Enquiring minds...

This kindergarten/real world business is hard for me. Last night bubs' school had something called 'Family fun night', it was like a mini carnival for the kids and it was held in the gym and the cafeteria. Me being in need of control of my surroundings volunteered to work it. It was my first 'pta event'. I feel like I need to get a handle on this school and maybe make some friends. But I find that we are straddling two worlds here, not entirely comfortable in each. We left the autism world in which we were immersed to join the land of the neurotypicals. Not sure how to toggle both.
First off, I was in the gym manning my bean bag station when a little girl came up to take a turn. Her aunt was with her and I could tell she was in kindy. She had a somewhat unusual name, which I will just abbreviate as 's'. So after hearing her name, I asked 's' if she was in bubs' class. She said yes, and I told her that bubs came home with a picture she made him the first week of school and it was beautiful. She proceeded to tell me how annoying my son was. She actually said 'bubs annoys me'. I asked her just what did he do to bother her so much. You know what her answer was? 'He always is saying 'hello' to me and wants to play with me'. She went on and on and on. Ya know we spent the better part of the last 4 or so years trying to get my son to say the word 'hello' and navigate the maze of social interactions involved in getting someone to play with you. It is hard to kind of regulate, and my bubs does need to learn some boundaries and improve his ability to read social cues. I just don't believe he is as horrible as this little princess made him out to be. In all fairness, her aunt was mortified and she did report back to the girls mom who was manning the popcorn station in the cafeteria.
So now I spent the duration of the evening wondering if my son is socially inappropriate. I got transferred out of the gym and moved to a table in the cafeteria. A woman came up to me and asked me if I was bubs' mom and I said yes. It was 's's' mom. She profusely apologized for her daughters remark. I of course told her it was no problem and that she was just voicing her opinion and that my son is super friendly and doesn't always know when to quit.
I must also explain that bubs' is in the inclusion class. Which means that there are 12 'typical' (and I use that term loosely) in the class and 8 classified. I feel like I need an instruction manual on how to deal with this. At some point in the convo with 's's' mom she of course had to ask me where we lived. This is not our neighborhood school. I told her that, and I told her that my son was one of the inclusion kids, because she looked like she already figured it out. Of course another mom close by who has a daughter in bubs' class scooted on over to join in our convo. Look, they were really friendly but I just felt like I was cornered. 'S's' mom proceeded to ask me what was the matter with my son, and why was he in inclusion. She said she noticed that all the inclusion kids seemed fine and that none of them 'had a third arm growing out of their head, or anything'. Gee, think of all the countless hours of therapy I wasted on my child, since he didn't have the requisite third leg growing out of his skull. I think I had a 'look' on my face because she then said I didn't have to answer if I didn't want to. Oh really. I made up some vagueness about speech delays and early intervention just to end the conversation.

I am VERY proud of bubs and under the right circumstances I will share. But this woman should have controlled her curiosity, and I really think that was all it was. She wasn't mean, just overly nosy. But it was the third time that night someone asked me what bus stop I was at/where I lived/ who is my son's teacher. Normal questions I suppose. Nothing outlandish. But it was a real conversation killer when I delivered my answer. You can almost hear the crickets chirping.
I know I am super sensitive. I probably sound like a paranoid nut job. I just don't know how to handle all this.
We were super insulated, super nurtured and I had a really tight (and still have)bond with some of the moms I met at bubs' old school. It was a wonderful support system. I am now in a world where people don't know where we came from. They think that I came from where they came from. I am not ashamed of my son at all. I am just fiercely protective of him. Fiercely. I never want anyone to not want to be his friend because of a label or to gossip about him, or to even look at him with a strange curiosity. I want them to see the goodness in him, to know that he is an individual. I am afraid people will just hear the word autism and think of rain man or headbanging and be frightened. I also feel like the burden should not be on my child to change their mind about it. I don't know where we are headed down this road, and into or out of those proverbial 'woods'. Once you are 'out of the closet' you cannot go back in.
It's different for everyone. I have friends who have cards they hand out in public places, for the very same reason I don't want to tell anyone. So that people will treat their children with kindness and understanding. They don't want anyone judging if their child is stimming, or having a meltdown. It's really all part of the same post traumatic stress disorder we are collectively going through.
I know I am reading way too much into this. I know most people aren't that judgy (or at least I hope not) . I know that 's's' mom was just being nosy and trying to gain an understanding of what makes a child qualify for special ed, although I really did think her daughter was 'one of us' and perhaps had some social issues. I know. I just don't know how to handle it.

This n that..

So it's been like forever since my last post. Every time something happens around here, I'll think to myself, I should blog about that. But do I? I guess I thought I'd spare you all the minutiae of my every day life (plus I really wanted to use the word 'minutiae' in a sentence).

I have my first event tomorrow for my 'bee happy' business. I have been sewing like a fiend this month. I have officially re named my little sewing sanctuary room into 'ye olde sweatshoppe'. I saved a lot of money on gas this month because as soon as the school bus pulled away I went up there and slaved away. I didn't leave the house for days at a time.So tomorrow is my big day. It should be fun, and hopefully profitable although after all the time and money I have spent sewing my little heart out, I don't think profit is something I can hope for. Especially since the world as we know it is coming to an end. I am just psyched to have my stuff 'out there' for people to see, and if they are kind enough to buy it, then my fragile ego will be soothed (momentarily). It's my first show so I am really doing a little market research to see what sells and what doesn't. I will report back with pics on Friday.
I also want to celebrate my first year blogaversary. I blew off my birthday giveaway that I wanted to do and I want to make it up.

So what else. Soccer is a minor fiasco. We are 'ok' with it, but I feel like a deranged soccer parent sitting in a fold up chair screaming directives at my son. I want him to enjoy it, I don't want to scream. He has this cute habit of playing nicely for two or three minutes and then getting tired and walking off the field as if a game wasn't going on. He insists on sitting down while one lone kid dribbles(or whatever the hell that is called) a ball around a field. My husband cannot take it, it makes him nuts. I admit it's kind of a puzzle (no pun intended) about what to do. I mean I cannot bodily force him to play soccer. I also cannot force him to pay attention. I think it is just magnifying our strange place on the spectrum and it really stresses me out. It's one long hour, I'll tell you. He does seem to 'get it' more a little each week. My goals for him regarding signing up for this nonsense was: to get exercise, to have fun, and to be part of a group. I am not sure we have accomplished any of these goals yet, but we are only heading into our third week. It's a fine line between making him accountable and making him miserable. We are not sports people here.

School has been wonderful though (knock on wood). It's super laid back which is totally not my style but I am trying really hard not to be annoying about it. They are giving bubs speech once a week for now, and the beautiful part about it was that I didn't have to ask and it didn't require a change in his i.e.p.. It was just a matter of 'he needs speech so the therapist cleared a spot for him'. I thought that was unheard of in district. Bubs has never gotten speech believe it or not. He also got an o.t. eval but they are going to call me with the details. He is just filled with such joy waiting for the bus. He absolutely loves everything about school. That is my communication book for now. He comes home with stars on his worksheets and projects in the backpack. It's almost surreal how the slate of the last three years appears to have been wiped clean. I keep waiting for the bottom to drop out. That's how I operate.

Well gentle readers, I hope all is well with everyone. That's my story for tonight.

If you love something set it free...

My husband found a caterpillar on a plant at work a week or so ago. He thought bubs would really enjoy seeing it, so he got a coffee can, some leaves and poked some holes in the lid and stuck it in his car. By the time he got it home it had turned into a chrysalis. So we moved it into a mason jar, and vented the top. Bubs was beside himself with joy. He had to call up everyone and tell them about it. I did some Internet searching and determined that it was indeed a butterfly and not a moth. Do you know how to tell the difference? FYI a moth spins a cocoon out of silk like thread. This cocoon looked more like a leaf, it was green and of course we talked all about camouflage. I felt like a homeschooler.

So we kept the thing on the shelf. High enough so that it was out of danger from bubs' not so gentle touch. It has been kind of damp around here lately and mold kind of grew all over the leaves. This was shaping up to be quite the science experiment. I was kind of expecting this to not be a positive experience. Our catfish died in the tank the other day, so we were fresh off of a strange kind of explanation/conversation about death. That's a subject that has me stumped. Considering religion isn't something we haven't embraced and we haven't even begun to to discuss the concepts of heaven and afterlife (which quite frankly was not anything I'd ever thought I would have to explain for some odd reason) it really became the lamest teachable moment I have encountered (so far) . But I veer off course here.

Friday when I got out of the shower, I just had a feeling that I should go and check out our jar. Lo and behold I see a beautiful monarch butterfly right here in a jar in my living room. I was humbled. I put it on the table. Then I started to worry. Would the mold kill it before bubs and my husband got home? Would it get claustrophobic and do grievous bodily harm to itself trying to escape confinement? Would the noise from the vacuum hurt it's ears? Do butterflies even have ears?

I called my husband who was thankfully on his way home so I wouldn't have to deal with this kind of pressure on my own. Bubs got home a few minutes before. He was so thrilled to see his butterfly. Thrilled. A thrill that was short lived till we told him we were going to set it free. He started to protest, the bottom lip started to quiver and the tears of real true sadness came pouring down. It broke my heart. My husband who wanted to film the release for posterity caught the sadness on video for us. It was quite the scene.

The went into the backyard. My husband had the jar and the camcorder. Bubs was screaming. They found a stick and opened the jar. It was like those wildlife shows where an animal is raised in captivity and finally let go into the wild. They don't want to go at first. This butterfly planted itself firmly on a stick that my son held tightly in his little fist. He stayed there for quite some time, either in some kind of crazy attempt to console my son, or torture him. Again, all filmed. The thing finally flew off the stick and flew around the backyard for a while. Bubs was inconsolable.

I was going to purchase one of those store bought butterfly hatching kits. I think I have changed my mind.

Anniversary

Today kind of snuck up on me. I knew it was coming. I saw it on the calendar. For some reason it still hit me like a ton of bricks. I was listening to the radio this morning and they were playing people's requests all morning. They played songs like Marvin Gaye's, 'What's going on?' and Elvis Costello's, 'What's so funny bout peace love and understanding', and things like that. I was overcome with emotion. Probably more so than that day. That day I was numb.

I am sure everyone has their moment. Where they were, what they were doing. It's like this generation's Kennedy Assassination, in the sense that time is frozen in that moment forever. I was teaching. It was second period. The attendance woman came in to collect the folder and said that she hear a plane attacked the World Trade Center. My immediate thought was that it was a small aircraft, one of those crop duster things. One of my students went into the hallway to look. I taught in a school on the border of Queens, very close to Kennedy Airport. You could see the towers from the school. He came back and reported that he saw a lot of black smoke in the sky and that the building was very clearly on fire.

I taught computer graphics, so we had computers in the room. I also have to say that I taught high school students. Had it been elementary students, none of this would have been discussed at this point. So we went on the Internet for more info. Internet was down. That was my first clue that this was bigger than a Cessna. We did our best to keep calm, and to comfort each other. Later on that week I told them all that we would forever be cemented in our memories. I told them that when they were older, retelling their story to whomever, they would talk about being in Miss C's Media Arts Class when it happened. The bell rang and we were all off and running.

I had a prep period so I went in search of a t.v. I found one in the gym teacher's office. Crowded around the set with a group of my co workers we watched it all unfold. It was just too horrible to watch, yet we watched it. I really thought the world was ending. And if the world was ending, that place was the LAST place I wanted to be. I wanted to be home. I wanted to be with my husband (who wasn't my husband yet).

The phones were down so we couldn't even talk to our loved ones. Then we heard the fighter jets overhead. I didn't know whether to feel safer or more terrified. We had to go on with our day and try and maintain a sense of calm. Those were the orders from administration. It was just too hard to pretend that it was all OK, and I think the kids new that, but they did not want or need to see their teachers freaking out. We all did the best we could that day. Unfortunately every time the bell rang, the students walked in the hallway and could plainly see the black cloud of smoke that would linger for months after that day.

My husband was on a job interview. Can you believe they still went on with it? I think it was at like 9:30 in the morning, in the height of all the mayhem. He didn't' take that job. He had my car so if I wanted to leave I couldn't. We listened to am radio the whole day trying to get information. Of course there really wasn't much at that point. I really hate am radio. I think the frequency does something to my insides, and especially on that day, it was awful.

I finally got to go home and while it was the end of a horrible day, it certainly wasn't the end. The smoke lasted forever. The supermarkets had pictures up of people still missing. I also think it was the birth of CNN overdrive with all the bands of words moving across the bottom of the screen, information overload. It was 24/7 Osama Bin Laden. American Flags. Hatred of anyone wearing a turban. Insanity.

My husband went to work cleaning up the area around Battery Park. His friend had a restoration company and he took a temporary job with them. He saw lots of destruction. He also came back with bronchial asthma. For quite a long time after bubs was dx with pdd-nos, I often blame the toxic mess he inhaled on a daily basis.

I was totally numb that day, and I think as each year passes, it seems to hurt me more. I wasn't a mom when it happened. Being a mother really changes the way you see things.

I have the tv on. For the 6th year in a row, I am listening to them read the names of the people that perished. I am so thankful for all that I have. I am so sad for the people that lost their loved ones. I am also very sad for us as a species today.

Hell has frozen over

I am now a soccer mom. Yup. We are digging out the folding lawn chairs with the beverage cups in them.
I was watching bubs last week at a family picnic. He was kicking a ball around and running at the same time. I thought to myself, 'wow, he's really got that down.... we should sign him up for soccer...' Lo and behold in the backpack on Friday there was a notice about a CYO micro soccer league on Saturday mornings at our neighborhood elementary. So I discussed with my husband.
He takes things very seriously. So I am kind of afraid that if my son doesn't like it, this could be a fiasco. Like he blew a gasket when I told him that we couldn't make the first game because bubs has a birthday party to go to. Seriously. So I am kind of apprehensive that if it doesn't go well, between bubs and my husband, I might have the life sucked out of me. But I'll do anything for bubs, even suffer the wrath of my intense husband.

We went and signed up. Bubs was more interested in the dragonfly that he saw buzzing around. Not a good sign. But he liked the outfit. They tried to entice me into coaching. Please, I am not qualified to even teach five year olds soccer. Hopefully that is not indicative of what kind of person will be coaching bubs' team. I didn't' say anything about bubs. It's sensitive information not to be shared with just anyone. I need to see how it pans out. Bubs shadow this summer told me just to sign him up for stuff and he will be fine. As a teacher and as a parent, I am not sure how to handle this. But seeing how this is just kids running around chasing a ball, I think we might be OK. I'll play it by ear.

So I took bubs to get cleats and shin guards and a ball yesterday. He did NOT want to go. He told me he was scared of cleats. I think he was just yanking my chain because he didn't feel like going shoe shopping. I am just not sure if he will wear those shin guards. They looked uncomfortable to me and I am not wearing them. They go on under the socks, which are gigantic. I am now getting ahead of myself here with worry. We are operating under many stressors here-sensory objections to uniform, objections to just being told what to do, intense pressure from spouse,attending and behavioral issues, over stimulation..... ahhhhh, somebody stop me.......

So I am a soccer mom. A neurotic soccer mom.

edited to add: I look JUST like that picture by the way.

Freaky Friday

click on the picture for all the deets

I was looking through one of my farty housewife magazines (I think it was Women's Day) and I came upon this ad. Usually you see them for things like the m & m candies babies, or the little cute dolls that you can hold in your hand (and I don't mean cute in a good way). You know them, they could be yours for 3 easy payments of $24.95. I usually just glance at them and think about what kind of person might want one of those. An adult I mean. I imagine a house filled with creepy dolls and lots of ruffles on the couch and windows. Some E'au de Mothball.Someone I probably wouldn't hang out with. Don't get me wrong I like dolls, but the lifelike ones totally creep me out. My husband told me a story about how someone had one of them in their car and the cops shattered the window to try and rescue the baby in the car.
OK, back to Umi. I came upon this picture and I have to say, it really jumped out at me. I mean who is the target audience for this? Is it for an animal lover? I don't think so. It's not for a child because even though it's made out 'lifelike silicone', it's way too delicate and chokable. A Paris Hilton wannabee? Who is going to want a lifelike monkey doll dressed in baby clothes with a bow in it's fur? Oh and it comes with a free pacifier. This kind of crazy doesn't come cheap though , it's only five monthly payments of $27.95, which if you do the math, comes to a whopping $139.95 It moved me though, I have to admit. Enough to show it to my husband (I told him I wanted it for Christmas) and enough to take a picture of it, download it into my computer and share it with you.

In a totally unrelated note, my son did well yesterday. He didn't want to talk about it to much but from the snippets I got out of him, someone named Andrew wasn't being a good listener. He got to go to music class and play with the instruments, and he sat with a girl from his class on the bus ride home and her name was Hannah Montana. This morning when he asked me what he was doing today, I told him he was going to kindergarten again. He said 'but I already went there already'. Apparently once was enough for him, although he seemed to forget that when the bus pulled up. He skipped happily down the driveway and onto the bus. Thank you God.

Swimming with the sharks

This morning at 8:24 am the bus came and picked up my son to take him to the big bad world of elementary school. You know it should be easier for me to deal with seeing as how he's been going on a bus to school for the last 2 years. Should be, but it wasn't.

I remember back when we started all the home therapy. I just couldn't imagine this day. I didn't know where he would be. I just could not picture it. It's almost surreal that it is here now. Simultaneously a blink of an eye and a million years ago if that is entirely possible. It was hard enough sending my 3 year old on a bus to go to school all day, but at least I knew exactly what he was doing for most of the day. We had the little black and white communication book. I know I have one of those now, but it's not quite the intimate portal into my son's day that I am used to. I think it's kind of a vague thing that I'll be lucky to get a morsel of info at the end of the week. I know that it's supposed to be that way, what we had wasn't typical. There's the thing. I am not used to typical. I am scared of typical. Terrified to my core.Whew, that feels weird to admit.

My big fears for today are: did he eat his lunch, did he listen to his teacher, did he keep all of his clothes on when he went to the bathroom, was anyone mean to him.

He'll be home in around 20 minutes. Hopefully my sanity will preserve itself till then. I can't wait to see him.