New Friends

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?

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

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

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

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!

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

Oh, The Joys

Whitterer on Autism

Full-Soul-Ahead

Identity Crisis

Occupational Monday

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.