If it ain't broke...

Forwarding address

2006-11-04T14:12:00.000-05:00

Annette made it sound like so much fun, I've also decided to move my blog over to Wordpress (if there are any of you left to read it, lol). If you haven't already decided I'm dead and stopped coming by here, check out the new blog:

http://reednowensmommy.wordpress.com

I've got a new post up there and everything.

Q: How can you tell if your child has a great educator?

2006-09-14T00:08:00.000-04:00

A: When they write poetry about him. Today, Reed came home from school clutching a paper. I had to wait until after he went to bed to read it, because he wouldn't give it up before then. Here is what I found:

Funny Boy
by Mrs. C.

I work at school with a boy named
Reed,
Sometimes I laugh as he’s doing a deed.
He analyzes, often
surprises,
Comes up with words of colossal sizes.

After being
in school for just two weeks
The progress he’s made has come in
leaps.
He’s sitting longer, listening well,
Taking his turn, there’s more
to tell…

As he reads a book, he may laugh and giggle.
My
nickname for him has become “Mr. Wiggle”.
Reed has taught me to be patient,
have compassion and joy-
Teaching is a pleasure with this great, funny boy.

I've always loved his aide, but now I really love her. The boost to his self confidence is just awesome, and it's so great to hear how much she loves working with him.

Progress Report

2006-09-09T15:08:00.000-04:00

I've been lax in posting again. Sorry about that. The end of summer and beginning of the school year has found me quite busy. We went on a fantastic vacation. Reed did so great! There was only one minor meltdown, and one destructive episode, but otherwise he was charming. Not bad for an 8 day vacation that took us across 4 states. We even had what Heath jokingly calls the "Wallyworld experience" in which the amusement park we had advance tickets for was closed for the week when we showed up at the front gate. I thought for sure that would be a deal-breaker for Reed, but he handled it like a trooper. He was clearly disappointed, but cheerfully participated in the remainder of the activities we planned for the day. Luckily, the park re-opened for the holiday weekend, so we still got to use our tickets (although we had to skip the family reunion we've been planning to attend all year. Oh well.).

And now for the best news of all: Reed is doing great in school! I was so sure that this week would be a disaster. We got home from vacation 45 minutes before bedtime the day before school started. After more than a week away from home, I was anticipating the transition from vacation to home to be difficult enough on its own. Add to that the transition from summer vacation to school and I was certain we had a recipe for disaster. Boy, was I wrong. He has had phenomenal days all week (school started on Tuesday). His teacher and aide have been thrilled with his participation. But hands-down, the best moment of the school year so far for me happened before school even started. We were standing in the hall outside his classroom waiting for the teachers to check the kids in. The hallway was utter chaos. Reed was looking a little anxious, but was overall taking it well. All of a sudden, a boy from his Kindergarten class last year rounds the corner in front of us. Reed jumped out from the wall, looked him squarely in the face and said “Hi Alex! It’s me, Reed. Are you in my class?” I nearly fainted. In spite of being pretty overwhelmed by the noise and confusion, he still managed to initiate an age-appropriate conversation without any help from an adult. Holy cow, where did this come from? The next morning, he stood in line with another boy from last year’s class and chatted while they waited to be let into the classroom, while his aide looked on from a distance. She commented that, while he mostly listened as the other boy talked, he did interact in the conversation as well. Woo Hoo! He’s making friends this year, not just “friends” (which seemed to mean anyone whose name he knew and could identify in the hallway at school last year).

One last, but HUGE victory to report for the week: Yesterday, our library had a special event to unveil the newly renovated children’s section. Reed loves the library, but has trouble with the basic library rules, so we don’t go often, but since there were going to be special guests reading stories and crafts and games for the kids, I decided this would be a good chance for him to spend some time with his beloved books without having to worry to much about being quiet and still. Not only did he do crafts with a couple other kids, and listen attentively to the celebrity guest readers, he READ ALOUD TO THE ENTIRE LIBRARY. Yes, you heard me correctly. One of the volunteers asked if he’d like to read a book, and he jumped up on stage, and read 3 short stories to 2 dozen spectators. He even remembered to turn the book to show the illustrations at the end of each page, proving that he realized that he was interacting with the audience. Naturally, I took lots of pictures, but it was with the old film camera (my digital’s been acting up lately), and I haven’t developed the roll yet. But you can bet I’ll be posting them as soon as I can.

Gasp 2 Posts in one week!

2006-08-11T23:08:00.000-04:00

Shocking, I know. I'm kind of freaking out and I need all your help here.

I just found out that Reed is skipping first grade. They've placed him in the grade 2-3 gifted class this year. How can my 5 year old be a SECOND GRADER already?!?!? It shouldn't be possible. Anyway, that's beside the point.

My problem is this, this is the first school year we've begun since the diagnosis. I am unsure how to prepare Reed for school to start again. Since he is mainstreamed (he attends a small Charter school and has an EA), this class will likely be nothing like his Kindergarten class last year. After being away from school, and then it being completely unpredictable for him until he learns the new schedule, I'm afraid the changes will be more than any of us can take. How do you prepare your child for the start of something familiar yet different? I think it would almost be easier if this was totally new, since he wouldn't have any expectations at all, but I'm pretty sure he will be expecting it to be just like last year.

Help! I have less than a month to prepare and I have no idea what I'm doing!

Happy Blogiversary to me

2006-08-06T18:55:00.000-04:00

Well, I've lived through another year, and I've got the blog to prove it. Of course that doesn't amount to much post-wise, since I'm such a lousy blogger, but it's really weird to look back on my first posts and see how far we've come in the last year.

Virtual cake for everyone!

We interrupt your regularly scheduled autism

2006-08-04T15:16:00.000-04:00

I was all ready to post yesterday about our lovely (albeit brief) vacation with the kids. About how they both loved camping, and we had a great time. And then we went to OT.

First, let me start by explaining that my dad gave us our car because he got hit by someone during a snowstorm last winter, and decided that he didn't want to fix the damage. We have spent all year working on that car, a few things here, a few things there. We just got it finished about 3 weeks ago. It was completely fixed (except for needing a new paint job). For the first time since Reed was a baby, we had a really nice car (it's a 99 Escort and now that it's fixed up, it's a really great little car).

So, this morning when I took Reed to his OT at Children's, the valet guy I was following behind in the parking garage decided to back into a parking spot. Unfortunately, I was in front of the spot he wanted. He put the SUV he was parking into reverse, and floored it backward into my car without even looking. My car is a mess. It buckled the hood and broke the hood latch (so now it is bent in the middle and doesn't stay closed). Because the SUV was so much taller than my car, it pretty much ruined the whole front of my car. I'm not sure yet if it did any damage mechanically, because Heath had to leave for work without getting to look at it real closely.

Then to make matters worse, the valet is trying to cover his own behind by saying that I pulled in behind him after he was already backing into the space, which is a total lie. I was already stopped behind him before he even put it into reverse. Why on earth would I pull in behind someone who is backing into a space? It doesn't even make any sense. So now I have to wait until they can pull up the surveillance camera footage from the garage, and hope it caught what happened, otherwise they are probably going to try to get out of paying for the damage. And since we can't afford full coverage, our insurance won't fix our car. It will all come out of our (empty) pocket. Please pray that the camera caught what happened and shows that he was totally at fault. Otherwise, we'll have to fight it out with the insurance of the people whose truck he was driving.

On top of all that, after Heath came to pick us up with the other car (affectionately known as "the car of death" because it's not road worthy, and the wheel could fall off at any time), he went into the garage to look at the damage. While we were parked in front of the Escort, another valet person almost hit the Neon while backing into another spot WAY too fast! We (and they) are sooo lucky it was our car, and not us walking behind him when he did that. It's a CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL for crying out loud! There are people walking to and from their cars with their kids all the time! I am beyond ticked off right now. It makes me want to sit in my car with a video camera for a few hours just to show everyone how they drive in that garage.

Ugh. Anybody want to trade lives for a few days? I need a vacation from mine.

First hand understanding

2006-07-19T21:08:00.000-04:00

Heath and I watched a movie the other night, Mozart and the Whale. It was really interesting. It gave me a lot of hope for Reed's future. After all, it's about a couple of Aspies who lead productive, fairly happy lives. They work jobs, live on their own, and fall in love. It also very accurately portrayed many of his struggles. When the movie was over, Heath and I talked well into the night about it. And we came to a startling conclusion: We are both probably on the spectrum ourselves.

My beloved husband has some serious social deficiencies. We often joke about how he doesn't "play well with others". Despite his best efforts, he has a way of alienating people, rather than relating to them. Even after 8.5 years together, I don't always get him. He struggled in school, partly with the social interactions, but also quite a bit with the academics. He has a knack for numbers (although not to the extent of Josh Hartnet's character in the movie), but struggles with reading and writing (the grammar and composition, not the actual mechanics of it). When he gets frustrated, he pulls his hair. Hard. He gets really agitated if things don't go the way he scheduled them.

I also have some trouble with social interaction. It wasn't until I was a teenager that I started to be able to relate and interact with people comfortably. I am still very self conscious, because I cannot guess how people perceive me. I am excruciatingly uncomfortable with eye contact. I read this post a while back, and was nearly jumping out of my chair, yelling "Yes! Exactly!" As a child, I used to rock when I was concentrating. It helped me to focus through the noise in the house. I would sit to do my homework, and rock back and forth. It used to drive my mom nuts. "Sit still and finish your work. You'd be done by now if you'd quit squirming." She meant well. She just didn't understand that I Needed to rock in order to not hear my brother and sister running through the house, and my mom and dad talking, and the TV in the other room, and the garbage truck outside, and a thousand other noises catching my attention. I don't rock anymore, but I do have this unconscious habit of twirling my foot in a circle. All. The. Time. It even drives me nuts, but I can't stop. I nearly went insane the first week when my leg was in a cast and I couldn't move my foot. My skin started to crawl, and I was really edgy. I still have trouble with eye contact, which could explain why I've been searching for a job for over a year, but still have no job. I try to make a conscious effort to make eye contact at least occasionally, but it's hard, and I can't do it while talking or I lose my train of thought.

So there you have it. All these little things that never meant anything to us until we knew that they weren't "normal" (whatever the heck THAT is). I always thought everybody was like this. Aren't they?

Since you asked...

2006-07-15T18:02:00.000-04:00

Kristin's comment deserves to be answered. Her comment on my post about the new blog title was:

Steph- I love Quotes, you picked a good one. Made me happy and sad at the same time when I read it.
Love the new tittle and new look- seems like you have a found a "new place" within yourself too :o)
What brought about the change?

Well, first of all, Thank you. I thought long and hard on the new name. This quote just really stood out to me. It was made by someone with Asperger's Syndrome. It really spoke to me, so I felt it was the right name for this place in our journey. I'm not really sure where the new outlook came from. Honestly, I can't put my finger on a particular moment or revelation that changed things. A big part of it was you, my wonderful friends in my computer. Reading your blogs has given me insight that usually takes a long time of first hand experience to gain. Thank you so much for allowing me to take a minor shortcut through some of the heartache and learn from your lessons. I'm sure there are many more to come, but for now, I feel much more confident with my newfound knowledge of Reed and his needs.

So in answer to your question... Well, actually I HAVE no answer to your question. I am still bewildered and overwhelmed much of the time, but the rest of the time, I am better able to appreciate what it is that makes Reed who he is. I have become less about fixing him, and more about enjoying him.

I think I'm doing better, thanks for asking.

A token of my affection

2006-07-15T17:50:00.000-04:00

We tried this once before, but it didn't go so well. I decided to revive the old token economy after reevaluating what went wrong last time. It's not going as well as it could, but it's going much better than last time (which was before we had even a suggestion of Autism, and were operating under the diagnosis of ADHD) . I am optimistic that in a few weeks, he should have the hang of it, and it could be a really useful tool for us. I thought he might have some trouble accepting a new rule requiring him to "pay" for privileges he previously got for free, but so far that doesn't seem to be his problem. His problem lies in the concept of delayed gratification. As soon as I give him a marble for something, he is anxious to cash it in for something. I keep trying to explain that he should hang on to at least a few of them to save up for the bigger privileges, like trips to the park, and ice cream. But he seems frantic to turn it back into something immediate.

Anybody else tried this system? Any tips? Success stories?

The new name

2006-07-10T20:55:00.000-04:00

Heath and I are listening to a fascinating radio show online about Asperger's Syndrome. There was a quote that struck me as so perfect, that it inspired the new blog title. Even if you're not dealing with a diagnosis of AS, I highly recommend checking out the program.

http://www.lcmedia.com/mind397.htm

I'll try to blog more later.

Taking Suggestions

2006-06-30T10:31:00.000-04:00

on a new blog name. Now that Reed has completed Kindergarten, it seems like I should have a new name. But I am stuck. I've been trying to come up with something witty for the past hour, with no success.

Help!

Some random thoughts on blogging

2006-06-29T20:47:00.000-04:00

So I recently discovered that a mom I "know" through an online community, and whose blog I happened upon recently, reads another blog I adore. What a small world, huh? Isn't it funny how this whole autism blogging thing brings together all of us who would ordinarily have no idea the others existed. Ok, maybe it's just me. I thought it was kinda cool.

So when I noticed the other day just how long it's been since I blogged last (sorry 'bout that), it got me thinking a lot about my blog. So I have a little poll for you:

Why did you decide to start a blog? Was there one you read that got you interested? Did you have something you just HAD to get off your chest? What was your catalyst?
Do your family and friends know about your blog? Do you let them read it? Have you ever wished they didn't?
What is your favorite thing about blogging?
What is your favorite thing about your favorite blog?

Ok, enough nosy questions from me. I'm just trying to gauge how weird I am, LOL.

Lost focus

2006-06-24T09:35:00.000-04:00

I have no reasonable excuse for where I've been. It's not that I haven't had anything to blog about. Owen has finally conquered his eating issues, and is talking like mad. I should be writing volumes about this. Reed has finished Kindergarten, and will be entering the gifted class for First grade full time in the fall. That should be cause for celebration. I'm not really sure why I haven't been moved to talk about it until now. I've just been a bit pre-occupied lately.

So on to the good stuff. Let's start with Reed. He finished Kindergarten with flying colors. His report card showed improvement in every single category (especially the social skills). Because some of the Kindergarten classes are integrated with 1st grade, his school doesn't do Kindergarten graduation. I was a little disappointed, but I'll get over it. I don't think Reed would have enjoyed it as much as I would anyway. He was less than thrilled at pre-k gradutation last year. A little too chaotic and unpredictable, despite the numerous practice runs they did beforehand. But Kindergarten is a big step, and there ought to be something to mark it's completion.

Reed spent last weekend at Papa and Nana's again. It went much better this time. I explained to her ahead of time (again, but this time she listened a little better) about his need for structure and routine. Apparently they got the hint, because the weekend went off without a hitch. They even called me mid visit, to proclaim how fabulously he was behaving. What a relief. My wonderful little sister (the much-revered "Auntie") came over to help me capitalize on his absense and try to bring some order to my chaotic house.

And now on to the even better news. Owen is talking! Seriously, totally vocal. Woo. Hoo. I cannot begin to express to you what a relief it is that all of a sudden, about 3 weeks ago, Owen started talking and he hasn't looked back. The same week that he started talking, he also started eating. I have no earthly idea what was holding him up all these months, but who really cares? There is no feeling better than the first time your baby says sleepily "lev ooo" as he blows you kisses at bedtime.

I really can't top that. Quite frankly, who could?

Acceptance

2006-04-29T19:15:00.000-04:00

Finally a post that's not all about me feeling sorry for myself. In fact, I plan to gloat a bit, LOL.

My family has always tried to be supportive of our struggles with Reed. They are sympathetic, but I don't think they really "got it" if you know what I mean (and I'm betting you do). Because grandparents often see a different side of our kids, they often have a false impression of what parenting these kids entails. Reed has always been good as gold at Papa and Nana's. They never have any problems with him when he comes to visit. Because of this, Nana is always ready to offer me lots of parenting advice. Things like "You just have to be consistent." and "Make him responsible for cleaning up after himself and he won't want to make such a mess anymore." Um, yeah. 'Cause I obviously never thought of trying that.

After today, however, I think she finally gets it.

As I mentioned a few posts ago, Reed loves my grandparents and was disappointed when his spring break visit was canceled. So, now that Papa is feeling better, Reed was invited to spend the weekend. After a difficult evening with him on Thursday, in which I threatened to not let him go at all if he couldn't get himself under control, he finally settled down and went to sleep. He had a great day at school on Friday, and I was optimistic that the worst of this week was behind us. I dropped him off after OT, with dire warnings of what would happen if I got any unsatisfactory reports. We ran through our daily script of "How are you going to behave?" "Good." "How good?" "The best kid ever." We run through this script every morning before school, and it seemed appropriate under the circumstances. Owen and I headed home for a peaceful night. And there was much rejoicing. I got a call a few hours later that I had somehow forgotten to pack his pajamas. Reed had begged her to take him home to get them, but she convinced him to wear some sweats. She further appeased him by calling me and asking that I drop some pj's off the next day. I assured him I would bring them over the following day, and he was happy. Crisis averted. Problem solved. He went to bed without a problem. In fact, he was pretty good most of the day, only having a brief problem when asked to clean up his toys just before I dropped by with the pajamas. I had a talk with him, and reminded him that if he couldn't listen to Papa and Nana, he would be coming home. He promised me he would be on his best behavior, and I left, not wanting to infringe on his special weekend any more than necessary. Then at dinnertime, I got another call from Nana. She sounded like she might burst into tears at any moment. She informed me that she would be bringing him home as soon as she gathered up his things. I apologized profusely for his behavior, but tried to point out that this is just how he gets some days, and there's not much you can do about it. 45 minutes later, he came bounding into the house. Turns out that she had asked him to help clean up some toys so he could get a bath in before bedtime. He refused, and when she insisted, he started throwing things and screaming. He threw a shoe, which knocked a painting off the wall. While she was retrieving the painting, he ran into the kitchen, and swiped everything off the table. By some miracle, her favorite crystal vase didn't break, but it could have been bad. That was the final straw. She told him that he would have to go home, and he laughed in her face and refused to put on his shoes. That's when she called me.

I know it's really petty of me, but part of me is laughing inside. For all her advise, for all her opinions that there was something I wasn't doing right, she got to see one of his nuclear-grade meltdowns first-hand. I feel some subliminal "I told you so"s are in order.

On being official

2006-04-29T10:14:00.000-04:00

Grr, Blogger ate my post. I had a lovely though-provoking post all typed up and it has disappeared. I'm not sure I'll be as elloquent the second time around, but here goes:

Reed had his appointment with the ASD neurology specialist this week, and he confirmed the school's findings. We are now the proud(ish) parents of an Asperger's child. This comes as no surprise, and I'm actually glad to have it over with. The neurologist declared that we were on top of things, and couldn't suggest anything that we weren't already doing. That felt nice. We will get an MRI done over the summer, but will wait until school is out before scheduling that. He also refered us to a research study on AS being done by the local university he's affiliated with. I am still torn as to wether to sign Reed up for it or not. While the $3,000 or so in free testing is extremely tempting, it would require taking him off all meds for 3 weeks prior in order to be elligible. 3 weeks is a long time, and I'm just not sure we're ready for that yet. I know medicating kids on the spectrum (or any kids for that matter) is contriversial, but it is what works for us right now. He functions so muchs better on his meds. He asks for his pill if I forget to offer it with breakfast. I asked him once why he wanted it when he reminded me. He answered simply, "It makes me not so much." So there you have it. He is too much even for himself. When he can't focus properly, he can't put a filter on the world, and it overwhelms him. I'm not convinced it's fair to anybody to deny him that. The answers the additional testing might provide, and the benefit to autism research are so hard to walk away from, though. At least I have some time to decide. We wouldn't do anything until school is out anyway, so I'm thinking and praying on it hard.

I'm open to suggestions and advice. What would you do? You, my wonderful friends in cyberspace, are so much wiser than I in matters like this. Should we give it a try without the meds? After all, we might discover he can do just fine without them once he gets used it it. Or should we alow him his comfort zone for now?

Thank you, my friends inside the Internet!

2006-04-23T14:44:00.000-04:00

Your comments on my last few posts have made me feel so much better. It generally feels like I'm talking to myself, so a little feedback was just what I needed this week. I just wanted you all to know how much I appreciate your support.

Great Big Cyber Hugs for Everyone!!!!

Transitioning

2006-04-22T14:43:00.000-04:00

This past week has been hard on Reed, and I'm a little afraid of what that will mean for our summer. Disregulation has become a way of life for my little man, stemming from many sources. First, it's Spring Break. There is no Kindergarten. Despite my best efforts to follow his classroom schedule, it's just not the same. Next on the list of culprits is the rescheduling of his visit to my grandparents. My grandparents love having him over, and were so excited to spend a few days of his spring break with him. Then, early Easter morning, my grandfather went into the hospital (he's recently had surgery and developed a blood clot in his leg). No Papa= No Reed visit. He took it well, but I know he was disappointed, and it is contributing to his unrest this week. Then, we got a new roof. It was loud, it was unfamiliar, and he couldn't even go out into the yard on some of the nicest days we've had this year. That was the final straw. He disintegrated, and hasn't been the same since. Meltdown after meltdown have disrupted my day, the most recent of which involved kicking his little brother in the head because Owen was climbing onto his bed without removing his sandals first.

The solution to all this chaos would be to leave the house, but with gas prices as high as they are now, I can't afford to drive anywhere if it's not absolutely necessary. We were going to take a walk, but since Reed insisted on the longest possible lunch today, there wasn't time before Owen's nap.

I know I seem to complain a lot, but please don't get me wrong. I'm merely frustrated because I am so new to this autism-parenting. I don't know how to help him cope with his noisy, unpredictable life. I feel woefully unqualified to be the mom to this amazing little kid. I'm just looking for a little validation that even if he has a kicking, screaming, thrashing fit every day this week, that we're still making progress. He has moved into the "I hate this" phase, which while somewhat infuriating, really feels great (as long as it's not me he hates). He is learning to verbalize his frustrations. The chair is in his way? I'll take "I hate this chair!" over throwing the chair through a window any day.

Denial, exit stage left

2006-04-21T17:53:00.000-04:00

You know, I've secretly been in denial about this whole autism thing all along. Go figure. I was in denial about being in denial. I thought I was okay with the autism diagnosis, and I guess I still am. What I was in denial about was what that will mean for Reed. I thought, "He'll be fine, he's a brilliant kid. He has a few behavior problems, but nothing he can't manage.
"

I had a reality check this afternoon. I got to go into OT with Reed this week (I can watch anytime I like, but can't bring Owen along, which means that I don't get to go in often). I suddenly saw very clearly that he is Autistic. With a capitol A. He is so uncoordinated. Poor kid got beaned in the face with the basketball more times than he caught it. He couldn't make a basket in the kid's hoop just 18 inches from his face. He tripped 3 times just going down the hall to the therapy office.

We're also starting to see more and more ASD-related behaviors. I've started to find lines of toys everywhere I look. 2 weeks ago, there was a head-banging incident at school. He got over-stimulated in gym class and started beating his head against the cinderblock wall of the gymnasium.

But it's not all bad. He's making great progress, and continues to amaze teachers and doctors. I'm finding my place among the autism community, and my denial is fading. Act 2 anyone?

Autism Awareness Month

2006-04-03T14:07:00.000-04:00

April is Autism Awareness Month. I don't know about you, but I'm already PLENTY aware of Autism. So I'm moving on. For me, it's Autism Appreciation Month. I'm appreciating my Autistic child, how 'bout you?

Breaking news!

2006-03-24T18:28:00.000-05:00

Observe the new blog title. We have updated out diagnosis. As of this past Wednesday, Reed's PDD-NOS has been upgraded to Asperger's Syndrome (he scored a 90 on the Gilliams's scale, for crying out loud). I am quite pleased by this, as it will now be so much easier to get him the help that he needs. Not only does he now get his 1:1 mentor all day, every day, but it is so nice to talk to a doctor without that look of bewilderment on their face when you tell them your child has PDD-NOS. I mean, honestly, I shouldn't really have to explain a medical condition to a doctor, should I? Asperger's is so much easier to deal with as a parent.

We met with the boys' pediatrician this afternoon to discuss the next steps for both of them. She praised our thoroughness, and declared that a trip to the neurologist is in order for both Reed and Owen. Reed to confirm the school's results, and direct us in the next steps. Owen for a developmental evaluation. She said that if it's bothering me, that's good enough for her. I didn't not have to sell her on why I'm concerned about him. She said that she trusted my judgment, and that if I felt there was reason to have him evaluated, she would gladly write the referral. Have I mentioned that I L-O-V-E our pediatrician? She is going on maternity leave next week. I am very happy for her, but cannot wait until she is back in the office. I sincerely hope that neither boy needs to be seen in the meantime, because I don't really want to see anyone else in the office (and there are 6 other pediatricians in the practice who are all equally competent, but without her awesome bedside manner).

Okay, I'm rambling and probably not making much sense. Due to technical difficulties, I am unable to use my own computer, and it's throwing me off a bit (some days I'm a little PDD-ish myself, lol). I will try to do a more competent job of updating soon.

The chaos in which I live

2006-03-18T16:04:00.000-05:00

To say that I am not a domestic goddess would be putting it kindly. I am not good at housework. It's not that I don't want to be. Really, I love nothing better than a tidy house. I am a perfectionist through and through. I get it from my dad. It's just that housework doesn't come easily to me. No matter how much time I spend tidying up, it never seems to make a dent in the disaster area we live in. There are many factors that contribute to this problem, but the main one is me. I am not good at managing my own time. Time slips away from me too easily (while doing rather non-productive things like blogging, for instance), leaving me feeling behind before I've even begun. But to make myself feel better, I'm also going to fill you in on a few of my other excuses.

My house is old. Yes, this is a valid argument. Our house is 83 years old. It was built in a different time for a different family. It is not as functional as it once was. We are severely lacking in storage space, and have a floor plan which is not conducive to quick cleaning. There are high ceilings which are hard to dust, and the most obnoxious textured paint in every single room.
My children are Steven Spielberg in the making. They are not the sort of kids that play with one or two toys at a time. When my boys play, there are epics in the making. They are not satisfied until they've incorporated every single toy they own into their play. Attempts to sidetrack the madness are met with swift and decisive tantrums. This makes it much more difficult to make them responsible for their own messes. It takes them literally hours to clean up everything they've gotten out. They know this, and like to take even longer, so as to get out of going to bed on time.
My husband is a messy guy. He throws things on the floor, even if where they belong is just as close at hand. He does lots of things well, but picking up after himself is not one of them. I love him anyway.

About a year ago, I was introduced to a fabulous system called Flylady. Her system is simple: tackling the mess in small doses. I love that concept, but it's not working for me. This is because my kids can make a mess much faster than I can clean it up. It takes me more than 15 minutes just to clear a path to the toybox most days. Add to that the fact that when I am finally free from my demanding chidlren at the end of the night, the last thing I want to do is spend the next 3 hours picking up after them. I know that the house will look just like this by breakfast tomorrow anway. It all feels a little pointless. When the kids are finally asleep (no small feat in itself, I assure you), all I want to do is collapse in a chair. If I can find one. Somebody help me!

Winding down and winding up

2006-03-15T12:27:00.000-05:00

I got a call today from the school social worker. We scheduled his next IEP/MET meeting for next Wednesday. I am so excited, I am practically dancing around the house. I have been anxiously awaiting the results of his testing for over a month, and now it's a mere week away. Am I a geek, or what?

Keep your fingers crossed for a productive meeting.

I must admit, though, that when the phone rang this afternoon, and I saw the school's number on the Caller-ID, my heart sank. I was so sure they were calling for me to pick him up. This week has been difficult for Reed. His beloved schedule is in shambles. His school is having a special reading-themed week. The classroom has been transformed into a campground, complete with a tent in the middle of where the tables normally rest. The usual schedule does not apply. He is trying bravely to manage this unexpected change, and so far is succeeding fairly well. He has had a great week so far, and I am so proud. The teachers were on edge at the start of the week; worried about how he'd cope with the upheaval. I feel so bad that I doubted him, being so sure that he had fallen to pieces. But for now, all is well.

The Unbearable Cuteness of Owen

2006-03-14T10:33:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I've spent far too much time obsessing about Reed lately. Believe it or not, I do have another child. A perfectly delightful one as a matter of fact.

Yesterday, while reading my daily blogroll, Owen was sitting on the floor next to me playing quietly (for all practical purposes he doesn't talk, so he's generally a pretty quiet kid if he's not upset about something). I looked over at him just in time to see him gently cradling a Cabbage Patch doll and lean over, give it a kiss, and pat it on the head. My heart melted.

Today we went on what we lovingly refer to as a "Daddy Adventure". (Okay, it was a trip to Lowes. The boys enjoy it so much more if we call it an adventure). Since we needed items that are too large for our small cars, we borrowed my father-in-law's pick-up. As we were driving to the store, Owen looked out his window and saw Daddy in the truck in the next lane. "Is DAD!" He squealed with delight. "Is Dad! Ish!" (Yeah, I know it looks like talking, but everything starts with either is [pronounced with a soft s, as in short for this or it's] or ish [umm, I'm still not sure what ish means, but he says it an awful lot]) And there was much clapping and pointing. Hoorah.

A few days ago, he spotted our cat (whom he loves far more that any other member of the family). Normally this spurs his favorite word, "Kitty". This time, however, he erupted with glee as he shouted her name, "Sessa!" (The cat's name is technically Tess, although we generally call her Tessa). I tried to make a gigantic deal of this to encourage it to happen again. No luck, but still...

So you see, he's a pretty great kid. Fun, smart, adorable as all heck. I really should talk about him more. He's way less stressful.

Smartypants

2006-03-09T20:40:00.000-05:00

I got an email from Reed's mentor, the fabulous Mrs. C (no really, that's what we call her. It's not just an anonymity thing). Beginning next week, he will be moved to the gifted class for his Language arts (reading and such). He will spend the bulk of every morning there. The school feels that a large part of his misbehavior is stemming from boredom (I've suspected the same since pre-k), so they're moving him to a more challenging environment. Mrs. C will come with him, and feels that this will be an excellent opportunity for him to excel at the thing he loves most: reading.

I've been hearing that word a lot lately from school. They were supposed to administer an intelligence test as part of his Special Ed testing, and I'm guessing he must have scored pretty well. They've asked me to have him practice typing on the computer at home, so they can direct him to more advanced websites during his computer time at school. Um, okay. That suggestion's not been such a big hit with Reed, who was totally unimpressed by the games on my typing program, and completely refuses to do the actual exercises on the disc. It doesn't help that the program is built for people much older, with bigger hands, and faster reflexes. The lowest setting on the game was 8 years old, so it's just a bit beyond him.

It's hard not to gloat. I mean, seriously, doesn't every parent secretly want to hear that their child is gifted? It's just so nice to finally have some good news.

Countdown

2006-03-06T22:45:00.000-05:00

I hate waiting. I've never been a patient person anyway, and all this waiting is killing me. Waiting for referrals, waiting for evaluations, waiting for diagnosis, waiting for appointments, waiting for results. It sucks.

I've been waiting for what seems like an eternity for the results of Reed's special ed testing at school. They have 30 school days from the date of our first meeting with the IEP team to complete their testing and reconvene the meeting. Since our first meeting was on February 1st, and the school was out all of last week for mid-winter break, my calculations put that 30 day deadline at March 22nd. That feels like forever, but really it's just a few more weeks. I am torn between hoping that they find that he does not fit the qualifications for PDD-NOS (because, well you know, I'm still in denial a bit here), and desperately hoping that they find something, since without some sort of concensus from the testing, he will lose out on much of the special services we're hoping for (including his mentor, who has been our saving grace these last few months). The school wants to help him as much as we do, but without a qualifying diagnosis, their hands are pretty much tied. So we wait. And hope. And ~~try not to strangle anyone~~ bide our time.

I did get a little glimpse of a test result from his mentor a few weeks ago. We already knew that his reading is advanced (as well as his math skills). In our IEPT meeting last month, his teacher and mentor mentioned that he was reading at a second grade level, and his math was at a first-to-second grade level. Just before break, his beloved Mrs. C mentioned that they had tested his reading that day, and that he scored above second grade level. My little kindergartener is reading at a third grade level. Go figure! It feels good to know there's something he doesn't need help with.

Don't mind the rambling. The waiting is making me a little batty.

What is your opinion worth?

2006-03-05T16:05:00.000-05:00

I've discovered that apparently my opinions is worth $2,367.85. Go figure. Actually, I'm feeling pretty good about this number, since I'm fairly new to blogging, and only have a couple readers thus far. Feels pretty good to think my thoughts are worth something.

What are your rants worth?

Sorry, I don't have a witty name for this post

2006-03-03T20:18:00.000-05:00

I am frustrated. Just when we were starting to get into a routine with therapy, there's a major interruption. After months of trying to convince someone to evaluate Reed for OT, we spent months on the waiting list for the actual eval. After 2 months of waiting, we finally got our appointment, and subsequent schedule. He was finally settling into the new schedule. The boy needs a schedule. My life is even more chaotic than usual when he doesn't have a schedule.

I DID have a point. I'm sure it's around here somewhere. Oh yeah. Therapy.

His therapist is going to be out indefinitely (they wouldn't give details). They can't fit him into another therapist's schedule until March 24th. That's 3 more weeks without therapy. Not counting this week (which they canceled this morning), and the session he missed 2 weeks ago.

Arggh! How am I supposed to improve the kid's life if I can't keep his appointments?

Setbacks

2006-03-02T17:00:00.000-05:00

It was all going so well. Apparently TOO well. Reed has been on his very best behavior, ever since Daddy announced the reservations to his favorite "Ohio hotel" as he calls it. He helped me pack everyone's stuff. He rode peacefully the entire 2-hour drive there. He didn't throw a fit when we announced that we would eat dinner before venturing into the waterpark. It was all going so well.

In fact, it went well for quite a while after that. He played nicely, waited patiently for his turn. I couldn't have been prouder. And then we headed back to the room on Tuesday evening. We had just gotten back from dinner, and decided that it was too late to make another trip downstairs for the day, so we settled into the room to watch a little TV and hang out. The kids were playing quietly with cars on the other side of the room. Since Owen can operate the lever-style door handles on the hotel doors, we had to be sure to flip the sliding lock every time we came in. I knew I had done that when we came in, and therefore proceeded to ignore the repeated sounds of the door opening and closing, since I knew it was just Owen playing with the door, and it wouldn't open more than 1/2" anyway (now might be a good time to point out that there is a wall separating the 2 sections of the room, and therefor we couldn't actually see the door from where we were sitting). So imagine my panic when Reed comes over to tell me that he has let his brother out of the room! Before I could even get to the door to search for him, there is a knock, and a man is standing out in the hallway with Owen. He had seen him wander into the hall, and wanted to return him. I thanked him profusely, mumbled some sort of explanation about him being able to reach the door, and rushed him inside. Needless to say, I didn't sleep much that night, what with the nightmares about losing Owen, or him accidentally wandering into the waterpark and drowning, or out the front doors into traffic.

Fast forward to last night. We have arrived home from our trip, and decide to make a run to Home Depot and Lowe's to purchase items for our upcoming bathroom remodel. My grandmother kindly offers to watch the kids, while we borrow their truck to haul home our loot (including the new [woo hoo] whirlpool tub!). We return a few hours later to hear the praises of how well behaved both kids have been. I was so excited. Seriously, you have no idea. And then, as we're standing by the door saying our goodbyes, I look over to see that he's put a rubber ball in the toaster oven, and TURNED IT ON! There is smoke rising from her brand-new toaster oven. And he refuses to turn it off. He stands there cackling in that laugh that drives me completely insane. And.Doesn't.Budge. My hands are full, and I can't reach it. Heath's hands are full, but he reaches over and pulls the plug anyway, before the house can catch fire. Ugh.

Fast forward again to this morning. I am on the phone with Heath. I turn to see what all the crinkling noises I'm hearing are, only to discover Reed winding his Daddy's precious collection of 9mm movies around the family room. Double ugh.

I bought him a bribe today. I admit it. I just can't take any more of this, and he doesn't go back to school until Monday. I bought him a new package of Scooby Doo underwear, and he must earn them, between now and Monday morning. If he can behave himself until then, then he will have one cool little tush at school on Monday. Otherwise, they're going back to the store. So there.

Did you know women are demolition experts?

2006-02-27T10:25:00.000-05:00

Okay, so I know I should be packing everyone's stuff for our impending departure (4.5 hours and counting and still nothing is packed), but I MUST take a moment to reflect on the recent implosion of one of my primary support groups.

See, as I mentioned previously, I belong to a few online parenting forums. This past week, one of them fell completely apart. Unfortunately, this was also my favorite. It was a smaller than then other, with all the moms having kids within a few weeks of Owen's birthday. I even knew a few of them personally. We have regular playdates. We talk on the phone. We attend each other's birthday parties. You get the drift. This particular group has always prided itself on avoiding the drama that plagues so many online communities. Particularly when parenting is involved, people get very opinionated. When those opinions are questioned, they get defensive. And so imagine my surprise, when after nearly 2 years of peaceful co-existence on the World Wide Web, our little group erupted into conflict. It started with a simple difference of opinions. Although I agreed strongly with one of the parties involved, I tried to keep my comments to myself. The party with whom I agreed made her point in a less-than-tactful way, thereby offending the other party involved. Insults were exchanged, sides were taken. Within 2 days, this tight-knit community had fallen to pieces so irreparably, that the board was closed. The.end.

Wow.

I knew women could get pretty nasty when they fight, but I've never seen anything like this. Luckily, the rest of us who were not part of this whole fiasco, have rejoined, and so it's not a total loss, but still it's weird to think about how quickly it all came crashing down.

Dancing all the way out of Michigan

2006-02-25T14:01:00.000-05:00

Hooray, hooray. Our long-awaited trip to the waterpark has finally arrived. We have reservations for 2 nights of wet, splashy fun, and we are all so very excited (including Owen, although he doesn't really have a clue what the excitement is all about. He's just grinning because everyone else is). If Reed keeps smiling like this, his face will fall off before we leave Monday afternoon. I just hope Owen enjoys it a bit more than last time, when he was completely overwhelmed by the noise and refused to go near the water at all. He's a bit more tolerant this year, so I'm hopeful.

We'll return sometime Wednesday. But probably not particularly early.

The Energizer Bunny

2006-02-22T20:18:00.000-05:00

If the Energizer Bunny went to Kindergarten, he would look something like this
That has been Reed this week at bedtime. I am at my wit's end. We are all so sleep deprived at this point, that I'm not sure I could even tell you the date. The days are all starting to blur together. See, Reed doesn't seem to have the ability to turn himself off at the end of the day. His batteries just won't run down so he can recharge a bit. It doesn't matter what time he goes to bed, he never gets to sleep before 10, and it's often going on midnight before he finally crashes. Some mornings he's up again by 5. Some mornings, I awake to find him curled up in my desk chair, or on the edge of my bed (remind me some day to tell you the funny story of the night I pushed him off onto the floor because I thought he was the cat hogging the covers). Although he slept through the night consistently from the ages of 3 weeks old to 2 1/2, it's not so guaranteed now. And when he can't sleep, he needs something to do. Last night's something was painting his entire body with peanut butter. Head to toe. If I wasn't so mad that he'd made a gigantic mess and wasted an entire jar of peanut butter, it would have been hilarious. Those two sheepish eyes peering out of the 1/2" thick layer of gooeyness. It took 20 minutes in the shower to get it all off, and I had to wash his pj's twice to get rid of the smell of peanut butter (and you don't even want to hear about the meltdown he had because I wouldn't let him stay up and wait for his favorite pajamas to be clean).

I bought him a scented oil air freshener with a lavender and chamomile fragrance in the hopes of helping him to wind down a bit at bedtime. So far, it's helping a little, but he doesn't seem anywhere near ready for sleep yet (after going to bed an hour and a half ago). At least he hasn't broken anything. Yet. Or dumped out the cat food (which, incidentally was Monday night's something to do). In. His. Bed. Argh!

*sigh* Well, time to go do some laundry. It's only a matter of time before I'll have to go intervene in one of his nighttime schemes, so I may as well get productive first.

Wondering

2006-02-22T19:34:00.000-05:00

I have been agonizing over whether to have Owen evaluated for PDD. Deep down, I really believe he has something going on, I just don't know if I can handle another case of PDD in this house right now. I am still reeling from Reed's diagnosis (if you can call it that). And then I read over at Kristin's place about how diagnosis brought their world crashing down. And I just don't think I can handle that right now.

And yet, I know that early intervention is the key when dealing with kids with ASD. And I so want to help Owen. He seems so frustrated, especially lately.

The speech therapy seems to be helping. I'm really amazed that in such a short time (he's only been there 3 times so far), he's already imitating speech, trying new words, and babbling interactively. But he still doesn't talk. He still communicates by pointing, and ~~plotting to take over the world~~ throwing a tantrum when we don't understand.

He rarely responds to his name, and that's usually only after shouting it at him repeatedly. I can't tell if it's his name he's looking up for, or just his crazy mom shouting at him while he's busy.

He is super sensitive to texture, and has recently adopted hand sanitizer as his new favorite invention ever. He wants to sanitize his hands every 30 seconds or so throughout the day, and gets irate if I don't allow it. He won't eat food if he doesn't approve of it's texture (and rarely does), and sometimes rejects foods on sight (or smell, I can't tell which), without ever touching them at all.

He will only allow socks on his feet if they have shoes over them. He loves his shoes. Worships the shoes, but once they come off, the socks are franticly tugged at until they either come off, or he falls and hurts himself with the effort.

He carries things in pairs. We used to joke about needing "one for each hand" until it became redundant. Then I began to wonder.

There are lots of little things that on their own, are just little things. But once you get enough little things gathered together, you start to wonder. And wonder. And ~~obsess~~ wonder.

And so I wonder. He's been making such great progress with his speech this month, that I've decided to put off asking for the evaluation for at least a few more weeks. And yet, I wonder if I'll be blogging about this again at this time next year...

The Big U

2006-02-16T21:12:00.000-05:00

Update time:

First: The Big One (aka: Reed) has been to Occupational Therapy twice now. Not only does he love it, but his therapist loves him, which makes me love it too. They work great together, and she has an uncanny ability to get Reed to do things he won't do for many people (like voluntarily writing, for example), which is awesome. I've never seen him bond to someone so quickly. It feels really wonderful to feel that we made the right decision in putting him in therapy. They are working together on small motor skills (because his penmanship is atrocious), and coordination (because the boy could fall off the Earth if he tried hard enough). She plans to tackle his meager sensory issues later on, after she gets a better feel for his needs in that area. For now, his sensory issues aren't really impeding his functioning, so we're going to let them slide a bit longer and concentrate on the more pressing matters. In other news, he had Behavioral therapy this afternoon, and it went well. I had a nice chat with his therapist, as did he. She grilled him (not really) about his recent indiscretions, and declared that we'd hold off on any new tactics until we get the results of his testing at school (they're testing him officially for PDD and possibly Asperger's to determine what special services he qualifies for through the school). She'll be moving to a new office before our next visit, and I'm a little apprehensive about how Reed will adjust to the change, since he's only just starting to get comfortable with this office, and we've been going there since August.

Now on to The Little One (technically named Owen): He has had 3 sessions of Speech Therapy, and seems to be improving. He's starting to warm up to the idea, and seems to adore his therapist (this is not surprising, however, since he is the biggest toddler flirt I've ever seen). He repeated "up", "ball" ("bah" anyway), and "kitty" (he's been saying it at home for a while, but it has become quite clear in the last week or so), as well as correctly identifying (by pointing) Mr. Potato Head's eyes, mouth, nose, shoes, and hair. Up until then, he had been able to identify some body parts (feet, belly, mouth, and nose) on himself, but didn't seem to understand that everyone contained those parts. This feels like a huge milestone. I have no idea if it's really as big a step as it feels, but who cares?

I think that's about it for us this week.

Now accepting employment offers

2006-02-16T20:54:00.000-05:00

Anyone want to hire an over-worked, under-appreciated, sleep-deprived woman? Come on now, don't all jump at once. I'm available to the highest bidder. No takers? Didn't think so.

I've been looking for a job for what feels like an eternity. I have had no fewer than 3 interviewers tell me that I was a shew-in for the job, only to not be offered the job in the end. I have no words to tell you how extremely disheartening it is to sit in an interview for 10 hours, only to be sent home still unemployed. It's enough to make a girl start buying lottery tickets.

Not only is it putting a strain on our already over-extended finances that I can't get back to work, but it's making me feel really low about myself. See, I think I'm a pretty spiffy candidate for the jobs I apply for. I don't apply to jobs for which I don't honestly believe I'm qualified. As someone who once had the responsibility of weeding out such candidates in a past professional life, I just can't in god conscience make someone sift through my resume looking for the BS, so I simply don't include any. Yes, I actually type nearly 60 words per minute. Yes, I can enter 10,000 keystrokes per hour. Yes, I have done just about everything you can legally do in an office. Unfortunately, I'm afraid that the powers that be think that I actually am BS'ing, and therefor disqualify me without ever even meeting me. Monster.com tells me that I have applied for 37 jobs since August, and yet, have only had 4 interviews as a result of those resumes. If my best work isn't good enough for anybody, then what good is it at all?

So I bought a bunch of new work clothes. I'm hoping that optimism and a renewed sense of confidence at interviews will help propel me into a job. ~~If I don't get a job soon, please kill me.~~ Wish me luck.

Speechless

2006-02-13T14:16:00.000-05:00

So I've been racking my brain for the past week or so about a blog topic.

I. got. nothin'.

So sorry, fellow bloggers. I am a dud this week. Nothing of interest has happened (although on the bright side, this means no major mishaps either), and I have no life outside of the craziness of my children, therefore no subject matter.

So for lack of something interesting to say, here are some pictures of the loves of my life:

Cue the chorus

2006-01-31T22:11:00.000-05:00

We just filed our taxes, and as usual, we’re getting a hefty refund. It’s so hard not to blow it all at once, especially since we do without so much the rest of the year. We’re trying to be responsible, though, and do things that really need to be done, like getting rid of the strange, brown mold that’s been slowly taking over the bathroom in our room. And replacing the dangerously cracked windshield on my car before it causes either an accident or large fine. But there are other things on the list as well, such as a trip to the kids’ favorite indoor waterpark. And ink for the printer (I’m surprisingly excited about this). Hey, we have to splurge once in a while, or we’ll go nuts, right?

Birth of a file

2006-01-28T20:41:00.000-05:00

I did something very sad today. I started a file for Owen. Reed already has a file, but I was hoping Owen would escape the plethora of appointments that necessitate such a move. Reed’s file is around 2 inches thick, and includes copies of all the testing he’s had, relevant information sheets to his diagnosis, personal information (social security card, birth certificate), and anything else that may come in handy at a doctor’s appointment or school meeting. It’s come in handy more times than I can count, and it goes with me everywhere. Since starting the file, doctors have taken me more seriously, and things get done much quicker. Office staff have praised me for my efficiency (the file is organized by category, allowing me to jump to any document at will). It feels good to be in control of something.

I received the report from Owen’s speech therapist today. Since he will be starting ST next week, I decided it was time for him to have his own file. A place to stash referrals, reports, and the like. It was a sad decision. I am in mourning of the loss of his normalcy. I had hope, for a while, that he might be lucky and evade the life of chaos that plagues his brother.

The silver lining is that the therapist believes his stint in ST will be short. The report sums it up nicely: “should respond well to early intervention”. Hoo-Rah.

Selfish

2006-01-23T12:41:00.000-05:00

No one should feel happy for a diagnosis about PDD. It is not the sort of thing that should inspire relief. And yet, I am more relieved than I can describe about Reed's diagnosis, but not for the reasons you'd think.

I have been feeling increasingly guilty about Reed's difficulties since he first started to exhibit these behaviors at around 2 ½ years old. I felt that I must be doing something terribly wrong for my sweet, perfect little angel to become such an angry, headstrong kid. I ran out of patience about 2 years ago, and have been running on empty since then. I couldn’t figure out where we went wrong, or how to help him.

First, came the diagnosis of ADHD. This came in the midst of a nightmarish year of pre-k in the local public school. Reed was acting out on a regular basis, even though he loved school and couldn’t bear to miss it. He was sent home repeatedly, and eventually the school threatened to suspend him if we couldn't get him to control himself better. In desperation, we scheduled an appointment with his pediatrician to discuss options. His teacher completed the Connor’s form (as did we), and the pediatrician took one look at it and sighed. While most doctors hesitate to diagnose ADHD in kids under 6, since many kids outgrow the “over-active” stage, he felt that Reed was definitely an exception to that. He commented on how high the score was (I can’t recall the number, but well over the range at which a child his age is considered ADHD), and offered options. Because of Reed’s aggressive tendencies, he recommended a combination of medication and behavioral therapy. We filled his prescription for Ritalin, and started searching for a therapist who would agree to work with a 4 year old (no small task, I assure you). This was both encouraging and discouraging at the same time. Reed had always been active, preferring to climb the furniture rather than sit and play with toys. Many people had mentioned hyperactivity before, but I always defended him (and still do). I still believe his activity and curiosity were absolutely normal for a child his age. He was not destructive or aggressive. He listened well, and enjoyed reading and puzzles. He was able to focus on an activity for an age-appropriate amount of time (which under 2 is not very long anyway). It was discouraging to have all those people proved right, after my adamant beliefs that he was developing normally. And yet, it was so nice to have an answer. To take a step forward, instead of backward. I had wild fantasies about getting my sweet little angel back. Fantasies in which I no longer had to lock the refrigerator at night, or scream at the top of my lungs for him to put down the scissors and step away from the cat (ok, this hasn’t actually happened yet, but it’s one of my fears, given his love of cutting things inappropriately). Suddenly I had hope, and that is always a good feeling.

But we saw little improvement. It took months to finally get him an appointment with a therapist, and by that time, my hope was fading. I had spent the greater part of the summer reading up on ADHD, and how to best work with kids who are wound a bit too tight. None of the suggestions seemed to make any difference at all with Reed. I felt like I was back to treading water, rather than the progress I had been hoping for. Therapy began, and I was further disillusioned. If we were going to see change, it wouldn’t be any time soon.

After a few months of therapy, Reed was evaluated by one of the staff psychologists. She made mention of scary sounding conditions such as ODD. This was not comforting in the least. It wasn’t until after a parent/teacher meeting that we found the key to Reed. Thanks to his fantastic teacher for picking up on the subtleties of his miniature neurosis (and I call them that with nothing but love). Up to that point, I had been having trouble connecting his outbursts and finding the pattern. She hit the nail on the head. Reed needs routine. He needs things to be a certain way, and if they aren’t, he just can’t cope with it. I had always just believed he was a headstrong kid, who was used to being an only child and getting his way most of the time. It never occurred to me that he literally couldn’t handle changes, and that’s why he needed everything to be “my way or the highway.” The teacher mentioned a quirk he had concerning the classroom crayons. He has one particular set of crayons that he must use every day. Since the class uses community crayon buckets, his crayons are not always together and they are not always on his table. He will seek out each and every one of his perfect set of crayons before he can begin, even if he doesn’t need all the colors. He cannot do any work until he has found all the crayons. This fixation on the crayons doesn’t make any sense to me. Crayons all look alike as far as I’m concerned, but to him, it is crucial to his daily routine. Should he fail to find even one of the colors, the rest of the day is usually a total wash, and he may as well come home right then (and often ends up doing so, as he gets sent home occasionally). No amount of redirection or reassuring will do, only those crayons. I mentioned this to his therapist, and you could practically see the light bulb above her head click on in a cartoonesque way. Oddly enough, those precious crayons were the key to understanding Reed. She began pulling out books on PDD, and started asking questions. By the end of the session, he had a diagnosis, and I again had my hope back. There was more we could do to help him. This was not caused by my parenting skills, or lack thereof. His brain is just wired differently, and we need to approach him from a different angle.

*sigh* It’s a rollercoaster just retelling it. And yet it feels so much better to finally admit it: I am glad my son has been diagnosed with PDD-NOS. I’m not glad he has it, but I’m glad we finally know it’s there. I can slowly feel my patience reserves filling back up. I believe I have been a better mother since the diagnosis, and that alone is progress. And it’s starting to pay off. Knowing how to approach the problem has made a world of difference. The tone in our house is completely different these past few months. Reed is making better eye contact. We’re settling into new routines that have him more relaxed and a lot more fun to be around. The destruction in our lives has been cut down to a minimum, and the stress levels are dropping faster than the temperatures here in Michigan this winter. I may not be seeing it quite yet, but I’m sensing that there may, actually, be light at the end of this tunnel. And until I get there, I might just be able to enjoy the ride.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's off to therapy we go

2006-01-22T12:35:00.000-05:00

The Little One had his speech evaluation today. His receptive speech is at a 9-12 month level (which is bad, since he's almost 19 months old), and his expressive speech is at a 6-9 month level (see previous note about why this is bad). So he will be starting speech therapy in a few weeks. With any luck this will just be for a short time. Since we've been through speech therapy with Reed, the therapist suggested that we give it a try for a few weeks and see if it makes any difference. She can try a few different techniques, since I've already been employing all the tips they normally suggest with no improvement. If she can find a technique that works with him, she will show me what to do, if not, then it wasn't helping anyway. Either way, I'm not looking forward to the 30 mile-each-way drive to the office every week.

This is in addition to the Occupational Therapy Reed will be starting the following day. OT is often recommended for kids with PDD/ASD, and he is no exception. So we'll be off to Children's for weekly therapy sessions. Yay.

Anybody want to become my personal chauffeur? I don't think I can afford the gas anymore.

I LOVE my husband!

2006-01-16T21:07:00.000-05:00

I know, I complain about him a lot, but I really do love my husband. He is more than I could have ever hoped to find in one person in my lifetime. He is caring, kind, and generous. He loves our children and isn’t afraid to say so. What’s not to love? I’m sure that if he ever reads this blog, he will be ever so hurt about all the whining I do about him, but it’s not really the way it looks.

See, he’s so great that I have trouble talking to him about the little things that bug me. Like the fact that he always throws his beer caps on the floor, and I always step on them barefooted in the dark. Or how he waits until we are going to bed to mention that he has no long john’s to wear to work the following day, instead of looking in his drawer when I asked 3 hours earlier. These are minor things. He does so much around here (he is Chief Mechanic, Master Handyman, Head Chef, Bringer of Bacon, and all that jazz), that it seems kind of petty to bring all the other stuff up. But it does bug me. And if I let it bug me too long, eventually it builds up into a not-so-little thing. So I prefer to vent about it here, where no one’s feelings can be hurt, because it really isn’t so important that I need to remind him every single time to throw his Q-tips in the trash, instead of on the desk, right?

Note to self: change address of blog before DH decides to read it.

Welcome back to Junior High!

2006-01-15T20:15:00.000-05:00

I am feeling awkward lately. It's like being back in 7th grade all over again. I just don't seem to fit in anywhere. I thought I had reached a point in my life when I could find my place in the world, but lately I've doubted my own maturity.

I have special needs children. That sets me apart from most of the others in the online communities I belong to. I am currently a member of 2 online parenting message boards, and although I love the women I know there dearly, I feel so different from them, who go about their lives with little more thought for their children's futures than how much to put in the college fund this month, and whether their son/daughter will want Dora or Blue's Clues for the theme of their next birthday party. I spend most of every day contemplating the benefits of occupational therapy, and whether my youngest really needs speech therapy. I am among them, and they accept me, and support my struggles, but I am not really the same mother they are.

And yet, my children’s needs are not the same as other children with special needs. I know we are extremely fortunate that their needs are small. In the greater picture, they are a mere inconvenience. My oldest is Hard of Hearing. And yet, his hearing loss is merely a Profound Unilateral loss. I don’t fit in with the parents of other Deaf and HH kids, because my son can hear. He can hear pretty well, as a matter of fact. There are a few situations in which he is a bit disadvantaged, sure, but we are aware of this, and can work around it. Again, the parents have been very kind, offering support and advice whenever they can, but I don’t really belong to their circle. Reed has recently been diagnosed with PDD-NOS, but his is a mild case, from what I’ve been able to gather through my research into the disorder. To say he’s high functioning is almost an understatement. He needs more attention than I know how to give, and he is a bit uncomfortable in his own skin some days, but he’s mostly a normal 5 year old, who loves riding his bike, playing with his little brother and going to Kindergarten. I do not fit in with the parents of those children who require months of work to look you in the eye (although he does have trouble with eye contact), or say your name. I most definitely do not fit in with those parents. My youngest has his own set of issues, mostly stemming from a sensory issue with food. He doesn’t like the feel of food, so he won’t eat it. You know how they say no child will voluntarily starve? Well, that’s not entirely true. Owen was losing weight, missing milestones, and just generally failing to thrive. As evidence of the inexperience of the other moms with matters of this nature, everyone assured me “He’s going to be fine, he’s just burning it off quickly because he’s so active.” I wish I could believe them, but a trip to the pediatrician confirmed my fears. Owen was not growing. After a battery of tests, that included skull x-rays and MRI, it was determined that his poor eating was to blame. His poor body was working so hard just to keep functioning, that it had stopped growing altogether. Now that he’s getting his nutrition supplemented, he’s make huge progress, including a 20% weight gain in the last 3 months alone. He’s making progress with milestones too, but is still somewhat delayed. He’s having his speech evaluated this week, and I’m a bit nervous. I shouldn’t be. Reed went through speech therapy, and it did wonders for him. It really shouldn’t be a big deal, but it’s just so hard to hear that your child isn’t “normal”. I desperately want to hear that he’s making great progress and will catch up on his own in time.

*sigh* What’s a girl to do? I’m open to suggestions if you have any. I never did figure this out back in Junior High, and I’m not making much progress at it this time around either.

I don't remember signing up to be the bottom of the totem.

2006-01-02T16:23:00.000-05:00

Okay, this particular time isn't his fault, but why is it that every time I'm not feeling my best, my husband has a million other things that require his attention over me? When he's got so much as a bruise, he sits delicately and can't be bothered to do such menial tasks as changing diapers, bathing kids, or putting anybody to bed. The slightest elevation in the noise level in the house is cause for moaning and whining about how he doesn't feel well and can't get any rest. Never mind the fact that I deal with the yelling, screaming, whining, and general chaos all day long without a break. I'm not asking him to supervise the kids indefinitely when he's under the weather, but I could do without the sob story every time I hand off the baby to take a piss. Most days I'm up by 6 am, and don't get a break from the kids until Reed is asleep, which doesn't usually happen until close to 10 pm. Even when I'm sick. Last week I had the flu. And yet, I changed diapers, fed both kids, crawled around on the floor playing Hot Wheels, washed laundry, ran the dishwasher, and did a host of other chores, without so much as a trip to the bathroom by myself. 4 days later, Heath caught my flu. He alternated between sitting in front of the computer, and laying in bed watching TV, while I still fed, bathed, washed, etc, etc. You get the picture. I don't think he's been near the changing table in 2 weeks, at least. Now I'm coming down with it again, but do I get to sit and put my feet up? No. I realize that his mom is in the hospital. I realize he's completely drained from seeing her in this condition, and I haven't asked him to do anything for just that reason. It just feels so unfair that it's always something when it should be my turn to be babied. Last night, I sat up with Reed so that Heath could rest downstairs. Did he thank me? No, instead he griped and complained about not being able to go to bed until I came downstairs. You're oh so welcome. (::note the sarcasm::)

I'm blowin' this Popsicle stand!

2006-01-02T16:08:00.000-05:00

Heath and I are off tomorrow afternoon for a romantic (ha!) getaway to an indoor waterpark. We are, at least, signed up for the "Romantic Getaway" package. But I doubt we'll spend much time together being romantic, Oh well, 36 continuous hours without children is as close as I can hope for to paradise this year. Despite my cynicism, I am really looking forward to getting away and having some fun with Heath. His mom's current illness has been draining Heath like I've never seen him before. I'm hoping that he can relax a bit and enjoy himself before he drives himself too crazy over this whole situation. Although he hasn't said so, I suspect that this is the motivation behind changing our reservations from the bed and breakfast we had originally chosen to the waterpark. He needs to be busy to get away from his sadness, and that's completely understandable.

Hopefully I'll be a little less cranky when I return.

Yes, I am a pushover. What of it?

2006-01-01T14:18:00.000-05:00

First off, let me apologize for being a bad blogger of late. I haven't posted in months, and for that I am sorry. Unfortunately, I don't get much me-time, and when I do, I prefer to spend it on other things, like bathing for example.

Now, on to your regularly scheduled bitching.

I'm beginning to suspect I have no one to blame but myself (and possibly dh) for Reed's opinion that he is the center of the universe. We spoil that kid like nobody's business. Just 2 days after Christmas, Daddy bought him another train set to increase his collection. 2 days later, I bought him yet more pieces for it. It's so hard not to buy them, when he enjoys them so much. The look of joy on his face when he plays with his train setup is priceless, and I just can't bring myself to deny him that happiness. So sue me! To my credit, when he's playing with his trains, he's quiet, still and well-behaved. How could I not want that to last as long as possible?

Crisis

2005-12-29T16:37:00.000-05:00

My mother-in-law is in the hospital. After spending most of last night sitting around the Emergency Room, we really aren't any more sure of what's going on than we were before. After the doctors seem to have ruled out their initial best guess of a stroke, they have yet to offer a conclusive therory of what exactly is her problem. All we know for sure is that her oxygen level dropped dangerously low. She is in intensive care for now. I'll keep you posted.

Sometimes denial pays off

2005-08-20T22:23:00.000-04:00

Immediately after blogging about my beloved cat, I found him. Go figure. In a last-ditch effort to locate him, I went back to the area he spends the most time in and did one last check. I was sort of talking to myself when I asked "Whit, where the heck have you gone?" I was answered by a pathetic Mew. My first thought was that I was either hallucinating, or that I was hearing our other cat, Tess. So I called out again, "Whit? Where are you buddy?" Another Mew, decidedly less hallucinated, and definitely not the bitchy meow of Tess. I scrambled to locate the sound before he got tired of answering me, and finally tracked him down, sleeping inside a wall in the basement. So all is well, once again.

Sad

2005-08-20T13:22:00.000-04:00

My cat has disappeared, and I'm afraid he won't be coming back. He was the sweetest living creature I have ever known, and I am convinced he has gone away to die, because he couldn't bear to hurt us by doing it here at home. He has been sick for a few weeks, and I was desperately trying to save up enough money to take him to the vet, but now he's been missing for 3 days, so I'm feeling that I missed my chance.

For the past 2 weeks, he has remained in his new favorite spot in the basement, where it is nice and cool. Every night before bed, I would check in on him, and he would look up at me with his innocent little eyes and assure me that he was still here and doing alright. I forgot to check on him 2 nights ago, and fell asleep without a second thought. Last night, I went for my usual check-in, and he wasn't there. I was immediately concerned, since I hadn't seen him around, and assumed he was in his spot. Heath and I tore the house apart looking for him, and have found no evidence of him. I have no idea how or when he got out, but I am convinced he is no longer in the house. I am certain that we have checked every space in the house where a cat of his size could possibly hide (he was the Shaquille O'Neil of cats). And yet, I am completely in denial. I continue to check the same places over and over, hoping that by some miracle, he will be in one of them eventually.

This morning, I asked Reed if he had seen him, since he sometimes has a knack for finding Whit's unusual hiding spots. Reed went on a similar quest to find his beloved pet, with whom he has been best buddies since birth (Reed's, not Whit's. The cat is older than Reed is.). After his search proved as fruitless as mine had the night before, I sat him down and explained that Whit had likely run away, and probably wouldn't be coming back. He is also in denial, constantly suggesting new places he hadn't looked yet, but none of them were spots I hadn't already checked myself.

I feel like the lowest form of human today. I was entrusted with the care of a kind, caring, defenseless creature, and I let him suffer. It was not by choice, but that doesn't make me feel any better right now. I let him down, and even in the face of this, he still wanted nothing more than to save me the heartache of watching him die. I want nothing more right now than to hold him and cuddle him and sob into his big furry head, but instead I sit here sobbing to myself, wondering what has become of my little friend. I'm too sad to care that I lost out on 2 jobs yesterday that I really wanted. Jobs that I was quite upset about until I discovered that Whit is missing. Now I'm glad that I don't have to go off to work and put on a brave face today.

If you see a lovable black-and-white, cow-spotted cat that honestly believes himself to be a dog, please let me know. I'd like him back now, thank you very much.

Two Wheeled Wonder

2005-08-15T12:06:00.000-04:00

Okay, that title is a little misleading. It's actually more like the 4 wheeled wonder. Reed received a new set of training wheels this week, and has been tearing around the neighborhood ever since. It seems he's a natural. I expected to have several weeks of practice, with me pushing from behind while he hung on for dear life. What I actually got was 2 practice tries where I gave him a little push to get the pedals turning, and him taking off into the sunset. He can stop on a dime, and hook a U-turn like a pro. I'm fully impressed. Finally, something is going smoothly with him. Hurry, document it for posterity!

As for the whole bedtime thing, it's been a roller coaster week. The first 2 nights went mediocre at best. The 3rd night was better than I could hope for. After a little cuddling and talking, he was asleep in under 2 hours. Then there was last night. After several hours of physically restraining him, he finally crashed, leaving me exhausted and cranky. I'm crossing my fingers that it starts getting better soon. Otherwise, I may have to start Googling military schools.

Same song, second verse

2005-08-12T22:31:00.000-04:00

Day 2 of the "make him sleep or else" strategy went about like last night. I can't be sure exactly when he went to sleep, as I also dozed off on his bed, but when I woke up at 10 PM, he was snoring, and that was that. That's not to say we didn't have our power struggles before then, but I was worried when we started this thing that we'd be up till all hours of the night getting him to sleep. I think I may bring a chair into his room tomorrow, since my back is killing me from his bed, and since laying with me seems to have the same effect as an IV line of pure sugar. He has a tendency to break out laughing for absolutely no reason, and the more he laughs, the more wound up he becomes. I just don't understand the boy. Owen apparently doesn't understand either, because both nights, he has stood in his crib peeking through the small opening in the door watching me cuddle with his brother, and sobbing his little eyes out because he can't join us.But let's not open that can of worms, shall we?

In other news, I have a job interview on Tuesday. I am both elated at the prospect that someone wants to hire me after my 13 month hiatus, and devastated because I won't be able to use the lack of interest in my resume as an excuse to stay home with the kids a bit longer if they offer me the job. But for the moment, I'm trying to remember that they're just eggs, not chickens. Don't want to jinx myself, after all.

One day down, only the rest of my life to go

2005-08-12T13:32:00.000-04:00

Well, we had our first night together last night. After 2.5 hours, Reed was finally sleeping deeply enough for me to sneak out. Today I am so stiff I can barely turn my head. This better work soon, because I don't know how long I can keep this up. I must admit, though, it was nice to get up this morning, and not have to clean up the messes from last night. I didn't get much done afterwards, but hopefully as time goes on, he'll sleep earlier, and I can actually accomplish something.

This morning, as a reward for going to bed so well, I let him come on a little field trip with me. I got a new yard toy for him on Freecycle. We went to pick it up, and you should have seen his eyes light up when I put the new dune buggy in the front seat of the car. That made last night worth it, no question.

I guess I'm getting soft in my old age.

Goodbye Mom time

2005-08-11T14:02:00.000-04:00

Reed had therapy today. Unfortunately, therapy seems to have become my punishment time. His therapist has informed me that since Reed can't be trusted on his own, he must now be attached to me at the hip indefinitely. I may not let him out of my site the entire time he is awake from now on. At bedtime, I am expected to sit on his bed and hold him down for the 3 hours it takes him to fall asleep until he is able to put himself to sleep. And I thought my house was a mess now! When exactly am I supposed to do laundry? Load the dishwasher? Bathe? Does this mean I can no longer use the bathroom by myself? Hmmm. This therapy thing is backfiring on me here. It better be worth it!

A Day of Disappointments

2005-08-08T20:51:00.000-04:00

I'm bummed today. I had 2 major disappointments today. First, we scheduled Heath's Vasectomy. I am very sad about this. I am not ready to declare that we will never have any more kids. I realize that we can't afford another baby right now, but I'm not ready to rule it out forever. But, Heath feels that 2 kids are enough, and I'm supporting that decision.

Second, I went to a local gym today to find out about membership, and discovered that I can't afford it. I was really hoping that this gym would be something we could manage, because I really want to lose some of this baby weight. I can no longer convince myself that I'll just get pregnant again and gain it all back anyway, since I won't. I'm ready to return to myself, but can't.

I'm too depressed to rant. I'll vent twice as hard tomorrow, I promise.

Okay, I've done the Mommy thing. Can I quit now?

2005-08-07T22:19:00.000-04:00

This day just gets more fun every minute. Reed has now broken out his bedroom window. It began several weeks ago, when he poked a large hole in the window screen with a screwdriver. Then he started tossing household items out into the yard through said hole. After about a week of this, the top of the screen mysteriously came loose from the frame (I didn't see him actually push it out, so I'm not sure if it was intentional, or if it came apart on it's own from him leaning against it, to see the carnage in the yard). Today was no exception. When his other efforts to wreak havoc on the household at bedtime were being ignored or flat-out thwarted, he resorted to evicting our stuff again. When my hairbrush went flying, I had had enough. I went into his room and locked the window. I thought that would help. Boy, was I wrong!

About an hour later, there is a loud banging noise from upstairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of a large quantity of breaking glass. Heath went up to investigate, and returned grim-faced. He's broken his window by beating on it with a bottle from the recycling bin. Yay.

Can I be done now? I've done enough disciplining in my life to raise septuplets. Come to think of it, perhaps I should have Reed X-Rayed to be sure he doesn't have a few siblings stashed in there somewhere. I suffered from hyperemesis gravidarum during pregnancy. That's a lovely condition which basically means that I got the morning sickness of every woman who's ever been blessed enough not to suffer from it in all of history. After 9 months of daily medication, IV's and just generally feeling shitty, Reed was born a week overdue, weighing in at nearly 10 pounds. Then my milk came in. The lactation consultant I spoke with on the phone asked me how many babies I'd had, when I told her that I'd just finished pumping 25 ounces of milk, and my breasts weren't even beginning to soften. When I told her I'd given birth to a full term singleton, you could hear her eyes roll from a county away. She advised me not to pump unless I absolutely couldn't stand it anymore (I couldn't. My breasts were so full, it hurt to breathe), because I didn't want to encourage the milk production to stay high. So I suffered. I suffered from mastitis, blocked ducts, and every other breast-related problem you can think of for the first 3 weeks until my boobs finally figured out that there was only one baby at this all-you-can-eat buffet.

3 days ago, he nearly set our house on fire. Apparently, he has figured out the stove controls. I heard him in the kitchen, and went up to investigate. By the time I was 1/2 way upstairs, I could hear the click,click,click,click of the stove trying to light. The whole kitchen smelled like gas (luckily I heard him up there and it was only running for a minute). He had lit one burner, and the other one is tricky to light, so it was just running the gas and the igniter, but hadn't lit. There was a bunch of stuff sitting on top of the stove (I had been re-organizing the cupboard above the stove and had stopped to take a break). I'm just so glad none of it caught fire before I got up there. I shut the stove off, and grabbed the stuff off the top (burning my hand in the process).

Now this. I'm beginning to think I've had enough mothering for a while. Where do I file the paperwork for a substitute for a few weeks?

Little Boy Blue

2005-08-07T09:43:00.000-04:00

My son is blue. And I don't mean sad. This morning, while we tried to sleep in a bit, Reed decided to make a concoction in the kitchen. Since we lock the fridge at night, he had to use what he could find in the cupboard. He decided that spices and food coloring would do nicely. He is blue from his elbows down, and has a neat ring around his mouth. Have you ever seen The Abyss? You know that scene where Ed Harris digs his wedding band out of the toilet, and his arm is blue for the remainder of the movie? That's what Reed's arm looks like. My only hope is that the blue washes off before his first day of school in 3 weeks. My kitchen now smells so strongly of sage, bay leaves, and onion powder that I can barely breathe. Other casualties include: the Italian seasoning, oregano, cinnamon, cloves, and the other 3 colors of food coloring. I must admit, if I wasn't so furious, it would have been impressive. It made quite an interesting swirl down the drain as I rinsed out the mixing bowl he had filled with nearly my entire spice inventory.

So much for sleeping in.

Biding my time

2005-08-06T20:52:00.000-04:00

It has been a very long week. Something has happened every day this week to push me further over the edge into insanity. When I was a kid, and I'd misbehave, my mom would tell me that I was driving her crazy. I always assumed she meant it in a figurative sort of way. Now that I'm a mom myself, I understand that she meant that I was, quite literally, driving her crazy. And for that, Mom, I'm genuinely sorry.

To say that my oldest is a challenging child would earn you an award for tact. Reed is the sort of child that doesn't push boundaries, he rips them to shreds, stomps on them, and then sets the pieces on fire. Each day at our house is a struggle to keep him from hurting someone. Most of the time, his mischief is purely curiosity playing out in the overclocked mind of a hyperactive 4 year old. I can't believe that most of his crap is intended to hurt anyone (although he often does). Other times, however, he seems bent on destruction. When he's run out of inanimate objects to reduce to rubble, he starts in on the animate ones.

Now please let me take a moment to tell you the other side of my little man. If you ask him at any given time what he'd like to do, his answer will almost always be to curl up in my lap and read a book. He breaks into tears if we don't spend at least 10 minutes cuddling on his bed every night. And though he often gets carried away, he lives to wait on his little brother. Poor Owen is usually buried under a mountain of toys because Reed has difficulty with the concept that Owen gets overstimulated if he has too many choices. For Reed, the more toys you have to play with, the better. He picks me anything that flowers in the yard, and puts them in a vase full of water himself.

Everyone I know that has raised an intense child like Reed tells me that this stage will pass. He will get older. More mature. He will find constructive outlets for all this energy and curiosity of his. It is this reassurance that helps me hang on to my last shred of sanity. Until that day comes, I am biding my time, and trying not to search for airfare to the Caribbean.