brings dinner home, no preparing meals today!

I gave Connor a spade to dig in dirt and sand. After an hour or so we were both covered in the dirt and sand, so under the pretense of getting something to drink, I lured him back inside. Once inside he is self sufficient in getting his own drink of water. I start to draw his bath and he jumps in almost before I can get his clothes off.

After he is clean and hair washed I set the timer. When it goes off the younger teen takes Connor to finish getting dress while I have my chance to get clean and changed. I had managed to get my shirt off and hear a crash followed by "WAH!!!"

I rush out of the bathroom still only in pants and a bra to see he has managed to slice his foot open while playing chase with his sister. The magnetic board to help organize appointments had a very thin sheet of aluminum that peels right off and is very dangerous to little feet.

He doesn't want to be touched and blood is everywhere. I pick him up and put a pull-up on him getting blood smeared all the way up his leg. It was on my hands, the floor, my chest, and all over him. The youngest girl gets me a tshirt and the oldest gets another pull-up and we put in on his foot. Absorbent and stops blood from getting on anything else. The oldest gets him in the car while the youngest helps me get my keys and cell phone. At this moment I seemed to have trouble remembering anything.

On the way to the immediate car center he is fine saying "Ewww!" when he sees the blood on his toes. In triage his is OK, when the nurse takes off the pull-up to look at his foot he covers his mouth and says "Oh no!"

Once we are called back in the room waiting on a doctor he gets scared. Hubby and I try to calm him but he tries desperately to get under the gurney which has a shelve for oxygen it's covered with dust and just dangerous. After an hour of wrestling with a distraught toddler the doctor finally comes in. He is very nice and ready for a work out. The procedure was over quickly, the pricks to numb and the cleaning being the only things that hurt, and Connor though he was struggling and screaming in the beginning is now asleep.

Connor got 5 stitches and once home was talking and running 90 mph like nothing ever happened. The stitches are to be in for 2 weeks because the cut is across the bottom of his heel, and he is to take an antibiotic because there is noway to keep him off his feet.

Watching him since we got home I don't know how those stitches are going to hold out.

Temple of geeks

2007-09-14T08:00:00.000-04:00

The spouse and I had two rare occurrences last night. We got to go out a few hours by ourselves, and we got to be part of a open forum Q&A with Dr. Temple Grandin.

I had no questions for her I just wanted to hear what she had to say. Most of her answers were plain common sense. The sort of answers that make "normal people" stop and say "Well duh! Why didn't I think of that?"

She describes the way she thinks as putting a topic in Google images search engine. She thinks in pictures. She says there are three types of thinking;
"1. Visual thinking - Thinking in Pictures, like mine 2. Music and Math thinking
3. Verbal logic thinking."

Dr. Grandin warns parents to not stomp out the things their children obsess over. Instead she says to use these things to teach. Find books about it to teach them to read. Find clubs for it to help social interactions and use it to teach turn taking. Turn taking she says is key.

On treatments, Dr.Grandin is conservative, she must have at least three families that claim it was successful and they must answer her defense attorney-like questions. So far chelation and Hbot do not meet her standards. Medications, she says must have the "Wow factor" but she says just a tad too much and the person will feel like they drank 10 cups of coffee or worse.

She says to teach kids career skills and start on it at around 10 yrs of age. She describes Google and Microsoft as "Full of Apsies and Auties that were the lucky ones. The ones who had mentors to give them direction. The ones who didn't have their obsession stomped out of them."

Whether she meant to or not, she had us cracking up. The self proclaimed "geek". I loved the twinkle in her eyes when she described friends of hers (most with Aspergers) that were in Silicon Valley.

Dr. Grandin also told us that studies show that some great composers had aspergers, and Dr. Einstein was most likely autistic.

She told a story about being on an airplane in coach and a couple that made out the whole flight. She confesses she does not "get" or understand all that. She likens it to the reaction her autistic friend has to the conversation of server farms. She tilts her head back, eyes closed, and exclaims "Ahhhhh!"

She says she has the emotional status of a 10 year old boy. As example she tells the story of her being on a construction sight where someone kept stealing the lunches. She can barely stop laughing as she tells about the guys putting dog crap on sandwiches and letting the lunch thief steal it.

When asked by families if there child will ever have meaningful relations (I take it she meant marital relations), she has one answer, "I don't know. Maybe if they find someone with the same intense interests. You have to remember your kid is a geek."

So much insightful information I can't possibly remember to get it all down. She talked about sensitivities, colored glasses and paper for visual processing problems, antidepressants, diets, ABA, speech and OT, manners, and potty training.

During the entirety of the session she spoke of her Mother often. The treatments her Mother used and the people she used as a team. I think it's fair to say that her Mother did one hell of a job.

Brushes trump feet?

2007-09-13T13:34:00.000-04:00

The following is a discussion the Spouse and I had just yesterday,

"So how did the boy do in speech today?" He asks.
"He did great, he followed along with the picture schedule and did the picture and sound pictures all the way to O."
"What are the picture and sound pictures?"
"I'm not sure what they are really called, but they go from A to Z and they have two pictures of one thing one them and then the beginning sound of the picture. It would go Apple, Apple, Ah ah ah. Baby, baby, ba, ba, ba." I explain hoping he isn't totally lost now.

"Did he get tired of it or what happened?"
"He didn't know what the picture was."
"What was the picture?"
"Octopus. Guess we've never had a chance to cover that one."
"Everything else go alright?"
"Yea, he zoomed through most of his schedule so he got to go to the gym. He was checking out the assistant, I think he remembered she had open toed shoes last time, then at the gym he saw she had red toenails. He followed her everywhere."
"Oh great! What did she think about that?"
"Well I told her about it last time we went, but she tried to hide them by standing in a ball pit."
"What did he do? Dive to the bottom after them?"
"Well, he tried to yes."

"You know I think maybe we should try the brush. Has to be better than him going after strangers feet." He offers
"Seriously? Are you sure? You know, just because we start brushing doesn't necessarily mean he wont still want toes."
"Well lets try it anyway. We have to try something. The really bothers me when he does that. It's the one thing he does that really make me feel he has anything wrong with him."

I know and understand what he means. He isn't denying that Connor has autism and he isn't ashamed of it. The site of your little one throwing them self on strangers nasty (God only knows where they have been) feet and pressing them to his face makes your heart sink. It's not only the dirt that may be there, but that he does it with no fear, no shame, and no apologies. For him at those moments there is no one attached.

Then when and why

2007-09-11T07:43:00.000-04:00

About a year ago when we were first started with the early developmental program in our state, we were assigned a SC (service coordinator). Our SC was a go getter, she made sure all ducks were in a row and that Connor got every service he needed. She got more hours if needed. She pulled in dietitians, psychologist, local playgroups, and instructed me on how to get services once he turned 3 and the program ended.

As you could imagine SC, in order to get all the above accomplished, was a tad overbearing. She has a teen aged son that had some form of developmental delay and had been in this field for a long time. The result being if you had been to the moon, she had been there twice. If you knew of a treatment, well she may have helped event it, and how nice that the information of said treatment had got around to the lay folk who were not as educated.

My husband loathed her with his very core. I didn't mind her, she had helped tremendously and she was no worse than hubby's first stepmother, AKA Mother-in-law from hell. Unfortunately this was the person to first bring up Wilbarder's brushing protocol.

For those who do not know about the brushing protocol the information about it and the creator can be found here.

When she introduced the idea to us I knew immediately she was not giving it a glowing endorsement as far as hubby was concerned. She describe it as being a very bothersome thing that had to be done every 2 hours and something that her son still liked. I could see the pictures popping up in his head of a grown boy rubbing himself raw all day, every day and having no interest in anything else.

That is in fact what he is afraid will happen. He believes the males in his family have addictive personalities and he may very well be right as one brother is an alcoholic, another addicted to pain medication, and he himself spends way too much time on computer games.

However I am told by the "experts" that the amount of brushing is decreased until it is no longer used at all and the gains are maintained. I am wrestling with either building up a good defense to go back and plead my case with hubby, or else waiting awhile before trying to introduce it again.

I don't care for the idea of chucking the treatment all together. I don't know that it would be paramount to Connor's development, but as I saw a positive effect and it can't cause him harm, I am inclined to believe it should be tried. To say the least I have conflicting thoughts. I wont do it and hide from hubby, I haven't hid anything from him in our 15+ years.

I guess the question I have to answer is; do you ask someone who has only asked not to try one thing, because of personal believes, to change their minds, when the results are not proven?

Occupational Monday

2007-09-10T16:40:00.000-04:00

Our lady of perpetual lateness shows up in the waiting room at 15 minutes past. Things have not escalated much because we showed up at 5 minutes past ourselves, anticipating her being late. I encouraged him to be the official door opener and we put on our "Superman Vest" (pressure vest) hoping that the energy spent combined with the calmness of pressure will make the wait bearable for the both of us.

I mark it a marginal success that I have only had to pull him out of a conference room twice, he has only set the waiting room phone to page once, and the crumpling to the floor has been minimal. I try to tell myself that the receptionist must see kids behave like this all the time, but as I see a young girl with her Grandparents looking at him like he is nuts, I don't find myself very convincing.

When he sees Her Lateness arrive he is ready to go. He grabs her hand and proceeds down the halls. She comments on his energy level seeming different than last week. When we get to the room that she has stuck us in the last few weeks he can't take it. He throws himself to the floor and cries.

It wasn't just your normal meltdown of "No I don't want to". He seemed terrified and almost to a point of hyperventilation. The bottom lip came out as far as it could and his breathing made him sound like he was saying "whooo" and between whoos I hear "Gym".

As fast as it starts it stops. He sees his speech therapist in the room across from this one, stands to his feet, takes a deep breath and says "OK!"

He then walks into the room with his speech therapist, ignoring that she is already with someone. Luckily she and her client were leaving the room and we got to stay there. There was a tent filled with dried beans and rice, and a drum to keep him happy while we go over whats been effective in regards to heavy work for the last 2 weeks.

OT tells him it will only be a few minutes and then we will go to the gym. He happily keeps himself occupied for the next 45 minutes while we go over the week of throwing toys at my head that prompted me to buy the neoprene covered weights. They are more likely to cause a concussion rather than split my head open I explain.

She starts explaining everything she has explained before, same anecdotes, same procedures, and just everything. She even brings up the brushing protocol even though she plainly has it in her charts that hubby is dead set against it. Connor likes the brushing and joint compressions and after she does one of my arms I can see why. I was immediately relaxed while she brushed my arm. It wasn't what I expected really because the bristles all go flat. Then she did the palm of my hand and when finished the tips of my fingers felt like all the nerves were awake and dancing.

Explanations of surgeons doing this before life threatening surgeries and how much concentration they have and calmness they possess get my critical thinking cap on. I don't know how much pressure they apply to this brush while preparing for surgery. I guess they could be tense and holding the brush down with that amount of pressure. I can't picture it being the pivotal thing for surgeon calmness but I do see it has an effect.

I saw the effect it had on Connor so I call hubby I tell him she brought up the brushing again with a persuasive argument for it. He is ticked off. "The one damn thing I tell them I am against and she keeps pushing!"

It ends my pitch that one statement. I decide we wont talk about it for now. He brings it back up in a much more calm tone "What do you think about it?"

I will post on his argument against tomorrow, because believe me it is another post all in itself. For the time being I just say "If you feel that strongly about then I say no." and under my breath I add "For now."

Daddy and Connor video time

2007-09-09T09:47:00.000-04:00

Hubby has recently made it a nightly thing after dinner to put Connor in his lap and look at videos on You Tube. They search for whatever is relevant to what Connor is going on about that day. If he isn't really talking about anything Hubby will search for some of his old childhood favorites like Speed racer, or just whatever comes to mind.

Last night of course it was horses. He pushes the horse into every room with him all the while yelling "Wahoo! Yeehaw! Gitty up!"
So of course Hubby searched for the Lone Ranger. He didn't find much but the opening of the show but this video got a chuckle from Hubby and me.

The night before it was Charlie and Lola. Connor says their names with a perfect English accent, his favorite to say is Charlie. His favorite video however is Lola and her friend Lota singing about a chicken that is the Bestest in the Barn.

Last week we also found out that techno songs were actually lullabies.

I know, I know he is only supposed to be getting his daily allowance of Sesame Street, but Hubby only has a small amount of time between getting home from work, eating diner, and Connor's bedtime. Sometimes allowance have to be made, or at least that's what I tell myself.

The cleanliness of hobbies

2007-09-08T15:04:00.000-04:00

I told her "No! Absolutely not. Thank you for the offer but, no. That thing is dangerous. Springs to pinch fingers, no handle to hold on to and it's been outside for how long now?" I thought she had got the picture, that I had made myself clear, seems I was mistaken.

The day had started out fine, Saturday ritual of fill up the gas tank, take the car through the car wash, and grocery shop for the upcoming week. Somehow things started to go downhill in the dairy section of the store. My cell phone rings, it shows someone is calling from the house. All kids are with me, maybe Hubby came home early from work.

"Hello."
"Hello, Dortha this is Rose." It's is my Mom's neighbor in my house.
"Er...Hi Rose, whats going on?"
"Your Mother wants to know where you are."
"Uh...grocery shopping."
"She wants to know where you are grocery shopping."
"Walmart. Why?"
"How long will you be?"
"Until I finish."
"About an hour?"
"About that!"
"We're going yard saleing for a bit and we'll be back." My Mom yells in the background.

I am wandering through the aisles now not sure of what I have put in the cart and what I've passed that I meant to pick up. Why the heck were they in my house with no one there? How did they get in my house? Who does that?

When the girls come to me with shirts they just have to have, I throw them in the cart and decide we need to go. I can't think properly enough to shop just now. When we pull in the drive I see the bleeping thing I told her no about. Maybe he wont notice it, maybe we can swing it around back and get rid of it later, but no he squeaks "HORSE!"

The teens start to carry in the shopping while I try to restrain Connor. He is so happy to see this huge hobby horse. I am less than pleased, it is nasty, dirty beyond belief. I am happy to see the springs have protective covering but I am unsure whether the green stuff on it would be classified as mold, mildew, fungus or algae. The front and back of the frame has things that look like paint roller covers, I guess to stop from scraping the floor when pushed here and there. I think they used to be grey maybe white, now they are camouflage.

He starts to tug and pull on it trying to get it closer and closer to the door. I give in. I lower one half of my back seat and throw the nasty hobby horse in and put Connor in his car seat. We are off for a second visit to the car wash.

He sits in the back of the hatchback while I presoak, wash, and scrub. As I start to rinse and check it over for any missed spots of nastiness he climbs out of the back and drives his new toy motorcycle and helicopter (more toys that were left inside from Grandma) through the bubbles on the concrete. Surprisingly it cleans up well and Connor is eager to get back in the car with his horse.

Once back home he helps pull it out of the car and pulls and pushes it all the way to the front step. I help him get it up the step but the rest is all him.

Horse clean and safe? Check (I think)
Heavy Work? Check

Perchance to dream

2007-09-06T08:25:00.000-04:00

Not quite so long ago I was a very distraught and sleep deprived woman. Seemed that no matter what I did, there was always something new to come along and change his sleeping arrangement.

It first started when he would not sleep for any length of time unless he was in his carrier. So I would buckle him in, sit in on the floor in front of the sofa, and would only be awaken for feedings. When he got too big for the carrier he was scared to be in the crib. We finally got him used to falling asleep in it but not before watching him fall asleep standing up with his head resting on the rail.

The time in the crib was very short lived as he soon started to climb out. This in itself was not too scary it was the fact that a number of times if I had not been in the room with him he would have landed on his head. So we transitioned him into a twin bed and put a gate up at his door so he would not wander through the house at night.

Soon the really strange and unusual would start. Instead of sleeping in his bed he started sleeping under it or in his closet. We had an occupational therapist by this time and she suggested a tent to give him a space to be enclosed by himself. That gave him a third place to sleep, under bed, in closet, or tent. You would think as long as he was sleeping I would let this be, but he was not sleeping well at all. He would not let me lay anything on the floor so after he feel asleep the pools of drool soaked half of his head and he would be awake again crying.

As well as sleeping in weird enclosed spaces he began to scream whenever we would turn his overhead light off, but would also make sure that no light was falling on him what so ever. Nightlights were rejected. I was beginning to think I would never sleep again and as I read stories about other parents in similar situations I was even more afraid.

Sleep deprivation must spur creativity and necessity must truly be the Mother of invention because one morning I just knew what I had to do. I pulled the old bunk bed the girls use to share out of storage and put it up in his room. I placed it in the corner of the room and used shower curtain hangers to hold old red and gold table clothes to close in the remaining exposed side and end of the bed. I removed the ladder and the top bunk serves only as a roof.

I slept well that night, till I heard Thump. He had rolled out of bed and was climbing back in. He has since placed his air mattress sleeping bag on top of his regular mattress and I wedge a pillow under one side to make sure there are no more tumbles. He zips himself in making sure the zipper is up as much as it will go and tells me "Night, night". I even on occasion get voluntary kisses.

I wonder how much longer till we have to make new inventive changes.

Heavy work

2007-09-03T08:36:00.000-04:00

I have been faithfully following the every two hour heavy work assignment. It has had it's benefits. The last few days he has actually laid down and has taken a nap. They have been getting progressively shorter in length, but I chalk this up to his endurance building.

Wanting as many activities as possible available for heavy work, I went out and bought 2 medicine balls. He has often picked up my brother in law's bowling balls, so I figured he would play with these and they would be much easier on the foot or toes they landed on.

Well that was my mistake. He found out the straps do not come off, he has deemed them defective.

On the same trip out I bought him a little bicycle and helmet. I realize this exercise would not be the heavy work he needed as his upper body would not be involved, but it prompts him to say three syllable words. "Bicycle!" If I say "Bike" he corrects me "Bicycle!" and I figured he still needs other forms of exercise too.

When I call spouse to tell him about my purchases he informs me that Connor will not be able to ride it immediately because it requires abstract thought. We'll just show him how' I think to myself. I am convinced that I will put him on this bicycle, show him how to put his feet on the peddles and he will just get it, right?

I put him on the it and his feet in place. He sits expectantly and then thrust his body forward waiting for the ride to start. I get on my knees and place my hands over his feet and from behind I peddle his feet for him (I may need to borrow his knee pads). After a bit I get up look at him and say "Now you try."

He moves his feet off the peddles and slants his body just enough to put his big toe on the floor and pushes. OK, this will take more time to learn than I thought.

With his heavy work has come some temper flaring, throwing/swinging of toys, and the need for more deep pressure. I can only assume this is because his endurance is being pushed. The temper and throwing or swinging toys are always when the toy does not "behave properly".

My younger teen sitting in the living room and minding her own business caught a toy telephone in the nose, when he could not get it to do what he wanted. What did he want it to do? I have no idea.

Spouse brought home a John Deere tracker with farm animals, that make animal noises and sings "Old McDonald". Straight out of the box he tried to disconnect the carts carrying the animals. He brought it to me to see if I could get them off. They are just not made to come apart. He throws the animals and the farmer across the room and the tractor soon flies at my head. I collect the tractor and animals to be put away until he can behave. He seeks more ammo, and soon I have two trucks that I narrowly dodge to add to confiscated items.

The needs for deep pressure have changed a bit as he needs more and more lately and I do the best I can with the vest, messages, and joint compressions, but there are just some things a Mom cannot do. Even in his sleep I will see him lie on his tummy, flat as a board,ball his fist up underneath his lower body and all the muscles in his legs and buttocks tighten. When he does this in his awake hours I distract his attention elsewhere.

The OT office is of course closed today for the holiday, so I will have to wait for her to show up late for her appointment next Monday. She has some explaining to do, and the next time she tells a parent to do heavy work with their kids she needs to let them know that it is indeed, hard work.

Script Please

2007-08-31T08:20:00.000-04:00

"Hey, what about wout me?" he screams as he runs through the house collecting various toys.

"Awh, Mom did you hear him?" asked my younger teen who has recently become a bleeding heart when it comes to her brother.

"Yes honey I heard him. He isn't really asking anything though." I assume this explains everything and she can get back to her homework.

"What do you mean he isn't asking? I thought you said you heard him."

" I did, but it's echolalia." I explain

"What's that?"

I am shocked. How can I have not explained this to her? How is a sister of a boy with autism going to get by? No wonder she thinks he means everything he says.

"It means he is just repeating a sentence that he has heard, but he hasn't put any meaning behind it."

"How do you know?" She looks at me unconvinced.

"Well, lets work it out together. Does he look like he asking anyone for something?"

"No."

"Is he trying to get any ones attention?"

"No."

"Has anyone got anything or got to do anything that he hasn't?"

"No."

"So why would he be asking 'What about me?' then?"

"Hmmm, I don't know. So where did he hear it?"

"My best guess would be from one of your girls."

We continue our conversation about echolalia and scripting, and soon she is a new expert on the subject. He watches his daily dose of Sesame Street with us and as Elmo says "Guess what Elmo's thinking about today!"
We have seen this episode loads of times and we all know what Elmo is thinking about and turning Connor toward me I say in perfect unison with Elmo, "Dinosaurs Yea!!"

She rolls her eyes and laughs "Script much?"

Creativity waning

2007-08-30T09:26:00.000-04:00

It has been many years since I have painted. Not wanting to poison the house or myself with fumes from oil paints or paint thinners while trying to conceive last time, I put all the expensive paints, brushes, and canvas away. Occasionally I will see one of these fine brushes, when one of the teens "borrow" one and forget to put it back.

I have been feeling the urge lately to paint again but the oils are no safer now then they were then and I don't care for the idea of finger prints on the canvas or different colored ones throughout the house that wont come off or dry for several days. Then there is the fact that I have no idea what I would paint. So I take one of my expensive paint brushes out of storage and decoupage hundreds of little tractors in a border around Connor's room. A more noble task.

I also have a great urge to write. I enjoy writing about the everyday challenges and rewards of life with my little man, but I would like to write about other things as well. Memoirs are hard for me and bring out ugliness in my attitude, so I only do that sparingly. This house (like all houses) runs better with a happy Mom.

To say the least my mind has been in a constant whirlwind of ideas. I try to rope one in and go with it, problem is ideas don't stop coming or the idea I have lassoed is too messy, time consuming, or just not possible at the moment. In order to at least do something constructive with all this buzzing energy and creativity, I decide to make him a weighted pet. My first idea is a sock elephant filled with rice. I go to the store and buy 10 lbs because I know the younger teen will complain the she wants to eat some.

I have a pair of tubes socks in hand and look up a pattern on the Internet. I find a cute one and start to work but have to stop several times so clean up rice, do an errand or two, or let the little shaking whimpering dog out that has a bladder the size of a chick pea. Things aren't going well, he wants to be involved but I can't fathom how to include him with needles and scissors. I put it away and try to remember what stuffed animals I have stored away in the basement when the girls decided they were too old for them.

I dash downstairs and grab the first one I see. A large Pound Puppy. He loves it so I immediately start the surgery, turning the Pound Puppy into a four pounder. In the car with the puppy on his lap his is very contented and there is no playing with locks or doorhandles. At home after dinner Hubby and the girls find the puppy very comfortable to have sitting on their shoulders, laps, and chest.

Connor seeing all the interest in his puppy decides he has to have it back NOW! He sits down placing it on his lap and falls quickly asleep at a quarter till 7 pm, not getting back up till 7:30 this morning. Guess I got a little carried away with the weight.

Hmmm, maybe if I put it on top of my head...

And then there were five.

2007-08-28T21:09:00.000-04:00

After disrupting our schedule to go through the attic for long lost DVDs, and to carry awkward or heavy objects to her truck, my Mother ended her over extended stay with us. She made her trek back to her own house after being with us for 10 months.

If not for worrying that her grandson will miss her immensely, I would be downright cheerful. One less person to clean up after and take menu orders from. No squeaky hearing aids and constant chatter before I reach the bottom of my first cup of coffee in the morning. One less female to compete with for the bathroom at any given moment.

The interruptions really bothered me as they seemed to come at moments when I would start hard work sessions, the "Teach me to talk" program on the computer, or floor time. I knew for sure that today would be a wasted effort. His sensory needs wouldn't be met and he would run rampant through the house once again today, bouncing from one thing to the other, trying to keep himself at high arousal.

I gave in to giving him a couple pieces of sour chewy candy to at least get some work for his jaw muscles and feed the sensory needs of his mouth. Spouse had the same idea after hearing my woes of the day and brought home a small bag of jalapeno Cheetos. The result was of course he ate no dinner, he picked at a few raw carrots until deciding throwing them at his sisters was a better idea.

After dinner was over he sat in my lap and touched the screen on the objects I asked him to show me. He is rewarded with music and moving pictures and a man's voice saying the name of the object. The temptation to keep hitting "horse", his favorite animal, or "Book" that has a great classical piece that plays, is great, but he stays with my request as I say, "Alright!" and "Good Job!". After 15 minutes I let him touch whichever picture he wants. He touches horse, book, and telephone over and over for a bit and then tells me "No." when he wants another group of pictures to choose from. He stayed in my lap for over a half hour and I was granted kisses and hugs.

He let me read a book to him at bed time for the first time in months, though I think 'Mr. Brown can Moo. Can You?' may have been a bit of an instigator. Instead of climbing into his bed he stays awake making every noise in the book over and over and over followed by "The End!" every so often. My thoughts wander back to my Mom and what she would say about all the racket coming from his room.

"Oh would you listen to that! To think not that long ago we didn't know if he would ever talk!" She does have an annoying habit of keeping the little things in perspective sometimes.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On a side note, a funny thing happened this weekend and my husband just doesn't get why it was so funny. So if you would to take the time, let me know which of us has the challenged sense of humor.

My Mom went to the Bingo with my Grandma. Mom wins the first game and gets around $25. She then goes on to win the next game and wins a very considerable amount more. Realizing she had the money to now make her house fully livable, she stands up, shaking her fist over her head and yells, "I going home! I'm going home!".

My Grandma looks at her, pulls her back into her seat, starts patting Mom's knee and says, "Now TeeTee calm down. We can't go home yet. We gotta finish playing Bingo!"

Occupational Monday

2007-08-27T20:44:00.000-04:00

Last week I was assigned the task of giving the little guy hard work sessions every two hours and report back to the therapist what effects this had. My husband began to laugh at me as the week wore on. "What hard work are you going to pull him from to do your hard work?"

Sadly that seemed to be the case. He would be jumping on his trampoline or my bed and I would pull him away to play with cars on all fours, using one arm to bare his weight. When he was climbing cabinets and furniture, I would come to move him to the task of playing with wet sand. I would stop his running from one end of the house to the other and have him push or pull laundry baskets.

Some times I could see more contentment, most times I just saw fuel added to the fire. He would finish one heavy work task just to begin one on his own.

Today when the appointment time came creeping up I made sure to be there only 5 minutes till. The therapist was still 15 minutes late coming out so insanity ensued. Most of the twenty minutes in the waiting room was spent with Connor trying to run through the building, not wanting to comply with instructions. I was getting tired of my own voice as he lay on the floor (his tactic to not be moved or have to hold my hand) and I would say "OK, I am going to help you up. One, two, three."

When she comes out he is happy to take her hand and go with her, until he finds out we are going to the same room as last week and not to the gym. We have to force him in and as she sits in front of the door barring escape, he flies in to a meltdown taking the pop-up tent with him. He is usually one to recover from his meltdowns quickly but this one lasts awhile. The therapist goes to get weighted balls and a weighted blanket.

He has managed to enclosed himself inside the pop-up tent that he has collapsed. Throwing the weighted blanket over him she assumes he is wiped. I assure her he is only getting his second wind and will attend to the toys she brought in momentarily. He isn't one to get wiped out by a meltdown but to either recover and do the task at hand or to be fueled by it.

He doesn't make a liar out of me. He gets up and starts to play with the medicine balls and chew on the handle of the rideable bouncy ball. Not being the center of my attention at the moment he decides to let me in on the fun and throws the 5 - 7lbs balls at me as I review the week with his therapist. I play with him as we talk and let him climb on me and encourage him to carry the balls as we talk.

I let her know that the results were varied which I didn't expect after being very faithful to the every two hours. I also let her in on my husbands joke that our little guy is always doing hard work. We go over the week and the results and as we do I clue in to the problem as quickly as she does. The times his hard work only involved his legs or short movements he was stimulated by it, when he was using his upper body to push, pull, or lift he got the desired effect of the hard work and was more content and attentive.

As we rejoice in our new found discovery, Connor lies down behind me and reaching up my shirt starts to rub the small of my back. This boy that has not taken a nap in so very long was shortly snoring behind me with the occasional twitch of the leg or foot.

"He doesn't have much endurance. As we continue the hard work that will get better." She explains.
"If I hadn't just seen that I would have questioned you about the endurance." I guess she knows a little bit about this occupational stuff after all.

Out of sorts. Part II

2007-08-26T20:52:00.000-04:00

While we walk to the picnic table to deposit all of our supplies, Connor is a model citizen. That soon changes however when he sees that the table cloth and the cake have fire engines on them. He is directed to some sand a few yards away and a disaster is avoided. My girls are resuming their posts of second and third Mothers to make sure their brother is occupied. I think it is partly because they still want to play a little, and the idea of sitting and talking with the elders is less than attractive.

The birthday boy is very small for his age. I had seen him before when my cousin was new to being a mother. She had been worried then because being in a family that has always packed a few extra pounds, a breast bone that protruded the way his did, had never been seen. He has her eyes, big warm brown eyes. On this little person they melt you.

In no time I start to take notice of a few troubling things. He has no words and barely babbles. When he is offered the whole cake, he doesn't dive in but after getting icing on his finger pays more attention to it than the cake. I think to myself that maybe having an autistic child I am reading too much in to this, and I have no idea what he does at home. He doesn't walk yet, he doesn't make any attempts to cruise, he is much happier being carried. We call his name over and over again, most times we do not get a response.

Thinking about the call I received from her about a month ago, I start to feel like an ass. She had asked so many questions about Connor's autism. What made us get him tested? What was it about him that made him autistic? So many questions that I was glad someone would ask instead of assuming, but the depths of the questions made me feel she was trying to find out if she wanted to even invite us to her son's party.

I see she is getting tense and while they try to get his attention for a picture she tries to catch my eye. I give her my best "great party, thank for inviting us" smile. She does finally corner me however and asks me what I think. All I can tell her is I am not a professional, it took me till almost 3yrs of age to find out what was going on with my own son. I advise her to talk to her doctor about problems she is concerned with and warn her that at this stage of development they may not do anymore than say "All children develop differently and at different ages."

I then tell her about the early development program that Connor was in, that they may evaluate to see if he qualifies for any services. I also assure her that he just turned 1 it may be too early, next month he may get up and walk across the room. He may get his first word and second word, etc. and she will remember when he use to be so quiet.

I then have to answer my cell phone it is that boy again. "Hello."
"Hello?" he answers
"Hello." I say again and deciding I must have a bad connection I hang up.

As I put my phone back in my pocket I see Connor has left his Grandma in the dust and she is having the worst response possible.

"Connor! You get back here!" She squawks. He turns to look at her, now thinking this is a great chasing game he speeds up. I start into a sprint, he is so far away from me that the possibility of him getting to the road before I get to him is very real. I don't believe I have ever ran so fast, even as a teenager, I know my legs had never given me the speed they granted me at that moment. My heart also blesses me, as I don't think it bother to beat until I had reached Connor and with shear speed, knocked him to the ground.

Words tumble out of my mouth that I had no control over "road bad" "hurt" "cars". My brain isn't working through the problem as fast as the rest of my body is and I curse myself for not knowing the correct things to say to him. The magical words I need to make him understand that if he goes into the road that he could get hurt, ran over by a car, do not come into my vocabulary. As my heart resumes beating and trying to escape my chest, Connor is mad that he got scolded and decides I am the wrong doer here. He tries to smack at me, I hold his little hands and hang my head in defeat. Mom comes over quietly and takes one of his hands and together we lead him back to the party.

The feelings I had sensed earlier in my cousin were the same I felt at that moment; concern, fear, exhaustion, uncertainty, and appreciation for a little understanding and a helping hand.

Out of sorts

2007-08-25T19:58:00.000-04:00

I am in a mood that I hate to be in. One where my temper is short and I am feeling sorry for myself. I try to cover up for the kids so I won't drag them down into the mire with me. It has been an eventful day and I am tired and wiped out, physically and emotionally.

I had intended to take the kids to the state fair in the early hours of the morning to avoid the crowds and the heat. My main purpose for this was to show Connor the farm animals and perhaps let him get a peek at the horse show. The horse is his favorite animal right now. After the trip to the fair we were to go to the store and pick up a gift bag and go to the park for my cousin's son's first birthday party. A quick stop at the grocery afterward, because there was not much food in the house other than 10 boxes of cereal.

We woke up too late for the trip to the fair, which was a treat in itself to be able to sleep in that late. I was a little disappointed but glad that I hadn't let the kids in on the plan. I start waking sleepy heads up and herding them to the kitchen for breakfast. No one seems able (willing) to get there own bowl and spoon. When breakfast is over I have myself dressed and ready, Mom is on the computer playing games but is ready and staying out of the way. I get Connor ready, pack up a few needed items and start sorting through the PCS cards to find Car, Store, Shop, Park, Water, Fun, and Cake. I can't find cards for fountain, or party so I make due.

My teens are taking showers, one downstairs and one upstairs and I can hear the moaning and complaining about the lack of hot water. Then I catch the oldest one on the phone with the boy she likes, talking about going to the movies. "We have to be at the park by noon get moving." I say with a little more annoyance than I mean to.
"Gee, you don't have to yell at me!"
"Honey I didn't yell and I don't mean to be snippy. You can stay on the phone if you have to, but MOVE. We don't have much time left."

She goes down the hall, phone still stuck to her ear saying things like "What do you mean don't yell at her? I didn't, did I?"

The amount of time she spends on the phone with this boy is a constant thorn in my side these days, but today they seem to make it just a bit more so. Twenty minutes later we are at a stop light and my cell phone rings. I answer since I am at a red light. "I'm sorry, are you busy?"
"Well I will be in a second when the light turns green. Who is this?"
"Um, can I speak to Melody?"
Words fail me and I toss the cell phone in the back seat to my daughter. Didn't they just talk? What can be so important that he has to call my cell? How did he get my cell phone number?

The store is crowded when we get there and the horse ride doesn't work. The girls try to move it like it was working and it works good enough so that Connor allows us to put him the cart. I lose my Mom and my daughters almost immediately as there is a 50% off of clearance apparel. I grab the gift bag and head over to get more pull-ups. On the way over he sees a toy firetruck that I had failed to see and avoid. It is snatched from the shelf and he pushes buttons making it sound like a fire engine had just came in the front of the store.

I find the rest of my party laden with bargains and Connor will not release his newly found treasure. So filling my trunk with more than I had planned to we head off to the park. The siren on this toy sounds so real that I am looking in my rear and side view mirrors almost constantly.

My Grandma, Aunt, Uncle, and cousins are there and I am a tad nervous about seeing them. I haven't bothered to make much time for them since last years Christmas party. The looks and whispers were too much for my whole household. This was before he got a diagnosis and some of these people thought he was just "Bad".

As we walked up to the rest of the family I got the strangest feeling. My cousin was walking toward us and as we got closer this feeling grew. I can not begin to tell you what this feeling was it had bits of alot of different feelings, but I knew what was going to happen before my cousin wrapped her arms around my Mom. As they hugged I saw her shake and the tears falling from her eyes and I almost wanted to cry too, but I had no idea why. I thought we must be sharing a mass insane moment. All she could say was "Thank you so much for coming."

After I am there for awhile and I observe a few things I think I understand what she was feeling and why I understood without really knowing.

To be continued....

2007-08-24T19:53:00.000-04:00

The first cake was done and carefully managed to place each tier on the cake plate with layers of frosting between. It's a square cake as I couldn't find my round pans. They are probably outside in the sandbox, behind the garage filled with dirt, or else I hid them from myself cleaning out my cabinets a few months back. The cake is also chocolate. I managed to finish the decorating by myself and placed it high up on the water cooler, where I thought it would go unnoticed and left alone.

Having accomplished this feet I decide to make lunch in the microwave and as always the circuit blows. Not that big of a deal I will just trip the breaker and grab my sheets out of the dryer while I am in the basement. I run down the stairs as quickly as possible trying not to break my neck on the clothes left to be sorted and laundered. I step on a car on the way down, a new addition to the others that have ceased to work properly and are therefore thrown over the baby gate into the abyss.

I go in the furnace room and flip the light switch and wait for the flicker from the fluorescence. I flick the bulbs and hope that will hurry it up, it doesn't. I feel around in the dark for the panel and find the fuse hoping I don't electrify myself. The light decides it is up to the challenge at last and gives me light, I hit the fuse and turn the light back off. I head over to the laundry room and I can feel precious minutes have passed. He hasn't noticed I am downstairs yet at which point he would cry, scream, and do all he could to try to get over the gate. The fact he hasn't noticed my absence worries me too. What is he doing? How dangerous is it? What kind of mess am I gonna have to clean up?

As I am coming back up the stairs with my fresh clean sheets I can hear him singing. "Happy erfday to youey, Happy erfday to youey." He then makes big inhale and blowing noises.
At the top of the stairs I turn in the kitchen and see him standing in a chair, serenading and blowing at the cake. There are little finger marks all over it and chocolate covers his face. I move the cake to the fridge, wipe his face, and then make my way down the hall to deposit the sheets onto the bed and I hear "Happy erfday!" He has found it. I get to the kitchen before he has moved the cake from it's shelf and sit it on the entertainment center in the living room.
He climbs on to the highest piece of furniture and sings "Happy erfday to you!" his hips swaying back and forth to the tune.
"Are you going to sing Happy Birthday to Daddy?" I ask him as I hold on to his waist to stop him from falling.
He sings it a few more times then pretends to blow out the candles. He doesn't aim toward the cake this time but at me and my face is showered in spit.

Daddy did get to hear a little bit of "Happy erfday to you." but we had to restrain him from running when others joined in. He didn't cry this time and we sang fast to finish the song. He and his Daddy blew out the candles together.

We have another birthday party tomorrow at a park with a big water fountain that kids can play in. The party is for my cousin's son. Should be interesting.

White or chocolate?

2007-08-23T15:49:00.000-04:00

Birthdays have had a negative effect for us for the last two years. No it isn't because I am getting older and gravity is having it's way with parts of my body that I swear use to be higher, not to mention firmer. It's because every time we start to sing the Birthday song, Connor looks around liked a spooked horse and flies out of the room crying. To his credit we may not be the best singers, but I really don't think we are quite that bad.

It doesn't help that everyone seems to have their birthdays all around the same time. August is really bad, husband, youngest teen, Grandma, cousin, my cousin's son, etc, all in the same week. Since tomorrow starts off the week of birthdays starting with my husband, we went to the local supermarket to get cake mix and icing.

I hadn't noticed how stores seems to have pictures really high up showing what they sell in that particular department. Connor lets me in on what I have overlooked, "Cheese" and sure enough there is the cheese section.
"Milk"
"Baby"
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10" as we go down each numbered aisle.

"Happy erfday to youey" I stop and stare at him as do my daughters. He sings it a few more times and I see the picture above the bakery of two halves of cake. One is white with sprinkles the other is chocolate.

Elmo on Sesame Street (the only thing he gets to watch lately) mentions a birthday cake everyday, sometimes having kids sing a few lines. So it may be echolalic and the picture of cake setting it off. So maybe if tomorrow night he sees the cake maybe the spouse will have a few lines of "Happy erfday to youey." sung to him that would be an awesome birthday gift.

My husband is a chocolate lover so I got him the dark chocolate fudge cake mix and icing, and as I start to head out of the store my eyes start to get a little misty. I don't know if one cake set that off or not. What if it is the white one with sprinkles and the chocolate cake doesn't qualify for "Happy erfday to youey"?

So yes, as you may have guessed tomorrow we will be having two cakes, one white with sprinkles and one chocolate. I just hope I don't have to cut them in half before I get the desired result.

Hey, where are you?

2007-08-21T21:20:00.000-04:00

In June of last year, my husband and I loaded up the children and headed to Nolin Lake. We were to meet my Dad, Stepmom, Stepbrother, Stepsister, and their families for a camping trip. They live in the area, but for us it is an hour and a half trip each way. We left early in the morning so we could spend a good part of the day with them, because we would not be staying over night. Connor had just turned 2 a few weeks before and his behavior and communication abilities were, to put it mildly, straining.

The campsite was in a patch of tall pine trees and just where the trees thinned out was a man-made beach, so the ground around the tents was covered in sand and dry pine needles with little patches of grass. Connor must have thought it was heaven. He would run around grabbing handfuls of needles and sand, to either throw it, put it in his mouth, or sit and poke at it with sticks he collected. He would run into other campsites and almost straight through camp fires.

My husband and I were both on high alert, but trying to stay calm in order to reap a little enjoyment from visiting with family. My Dad was glad to hang out with me while the rest went swimming, not being one to show off his sexy white legs (more comfortable in blue jeans). He would try to engage Connor in play but was being totally ignored. "Hey, Connor." No response. "Connor." Still nothing.
"Dortha, can he hear?" He was concerned about Connor, but I could tell a little afraid to meddle at the same time.
"I think so Dad, because he can hear Elmo all the way from the kitchen. We have a test to find out coming up soon." I shrugged and gave him a smile, letting him know that all his questions and concerns were more than welcomed.

Every time he has called or we have visited together since he will ask "So hows Connor doing?" and I immediately fill him in on any and all developments since the last time we talked, like him asking that small question has opened a flood gate. If he doesn't have a lot of time he will simply ask "How are the kids?" to which I reply which a much more simplified answer.

This past Friday he called to say he was in town having come along with my Stepmom, who had a class in adult education for her job. He was on his way to see me and Connor (the girls were in school) and would be here shortly. The house was a wreck as usual and I zoomed through as quickly as possible making everything look "good enough".

He arrived even sooner than I could have imagined. I have always been a "Daddy's little girl" and when I see him I can't help but smile. He always wears the same type shirt, button up with sleeves that come just above the elbow and a front pocket, along with the same type of jeans or dress pants if it's Sunday. The cologne he wears is one I would recognize anywhere and I love the smell of it, it smells like Dad.

When he comes in Connor doesn't greet him at the door with me and so we hunt to find which bedroom he has ran off to. He is in my room jumping on my bed and when he sees his Grandpa just lays down and looks at him. Dad tries to make conversation with him and I guess was asking questions that my niece, born just a couple of hours after Connor, would have been able to answer. I can tell he doesn't know what to do or how to act around his Grandson so I ask if he would like to have a cup of coffee. We sit in the kitchen and drink coffee and talk.

We soon hear this shrill little voice from down the hall "Hey, where are you!"
Dad's eyes bulge out at me as he is sure it couldn't be the same little boy he just tried to talk to.
"Hey, where are you!"
"I'm in the kitchen. Where are you?" Dad booms back.
A little heads peeks around the refrigerator at us and when he makes eye contact with his Grandpa he has a fit of the giggles and runs back down the hall. Connor repeats this game a few times and before we know it time has come for Dad to leave. We go back down the hall to tell Connor "Grandpa has to go bye bye."
Connor walks over to him and pulls on his hand until he bends down and then hugs him. Then he grabs his hand and walks him to the door.

"Wow I feel honored Connor, you've never given me a hug before." By the sound of his voice he was a little emotional too.

The four F's

2007-08-20T22:17:00.000-04:00

Have you ever thrown one of those small rubbery bouncy balls in a very small room? Did it bounce every which way zinging in every direction, bouncing off walls, floor, ceiling, and everything else in the room? If you gave that little ball some stamina to keep it going, it would be very much like my son. He even has a habit of making his own sound effects as he "ZOOM"s, "EERRRRR"s, and sometimes "Bam"s or "Kaboom"s through the house. With this he has a love of all things powdery or sand like; coffee creamer, sugar, salt, instant potatoes, ground coffee, etc. He likes to spray his face and chest with spray bottles full of water. He loves creamy textures like lotions or butter and will cover himself and everything around him. Also we have pica, he likes to put things in his mouth (most times eating them) that are not food items; sand, dirt, styrofoam, and chunks of nerftype balls. Armed with this information I went in to the OT's meeting today sure that she was going to tell me he is sensory seeking.

We arrived (quite by mistake) 20 minutes early. He isn't able to sit still very long and has already seen two lovely ladies with perfectly pedicured toes in flip flops. He dives under a chair and slowly inches his way under the chairs and tables lined up in the waiting room. I try to lure him out with his Thomas train, but it's no good. I explain to the lady before he gets to her area that he really likes feet, so when he does reach out from under her chair and grabs her ankle she isn't alarmed. She gets up and helps me move her chair so I am able to grab him. He makes a show of being an airplane zooming around a center post in the room, then counting, and a recital of ABC's, all in courtship of this lady, all in hopes she may consent to let him touch her toes. It was really quite shameless.

I look at the clock and see it is now time for the appointment and start to feel some relief that soon he will be occupied and not doing such a great impression of a ping-pong ball. I see other therapist bring children out of their sessions and the lady whom my son had such admiration for soon leaves with her child. To my aggravation the therapist has not made her appearance yet at five after and more people come in. One of the new people is an attractive woman wearing open toed heals and to my horror I see her toenails are painted red, his favorite. Oh for the love of God!

All he had to do was turn toward her and I saw his little blue eyes get wide. He had almost got a full lunge toward her when I grabbed him, "No, no, no." He recovers quickly and shoots like a bullet down a hall and into a conference room shutting the door on me. I pull him out and keep him on my hip the best I can checking the time, it is now fifteen after, and finally there she is. She sees I am sweating and looking perturbed and quickly gets us in a room where we can go over what the questionnaire tests show.

She first takes us to a conference room and Connor starts climbing, playing with the phone, and then finds the unlocked cabinet with spray cleaners. She sees her folly and decides she knows a much better room. She takes us through a maze of halls to a very small room that has a little pop up tent, three mats and a swing hanging form the ceiling that looks like a punching bag, the wall with the door is a huge window looking out into the hall.

The test show Sensory sensitive. Huh? She starts on a quick spill about how sometimes these are wrong and we needed to start a sensory diet, we would start with "Heavy Work Activities" every two hours. I will report to her next week how this went and how he reacts and performs. The goal is to find out if he is sensitive to stimuli (distracted to the newest stimuli to present itself) or sensation seeking (trying to add stimuli to all activities). She continues with telling me how the senses work and the different levels of arousal. At one point I think I wrapped my mind around the subject and offer "Flight or fight?"
"Yeah! But there are four really; fright, flight, fight, and reproduce. The four F's." she chuckles.

My brow furrows for a moment, surely she know "reproduce" starts with a R, then her meaning finally comes to mind. I am reminded of a quote from a wise person in my life, my youngest teen, who says "He who laughs last, thinks slowest."

Maturing

2007-08-19T08:52:00.000-04:00

During the fall of last year we had started in the program ran by the state to help children under the age of 3 that had disabilities, or problems with speech, and I don't know what else. I was working at the time as a manager of a restaurant during the day and Connor was enrolled at a daycare/preschool close to the house. He was not verbal at all at the point except for a few numbers and a lot of babbling. Shortly after enrolling he started counting higher and would use his fingers to count, but there were problems.

He had only been there a month and the director was less than pleased with how he was fitting in. He didn't talk (which I told them before enrolling), he had to hold something in his hand at most times and they didn't feel this was fair because the other kids weren't allowed to do that. He wouldn't even try to go to the restroom when the other kids were well on there way to being potty trained. Then questions from all the staff.
"Does he ever say anything?"
"Does he crumble up food and throw it on the floor at home?"
"Why wont he respond when we call him?"
"Why wont he sit during circle time?"
"Why will he not play with the other children?"

The director then told me she was willing to work with me, but we might need to look for other placement. Maybe I need to look at a daycare for "Special needs" and they couldn't move him to the 3 year old room if not potty trained.

My schedule at work was that sometimes I would be off at five, sometimes at two. On the days I would get off at five, Connor would be sitting in someones lap or under their chair. When I would come in he would smile at me and say "Hi!" I started to think that maybe things were turning around. Then the days I would get off at two I would come in and sneak a look in the classroom before making my presence known. Every single time he would be away from the rest laying on the floor running a car back and forth, back and forth. Sometimes I wouldn't be able to see him because he was laying to close to the door or under a table.

He had an OT and Speech therapist coming in every week, they had concerns as well. The classroom wasn't able to facilitate a hiding place for him when things got to be too much. The daycare staff was not consistent with him. Some days they would let him go to the tunnel in the playground that was on the bigger kids' side. Some days he wouldn't be allowed to. The therapists told me they felt the staff had given up on him and decided to let him do what he wanted as long as he didn't hurt himself or anyone else.

I can't tell you how much that hurt my heart. I knew there was a very bright little boy in there somewhere. A little boy that loved to snuggle and give kisses. It hurt that these people that had me convinced that they gave a fig about my boy had just given up and taken the easy way out.

Then one Monday in December I picked Connor up and that night during his bath I saw not one, not two, but three bite marks on his back. They were not just little teeth marks, but rather like the vampire who bite him had tried to suck him dry. They were purplish like blood blisters and no one had bothered to tell me anything. The next morning I confronted the "teacher" of the room. She told me Connor had taken a toy away from another child and then ran from the kid, and that when anything like that happened there was an accident report put on the wall. She then showed me where.

I had never been told about this paper before or showed where it was. I read the report (that was very small on a graph) stating nothing short of Connor being the instigator of a riot and had tried to wrestle with another child. WHAT?! So much for peer interaction. I grabbed Connor and his belongings and we left. I am sure much to their relief. I then called my employer told them something along the lines of, I had no childcare and they needed to find my replacement.

We got his diagnosis for autism on January 4th of this year and that made me even more furious with the people at the daycare. I feel sorry for the next family, and I am sure there will be another because of the increase of autism these days. I hope they have their diagnosis before hand and then they wont be allowed to give this family as much trouble as they gave me.

We pass the daycare fairly often these days, and what use to be a cause of tantrums for Connor seem to be all but forgotten. If only I was as mature. No matter what time of day or night, no matter who might be out front, I always have to give my one finger salute. One day I may grow up and be a good role model for my children. I hope it's soon.

Planning for the future

2007-08-18T12:48:00.000-04:00

I find myself being asked by various family members and some asking more than once "Do you think he will ever be able to live on his own."

I try to keep positive, a determined thought "Of course he will!" but I keep things honest and reply "I have no idea." and because that is the truth of it at this point in time I have been stashing what money I can away to build a nest egg. Immortality seems a must for my husband and me as I worry about putting the burden of their brother on my girls, and total strangers taking care of my boy...well let's just say that thought more than troubles me.

In an attempt to sock more money away, when the insurance check came to pay for my van I bought the cheapest car I could find. It has air, power locks and windows. I doesn't look bad inside or out, and my Father-in-law assures me it is a sound vehicle. The teens aren't even embarrassed to be seen in it.

It was not long however that I found a huge overwhelming flaw in my plan. Power locks.

I start the car put it in reverse and all four doors lock with a loud click. I drive to the middle school to pick up the younger teen. I see her coming and use the switch beside me to unlock the doors to allow her entrance. Once she is inside I use the switch again and "click" I hear the locks but they don't sound as definite as they did. She tries her door and I mine, they are locked, all must be fine. On our way to the high school to pick up the oldest teen, the younger yells "Connor NO!"

I pull over and see that his motor skills are improving as he was able to grab the handle of the door nearest him and pull. The door has not opened all the way but I can see light between the door and the door jam. He is upset that he had been scolded and is trying to hide himself in plain sight. I go to open my door as the youngest soothes the boy and tells him he'll fall out and get hurt if he opens the door, a message I'm not sure he is receiving. My door does not open, I hit the switch again, it still does not open. GAH!!

She tries her switch and I am free to exit and go to his door to make sure it is shut. The younger hits all the switches in an attempt to lock his door and none work. I turn off the engine and start it again. Not shutting my door, I put the car in drive, hear all the locks hit and put it back in park. I run around to his door and pull. It is locked, success at last! We take off to pick up the oldest teen and she is dumbfounded to see her Mother shut off the car just to start it again, put it in gear then back in park, run around to pull on the door by her brother, then come back around.
"What are you doing?"
I explain the problem with the locks.
"So what do we do when he discovers all he has to do is push the switch?" She asks.

Oh damn, haven't thought of that! I guess the bit I socked away is going to have to pay for a safer car, unless I come up with another ingenius solution. Yeah, ingenius ideas have not been my strong point as of late.

"Girls I think we need to have a talk about the future."

Labeling

2007-08-17T08:48:00.000-04:00

It's mid morning and Connor and I have chores to do. I have to fill the car up with gas and run to the grocery again. The gas station is at one end of the neighborhood and my preferred store is at the other forcing me to cut back through. This always causes a bit of a screaming session as he knows his way home from there. I get in the turning lane waiting on the light and a look in the rear view mirror tells me that he is getting ready to protest. He is looking around frantic. His mean Mother is going back home already! What about the store?

I have a moment of what I think is genius and decide since there is no traffic I will go to the next light and throw him off a little, screams and panic averted. I pull into the next light's turning lane and as we turn he starts to panic. This path has not gone completely past the putt-putt with the statues of elephants, giraffes, and zebras, but just barely put it within eyesight. I have not slowed down to talk about them and let him look or made any animals noises with him. This is not acceptable and will not be tolerated!

The tantrum is short lived and by the time we reach the grocery store he is perfectly fine. He holds my hand going in but releases it once we are in the first set of doors. The very wise people of this store put the gum ball and other candy machines at the doors as you enter instead the exit doors. I would think it should be the other way around allowing a parent to have a little foresight and gather change as they purchase their items. Knowing that this is how it is and little guy haven gotten into the routine I have my change purse filled with quarters. He stands in front of the one he wants and points "Ball"
"Honey, what is that?" I ask him because he is pointing at gum balls.
"Candy!" he says while making the sign.
He gets his earned treat and we do our shopping.

"Baby, Baby, Baby." I look to see where the baby is and see instead a little boy that looks to be a tad older than him. Connor is pointing at him and chanting "Baby"
This is something we have been trying to work on so I say "Boy" hoping that in getting him to stop calling children his own age babies, I might also get the added benefit of teaching him "Boy, Girl."

No matter how many times I say "Boy" I am answered back with "Baby" Afraid that we might hurt the little boy's feeling who is probably convinced he is a "Big boy" not a baby, I move on. We spend sometime in the pet department because he can see the sign from miles away.
"Wader" he points at the tanks.
"Whats in the water?"
"Feeesh!"
We move on to the hamsters "Squeak, squeak, squeak!"
Moving farther we come up on some Guinea pigs "Doggie! Ruff ruff!"
"Guinea pig."
"Doggie! Ruff Ruff!"
"No baby, Guinea pig" Oh damn, no wonder he calls kids his age babies.

I leave the pet department and check out as we make our way out he sees a soccer ball shaped balloon.
"Ball!"
"Good job, big boy!" Well what would you say?

Oh well!

2007-08-15T13:21:00.000-04:00

Before the summer was over the girls and I decided we needed to get out of the house and do something. Something other than going to the zoo or park. So we decided on a small road trip, to go out of town and eat lunch at a restaurant we have never been to before.

We packed up a small amount of supplies; snacks, diapers, and wipes for the boy. Ipods, magazines, and bottled water for them. Off we went and we really enjoyed ourselves. Unfortunately as we were turning into the parking lot of the restaurant we had decided looked good, Connor had started to nod off. He is of course grumpy as we wake him up and as I take him into the restaurant he starts to scream and kick. I leave my girls to find us a good spot while I take Connor to the restroom in hopes he will calm down. He lays crumpled in the floor now that all appendages have turned to jelly. I sit near him but do not touch him, if I touch him he kicks or throws an arm at me. A little girls walks out of the stall and stares at us as if she had come across a murder scene. She barely washes and dries her hands before darting out, all the while making a noise "Oooohhhhmmmm!"

He has decided he is suddenly happy to be there and is OK with leaving the bathroom. He takes my hand and we walk toward my daughters. We walk hand in hand and he is taking everything in and I actually see a smile on his face. His hand then starts to slip out of mine and his little body is starting a slow descent toward the floor as he sees his sisters and where they expect us to sit.

He is fine with sunlight when he is outside, but sunlight streaming in from a window is not tolerated. A table in the corner of a room that has a window on each wall where the rest of the room is relatively dim is absolute torture. There are no other tables available so I try to put him in a seat with his back towards the largest window hoping this will suffice. As I suspect the placement doesn't make it any better and he places himself where he finds it most comfortable for all senses, under the table lying on his stomach with his head as close as possible to our feet.

I reason with myself that if left alone he may calm down enough to adjust to his surrounds and that a pleasant lunch isn't totally out of the question. The waitress comes to the table to take our drink orders, she is much older and seems to very be concerned about the situation. She tries to talk to him like she would any other child his age. "Honey, you don't wanna lay down there. That floor is dirty, you'll getcha clothes all messed up"

"He is autistic, it may be awhile before we get him up off the floor." I tell her, hoping it will encourage her to go ahead with the drink order.

Still looking down at him like she expected him to react, she says in a very pleasant southern singsong voice, "Well........Oh well!" and leaves us to get our drinks.

I look at my oldest daughter and see she is red in the face and stopping herself from laughing. I chuckle a little and ask "She has no idea what the heck I'm talking about does she?"
"Nope not a clue."

At that point my youngest daughter pipes up "Who cares we aren't ever going to see these people again. He's not hurting anything, let's eat!"

Very sage advice I think.

Details, details

2007-08-15T09:04:00.000-04:00

The girls are already at school, the husband has sleepily asked for 10 more minutes so I grab the PCS board. I make sure both sides have the pictures I need and start the morning rituals.

I am greeted with a teasing smile and he starts to tug my finger, "Pull, pull, pull." He tries to pull me into bed. I get my finger free and show him the pictures; bathroom, toilet, flush, wash hands. I wrestle with this wondering if it is detailed enough or too detailed, either could have dire results.

The small toddler seat is already in place, because otherwise he would fall in and he is scared of the too big hole. He doesn't like this room of the house unless he has snuck in by himself free to play with creams, lotions, soaps and make up. I struggle to get him up off the rug and into sitting position, and keep him there by playing a game. I tickle his nose with a paint brush, he grabs the paint brush and throws it, I chase the paint brush using my funny screaming voice "Oh, NO!"
This makes him laugh hysterically, but he stays put on his throne.

He decides he is done after a bit even though nothing has really been "done". We go through the motions of flushing and washing hands, then move on to the second part of the PCS board; toothbrush, tooth paste, wash face, brush hair. He brushes my teeth and hair more than his own and only consents to washing the mouth area of his face.

On to the kitchen to have breakfast now, he chooses the cereal (of course). I place the sugary treat in the bowl and place it on the table, he has grabbed a fork from God only knows where and starts eating. I grab a spoon from the drawer and milk from the fridge. The exchange from fork to spoon goes smoothly after I demonstrate how much more cereal he can get with the spoon. I pour a small amount of milk over the cereal. This isn't preferable to him. He looks at me and starts the squeaky "Lamaze" breathing. I turn and place the milk back in the fridge pretending I hadn't heard his objection. He calms down and actually starts to eat the cereal and milk. I sigh with relief that no flopping meltdowns or ticked off shows of knocking off everything in reach will be happening.

I pour my third cup of coffee and hear a sudden stream of water. I look around checking faucets and water cooler and then see the puddle under my son. Turns out the details on the PCS are fine for him, but I think I need my own set to remind me to put on another pull up after flushing.