Today I saw a video that told a story about autism. But it wasn’t my story, or my boys’ stories, or my family’s story. And it really pisses me off that people are going to watch this and possibly think (assume) that this is our story, our life.
I’ll let you watch it.
I couldn’t even get through the entire thing. I showed Hubby, who just stared at it gape-mouthed as we watched it in the kitchen so that the boys couldn’t hear. (Can you imagine them watching that? “Mommy, did I ruin your marriage?” “Mommy, do I make you cry every day?”)
Our life is not all roses, but it isn’t all gloom and doom either. One of the reasons we have not ‘failed’ is because we have made choices to balance us. Our life is meaningful. My boys’ lives are meaningful, and dare I say enjoyable! We certainly don't live the status quo, nor do we want to. We certainly aren't indistinguishable from other families, nor do we want to be. People's perceptions of our children negatively effect them and us much more than their disabilities do. And videos like this certainly don't make perceptions change for the better.
Our Autism Speaks walk is coming up soon. In the past I have had very conflicted feelings about this walk since I pretty much can’t stand the organization’s scare tactics. But I have walked to support my friends and their families more than anything else. I don’t know if can do it anymore. I can’t just write this off as “fundraising” anymore or ignore it while I support my friends. I can’t ask friends or family to donate to an organization that makes my children look like they have some deplorable, deathly communicable disease that is spreading through the air. Nor can I in good conscious make my children participate in the walk, enforcing a message that they had no part in creating.
I feel lost tonight, shaken, dejected, hollow, battered. I may cry. I may lose sleep. I may feel scared, overwhelmed, and helpless. But it’s not because of Autism. It’s because of Autism Speaks.
Showing posts with label vindictive vents. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vindictive vents. Show all posts
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Backseat
*One of those posts that got lost in the drafts folder!*
So I haven't posted in awhile. I will. Soon. My efforts have been spent at this blog and around the R&S issue. And yeah, it's official, Bubba is now officially out of public school...and a homeschooler. And Moosie is still in preschool and IDONTKNOWWHATTHEHELLTODOABOUTHIMANDKINDERGARTEN. And I am back from Washington DC and I don't think I can really post about it until I have one full night's sleep in my own bed. Then maybe.
And wave to Stimey. I think I have been reading her blog for 2 years. And I met her this weekend. And it was like we were old friends. She is authentic, amazing, humorous, and my type of gal. I found out the COPAA conference is going to be in St. Louis next year. I am going to bribe Stimey to come.
So I haven't posted in awhile. I will. Soon. My efforts have been spent at this blog and around the R&S issue. And yeah, it's official, Bubba is now officially out of public school...and a homeschooler. And Moosie is still in preschool and IDONTKNOWWHATTHEHELLTODOABOUTHIMANDKINDERGARTEN. And I am back from Washington DC and I don't think I can really post about it until I have one full night's sleep in my own bed. Then maybe.
And wave to Stimey. I think I have been reading her blog for 2 years. And I met her this weekend. And it was like we were old friends. She is authentic, amazing, humorous, and my type of gal. I found out the COPAA conference is going to be in St. Louis next year. I am going to bribe Stimey to come.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Why is this so confusing to me?!?!?!?!
I am trying to teach myself the legislative process...again. Again, again. Why is this so confusing? How come the pretty pictures don't help? This is worse than calculus. This is worse than physics. This is worse than memorizing prayers and the process of First Confession, which I never understood, in PSR. And if I do finally figure it out, I forget it like, um 2 seconds later.
Oh I so wish I could avoid this. But I can't. So I won't.
Oh I so wish I could avoid this. But I can't. So I won't.
Tuesday, December 23, 2008
Merry Christmas -- Sorta
This year I got everyone...
... a root canal. An unplanned one, that still hurts, and costs money we don't have. I suffered through the dentist. I cried. Apparently it was a "hot" tooth, so the anesthetic didn't work all of the way. I shook. I took a Xanax beforehand, and my daddy came and drove me home. He's a good daddy. But now I can't eat my favorite cookie, unless I eat them through a straw. Which I just might do.
...a cell phone bill that was a fat ol' mistake, and costs $300 we don't have. Turns out when we canceled our home phone to save money? Well that didn't work out so well. Hubby works for a cell phone company. And our cell phones are free. Well apparently his is free, and I get 1000 minutes for free. Didn't know that. But $300 dollars later, we figured it out. And his wonderful company (that I can't complain about because I don't want him to get fired right now) will not credit our account, but would've "fixed" it if I was a stupid customer as opposed to an employee's stupid wife. Oh, and yeah, we have to pay it in full, like right now, or they fire Hubby. And, yeah, since their pay periods are changing, they decided December should be the month they skip one paycheck. And because they really suck (in the nicest way possible), Hubby has to work from 7:30-5:00PM on Christmas Eve. Maybe not a big deal to some, but nearly all of our family stuff is on Christmas Eve. So if you buy a cell phone on Christmas Eve, I will try not to hate you.
...a Christmas card.
...and maybe, if I don't burn them all, some cookies. Not just any cookies, but my favorite cookies. Yeah, the ones I can't eat.
I feel a little selfish, because we got a Wii. For ourselves. But we spread that $250 far since me and our children are so lucky to have birthdays during the holiday season. So Happy Birthday Mommy. Merry Christmas Mommy, Daddy, Bubba, and Moose. Happy Birthday Mooser. Happy Birthday Bubba. Is it sad that we're wrapping up the remotes and cables separately to make it look like we have more gifts? Well, it was either that or wrapping up my tooth bits and shredded cell phone bill. Actually, I got some books and such at Goodwill for real cheap, so the boys should be happy. If they don't like it, they can kiss Santa's rosy red ass.
Hope every one knows I am not a bitter person, this is my screwed up sense of humor dealing with reality. But I'm not joking, unless you have lived under the same roof as me for 5 years or longer, you're getting a card. I know that sucks, and I am sorry.
Surprisingly though, me and my little family are super happy minus all of the piddly shit going on. And I am going to enjoy that fact rather than let commercialism get me down. At least I am going to try.
... a root canal. An unplanned one, that still hurts, and costs money we don't have. I suffered through the dentist. I cried. Apparently it was a "hot" tooth, so the anesthetic didn't work all of the way. I shook. I took a Xanax beforehand, and my daddy came and drove me home. He's a good daddy. But now I can't eat my favorite cookie, unless I eat them through a straw. Which I just might do.
...a cell phone bill that was a fat ol' mistake, and costs $300 we don't have. Turns out when we canceled our home phone to save money? Well that didn't work out so well. Hubby works for a cell phone company. And our cell phones are free. Well apparently his is free, and I get 1000 minutes for free. Didn't know that. But $300 dollars later, we figured it out. And his wonderful company (that I can't complain about because I don't want him to get fired right now) will not credit our account, but would've "fixed" it if I was a stupid customer as opposed to an employee's stupid wife. Oh, and yeah, we have to pay it in full, like right now, or they fire Hubby. And, yeah, since their pay periods are changing, they decided December should be the month they skip one paycheck. And because they really suck (in the nicest way possible), Hubby has to work from 7:30-5:00PM on Christmas Eve. Maybe not a big deal to some, but nearly all of our family stuff is on Christmas Eve. So if you buy a cell phone on Christmas Eve, I will try not to hate you.
...a Christmas card.
...and maybe, if I don't burn them all, some cookies. Not just any cookies, but my favorite cookies. Yeah, the ones I can't eat.
I feel a little selfish, because we got a Wii. For ourselves. But we spread that $250 far since me and our children are so lucky to have birthdays during the holiday season. So Happy Birthday Mommy. Merry Christmas Mommy, Daddy, Bubba, and Moose. Happy Birthday Mooser. Happy Birthday Bubba. Is it sad that we're wrapping up the remotes and cables separately to make it look like we have more gifts? Well, it was either that or wrapping up my tooth bits and shredded cell phone bill. Actually, I got some books and such at Goodwill for real cheap, so the boys should be happy. If they don't like it, they can kiss Santa's rosy red ass.
Hope every one knows I am not a bitter person, this is my screwed up sense of humor dealing with reality. But I'm not joking, unless you have lived under the same roof as me for 5 years or longer, you're getting a card. I know that sucks, and I am sorry.
Surprisingly though, me and my little family are super happy minus all of the piddly shit going on. And I am going to enjoy that fact rather than let commercialism get me down. At least I am going to try.
Monday, November 10, 2008
It's a Cat Eat Rodent World
For the second day in a row, I have found the bottom half of a fuzzy creature at the bottom of the basement stairs. Sally apparently not only knows how to use the kitty door, but also how to drag her leftovers into the house.
The thing I don't get is that the bottom half is always what's left. So far since she started going outside, I have come across three or four squirrel bottoms. Is there something unappealing about the waist down? And what does she do with their little rib cages and skulls? How does she severe them in half?
Why is even the cat a freaky little butcher?
She is about 6 pounds, the same size as the squirrels. Seriously. In any case, the squirrels must be on to her, because today all I found was a tiny remnant of a mouse torso.
I'm going to have to start sleeping with my eyes open.
(Hubby says I need to take her to the vet to get her something that prevents worms. She has all of her shots and is on Frontline.)
The thing I don't get is that the bottom half is always what's left. So far since she started going outside, I have come across three or four squirrel bottoms. Is there something unappealing about the waist down? And what does she do with their little rib cages and skulls? How does she severe them in half?
Why is even the cat a freaky little butcher?
She is about 6 pounds, the same size as the squirrels. Seriously. In any case, the squirrels must be on to her, because today all I found was a tiny remnant of a mouse torso.
I'm going to have to start sleeping with my eyes open.
(Hubby says I need to take her to the vet to get her something that prevents worms. She has all of her shots and is on Frontline.)
Monday, September 22, 2008
Roller Coaster Ride
I am kind of emotional, I think because of the pain meds, but for family, here's an update. For those of you who have no idea what's going on, well lucky you, you don't have to ride the worry train like the rest of us did!
Last week I was having moderate chest pain. Since I had been coughing for a few weeks I went in and the doctor did a chest x-ray, which ruled out pneumonia or a cracked rib. I figured it was a pulled muscle or something, took Advil, and went on with my life.
By Friday I was in excruciating pain. I had tender areas that would cause me to scream if touched, I could barely walk, and it hurt to breathe. I felt like large knives were stabbing me over and over again, in multiple places. I called Hubby and one of my friends crying, I could barely speak.
They took me to the doctor who sent me to the ER. Since the pain was so intense, and because of the presentation and location, my doctor, and then the ER staff believed it to be my gallbladder. They sent me for an ultrasound, and prepared me mentally for the possibility of gallbladder removal.
Upon returning from the ultrasound, I was in so much pain, they doped me up. The pain never went away, but at some point I was so sleepy and dizzy, I didn't care.
At some point, the ER doc came in and told us that the ultrasound indicated that my gallbladder was fine, but that I had a small adenoma on my liver that appeared to be bleeding.
The ER was going to send me home with pain meds, but my doctor wanted a surgical consult. The surgeon wanted a CAT scan. So they did the CAT scan, which was inconclusive apparently, and then someone ordered an MRI. Since they couldn't do the MRI until Saturday, I was admitted. For that night and most of Saturday it was difficult to get out of bed to walk to the bathroom, but by Saturday evening I was feeling better.
Anyhow, after being placed on anxiety medicine so I could make it through the hour and a half hold-my-breath-even though-it-hurt-like-hell MRI, we waited, and waited, and waited. At this point I didn't know if what I was feeling was my original complaint or side effects from all of the medications, not being able to move my arm since my IV was in my elbow crease, the hard bed and not being able to get comfortable (the bulging disk I have in my lower back started to flare up), blood being drawn, being kept on a clear liquid diet "just in case," etc.
Since the ultrasound indicated bleeding, the one doctor would not let me go home. The surgeon on staff that weekend wanted to send me home and said nothing need to be done to my liver "yet" (we never did figure out what that meant). And NO ONE READ THE MRI until Monday morning, so there I sat in the hospital all weekend.
Finally on Monday, the MRI was read and it was determined that I have some (I never got a clear answer as to how many) hemangiomas, which are around 5cm, on some part of my liver. Apparently vascular tumors aren't that rare and aren't that big of a deal unless they get too big to cause symptoms. The GI doctor that finally saw me did not believe from the test reports and his assessment (where he pushed on all of my insides and on my tender areas) did not believe the hemangiomas were the source of my pain. He believes since I was coughing for so long, that I had chest inflammation, muscle issues or something to do with my ribs. The surgeon said he "didn't think it was my ribs", and my primary care didn't think my original presentation (when the pain went from bearable to excruciating) indicated chest inflammation, but they I described how the pain moved when I went from sitting to laying flat, that it was liver/gallbladder.
So really we never did find out what was wrong, but the pain is much better after being immobile for 4 days and doped up. I am now resting at home, trying to move around but not over do it. The pain is back to bearable, I am just dizzy. I go back to the doctor on Friday.
The plan is to request all of my records from my ridiculous hospital stay and take them to a liver specialist for a second opinion just to make sure.
My poor kids were shuttled everywhere and were so stressed. At one point Bubba screamed at me on the phone: "I am so angry! I am so angry mom!" He apparently crumpled up a picture of me and daddy and also asked Ma-ma if I was going to die. Poor guy. It was really hard to hear him so upset.
I felt awful for the roller coaster ride we put family and friends through, but you never know what to tell people or if you should hold back until you know more. So to family and friends, I am so sorry you had to worry along with us. The amount of support we got with the boys and all of the prayers and well-wishes were amazing. We are very lucky to have that kind of support and love in our lives. And as someone else said, gave my dad something else to think about, so all of a sudden he started doing much better. I guess there's always an upside! I also know to tell my OB that hormonal therapy might not be the best way to address the hormonal issues I have going on.
Good news, for now I am OK, no surgery is needed, and I am back home. And a word of warning: hope to God you never get admitted to a hospital on a Friday afternoon.
Last week I was having moderate chest pain. Since I had been coughing for a few weeks I went in and the doctor did a chest x-ray, which ruled out pneumonia or a cracked rib. I figured it was a pulled muscle or something, took Advil, and went on with my life.
By Friday I was in excruciating pain. I had tender areas that would cause me to scream if touched, I could barely walk, and it hurt to breathe. I felt like large knives were stabbing me over and over again, in multiple places. I called Hubby and one of my friends crying, I could barely speak.
They took me to the doctor who sent me to the ER. Since the pain was so intense, and because of the presentation and location, my doctor, and then the ER staff believed it to be my gallbladder. They sent me for an ultrasound, and prepared me mentally for the possibility of gallbladder removal.
Upon returning from the ultrasound, I was in so much pain, they doped me up. The pain never went away, but at some point I was so sleepy and dizzy, I didn't care.
At some point, the ER doc came in and told us that the ultrasound indicated that my gallbladder was fine, but that I had a small adenoma on my liver that appeared to be bleeding.
The ER was going to send me home with pain meds, but my doctor wanted a surgical consult. The surgeon wanted a CAT scan. So they did the CAT scan, which was inconclusive apparently, and then someone ordered an MRI. Since they couldn't do the MRI until Saturday, I was admitted. For that night and most of Saturday it was difficult to get out of bed to walk to the bathroom, but by Saturday evening I was feeling better.
Anyhow, after being placed on anxiety medicine so I could make it through the hour and a half hold-my-breath-even though-it-hurt-like-hell MRI, we waited, and waited, and waited. At this point I didn't know if what I was feeling was my original complaint or side effects from all of the medications, not being able to move my arm since my IV was in my elbow crease, the hard bed and not being able to get comfortable (the bulging disk I have in my lower back started to flare up), blood being drawn, being kept on a clear liquid diet "just in case," etc.
Since the ultrasound indicated bleeding, the one doctor would not let me go home. The surgeon on staff that weekend wanted to send me home and said nothing need to be done to my liver "yet" (we never did figure out what that meant). And NO ONE READ THE MRI until Monday morning, so there I sat in the hospital all weekend.
Finally on Monday, the MRI was read and it was determined that I have some (I never got a clear answer as to how many) hemangiomas, which are around 5cm, on some part of my liver. Apparently vascular tumors aren't that rare and aren't that big of a deal unless they get too big to cause symptoms. The GI doctor that finally saw me did not believe from the test reports and his assessment (where he pushed on all of my insides and on my tender areas) did not believe the hemangiomas were the source of my pain. He believes since I was coughing for so long, that I had chest inflammation, muscle issues or something to do with my ribs. The surgeon said he "didn't think it was my ribs", and my primary care didn't think my original presentation (when the pain went from bearable to excruciating) indicated chest inflammation, but they I described how the pain moved when I went from sitting to laying flat, that it was liver/gallbladder.
So really we never did find out what was wrong, but the pain is much better after being immobile for 4 days and doped up. I am now resting at home, trying to move around but not over do it. The pain is back to bearable, I am just dizzy. I go back to the doctor on Friday.
The plan is to request all of my records from my ridiculous hospital stay and take them to a liver specialist for a second opinion just to make sure.
My poor kids were shuttled everywhere and were so stressed. At one point Bubba screamed at me on the phone: "I am so angry! I am so angry mom!" He apparently crumpled up a picture of me and daddy and also asked Ma-ma if I was going to die. Poor guy. It was really hard to hear him so upset.
I felt awful for the roller coaster ride we put family and friends through, but you never know what to tell people or if you should hold back until you know more. So to family and friends, I am so sorry you had to worry along with us. The amount of support we got with the boys and all of the prayers and well-wishes were amazing. We are very lucky to have that kind of support and love in our lives. And as someone else said, gave my dad something else to think about, so all of a sudden he started doing much better. I guess there's always an upside! I also know to tell my OB that hormonal therapy might not be the best way to address the hormonal issues I have going on.
Good news, for now I am OK, no surgery is needed, and I am back home. And a word of warning: hope to God you never get admitted to a hospital on a Friday afternoon.
Monday, September 15, 2008
I got nothin'
A quick update as to why I am silent here:
1) Third grade sucks.
2) We are broke.
3) I am working, a lot.
4) Hubby is allergic to Sally (the cat).
5) I want to keep the cat, so I am cleaning, brushing, sanitizing, a lot.
6) Hubby is working 12 to 14 hours a day. (So who cares if he is allergic to the cat. He's NEVER home!)
7) I only have 2-3 hours a day to work without my kids at home, until Hubby gets home (at 9PM). (Thank goodness I have my mother-in-law and some respite funds to help me out when I think I am going to cave in. Unfortunately, when the boys are gone, there's still no resting.)
8) I am still fucking coughing (this is the fourth week I believe), and now I have a sharp pain in the right side of my chest when I breathe(I am hoping it is gas).
9) I am writing a lot of emails to teachers to document things, and planning for another IEP meeting (see number 1).
10) The one part of our basement floor we didn't need to replace when our kitchen pipes ruined our basement? Yeah, guess whose basement leaked RIGHT THERE thanks to Tropical Storm Ike? Yep, ours. The floor is ruined.(Yes, I am thankful we weren't in the actual hurricane and I know it could've been so much worse.)
11)My dad is staying hydrated and getting some nutrition, but he is having a lot of bad "reactions" to the LapBand. Worrying about him is a full-time job in itself. Plus he's crabby, which makes me crabby.
12)When the boys are home, I am trying to give them a 100% Right now, our relationship is pretty good, so that makes me happy. :)
A quick update as to why I will be silent here for awhile:
1) See above.
2) The boys start their three-week cycle break (no school) on Friday.
What have I given up? Exercising, writing, working in my garden. No wonder I am crabby. And now summer is over. :(
1) Third grade sucks.
2) We are broke.
3) I am working, a lot.
4) Hubby is allergic to Sally (the cat).
5) I want to keep the cat, so I am cleaning, brushing, sanitizing, a lot.
6) Hubby is working 12 to 14 hours a day. (So who cares if he is allergic to the cat. He's NEVER home!)
7) I only have 2-3 hours a day to work without my kids at home, until Hubby gets home (at 9PM). (Thank goodness I have my mother-in-law and some respite funds to help me out when I think I am going to cave in. Unfortunately, when the boys are gone, there's still no resting.)
8) I am still fucking coughing (this is the fourth week I believe), and now I have a sharp pain in the right side of my chest when I breathe(I am hoping it is gas).
9) I am writing a lot of emails to teachers to document things, and planning for another IEP meeting (see number 1).
10) The one part of our basement floor we didn't need to replace when our kitchen pipes ruined our basement? Yeah, guess whose basement leaked RIGHT THERE thanks to Tropical Storm Ike? Yep, ours. The floor is ruined.(Yes, I am thankful we weren't in the actual hurricane and I know it could've been so much worse.)
11)My dad is staying hydrated and getting some nutrition, but he is having a lot of bad "reactions" to the LapBand. Worrying about him is a full-time job in itself. Plus he's crabby, which makes me crabby.
12)When the boys are home, I am trying to give them a 100% Right now, our relationship is pretty good, so that makes me happy. :)
A quick update as to why I will be silent here for awhile:
1) See above.
2) The boys start their three-week cycle break (no school) on Friday.
What have I given up? Exercising, writing, working in my garden. No wonder I am crabby. And now summer is over. :(
Monday, September 8, 2008
Do you trust CNN?
Thought this was going to be some political post, didn't you? Nope. I am still sick; what is this, week 3? More than anything, the pounding headaches I get during and long after coughing are unbearable and debilitating. I wasn't sure if there was something--anything-- I could do besides taking the doctor-prescribed Advil every four hours, Codeine cough syrup, Claritin, Mucinex, and antibiotic.
CNN tells ms "To prevent primary cough headaches, avoid coughing."
Good to know.
CNN tells ms "To prevent primary cough headaches, avoid coughing."
Good to know.
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Dad having surgery
Sorry for not posting much lately...too much to do! (Not that I don't have a gob of half-written posts!)
Anyhow, my 60-year-old dad--the one who is diabetic and seriously overweight who drinks regular soda like it is his life blood (rather than the death sentence it is)--is having Lap-Band surgery today.
I love my dad, but am not happy about this decision since he is having this surgery thinking it will be his "magic bullet." Never mind that he hasn't tried sticking to a healthy diet and exercise plan for more than 1 week. He thinks this will force him to lose weight. Maybe it will. Idunno.
All I know for sure is that he is a food addict and he is going to be damn crabby for a long long time. And he isn't a rationale person when he is crabby.
This is supposedly a minor operation, so I just pray for no complications.
Anyhow, my 60-year-old dad--the one who is diabetic and seriously overweight who drinks regular soda like it is his life blood (rather than the death sentence it is)--is having Lap-Band surgery today.
I love my dad, but am not happy about this decision since he is having this surgery thinking it will be his "magic bullet." Never mind that he hasn't tried sticking to a healthy diet and exercise plan for more than 1 week. He thinks this will force him to lose weight. Maybe it will. Idunno.
All I know for sure is that he is a food addict and he is going to be damn crabby for a long long time. And he isn't a rationale person when he is crabby.
This is supposedly a minor operation, so I just pray for no complications.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Rebound Fatigue
You know that after vacation kind of tired? Where you are mentally refreshed but you are physically exhausted? And your body just wants to lay in bed--your own bed--and your eyes just need to rest for just a little while.
Yeah, well, that doesn't happen when the kids start school tomorrow and your whole vacation threw up all over your house and you waited until the last minute to get school supplies (just like every one else). But wait! I decided to take the boys swimming first, you know, to tire them out. Instead, we all got too much sun (how does that happen now when we didn't burn all week at the beach?!?!) and then we all went back-to-school shopping tired, crabby, and hot.
To top it all off, I had to go to several shoe stores (Thanks Daddy for telling him he needed new shoes when he really didn't!) because Bubba did not believe me that they don't make transformer shoes in his size. I gave him an honest (exhausted) answer why, saying that most of the kids his age do not want to wear transformer shoes. And he gave me a sincere reply: "But I do!" Finally he decided on a pair of $40+ camo Sketchers, so he's not the only one wishing he could squeeze his foot into a $10 pair of Transformer tennis shoes.
I am so not ready for the school year already. I haven't even gotten around to posting the recaps and updates from last school year! Seriously, the boys got out of school the 1st week of June...it's only July now! Not that it matters, cycle break will be here before I know it.
Yeah, well, that doesn't happen when the kids start school tomorrow and your whole vacation threw up all over your house and you waited until the last minute to get school supplies (just like every one else). But wait! I decided to take the boys swimming first, you know, to tire them out. Instead, we all got too much sun (how does that happen now when we didn't burn all week at the beach?!?!) and then we all went back-to-school shopping tired, crabby, and hot.
To top it all off, I had to go to several shoe stores (Thanks Daddy for telling him he needed new shoes when he really didn't!) because Bubba did not believe me that they don't make transformer shoes in his size. I gave him an honest (exhausted) answer why, saying that most of the kids his age do not want to wear transformer shoes. And he gave me a sincere reply: "But I do!" Finally he decided on a pair of $40+ camo Sketchers, so he's not the only one wishing he could squeeze his foot into a $10 pair of Transformer tennis shoes.
I am so not ready for the school year already. I haven't even gotten around to posting the recaps and updates from last school year! Seriously, the boys got out of school the 1st week of June...it's only July now! Not that it matters, cycle break will be here before I know it.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
Are you SERIOUS?
We go on vacation soon.
Here is the weather forecast for home:
Here is the weather forecast for the beach we are going to:
See anything wrong with this?!?!?! The last time we went on "vacation" to the beach (Sister's wedding), we were stuck in a tropical storm. You better bet two years ago I ran outside and jumped in the ocean the second it stopped pooring, my children's transition issues and the clouds/wind/drizzle be damned! You better bet I'll do the same thing this go around. But please, I'd rather it just be sunny.
Here is the weather forecast for home:
Here is the weather forecast for the beach we are going to:
See anything wrong with this?!?!?! The last time we went on "vacation" to the beach (Sister's wedding), we were stuck in a tropical storm. You better bet two years ago I ran outside and jumped in the ocean the second it stopped pooring, my children's transition issues and the clouds/wind/drizzle be damned! You better bet I'll do the same thing this go around. But please, I'd rather it just be sunny.
Friday, May 16, 2008
To Be or Not to Be...
Yes, Bubba. Dear dear Bubba. Bubba who lost his behavior intervention plan because he, according to school staff, no longer has "behaviors that impede his learning" has been *GASP!* having trouble keeping his impulsive little hands to himself this week.
So we received a call from the principal and a nice behavior report, parts of which follow.
Seriously, WTF? I couldn't ask for better documentation. I have my follow up IEP e-mail outlining why I didn't agree with the school's decision to remove Bubba's BIP, I have my unsigned written notice stating that they are removing his BIP with my note at the bottom stating my disagreement and referring to my follow-up e-mail. Now less than a month later I have official school documentation stating possible suspension because of behaviors that are a manifestation of his disability (impulsivity, lack of social skills). And since he has been "spoken to" he should just be able to turn that impulsive behavior right around. And I also have an e-mail from the resource teacher stating that she believes the action was impulsive.
I've also found out second hand from another kid in the class that Bubba was licking another kid's coat (while the kid was wearing it). That's a new one for us.
Ironically, all of this happened while I was out of town attending a Wrightslaw seminar. (Hubby said I can't go out of town again. Ever.) All I can do is shake my head and write my response to the report I have to sign.
Update: I just got a call from the school counselor. Apparently Bubba pushed a chair into a kid's chest. Shit. Shit. Shit. She has been meeting with him. She's concerned that he doesn't understand why he is doing this. Really? And this is "not [Bubba]." Um yes it is, sometimes it is, you just wouldn't listen to us (and unfortunately forgot the past).
Oh, Bubba. What are we going to do to help them get this?
So we received a call from the principal and a nice behavior report, parts of which follow.
Bubba "put his hands around the neck of another student while in lunch line. When asked why he did that [Bubba] responded with "I don't know".
And the principal states: "I spoke to [Bubba] yesterday, May 13, 2008, regarding keeping his hands to himself. Since he did it again today, he will lose recess tomorrow, May 15, 2008. Further incidents could result in in-school or out-of-school suspension."
Seriously, WTF? I couldn't ask for better documentation. I have my follow up IEP e-mail outlining why I didn't agree with the school's decision to remove Bubba's BIP, I have my unsigned written notice stating that they are removing his BIP with my note at the bottom stating my disagreement and referring to my follow-up e-mail. Now less than a month later I have official school documentation stating possible suspension because of behaviors that are a manifestation of his disability (impulsivity, lack of social skills). And since he has been "spoken to" he should just be able to turn that impulsive behavior right around. And I also have an e-mail from the resource teacher stating that she believes the action was impulsive.
I've also found out second hand from another kid in the class that Bubba was licking another kid's coat (while the kid was wearing it). That's a new one for us.
Ironically, all of this happened while I was out of town attending a Wrightslaw seminar. (Hubby said I can't go out of town again. Ever.) All I can do is shake my head and write my response to the report I have to sign.
Update: I just got a call from the school counselor. Apparently Bubba pushed a chair into a kid's chest. Shit. Shit. Shit. She has been meeting with him. She's concerned that he doesn't understand why he is doing this. Really? And this is "not [Bubba]." Um yes it is, sometimes it is, you just wouldn't listen to us (and unfortunately forgot the past).
Oh, Bubba. What are we going to do to help them get this?
Monday, March 10, 2008
Easter Wishes
Bubba has been sick for over a week, probably the flu. In spite of the fever, chills, coughing, snot, fatigue, ear infection, etc. he felt well enough to ask over and over again for a toy plastic boat he saw at Walgreens. I told him he could type a note to the Easter bunny asking for that rather than candy. It took him awhile, but he produced this:
Moosie, who is now also showing signs of the fever-snot-fatigue-coughing-ear infection thing, decided he would like to type something to the Easter bunny as well, and took his time on this:
My letter to the Easter bunny was filled with a little more pleading:
Mr. easterbunny,
I want a strong plastic boat that doesn’t sink. I do not want candy.
Thank you,
[bubba]
Moosie, who is now also showing signs of the fever-snot-fatigue-coughing-ear infection thing, decided he would like to type something to the Easter bunny as well, and took his time on this:
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk
kkkkmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
bbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb
My letter to the Easter bunny was filled with a little more pleading:
Dear Easter bunny:
For Easter, I want lots of candy, warm weather, and for my kids to be healthy dammit. And please don't let Hubby catch whatever it is that is going around. If you can't help with that last one, just bring me lots more candy.
I would also like my willpower and motivation to rise from the dead. Please tell Jesus to bring that with Him. And tell Him to close his eyes so he doesn't see his shadow. I can't take another 6 weeks of winter. Aw, never mind. Just bring the candy.
love,
me
Friday, January 25, 2008
Thursday Night's Post
How I know today is just a day that needs to be over:
1) The burning pain in my chest radiating toward the part of my shoulder blades begging for a massage I will never get.
2) The fact that I am repressing various cuss words from piercing my children's selfish little ears (assuming that they would even hear them, which is really a stretch at this point).
3) Knowing I have reached the point of threatening to toss all of the action figures, knights, and star wars guys into the furnace. I have cool little baskets that hold them all, but the boys demand that the figures make the best "garbage" for their trash trucks to haul (and dump out and leave in multiple Lego-like piles all over the house).
4) The boys have been feeding off each other so much this afternoon and evening that Hubby proclaimed, "It would be just fine if [Moosie] would learn how to play by himself!" (Um, you mean the one who refused to do anything but "play" by himself until this year and was diagnosed with autism?)
5) I want to tell Moosie to shut the F up! (Yes, I mean the kid who was pretty much nonverbal this time last year.)
6) Because my kitchen and living room are actually clean now, and I know if the day doesn't end right now, it will look like I never touched them by the time tomorrow comes.
7) Because I have no patience for the fact that Bubba wants to take two huge toys for his "star performer" day at school tomorrow. They have to be things that have moving wheels he tells me. Since his toys with "moving wheels" (battery operated) are HUGE, his wish conflicts with the teacher's rule that it has to fit in his bookbag. I spent the required 55 minutes alternating between trying to force the garbage truck and excavator in his bookbag and rocking with Bubba in the recliner trying to explain that I can't magically make the toys smaller.
8) Because tomorrow is a new day and I can return to being a momma instead of a bitch.
1) The burning pain in my chest radiating toward the part of my shoulder blades begging for a massage I will never get.
2) The fact that I am repressing various cuss words from piercing my children's selfish little ears (assuming that they would even hear them, which is really a stretch at this point).
3) Knowing I have reached the point of threatening to toss all of the action figures, knights, and star wars guys into the furnace. I have cool little baskets that hold them all, but the boys demand that the figures make the best "garbage" for their trash trucks to haul (and dump out and leave in multiple Lego-like piles all over the house).
4) The boys have been feeding off each other so much this afternoon and evening that Hubby proclaimed, "It would be just fine if [Moosie] would learn how to play by himself!" (Um, you mean the one who refused to do anything but "play" by himself until this year and was diagnosed with autism?)
5) I want to tell Moosie to shut the F up! (Yes, I mean the kid who was pretty much nonverbal this time last year.)
6) Because my kitchen and living room are actually clean now, and I know if the day doesn't end right now, it will look like I never touched them by the time tomorrow comes.
7) Because I have no patience for the fact that Bubba wants to take two huge toys for his "star performer" day at school tomorrow. They have to be things that have moving wheels he tells me. Since his toys with "moving wheels" (battery operated) are HUGE, his wish conflicts with the teacher's rule that it has to fit in his bookbag. I spent the required 55 minutes alternating between trying to force the garbage truck and excavator in his bookbag and rocking with Bubba in the recliner trying to explain that I can't magically make the toys smaller.
8) Because tomorrow is a new day and I can return to being a momma instead of a bitch.
Friday, January 18, 2008
Noncommittal
I am so disappointed in our state department of education. I was told today that unless there was a court case, there would be no "written policy" for use of a seclusion room, and that it was up to the district to come up with a policy of use. They don't have to come up with a policy, they just should. I was told that the only thing a school has to comply with is the building code policy, such as what type of doors can be used. However, our department of mental health has a policy for the use of time outs and restraints, with statements such as:
Of course the statement I kept getting from our department of education: "Not that I'm aware of."
I don't even know where to begin as far as looking into various laws.
It just seems wrong that a school can have every other policy on discipline, from detention to expulsion, but not one about putting kids in a padded cell? I read them all, and nothing.
And I'm not even going to get into what he told me about the education department's "view" on outside consultants observing a student in the classroom.
OK, maybe a little...
I explained how we are getting Notice of Action refused documents stating that is "district practice" not to allow outside consultants to observe special education students at the request of their parents. Not a written policy mind you, but a "district practice." And there are as many stories as to why this practice suddenly exists as there are exceptions to the practice.
The state guy told me they feel the school would need permission from every parent in the classroom. Oh. Come. On. There are people that aren't school employees in that school every fricking minute of the stinking day. If you send your kids to public school--gasp--people are going to see them and know they--bigger gasp--go to school there. They might even---wait.....for.....it--hear their names! Because, well, people notice things.
But does that matter to an observer who has permission to specifically take data on a specific child? No. Nor does it matter to Mrs. Volunteer who told Mrs. Busybody that little Johnny Sometimesbehavesbadly threatened sweet Dottie Dogood with a pencil (even though little Johnny was just giving her the pencil, but that didn't stop Mrs. Busybody from telling Mr. Wasn'tlooking and Johnny subsequently getting thrown in the seclusion room for bad behavior).
And don't play the safety issue either. If a licensed, trained consultant has a background check and observes a child with parental and school permission at a scheduled time, and is not even interacting with the children, they are way less of a risk than your average volunteer.
Why should I have to go to Due Process to prove this when it is so so obvious as to why it is not a written policy? I'm telling everyone I know to invoke their right to an independent evaluation. Dang it.
Whew. I am fired up. Needed to get it out now. Deep breath. And... break!
Each department mental retardation facility and regional center shall have written
policies for the use of restraints and time out procedures, which may prescribe more
but not less stringent requirement for their use than those provided in this DOR.
Facility policies are subject to review by central office.
Of course the statement I kept getting from our department of education: "Not that I'm aware of."
I don't even know where to begin as far as looking into various laws.
It just seems wrong that a school can have every other policy on discipline, from detention to expulsion, but not one about putting kids in a padded cell? I read them all, and nothing.
Behavioral Expectations
Firearms and Weapons in school
Random Drug Testing
Student Participation in Secret Organization and Gangs
Detention
Suspension
Expulsion
Enrollment or Return Following Suspension and/or Expulsion
Student Discipline Hearings
Discipline of Students with Disabilities
Reporting of Violent Behavior
And I'm not even going to get into what he told me about the education department's "view" on outside consultants observing a student in the classroom.
OK, maybe a little...
I explained how we are getting Notice of Action refused documents stating that is "district practice" not to allow outside consultants to observe special education students at the request of their parents. Not a written policy mind you, but a "district practice." And there are as many stories as to why this practice suddenly exists as there are exceptions to the practice.
The state guy told me they feel the school would need permission from every parent in the classroom. Oh. Come. On. There are people that aren't school employees in that school every fricking minute of the stinking day. If you send your kids to public school--gasp--people are going to see them and know they--bigger gasp--go to school there. They might even---wait.....for.....it--hear their names! Because, well, people notice things.
But does that matter to an observer who has permission to specifically take data on a specific child? No. Nor does it matter to Mrs. Volunteer who told Mrs. Busybody that little Johnny Sometimesbehavesbadly threatened sweet Dottie Dogood with a pencil (even though little Johnny was just giving her the pencil, but that didn't stop Mrs. Busybody from telling Mr. Wasn'tlooking and Johnny subsequently getting thrown in the seclusion room for bad behavior).
And don't play the safety issue either. If a licensed, trained consultant has a background check and observes a child with parental and school permission at a scheduled time, and is not even interacting with the children, they are way less of a risk than your average volunteer.
Why should I have to go to Due Process to prove this when it is so so obvious as to why it is not a written policy? I'm telling everyone I know to invoke their right to an independent evaluation. Dang it.
Whew. I am fired up. Needed to get it out now. Deep breath. And... break!
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Little Shits
I was driving down the road minding my own business when...
THWACK..UD!
Something hit the side of my car so hard I felt the door vibrate. It scared the shit out of me, and of course since I am a person of high anxiety, I thought for sure a kid rode his bike into my car and I had left him dying in the street with blood oozing out of his nose. So I turned around and...
THWACK..UD!
Some kids were throwing ice balls at passing traffic.
So I pulled over, put on my hazard lights, and jumped out of the car. The culprits took off between the two houses they were stationed in between. I rang the doorbells of both houses, but no one came to either door (even though all of the lights were on). So I wrote down the addresses and last names from the mailboxes so that I could visit them tomorrow. I felt like ripping up their cute little blow up Santa and spitting on their holiday candles flickering ever so innocently in the windows.
The little fuckers put a nice ding in my door and took off some paint.
It's official. I have become my father. Lucky for those little bastards I was too tired to run and I didn't have a belt handy.
THWACK..UD!
Something hit the side of my car so hard I felt the door vibrate. It scared the shit out of me, and of course since I am a person of high anxiety, I thought for sure a kid rode his bike into my car and I had left him dying in the street with blood oozing out of his nose. So I turned around and...
THWACK..UD!
Some kids were throwing ice balls at passing traffic.
So I pulled over, put on my hazard lights, and jumped out of the car. The culprits took off between the two houses they were stationed in between. I rang the doorbells of both houses, but no one came to either door (even though all of the lights were on). So I wrote down the addresses and last names from the mailboxes so that I could visit them tomorrow. I felt like ripping up their cute little blow up Santa and spitting on their holiday candles flickering ever so innocently in the windows.
The little fuckers put a nice ding in my door and took off some paint.
It's official. I have become my father. Lucky for those little bastards I was too tired to run and I didn't have a belt handy.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Tis the Season
Everyone in this house now has a head cold.
What Bubba does with a head cold: The same thing he does without a head cold! Playing and whining about being bored, but also grossing us all out by making nasty juicy nose-sucking snorty sounds every few seconds.
What Moosie does with a head cold: The same thing he does without a head cold! Following his brother around, writing on stuff he shouldn't write on, but also grossing us out by using the little divid under his nose to channel his slimy green snot directly back into his person.
What Mommy does with a head cold: Clean house (including washing dishes, sweeping floors, wiping counters, vacuuming, laundry, scrubbing stinky toilets); make breakfast, lunch, and dinner; return Christmas gifts to some stores; purchase new Christmas gifts from other stores; wrap gifts; yada yada yada. (And, um, talk to my aunt, sister, and friend inbetween running errands, and hide in the office to blog.)
What Daddy does with a head cold: Sleep, bitch, and moan. And watch TV.
I suppose I bitch some too. But at least I accomplish something as I'm doing it.
What Bubba does with a head cold: The same thing he does without a head cold! Playing and whining about being bored, but also grossing us all out by making nasty juicy nose-sucking snorty sounds every few seconds.
What Moosie does with a head cold: The same thing he does without a head cold! Following his brother around, writing on stuff he shouldn't write on, but also grossing us out by using the little divid under his nose to channel his slimy green snot directly back into his person.
What Mommy does with a head cold: Clean house (including washing dishes, sweeping floors, wiping counters, vacuuming, laundry, scrubbing stinky toilets); make breakfast, lunch, and dinner; return Christmas gifts to some stores; purchase new Christmas gifts from other stores; wrap gifts; yada yada yada. (And, um, talk to my aunt, sister, and friend inbetween running errands, and hide in the office to blog.)
What Daddy does with a head cold: Sleep, bitch, and moan. And watch TV.
I suppose I bitch some too. But at least I accomplish something as I'm doing it.
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Cookies and Candy
If I give you cookies or candy this holiday season, they are made with fucking love damn it!!!! Even if they look and/or taste like shit.
Merry Christmas.
Happy Holidays.
Or whatever.
Merry Christmas.
Happy Holidays.
Or whatever.
Saturday, December 15, 2007
First Snow
Moosie found a creative way to deflect the nippy wind while he was hard at work shoveling snow. He was not happy when the little girl next door took his shovel.
Bubba was up bright and early ready to play in the snow. We held him off until late morning not realizing it would take 2 hours to get several layers of snow-smart clothing on!
Bubba and Moose invited themselves to the neighbor's lawn, and the Little Shit neighbor kid kept telling them to go away.
Daddy (lucky to be off of work today!) was very proud of his snow man that he built all by himself. Note the brussel sprout eyes, carrot nose, and light saber arms.
I ran out to retrieve the red light saber from the deck, and noticed my tracks were much larger than the finches. (I hate wearing shoes!)
And when the boys were finished outside, we made our own snow to go with the half-assed gingerbread houses I helped them build (according to their demands) and they decorated (according to their whims).
Bubba was up bright and early ready to play in the snow. We held him off until late morning not realizing it would take 2 hours to get several layers of snow-smart clothing on!
Bubba and Moose invited themselves to the neighbor's lawn, and the Little Shit neighbor kid kept telling them to go away.
Daddy (lucky to be off of work today!) was very proud of his snow man that he built all by himself. Note the brussel sprout eyes, carrot nose, and light saber arms.
I ran out to retrieve the red light saber from the deck, and noticed my tracks were much larger than the finches. (I hate wearing shoes!)
And when the boys were finished outside, we made our own snow to go with the half-assed gingerbread houses I helped them build (according to their demands) and they decorated (according to their whims).
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
There is hope
The afternoon didn't start off well. I tried to get a jump on the homework, and in either impulse or retaliation, Bubba locked me out of the house while I was getting Moosie off of the bus. The little shit locked the storm door in the front and the door in the garage. Luckily "the count down from 5" is ingrained in his little brain and he couldn't stop the compulsion to do the right thing and unlock the door when I shouted "TWO!" through the door.
The rest of the evening didn't fare well either. I had a baked clay school craft hurled at me (I think it was a seahorse) in between trips to the "sensory room" for "time out." The rest was just, well, kind of typical of what happens during a meltdown. Moosie poked in from the sidelines, but was generally content with the "Mom and Bubba" show.
And the worst of it? I cancelled the inexperienced babysitter that was supposed to come over and play with the boys while I attended the monthly PAC (Special Education Parent Advisory Council) meeting. And to top that, I forbade anything electronic for the rest of the evening (this was at 5:30!). No TV. No movies. No computer. No XBOX. Nada. Nada. Nada. What in the Hell did I do that for?
And because I was crabby, or maybe just because I had nothing planned, I said that St. Nicholas probably wasn't coming tonight. I never remember when St. Nicholas is supposed to come, but Bubba remembered and would not stop asking about him.
But nighttime came with promises of relief. Dinner, bath/shower, minimal crying about being bored and being left alone (I finally figured out that he thought that when I said the babysitter wasn't coming over that I was just going to leave him home alone while I went alone to the meeting). And then he was asleep by 9PM. And Moosie, still processing the evening's events, let him sleep.
A short time later, I found a raggedy, worn shoe strategically placed by the TV, above the stockings. Even in an afternoon and evening full of explosions and tears, Bubba, in his innocence, thought St. Nicholas just might come. Just maybe.
I think St. Nicholas might just stop by with something small. Every kid deserves magic, don't you think? And while I am strict (when it matters), I will never purposefully crush Bubba's spirit. There are enough people out there who won't think twice before doing that.
Maybe Bubba put out his shoe just hoping for a gift like greedy selfish little children do this time of year. But I believe in hope, and that is a gift I will always choose to give no matter what.
The rest of the evening didn't fare well either. I had a baked clay school craft hurled at me (I think it was a seahorse) in between trips to the "sensory room" for "time out." The rest was just, well, kind of typical of what happens during a meltdown. Moosie poked in from the sidelines, but was generally content with the "Mom and Bubba" show.
And the worst of it? I cancelled the inexperienced babysitter that was supposed to come over and play with the boys while I attended the monthly PAC (Special Education Parent Advisory Council) meeting. And to top that, I forbade anything electronic for the rest of the evening (this was at 5:30!). No TV. No movies. No computer. No XBOX. Nada. Nada. Nada. What in the Hell did I do that for?
And because I was crabby, or maybe just because I had nothing planned, I said that St. Nicholas probably wasn't coming tonight. I never remember when St. Nicholas is supposed to come, but Bubba remembered and would not stop asking about him.
But nighttime came with promises of relief. Dinner, bath/shower, minimal crying about being bored and being left alone (I finally figured out that he thought that when I said the babysitter wasn't coming over that I was just going to leave him home alone while I went alone to the meeting). And then he was asleep by 9PM. And Moosie, still processing the evening's events, let him sleep.
A short time later, I found a raggedy, worn shoe strategically placed by the TV, above the stockings. Even in an afternoon and evening full of explosions and tears, Bubba, in his innocence, thought St. Nicholas just might come. Just maybe.
I think St. Nicholas might just stop by with something small. Every kid deserves magic, don't you think? And while I am strict (when it matters), I will never purposefully crush Bubba's spirit. There are enough people out there who won't think twice before doing that.
Maybe Bubba put out his shoe just hoping for a gift like greedy selfish little children do this time of year. But I believe in hope, and that is a gift I will always choose to give no matter what.
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