tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-146745252024-03-23T13:49:14.893-04:00HOORAY! I DID IT! WAY TO GO!Where the unbelieveable is believeable and a cookie is not just a cookie.
Mom to Mr. Handsome (aka "Chubs") and Ms. Beautiful (aka "Boo").
These are my thoughts on being a mom, being myself, and how Autism has changed our lives.Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comBlogger196125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-2506811250324371382010-01-26T22:51:00.001-05:002010-01-26T22:53:13.322-05:00UnderconstructionSorry about the mess. My pictures got all out of place and my side bar is running away down the page. This may take awhile....lolMom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-71030475427290365312008-10-14T12:13:00.009-04:002008-10-15T18:56:16.051-04:00Scary Things<strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>"Mommy, I have nightmares."</em></span></strong> <div><div><div><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Last week, when all the Halloween decorations went up around the stores and neighborhood<em>,</em> Gabe started talking about nightmares. Particularly, a fuzzy monster with big teeth. I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">haven't</span> figured out where this monster came from, until now. </strong></span></div><div><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>First, I pictured<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTlHEt8p5aHWPj51JGOAlPKfV5hdhbEZbd9dFx2AIWSRW_pXNQXnWllQ0X7jYKDUJfEuv8LNuj_NO-ZacNiH0I6hYVeAy4-z1HGyUGo9EUohmC9qUNCeVvfTIYh41RQKWrcOCP/s1600-h/article-1022677-0169F33B00000578-342_224x386.jpg"></a> Animal from the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Muppets</span>, a misunderstood monster that just really wanted to have fun....</strong></span></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRU8EQPaoaNdiyTz9uFOR1azFaMidJN12f9IkignEa7RZj_l4LL9xFHRLGIp9FZ7Z3edYT2dZ8MLMjPNnCOqrFX5WAx7TBIkUYwV2FWCBW8G3VBtNcMWr0EO9-mGCLhe3DqkC/s1600-h/article-1022677-0169F33B00000578-342_224x386.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257374545168027922" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYRU8EQPaoaNdiyTz9uFOR1azFaMidJN12f9IkignEa7RZj_l4LL9xFHRLGIp9FZ7Z3edYT2dZ8MLMjPNnCOqrFX5WAx7TBIkUYwV2FWCBW8G3VBtNcMWr0EO9-mGCLhe3DqkC/s200/article-1022677-0169F33B00000578-342_224x386.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Shopping at Target the other day I came across this and then it clicked...</span></strong></div><div><strong><br /></strong></div><div><strong></strong></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBbBXeNkQnVjY2mga-enmWcMIYXNb6w-Th7wcb8q3BKC-5_t6M9XNrMrD1yitc5yLrA-SBCAAyRzKrw4ziCPyEeiY0WnpytpvXVULc1lo4F8zRzDfvDJ0wZYxE8UJ8vsBz8j-R/s1600-h/Domo.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5257374847051191954" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBbBXeNkQnVjY2mga-enmWcMIYXNb6w-Th7wcb8q3BKC-5_t6M9XNrMrD1yitc5yLrA-SBCAAyRzKrw4ziCPyEeiY0WnpytpvXVULc1lo4F8zRzDfvDJ0wZYxE8UJ8vsBz8j-R/s200/Domo.jpg" border="0" /></strong></a><br /><br /><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong></div><div><br /><br /><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong></div><div><br /><br /></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Let me introduce you to Target's mascot for Halloween.... "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Domo</span>". <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Domo</span> is a fuzzy monster with very sharp teeth. No wonder Gabe does not like to shop. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Domo</span> was everywhere in Target, lurking around every corner, in the candy isle, dollar area. He even hovers over you as you enter the store, mouth agape, teeth furiously displayed, all he needs is drool puddling and being <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">released</span> from the corner of its mouth. </strong></span></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Poor Gabe. Only 16 days till Halloween and then it's all about Christmas. Cookies, Santa, snowpeople, snow forts, stars, lights, family. Is it time to put my tree up yet?</span></strong></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span></div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></div></strong></span><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></div>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-73611044741414567152008-09-21T14:55:00.009-04:002008-09-21T16:32:03.024-04:00Wonderful and Bumpy<div><br /><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxx3cn2HpmmLJECKri_PaRHuWasj_ggYfVKoh5-W0rr67dhhF33WtEORn_MP_GRjIKMBjVOHTQlubI' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:arial;">Cows at the dairy farm.<br /></span><br /></span></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx-c4TpEprx0dmCbhpX_E34jppb1Um-fTyX0A-fggy_Ph764yw0TPK7vPHfvCMs9kzMKWOtXj3u4ixDO_IPdrLUTCGG3FsNbBfK08jcFykmbn-l1tDbL7Y5b_fNUGBtT3wxUyq/s1600-h/DSCN0208.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248573446102775106" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhx-c4TpEprx0dmCbhpX_E34jppb1Um-fTyX0A-fggy_Ph764yw0TPK7vPHfvCMs9kzMKWOtXj3u4ixDO_IPdrLUTCGG3FsNbBfK08jcFykmbn-l1tDbL7Y5b_fNUGBtT3wxUyq/s200/DSCN0208.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>Wonderful</em>..... That's how I would explain what I feel right now. If <em>Wonderful </em>were a place, I would be the greeter. </strong></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>"Helloooooooo and welcome to <em>WonderrrrrrrfuL</em>!" </strong></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Then I would trip over my own shoes and fall less than gracefully into a Yucca plant.</strong></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR4pLyOU78Zz-yomNuPvQ4Ty66ZJ_jWDuOT7YXyweBM7FTlunnWB1BjYWpIOOA0zWElBuMCTsp2Ble7B6G3X2V5t8R_zdTwCP0FWV8PjYLOZlttFI45eEx50zxa26xTiVrjYjK/s1600-h/hanger.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248563740068104466" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 135px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 96px" height="149" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjR4pLyOU78Zz-yomNuPvQ4Ty66ZJ_jWDuOT7YXyweBM7FTlunnWB1BjYWpIOOA0zWElBuMCTsp2Ble7B6G3X2V5t8R_zdTwCP0FWV8PjYLOZlttFI45eEx50zxa26xTiVrjYjK/s200/hanger.jpg" width="200" border="0" /></a>I have given my two weeks at my retail job before the holidays set in. I did it for a year, enjoyed the experience, but it was difficult to swallow the pay with the dedication they expected. We'll just have to make due. </span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><strong>A new year at school and things are coming along pretty smoothly. Siena is in a peanut free second grade classroom with a very organized and friendly teacher. Gabe has a very sweet, but no nonsense kindergarten teacher. She has a lot of great ideas and utilizes them well with all the kids. We were so fortunate to have her for Gabe. It feels like a good match. </strong></span><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">Gabe is doing good. He enjoys school and is able to do the classroom work with success. I noticed after a week or so that his fine motor skills for writing are a little low which is also affecting his coloring. We practice both at home and have a system that makes homework fun and rewarding. I'll share that at a later time. I'm still not sure if it is purely developmental or an area that needs extra attention and fine tuning. </span></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">Making friends normally takes a little more than a couple months for Gabe. He <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaAB_ETwOiJEgwLgG69L_gnXslXgFW2ChiwxhFt7T4c939GNJNXP7evazwbVmsZ3N6Z8IRzvsM6zxw-a6xtGfhUQtu3ZW2jXCursxRFsNzq3Xo5ehanPLl6icjAaPpM316VJzR/s1600-h/playground.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5248564841836674370" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhaAB_ETwOiJEgwLgG69L_gnXslXgFW2ChiwxhFt7T4c939GNJNXP7evazwbVmsZ3N6Z8IRzvsM6zxw-a6xtGfhUQtu3ZW2jXCursxRFsNzq3Xo5ehanPLl6icjAaPpM316VJzR/s200/playground.jpg" border="0" /></a>likes to gauge the situation and the people within it before making a bold move. So, while others are busy making friends, Gabe is a little slow on the go. Sometimes he wants to play on his own, which is perfectly fine, but other times I notice he is having a hard time engaging others because he doesn't know their name or is not paying attention when they try to engage him. </span></strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>I am currently doing recess duty twice a week, so I can see how he is doing. I'm there to give a hug and some strength if he needs it. That feels great. </strong></span></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">Speech is coming along sporadically. He's working on his "l"s and his high pitch in his voice. We did twice a week in the summer, one session was one on one and the other was a play date with another child playing games, sharing and talking about toys and interests. I'm waiting to see if my insurance will cover the playdate sessions. </span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">Gabe is in school full time now, which makes getting to speech in rush hour 45 minutes away and 1 1/2 hours back a challenge. I really need something much closer. What do you do when you know you have the best therapist for your child? But, they are too far away? I've been loading up my Ipod for the trips. I guess that's all you can do. </span></strong></div><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">Oh! </span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">I am so excited about Christmas already.</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">I would put my tree up right now if I could.</span></strong></div></div></div>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-84994596904950803442008-06-18T00:02:00.006-04:002008-06-18T00:50:32.649-04:00And Then There Was One<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9mB9ffG92mO5OXHal1_AS4HWMHRXvbdEAzb3Ohe0fbLdO5BUfbXXVHdmQkeK7eF7eWeZ4U9yh2nC-gRYvvxh8ZqeKX_UA4BX2WmWzh984KoTeUGuenDHaI33BA0g7EQWAaNf1/s1600-h/DSCN0160.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5213077758220508450" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="135" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9mB9ffG92mO5OXHal1_AS4HWMHRXvbdEAzb3Ohe0fbLdO5BUfbXXVHdmQkeK7eF7eWeZ4U9yh2nC-gRYvvxh8ZqeKX_UA4BX2WmWzh984KoTeUGuenDHaI33BA0g7EQWAaNf1/s320/DSCN0160.JPG" width="195" border="0" /></a></p><p><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>As I held my son, fear wrapped tightly around me. His body shook as his little hands tugged at my shirt. It was a different cry this time. One that could not be fixed by a smile, hug or kiss. Gabe is aware that people hurt his feelings often. That something he is doing is making them turn away or laugh boldly in his face. Gabe is reaching out with so much determination, so much love to others he sees as friends. He's putting his vulnerable hand out there waiting, reaching, trying to make some connection. He's waiting for what all the others have. What comes so easily between kids his age, a friend. </strong></span></span></p><p><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>I would like to say that he made some friends this year at school, but honestly, irregardless of the <a href="http://eterniti1.blogspot.com/2007_11_01_archive.html">tainted gene pool </a>there, gabe rarely mentioned anyone with excitement attached. Was it a great class full of children you would look back on and say, "I knew so and so since preschool.", probably not. But, it was the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">slide show</span> at his preschool graduation that showed not all were given a chance to be a friend. In every picture with Gabe, he was alone or with his teacher. He was alone. My baby was alone. The other boys huddled in a group together with big smiles. Or were shown sharing a toy. Gabe existed on the fringes. He so desperatly wanted to be included. Halfway through the year, I think he just gave up. He still offered friendship, no strings attached, but most of the time his warm gesture went unnoticed.</strong></span><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">I hope in my deepest heart that people will see all the great attributes that he has before they turn away. That those that are quick to judge, take a second look. There is more, so much more to Gabe if you just give him a chance. He is kind, caring, funny, imaginative and loves the friends he does have so dearly. This part seems to be the hardest for both of us now.</span> </strong></span></p>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-28817708348658325872008-03-03T09:34:00.005-05:002008-03-03T10:46:01.514-05:00The Summary<strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Sitting at my desk with my laptop feels a little new and awkward. As if I was back at the beginning of this blog or cracking the binding of a new book. Where have I been? Well, let me say that time has had its way with me, running past me as if I was standing still and it beckons me to stop being so stagnant. So, why do I feel as if I have been running for months? Finding each finish line was only really a lap in the race? Enough of the analogies...Where do I begin?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I left off in the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">beginning</span> of this past school year of 2007. Preschool still is going well. Gabe has adapted really well and is excited to go to school. His teacher is amazing. The other boys, well you can only go so far with genetics and bad parenting. I hate to say it, but some groups just don't mesh well, but thankfully his teacher has a great program that she utilizes along with the children in her classroom that <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">addresses</span> that issue. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I did loose <a href="http://eterniti1.blogspot.com/2007/08/gabe-meets-ocean.html">my appeal </a>to the state. They deemed his therapy (ABA) <em>not medically</em> <em>necessary</em>. Infuriated doesn't even come close to how I felt. The next step was to get a lawyer and challenge the State's decision. We decided to close that chapter and direct our attention to what <em>can</em> be than what <em>should</em> be. Does that make sense? Needless to say, I found out recently that some people I know who have had cases with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">BCBS</span> in Michigan for ABA Therapy coverage have won due to the fact that their child was self injuring. Gabe was not. It felt good to finally let go.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I also have been working part time since the summer. I work evenings in retail, until I can start my career again without sacrificing my family. I like getting out, getting a paycheck (no matter how small) and letting my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">anal retentiveness</span> thrive and flourish each evening while I fold and organize clothes until the store looks amazing. It's funny what makes some of us happy.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Gabe was also evaluated by his preschool teacher for readiness for kindergarten and he was tested through a private practice using the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wechsler_Preschool_and_Primary_Scale_of_Intelligence">WPPSI</a></span>. He passed the kindergaten readiness test (The <a href="http://www.gesellinstitute.org/layout.aspx?pageid=1">Gesell</a>). Happily, Gabe scores indicated that he will do well in kindergarten and that we should <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">definitely</span> seek placement for next year! So we did. He will be attending a private Catholic school with my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">daughter</span> Boo!!!!! They will provide speech for him and have a social skills group that meets weekly. There are quite a few children on the spectrum that attend school there. Gabe will be in good hands :o) </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">With all the worry waiting for test results, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">weighing</span> pros and cons, going back over more test results, late night discussions, this feels right for now. This is where he should be. He did struggle with his <a href="http://specialed.about.com/cs/learningdisabled/a/receptive.htm">receptive language </a>and responding to some one on one questions with someone he didn't know. So, we have increased his speech to twice a week and set aside time each day to practice. Everyday now I see growth in Gabe. He amazes me. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">So, there it is in a nut shell. I hope some of you still pass by occasionally to take a peek. I wonder about your children and everyday wish them well. Take care.</span></strong>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-86536656596083192722007-11-08T14:04:00.000-05:002007-11-08T20:15:03.674-05:00If only I had Get Smart's shoe phone....<strong><span style="font-size:130%;">Sometimes I wonder, I wonder if kids are just being kids, I'm just being a mom and the two together make for an interesting combination. Can I truly be objective when it comes to my child's friends? Could they ever be what Gabe needs and I envisioned them to be, caring, thoughtful, fun and accepting? I needed to know who was with him when I wasn't.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">I wanted to get an "inside" the peer relationship dynamics of Gabe's classroom, so I happily volunteered to help at Gabe's Halloween party. This would give me an incredible opportunity to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">secretly</span> <span style="color:#ffff00;"><span style="color:#000000;">psychoanalyze</span> </span>each child that comes in contact with Gabe each day at preschool. <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Dissect</span> and interpret clues into their family dynamics, past history,siblings and parental <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">involvement</span>. I was "Double O, M..O..M".</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">This is what I found...</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">There are roughly, given what day it is, 14 boys and 6 girls.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">The girls seemed pretty normal, easy going. Girls generally are.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">The boys. Psych 101, years of observing people and 7 years of teaching really came in handy when watching the boys. The boys could be summed up as such</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">(<em>names have been changed to protect their identity</em>) </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">"O"- Very small child (Gabe literally looks down at him), shows signs of having a speech impairment, can be bossy and low on the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">totem</span> pole of the "boy click" in the room.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">"J"- I like to call him Mr. Cranky. Gabe first met him last year for a few hours when I wanted to observe him in a regular preschool setting with other three year <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">olds</span>. "J" may still be cranky about the fact the Gabe hit him with a dinosaur to see how he would react last year in class. Outcome....not good.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">"T"-America's Most Wanted will be doing an expose on him soon. He has that "look" in his eye. Other teachers will know exactly what I mean. He seems older and far more wise about the workings of the underground than the homeless guy that rides his bike all day around my township. It makes me sad, but then I also want to say as I lean in close to his face, "Stay the hell away from Gabe if you know what is good for you."</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">"Red"- Possible "T" accomplice or the second picture displayed next to "T's on America's Most Wanted. He has devious written all over him. However, the jury is still out. Maybe he'll decide to use his powers for good and come over to our side. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">"B"- Grips mom's leg like a hungry man's hand around a Ball Park hot dog at a baseball game when he is dropped off. He seems to bide time watching the clock until mom returns. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">"M"- Seems like a good kid, but Gabe seems to be attracted to the ones that "run the roost" shall we say. Part of "the click", possible middle management. Dedicated with no real <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">benefits</span>.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">"<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">JK</span>"- very sweet, perhaps a little too reserved for Gabe. He would get first draft choice if it were up to me.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">"I"- He's a quite the sourpuss (and also Gabe's locker partner). Luckily he comes very <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">sporadically</span>, mostly Fridays when Gabe is not there. His mom's a nurse and works nights sometimes and her shift is always changing. "I" never knows when he is going to come. My sympathy goes out to him, but my heart is loyal to Gabe. I say," Back off "I" guy!"</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">"L"- is a child of someone I know (The one that ditched me high and dry at <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">McDonalds</span>) I thought he was going to be a good match for Gabe. Still a sweet boy, but the dark side can be very alluring and has made quite an impression on "L" if you know what I mean.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>There are more boys that didn't catch my eye or just weren't at the party, because it wasn't their day to come. What's so frustrating is that this is what the general population consists of in real life. There are leaders, followers, those that go against the tide and those that go unnoticed. I am taking steps to ensure that Gabe is not <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">pigeonholed</span> before he gets his turn to shine. That he is learning the rules of social <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">engagement</span> at warp speed, but is still so innocent and <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">unjaded</span>, as if he was wading in a pool of sharks unknowingly. Give me strength to not go shark</strong></span> <strong><span style="font-size:130%;">hunting anytime soon.</span></strong> </span>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-40332146212837103502007-09-10T11:52:00.000-04:002007-09-10T16:12:35.478-04:00And.............Exhale...<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Is it safe?</strong></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">It's been hard, but I waited a few extra days. Just a couple days, although it felt like eternity. I didn't want to jinx myself, my luck and Gabe.</span></strong></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">OK...Here goes.....(deep breath)</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><span style="font-size:180%;">Gabe's in preschool</span>. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><em>Public</em> school preschool. <a href="http://eterniti1.blogspot.com/2006/06/well-have-to-adjourn-this-meeting-then.html"><em>Our District's</em> </a>public preschool. And he is doing very well! He is making friends, petting the classroom pet <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Guinea</span> pig 'Buddy', eating lunch, and going <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBwGBKQdMiCrOjlvf6D2VD2_FLdO1hA0B8kQ1UWc9ElsLE4r9dxI2NJJ4b1Bybz3KTAF2PT2UsOLTHxzCxzAmaQ__zaxlbji0yhvbSr1Yfv8GUlwskplKEw8PySXMr9FdX4fm/s1600-h/100_1450.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108638732034885410" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="216" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGBwGBKQdMiCrOjlvf6D2VD2_FLdO1hA0B8kQ1UWc9ElsLE4r9dxI2NJJ4b1Bybz3KTAF2PT2UsOLTHxzCxzAmaQ__zaxlbji0yhvbSr1Yfv8GUlwskplKEw8PySXMr9FdX4fm/s320/100_1450.JPG" width="185" border="0" /></a>out on recess. The other day he said, "I play with my friend Gavin at school." </span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:100%;"></span>I caught myself thinking, "What? </span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">"Full sentences? Friends? <em><span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Independence</span></em>?"I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">couldn't</span> help but have a big smile.</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">Then this weekend it was, "Santa will get me the marble roller coaster."</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">I guess Gabe and Santa have established a close relationship out of my radar range. And Santa must shop at Target.</span></strong><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDGDqD2kTL4sFHSwakItRVh9lpU7hSQtRR5vqLfl_d0vK4G6ECeW-fev3sPjuAMO9Mdvb07CEY1p3Al70yOUA6qhSuysWV0Q-nyRMK3By8UzvkBtu8OnJVzBosF-WzKcb0NsO-/s1600-h/100_1440.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108636064860194562" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDGDqD2kTL4sFHSwakItRVh9lpU7hSQtRR5vqLfl_d0vK4G6ECeW-fev3sPjuAMO9Mdvb07CEY1p3Al70yOUA6qhSuysWV0Q-nyRMK3By8UzvkBtu8OnJVzBosF-WzKcb0NsO-/s320/100_1440.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDGDqD2kTL4sFHSwakItRVh9lpU7hSQtRR5vqLfl_d0vK4G6ECeW-fev3sPjuAMO9Mdvb07CEY1p3Al70yOUA6qhSuysWV0Q-nyRMK3By8UzvkBtu8OnJVzBosF-WzKcb0NsO-/s1600-h/100_1440.JPG"></a></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDGDqD2kTL4sFHSwakItRVh9lpU7hSQtRR5vqLfl_d0vK4G6ECeW-fev3sPjuAMO9Mdvb07CEY1p3Al70yOUA6qhSuysWV0Q-nyRMK3By8UzvkBtu8OnJVzBosF-WzKcb0NsO-/s1600-h/100_1440.JPG"></a></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDGDqD2kTL4sFHSwakItRVh9lpU7hSQtRR5vqLfl_d0vK4G6ECeW-fev3sPjuAMO9Mdvb07CEY1p3Al70yOUA6qhSuysWV0Q-nyRMK3By8UzvkBtu8OnJVzBosF-WzKcb0NsO-/s1600-h/100_1440.JPG"></a></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">This gives me hope that Christmas will be even better this year. Both Boo and Gabe will be able to participate in our traditions of hanging ornaments, decorating ginger bread houses, and have the immense anticipation of Santa's arrival. That's all the gift I will need this year.</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">There was one incident the first day of preschool. I thought about not mentioning it, because it is pretty age appropriate, meaning that the Autism flag <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">needn't</span> be raised, the 'armed' forces could lay low and I could keep my anxiety in check. But, it just so happens that it was at the top of my list of concerns for Gabe when deciding to place him in a regular preschool. I can only describe it by telling you what happened. Gabe is in a class of about 14 kids along with a teacher (Ms. J), classroom aide and another teacher (Ms. K) that floats in and out, her position is a little unclear to me, must be based on number of kids in the room. Anyway, Ms. J had to run out of the room for a minute or two, so Ms. K took the class to the bathroom before going outside to play. Two boys in Gabe's class, after leaving the bathroom, decided to run down the hall. Ms. K had to coral them back in line by the wall and remind them to wait until everyone was ready. Meanwhile,as far as we can guess, Gabe must have come out of the bathroom, while Ms. K was running down the hall. He then got into a different line, going the wrong way. It was not one going to recess, but to the buses. After counting the heads on the playground, Ms. J came back and noticed one missing too. She immediately found Gabe outside the bus, crying for me on the sidewalk. Someone must have noticed he did not belong on the bus and called the office or another teacher. <em>Thank God</em> . (insert prayer here) So, when I picked him up the first day he was really weepy with swollen red eyes. She apologized many times. After about 5 minutes, Gabe left my side and happily joined the other kids on the play structure.</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">My reaction was not of anger, because I adore Ms. J. She was so fantastic with Boo that I knew it was an honest accident, not an oversight, especially since she wasn't even there when it took place. And now that it did happen, I can let out a sigh of relief that my biggest fear is in check with the teachers and I believe now that Gabe will be given an extra hand in leading him in the right direction. Which is what we all need at some time in our lives.</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">Boo is in first grade. (I'm feeling faint) I keep dreaming of her in <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">high school</span>. I keep reminding myself that she will only be turning 6 years old this month, not 16. </span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">She looks so beautiful in her uniform. I know I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">couldn't</span> pull off a plaid jumper. She makes it look like the new fall fashion must have in your closet.</span></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8RX2l0sOkbEQunL5ZRCUbv5xeSs6ZabxaVq5S23arN2W5JE9Rlw7ESg9ea4UNnpQhJDks8ODEL0_JMJOwJ1fZvxVWBN3PoOLWVenBsZvDvybCaiFXfKcJt89G3ro1VYT3yGml/s1600-h/100_1446.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108636047680325330" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 283px" height="208" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8RX2l0sOkbEQunL5ZRCUbv5xeSs6ZabxaVq5S23arN2W5JE9Rlw7ESg9ea4UNnpQhJDks8ODEL0_JMJOwJ1fZvxVWBN3PoOLWVenBsZvDvybCaiFXfKcJt89G3ro1VYT3yGml/s320/100_1446.JPG" width="191" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">I have found that my thyroid is normal (Thanks for the idea to get tested Melissa) The problem I have/had was depression. So, two months later and appropriate medication (Screw you Tom Cruise) I feel better than I ever had in my life. </span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqpQfB-a6TKCMl0usDXcbre7PwQIBE_X5Bx9KCsvFFzNt0iARJ8cLSbiLRgwKj9Dn_T3aRvSpP4JlR0A2ALDPq5vy8Bvm_hktQj8BmIPKWPBGUo_93XpmK21D6icEI-ktcUKB/s1600-h/dollar-signs.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108638723444950802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="157" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvqpQfB-a6TKCMl0usDXcbre7PwQIBE_X5Bx9KCsvFFzNt0iARJ8cLSbiLRgwKj9Dn_T3aRvSpP4JlR0A2ALDPq5vy8Bvm_hktQj8BmIPKWPBGUo_93XpmK21D6icEI-ktcUKB/s320/dollar-signs.jpg" width="230" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">I also have started looking for a part time job. My <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">SAHM</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">status</span> is quickly coming to a close. With needing a new roof and Gabe's preschool costs this year, our bank account <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">reflects</span> that we live paycheck to paycheck. It doesn't help that the state of Michigan is something like 2 billion (?) in debt and talk about shutting down the state is being <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">discussed</span> as an option. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">SD's</span> salary as a teacher is dangling by a thread. The schools can't balance budgets or promise much of a security, because the state keeps changing what it will provide and then sometimes doesn't give financial support at all. How do you balance a budget like that?</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">This school marks another massive change in my life along with having a first grader, Gabe in preschool, a possible new career path, but it is also the first time in 2 1/2 years (or ever) that I drop my kids off at school and I can go HOME. When I took Gabe to school for those two+ years, I was an hour away from home. Going home was not an option. I have been trying to get things organized, clean, clean some more, do laundry, mow the lawn, do some PR for the family and kids and establish connections in my children's classrooms. It has been a lovely ride, sweet, but too short.</span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Some of you maybe wondering, what did happen to my crazy hair? I hate to admit this, but I ended up dying my hair four times. I'm a nut when it comes to my hair. It was a week of my daughter giving her encouragement through each change of hair color. "I think it looks nice mommy", she would smile. I had gray hair, green, grayish, greenish, brownish, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">reddish</span> hair, dark brown hair (picture a witch) I was looking for <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">carmel</span> and got a mixture of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Gothic</span> and heroin addict. </strong></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdCk_DcBbRi61Td3xwg-9eH7OsahIX2gjDYOhAUfthv4rHdywq3IZ5yPxgtP0srbZHiZS_hfGhw83i3RKm99CLe38ep_liX4TNDYfrlBA_6xqE3py1i5qTsQW3nD5YovP9tE9/s1600-h/100_1280.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5108643409254270770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKdCk_DcBbRi61Td3xwg-9eH7OsahIX2gjDYOhAUfthv4rHdywq3IZ5yPxgtP0srbZHiZS_hfGhw83i3RKm99CLe38ep_liX4TNDYfrlBA_6xqE3py1i5qTsQW3nD5YovP9tE9/s320/100_1280.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">I ended up stripping <em>all</em> the horrid colors out of my hair to reveal the lightest <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">blonde</span> ever with streaks of light orange where the red from one of the hair colors would not come out without loosing my hair. I settled on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">blonde</span> for the vacation. And was I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">blonde</span>. Barbie has nothing on me. I surpassed Barbie as a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">Blonde</span>. She looked like a medium to dark <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_18">blonde</span> next to me. It was frightful, luckily we were where it was warm, sunny with an ocean. I almost fit right in as a surfer girl. In Michigan, I looked like a pole dancer. I currently, yes I actually dyed it again, a dark, neutral <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_19">blonde</span> with a hint of gray (color has a hard time now sticking to the lightest part of my hair. It's not perfect, but then no one's throwing change at me anymore.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">I'd post the new look, but I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_20">haven't</span> had a good photo op yet. I always look goofy when I take it myself, ya know, forehead missing, chin cut off, odd strained smile while attempting to look easy going when you can not find the button to actually take the picture. So until then, know that I have been following <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_21">every one's</span> lives and am so excited to look forward with all of you to another year of special moments with our children.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">Oh! Last, but <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_22">certainly </span>not least, I want to thank Mom-Nos for the award of </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><a href="http://maternal-instincts.blogspot.com/2007/08/nice-matters.html">Nice Matters</a></span></strong><br />This award is for those <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_23">bloggers</span> who are nice people; good blog friends and those who inspire good feelings and inspiration. Also for those who are <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_24">a positive</span> influence on our blogging world. Once <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_25">you’</span>ve<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_26"> b</span>een awarded pl<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_27">ease pass i</span>t on to 7 others who you feel are deserving of this award.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I am so flattered. I am in fact speechless, which is rare. Who knew that over two years ago, when I searched the word Autism through Blogger that it would land me here? Where years earlier Mom-Nos brought hope to me that my journey with Gabe was not meant to be dark and lonely filled with isolation and dread. But a chance to embrace my fears, not let go of hope and still plan celebrations each and every day. Thank you, thank you Mom-Nos and all of you have either stood behind me pushing me forward, stood beside me letting me lean on you and those of you with strength that kept pulling me forward. Thank so much.</span></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I nominate the following seven bl<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_28">oggers t</span>hat have helped me along the way, many before they even new it. You deserve the NICE MATTERS Award!</span></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Gretchen from <a href="http://gretsblog.blogspot.com/">Gretchen's Blog</a><br /><br />Lora from <a href="http://griffinblaise.blogspot.com/">My Beautiful Child Griffin & Autism</a><br /><br /> Stephanie from <a href="http://reednowensmommy.wordpress.com/about/">If It Ain't Broke</a><br /><br />Sal<br /><br />Melissa H.<br /><br />Mamaroo<br /><br />Kyra from <a href="http://thismom.com/">THISMOM</a><br /><br /></span><br /><br /></span></span><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-80372605282526606342007-08-25T11:04:00.000-04:002007-08-26T09:18:44.300-04:00Gabe Meets the Ocean<strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">We got back about a week ago from Charleston, SC. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">SD's</span> side gets together yearly in the summer, fortunate for us, it is always a really cool place. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">SD's</span> side of the family is really small, grandparents and an uncle and aunt. That's it. It makes for a really relaxing vacation. This year we went to the Isle of Palms and stayed on the ocean in a house in the Wild Dunes resort. This was our third year going and I must say, my favorite. Gabe was a baby, I guess <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">pre-toddler</span>, the last time we came, so I was curious how he would truly take to the sand and waves. </span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I waited and wondered if Gabe would take to the water like Conor, Bud, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Roo</span> and many others I have "seen" splash about like a fish in the ocean. He loves water, <em>pool</em> water that is. Not so much the ocean. It was <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">salty</span>, aggressive and unpredictable. Sure the waves always come and go, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">recede</span> and come tumbling forward. It's the varying degrees that the waves pushed themselves onto you , and for Gabe over, that made him very distrusting of them. So, we started off slow.<br /><br /></span></strong><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wHImXrIISx3F-PjScZghFbSgLAPsSD-IQdKTKWJQsxXKq9ttZE5WMtcOSFTB4kbXnE7hvRHnQgCxZ97RkeaiVo-j_xQrY9kLWytGLqol08hFCPalL9q91Ra-xb28Q6xeT6KR/s1600-h/100_1240.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102657685132527234" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wHImXrIISx3F-PjScZghFbSgLAPsSD-IQdKTKWJQsxXKq9ttZE5WMtcOSFTB4kbXnE7hvRHnQgCxZ97RkeaiVo-j_xQrY9kLWytGLqol08hFCPalL9q91Ra-xb28Q6xeT6KR/s320/100_1240.JPG" border="0" /></span></strong></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wHImXrIISx3F-PjScZghFbSgLAPsSD-IQdKTKWJQsxXKq9ttZE5WMtcOSFTB4kbXnE7hvRHnQgCxZ97RkeaiVo-j_xQrY9kLWytGLqol08hFCPalL9q91Ra-xb28Q6xeT6KR/s1600-h/100_1240.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wHImXrIISx3F-PjScZghFbSgLAPsSD-IQdKTKWJQsxXKq9ttZE5WMtcOSFTB4kbXnE7hvRHnQgCxZ97RkeaiVo-j_xQrY9kLWytGLqol08hFCPalL9q91Ra-xb28Q6xeT6KR/s1600-h/100_1240.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Gabe was actually really drawn (literally) to the sand. I showed him how to make a river with your shovel and then pour water into it and watch it meander down to the ocean. Here he is drawing a river with his finger. </span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ832OYzF9H4Kn723iNID2NTo_Th5v0_qA4PGaARKm-qznXaTjoFBG2cVD55O3sEt4UjsP2cvoCFxYWFamORG8Jdze4HdxIcMEACcSBSJUmyRdTnm6yg4f4vCTFzd2AMNNvciA/s1600-h/100_1246.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102657710902331042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZ832OYzF9H4Kn723iNID2NTo_Th5v0_qA4PGaARKm-qznXaTjoFBG2cVD55O3sEt4UjsP2cvoCFxYWFamORG8Jdze4HdxIcMEACcSBSJUmyRdTnm6yg4f4vCTFzd2AMNNvciA/s320/100_1246.JPG" border="0" /></span></strong></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4wHImXrIISx3F-PjScZghFbSgLAPsSD-IQdKTKWJQsxXKq9ttZE5WMtcOSFTB4kbXnE7hvRHnQgCxZ97RkeaiVo-j_xQrY9kLWytGLqol08hFCPalL9q91Ra-xb28Q6xeT6KR/s1600-h/100_1240.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></a><br /><br /><strong><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Then, he discovered that a bucket + ocean water makes for much more fun. That's when we <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">began</span> to build our sand castle and dig a huge hole. Gabe's self appointed job became to fill the hole. </span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYienFQPDs_xXzFb_Od3C-3sTU5adLPPrCjDutQHmYKdB3UBE-F1osa6jAT1_xCMTFupXcpR8iM6Qmuz1vt8zhbqjMZZlJNtDBJOVYeNcFM3sz04i_T6Ti3v0sLUTygVC0dfCO/s1600-h/100_1251.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102657723787232946" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYienFQPDs_xXzFb_Od3C-3sTU5adLPPrCjDutQHmYKdB3UBE-F1osa6jAT1_xCMTFupXcpR8iM6Qmuz1vt8zhbqjMZZlJNtDBJOVYeNcFM3sz04i_T6Ti3v0sLUTygVC0dfCO/s320/100_1251.JPG" border="0" /></span></strong></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYienFQPDs_xXzFb_Od3C-3sTU5adLPPrCjDutQHmYKdB3UBE-F1osa6jAT1_xCMTFupXcpR8iM6Qmuz1vt8zhbqjMZZlJNtDBJOVYeNcFM3sz04i_T6Ti3v0sLUTygVC0dfCO/s1600-h/100_1251.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJMt2-2kZlAPHNlnqCm85kTMb1NVuAHDp4ZOAqHeiZKl4Fk1_0U31QPB1rwtmsIfoTVJ1RKCUPEs7PmzWZuWlXBkNo53AwgcEDiG6oQdRVtj1PGO9VkwwGSN-S8pjj2VDAtLX/s1600-h/100_1253.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102657732377167554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJMt2-2kZlAPHNlnqCm85kTMb1NVuAHDp4ZOAqHeiZKl4Fk1_0U31QPB1rwtmsIfoTVJ1RKCUPEs7PmzWZuWlXBkNo53AwgcEDiG6oQdRVtj1PGO9VkwwGSN-S8pjj2VDAtLX/s320/100_1253.JPG" border="0" /></span></strong></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJMt2-2kZlAPHNlnqCm85kTMb1NVuAHDp4ZOAqHeiZKl4Fk1_0U31QPB1rwtmsIfoTVJ1RKCUPEs7PmzWZuWlXBkNo53AwgcEDiG6oQdRVtj1PGO9VkwwGSN-S8pjj2VDAtLX/s1600-h/100_1253.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZJMt2-2kZlAPHNlnqCm85kTMb1NVuAHDp4ZOAqHeiZKl4Fk1_0U31QPB1rwtmsIfoTVJ1RKCUPEs7PmzWZuWlXBkNo53AwgcEDiG6oQdRVtj1PGO9VkwwGSN-S8pjj2VDAtLX/s1600-h/100_1253.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">After a few days at the resort, Gabe found peace with the ocean. He found it's rhythm. With each wave, he jumped as the tide rolled in. </span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2pAC9_vBG8A0MR0TMHp93LaZMevQ5YnWLm1PUm4v3zb9v75LGvHN2dUy3c9_N3iGfojkinkSjHgMYd9Rt_b7JTWEKZfemNjD9xTKBSXrYxV4iKYA_sktWNRYVxx0nedL6X8p/s1600-h/100_1269.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5102657702312396434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2pAC9_vBG8A0MR0TMHp93LaZMevQ5YnWLm1PUm4v3zb9v75LGvHN2dUy3c9_N3iGfojkinkSjHgMYd9Rt_b7JTWEKZfemNjD9xTKBSXrYxV4iKYA_sktWNRYVxx0nedL6X8p/s320/100_1269.JPG" border="0" /></span></strong></a><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEie2pAC9_vBG8A0MR0TMHp93LaZMevQ5YnWLm1PUm4v3zb9v75LGvHN2dUy3c9_N3iGfojkinkSjHgMYd9Rt_b7JTWEKZfemNjD9xTKBSXrYxV4iKYA_sktWNRYVxx0nedL6X8p/s1600-h/100_1269.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></a><br /><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='280' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dzsWVoQd4eIIPjIamhQQ0u0DLj0DJW-qq5qxZw5Y50vXGSJAr7MLFGIw1QKoXU9UcOPd_wT9gxoa5w' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-71045845180011326822007-08-06T22:16:00.001-04:002007-08-06T23:28:35.592-04:00SAHM<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>The question....What do Stay at Home Mom's really do?<br /></strong></span><div><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>What it is like to stay home?</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>What do you do <em>all </em>day long?</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Do you get to sleep in?</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Have leisurely lunches and afternoon teas?</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Does your laundry smell like a summer breeze?</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Are your husbands shirts the color of pure, untouched snow?</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Are they ironed and folded <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">meticulously</span>?<br />Do you eat only organic vegetables from your acre garden?</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>How close are you and Martha Stewart?</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Are you a really good cook too?</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>This is what some of the things this Stay at Home Mom did these last few days (just in case you were wondering)....</strong></span></div><div><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">Appealing the State<br /></span></div></strong></span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>I finally mailed off my appeal for an external review to the state. It took an entire year. This is "The Book" that held everything about Gabe that anyone would ever need to know. It was, as I have said before, because I can't believe it, 600+ pages long. I know I have talked about this before, (quite a bit, sorry) but, my God!, an entire year of my life! I will know in thirty days the final outcome.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgM1W86SDd_kwOpQkBKWZhSDrHgxuQF_WmIwBU-2MUpv4NfTmdtT-0wtN1xU4Xj-7jQvkFC7huoiWcAJsg-VtYTEGm_3Q3TWut2DtZxm04ZbuV_jIYZq4E86I2LliLQPoZ6J4L/s1600-h/100_1228.JPG"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095780026384059538" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgM1W86SDd_kwOpQkBKWZhSDrHgxuQF_WmIwBU-2MUpv4NfTmdtT-0wtN1xU4Xj-7jQvkFC7huoiWcAJsg-VtYTEGm_3Q3TWut2DtZxm04ZbuV_jIYZq4E86I2LliLQPoZ6J4L/s320/100_1228.JPG" border="0" /></strong></span></a></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgM1W86SDd_kwOpQkBKWZhSDrHgxuQF_WmIwBU-2MUpv4NfTmdtT-0wtN1xU4Xj-7jQvkFC7huoiWcAJsg-VtYTEGm_3Q3TWut2DtZxm04ZbuV_jIYZq4E86I2LliLQPoZ6J4L/s1600-h/100_1228.JPG"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></a></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgM1W86SDd_kwOpQkBKWZhSDrHgxuQF_WmIwBU-2MUpv4NfTmdtT-0wtN1xU4Xj-7jQvkFC7huoiWcAJsg-VtYTEGm_3Q3TWut2DtZxm04ZbuV_jIYZq4E86I2LliLQPoZ6J4L/s1600-h/100_1228.JPG"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></a></div><span style="font-size:130%;"><div><br /><br /></div><div><br /></div></span><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></div><div><strong><span style="font-size:180%;">Hair Color Status<br /></span></strong></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>As you can see my hair was getting a little "pole dancer" looking. (refer to picture above and below) When your hair matches Barbie's that's not a good sign. </strong></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbM9eCfNEABHVNun0V2JVUn82Lg61g3ihQEfV7uadQLBKZxZwXslTy_lgvmu6r1WxBI0GOmh3PPMH_kxIhss7X0oHuXAvxdNiYhJuqNEIWcJANaD9tvS6zlpt7l2uYkmaAbk27/s1600-h/100_1193.JPG"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095782899717180578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbM9eCfNEABHVNun0V2JVUn82Lg61g3ihQEfV7uadQLBKZxZwXslTy_lgvmu6r1WxBI0GOmh3PPMH_kxIhss7X0oHuXAvxdNiYhJuqNEIWcJANaD9tvS6zlpt7l2uYkmaAbk27/s320/100_1193.JPG" border="0" /></strong></span></a></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>I am a dark <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">blonde</span>, at least that's what the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Loreal</span> box tells me, but when you add the summer sun, my hair bleaches out.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>So.......</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>I thought I would "fix" it. </strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>I thought I would tame the "corner calling" look a little by actually adding color back to it. Tone it down a little so people at the space station can take off their sunglasses when looking at Michigan. </strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>So, the final decision was made. I need to go <em>cooler</em>, my hair was obviously too bright and warm.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Cooler like an ash <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">blonde</span>. That should do it.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>I had an inkling that I had done this before with <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">catastrophic</span> results. Was it ash that made my hair grey before? <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">Hmmmmmm</span>...</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Nah. I think it was black that did that in high school.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>An hour later I had silver grey hair like a fox. I had <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">Dumbledore</span> hair!</strong></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEtLc_sDbEPtCH9w6gmBxd02C7vfSqcoReKRAHMxiCIM1ekU7CWop7KXMxno6HKDI4cTnjFZlpixjRFyaEmIbTOGZHZOW9pJWIxE1lDTm5SIAzsg_CognNJYhS7LdPQwFjgFW/s1600-h/dumbledore1.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095790841111710914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjEtLc_sDbEPtCH9w6gmBxd02C7vfSqcoReKRAHMxiCIM1ekU7CWop7KXMxno6HKDI4cTnjFZlpixjRFyaEmIbTOGZHZOW9pJWIxE1lDTm5SIAzsg_CognNJYhS7LdPQwFjgFW/s320/dumbledore1.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>So, a second opinion was needed. I turned to SD. I gave him the nod that told him it was OK to be honest. </strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>"Ya," he paused passing his fingers through my hair," it does look a little grey."</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>I looked like I aged 20 years.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Off to the drug store to fix it. </strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>I can fix this, I convincingly said to myself in the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">rear view</span> mirror. </strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>I was expecting the women at the counter to say (in tribute to <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Gomer</span> Pyle), "Surprise, surprise, surprise" when ringing up the box of hair color.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>I went a warm medium <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">blonde</span>.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Warm cancels cool.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>At least it does when we decide to turn off our AC to save money.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>In this case, warm doesn't necessarily cancel cool,</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">BUT creates <span style="color:#009900;"><em>green.</em></span></span></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;color:#000000;"><strong>I have died my hair twice already in two days. I leave for a trip for two weeks in two days.</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Should I go green and just wave to people like the Jolly Green Giant?</strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Maybe tease it a little and go as a Troll?</strong></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiaKlYUMgNm-UDFCuUKunuSS_cG3s6xPeNIXukCIKftLj3B34zBsrWZDEuMb5d6XCIR7ZAZ9xqyxl0L2pe1anIjBEQDPpRwAT6tc1a_wMOjjTHyZD2cQz-_Y5mjyTnwpHonLYp/s1600-h/WishnickIrish.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5095788590548847794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiaKlYUMgNm-UDFCuUKunuSS_cG3s6xPeNIXukCIKftLj3B34zBsrWZDEuMb5d6XCIR7ZAZ9xqyxl0L2pe1anIjBEQDPpRwAT6tc1a_wMOjjTHyZD2cQz-_Y5mjyTnwpHonLYp/s320/WishnickIrish.jpg" border="0" /></strong></span></a></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></span> </div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">*<br />*<br />*<br /></span></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">This SAHM needs a <em>really </em>good hair colorist</span></strong>. </span></div><div><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I'd write more about my glamorous life as a SAHM, but Martha needs to brief me on how to properly crease the corners of my sheets when making the bed.......</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">"OK!" "HOLD YOUR HORSES MARTHA!" sheesh!</span></strong></div></div>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-60486970321073169622007-07-31T20:36:00.000-04:002007-07-31T21:31:23.473-04:00The bottom line is babies<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5i0Je94DuA4XN5zux6jw_biMPmwpxC2MdjPezH5TU1-GkUTfgFOLLrj2LzTl7OA-7sN46UKD-jFxKuuEBjQUEhY7cwviJWzex0QdcXxsPw_LjDs6Ehsv59YYRiOJflVKsYbWq/s1600-h/stool.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093537984736070786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 164px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 188px" height="247" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5i0Je94DuA4XN5zux6jw_biMPmwpxC2MdjPezH5TU1-GkUTfgFOLLrj2LzTl7OA-7sN46UKD-jFxKuuEBjQUEhY7cwviJWzex0QdcXxsPw_LjDs6Ehsv59YYRiOJflVKsYbWq/s320/stool.jpg" width="164" border="0" /></a><br /><div><div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em></em></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>"So you don't want any more babies?"</em> he looked up at me from his swivel chair.</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><br />For some reason the tone made his question sound more like, </span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>"Are you sure you will be able to fit in your swim suit next week after all the ice cream you have been eating lately?" </em></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Sitting up, trying to gain some sort of composure in my couture paper napkin top,<br /><em></em></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><em>"I'm thirty-five</em>," I say with conviction.<br />He says nothing.<br /><em>"My son also has Autism,"</em> I state.<br />He still is looking at me saying nothing.<br /><em>"My two beautiful children are all I ever wanted."</em><br />There. That must be the right answer. It felt right.<br />He clears his throat, shifts in his chair and begins...<br /><em>"You haven't answered my question."</em><br /><em>"I didn't?"</em> Didn't I?<br />Silence. The large poster showing a fetus growing arms and chubby legs looks like it is snoozing on the opposite wall. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiruIWGAXBnViC693Ma_xpQB3buDDiGD7yA_hUHYUE3EYWSXGvY1_V009iWB01GOfdKQZ6sdyMjzg-uAU5ylxitmmBXMCwGQYuX3YD1kfcRUpkmHaXwHWZVhYLrmfmidWeQoBz1/s1600-h/16weeks238x218.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093537147217448050" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 152px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 106px" height="12" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiruIWGAXBnViC693Ma_xpQB3buDDiGD7yA_hUHYUE3EYWSXGvY1_V009iWB01GOfdKQZ6sdyMjzg-uAU5ylxitmmBXMCwGQYuX3YD1kfcRUpkmHaXwHWZVhYLrmfmidWeQoBz1/s320/16weeks238x218.jpg" width="203" border="0" /></a><br />I swallow. Hard. It kinda hurt. Is it hot in here or is it me?<br /><em>"No. No, I do not want any more children."<br /><br /></em>I really am ready for this. It's just everyone else is making such a big deal about it. Sometimes trusted people can sway my thinking pretty easily. Until, I snapped out of it and thought Doctor H won't be there for the late night feedings, take on the discomfort of having huge boobs and I know he would not be throwing some of his salary as a doctor our way.<br /><br /><em>"Yes. I would like the surgery done."<br /><br /><br /></em>OK then, he begins, <em>"A Tubal Ligation Procedure..."<br /><br /></em>So, I had it done. And OUCH! my belly button hurts! Yeah, that's what I said, my belly button! They untied it and went right in. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Vicodin</span> was a good friend of mine for a few days. SD was home and I napped and finished the latest Harry Potter book.<br /><br />On the other hand, I am finally on the step of an external review at the state level for our appeal for ABA services for Gabe with our insurance company (It has been an entire year since I started appealing). "The book" as I call it is 600+ pages long and is due to be sent to the States Appeal Review in a week or so. Our appeal is worth $8,000. SD and I look at each other often and say "No pressure." Wish us luck. I'll give more details later.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">So, I have spent my time reading your blogs, but am just too tired to write in my own. I know, come fall, that my blog will be full of it's ups and downs again. My summer has really been amazing this year. Less than a month and we'll be off and running again!<br /><br /></span><br /></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLA7mzU86ddV7PAITlpVj2BAyv-UMV7XZgC6uwHwJVXSrz2r5kDIzHEFUkU1F68WTyzGL-RfY_ON2AmBB2Lic2-9zhie-KHC3cVvsgpeOG9003xf0nzI2_TjH7nLZZTqRG_kq/s1600-h/Siena+n+toy.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093534978258963522" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="182" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWLA7mzU86ddV7PAITlpVj2BAyv-UMV7XZgC6uwHwJVXSrz2r5kDIzHEFUkU1F68WTyzGL-RfY_ON2AmBB2Lic2-9zhie-KHC3cVvsgpeOG9003xf0nzI2_TjH7nLZZTqRG_kq/s320/Siena+n+toy.jpg" width="242" border="0" /></strong></a><strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBg3-Md6c6YD2Fuc6xI9dDT-FgIUl4lZzDyh6tPTkVJbX2ls15jP801FIwjMazHtJS21jMYuWy0Ex4L-7gXfx7zLdFBB868gc5Vjw1KLLAVCqnwDcNXyX5Ni_SeFCQV9P5WYy4/s1600-h/Gabe+smile+email.jpg"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5093535493655039074" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBg3-Md6c6YD2Fuc6xI9dDT-FgIUl4lZzDyh6tPTkVJbX2ls15jP801FIwjMazHtJS21jMYuWy0Ex4L-7gXfx7zLdFBB868gc5Vjw1KLLAVCqnwDcNXyX5Ni_SeFCQV9P5WYy4/s320/Gabe+smile+email.jpg" border="0" /></strong></a></div></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCZNnFdRuC1c-uita_Zp1eoiM-O-eUveyphhrod2ZpMckErtuR73OMeMAG07mQeKtg9IwRtzw8Mre2CfANUwloJ9floZSqEJE-VK9oWsijWG-o_7UcGsRnClz0w9qTGWWuWcJJ/s1600-h/Gabe+land+email.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><br /><div><strong></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong>Boo and Gabe, my beautiful babies.</strong></div></div></div>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-66464214766757477592007-07-12T22:29:00.000-04:002007-07-12T23:40:37.947-04:00A Little Perspective<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Sometimes it takes a few old videos to put the past and present into perspective.... </strong></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">(<em>Sometimes they take a few minutes to load on Blogger.</em>...)</span></strong><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;"><strong><em></em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;"><strong><em>Gabe then....</em></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>* Gabe at 13 months old</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>* He did not have any words yet, just sounds (very cute sounds)</strong></span><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">*<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">1 month later he walked</span><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">* It was only two months later that he started not responding to his name</span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>* Soon after this he stopped playing</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>* He was diagnosed with Autism 5 months later</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>* We had no idea at the time that most of what we fed him he was allergic to</strong></span><br /><br /><embed width="448" height="361" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://i190.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid190.photobucket.com/albums/z221/eterniti1/32add25a.flv"></embed><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><br /><embed width="448" height="361" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://i190.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid190.photobucket.com/albums/z221/eterniti1/ec04df72.flv"></embed><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;"><strong>Gabe now.....</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>*He is on a diet free of allergens</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>*His asthma is coming under control the more we learn about it</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>* Gabe is full of expressive language and sentences!</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>*He has been diagnosed with Autism for 2 1/2 years now </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>Isn't it amazing how fast they grow?</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><em>And how quickly you learn...<br /></em></strong><br /><strong></strong><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong><br /><br /><br /></strong></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-54870215225821326562007-06-27T21:49:00.000-04:002007-06-27T22:49:32.329-04:00Life Is A Highway...Gabe's Gonna Ride It all Night Long<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEign5fXcxHmewsRbarUcz9r1iD5eysr_iDflgerunq-kTxTf9npn1BCa7ZNYLdv7HnoYfW8HsMhpgom0xpGJjG8cK_Zm9HpwNKfbzIh7enJKP_V6QTe8K6We7QqXfa-ek75BdU8/s1600-h/100_1137.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080928833236395874" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEign5fXcxHmewsRbarUcz9r1iD5eysr_iDflgerunq-kTxTf9npn1BCa7ZNYLdv7HnoYfW8HsMhpgom0xpGJjG8cK_Zm9HpwNKfbzIh7enJKP_V6QTe8K6We7QqXfa-ek75BdU8/s320/100_1137.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><embed width="430" height="389" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" src="http://vid190.photobucket.com/player.swf?file=http://vid190.photobucket.com/albums/z221/eterniti1/100_1139-1.flv"></embed><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">video </span></strong></a><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Here's the video of Gabe burning some Big Wheel rubber. I am beaming with pride.<br /><br />Last summer, I put him on his bike and pushed him around the court, while he honked his horn. It was a start. I just wondered if Gabe would ever want to learn to ride a bike or <em>anything</em> with wheels, he is a real indoors type of person. Until this year! This year I was bound and determined to expose Gabe to all the beauty that awaits him beyond the magnificant marble run, Geo Trax Trains and comfy sleeping bag he lounges on in the playroom. This year is the year of the larger blow up pool on our deck sprinkled with floaties. There are sprinklers that hit you from all directions in our front yard (who needs a spray park?) And a slip and slide that beckons umbrellas to get wet in, but for some reason has yet to be slid on. But, the most wonderful part of it all....there are <em>friends </em>to play with while doing all these awesome things outside. Yes, this year I invested a lot. In return, though, I have a son that looks out the window and calls for his friends to come play.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpiDMZFw30cdKJm73BqGIugJvl85kCF1eiC88EFDyHEpckdvlSeelrS7l8SPBQgrrnu2yUCqZw-0Sm2M5GYu35ZYyzdk58qZWp0zZ3TneOvObByi8q-dNG4VW8kIRr9U8PZTg/s1600-h/100_1136.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080928841826330482" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgpiDMZFw30cdKJm73BqGIugJvl85kCF1eiC88EFDyHEpckdvlSeelrS7l8SPBQgrrnu2yUCqZw-0Sm2M5GYu35ZYyzdk58qZWp0zZ3TneOvObByi8q-dNG4VW8kIRr9U8PZTg/s320/100_1136.JPG" border="0" /></span></strong></a><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></strong><br /><p><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </p><p><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </p><p><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">He was pedaling pretty fast once I got the seat adjusted where it fit him just right.</p></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7juj7LfnB_esW5wPeJcinPNhnR90-jwOeWmwUZIyFClJCoBNG25XwrafL3_RGmQ71SYlEUPAcEiTUk2POyjUd4V2LrH0YJuBdNLD_zTid7uT98vPRqR2WeK7c6TFZT8WC-uS2/s1600-h/100_1145.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080928854711232386" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7juj7LfnB_esW5wPeJcinPNhnR90-jwOeWmwUZIyFClJCoBNG25XwrafL3_RGmQ71SYlEUPAcEiTUk2POyjUd4V2LrH0YJuBdNLD_zTid7uT98vPRqR2WeK7c6TFZT8WC-uS2/s320/100_1145.JPG" border="0" /></span></strong></a><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span></strong><br /></span></strong><p><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></p><p><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </p><p><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </p><p><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">This could have not gone so well, but there was a safe clearance....whew...</p></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Another Big Wheel Buddy <em><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><br /></span></strong></em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3l66RyFW9PZuyvYvN9IWx9-zoZNpp3dYRiQ8_cM_7kaJC2uJEG3pD6znRfn1h9OEJmS_4MzrjLgna_XMaunYTskgZLLtanRpwTYuMJFiw2WPyEiE0Q6Bc6P5QBw9Si-VxpIjn/s1600-h/100_1150.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5080928863301166994" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3l66RyFW9PZuyvYvN9IWx9-zoZNpp3dYRiQ8_cM_7kaJC2uJEG3pD6znRfn1h9OEJmS_4MzrjLgna_XMaunYTskgZLLtanRpwTYuMJFiw2WPyEiE0Q6Bc6P5QBw9Si-VxpIjn/s320/100_1150.JPG" border="0" /></span></strong></a><br /></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:180%;">Get your motors running !</span></strong>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-31872774693464733362007-06-20T21:22:00.000-04:002007-06-20T22:48:21.148-04:00Lately<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwCnDHw4FPPOXxGBmJpEnA5YxmURkYNNygGtK0qoqTCd91LjiEDzUJb2KuL4bdWMXZjkiVpazNG3OPvs3x17SuyPcl100-F4vQK_LT5c1TX2ZXjFqcUshBLiZsG5J7cyKdNJls/s1600-h/100_0429.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078327326891895042" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwCnDHw4FPPOXxGBmJpEnA5YxmURkYNNygGtK0qoqTCd91LjiEDzUJb2KuL4bdWMXZjkiVpazNG3OPvs3x17SuyPcl100-F4vQK_LT5c1TX2ZXjFqcUshBLiZsG5J7cyKdNJls/s400/100_0429.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Did I tell you that Gabe is now 4 years old? I kept saying in my head a few days after his birthday, "Four? Really?" I am 35 years old and have a 5 1/2 year old and a four year old. I never imagined being <em>here,</em> in this spot, in this moment. I can truly say, that I understand what it feels like to be older with a lot of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">responsibility</span>, but I still feel the passion of my untamed youth.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><br /></span><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheyegue3Mq4d12oLnq4zuuK7TtuMPFof6ywI3uc1d1VNT674gQ8JZ8F7qIyRE1ODoMfGmKiYeFQVn8qqH1dPc3rRtaSimQQ7U3IUng6Ekbc1Mh06rEDZ2Re9SlVLm3OF5XQWPO/s1600-h/100_0470.JPG"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078327335481829650" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheyegue3Mq4d12oLnq4zuuK7TtuMPFof6ywI3uc1d1VNT674gQ8JZ8F7qIyRE1ODoMfGmKiYeFQVn8qqH1dPc3rRtaSimQQ7U3IUng6Ekbc1Mh06rEDZ2Re9SlVLm3OF5XQWPO/s400/100_0470.JPG" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong> </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Gabe and some of his friends at his birthday party:o) </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><br /></strong></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrfkfVqVeuNOZC9oDlz13ohQ8daJQE2So1TYoHfZnqg94PrI8WQNJYfeU5ygisMfdF_MJVKSqX4Lr_dpeKOd9B3L98YK3-0B5eZAWxDaTJBLxy9wbnfNkEDxITtsBtMoOqanpI/s1600-h/100_0970.JPG"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078327356956666146" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrfkfVqVeuNOZC9oDlz13ohQ8daJQE2So1TYoHfZnqg94PrI8WQNJYfeU5ygisMfdF_MJVKSqX4Lr_dpeKOd9B3L98YK3-0B5eZAWxDaTJBLxy9wbnfNkEDxITtsBtMoOqanpI/s400/100_0970.JPG" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong> </strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>In California! We stayed in <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Palo</span> Alto and took day trips to San Francisco. One day we took this train. Gabe was over the moon! After that, Gabe wanted to ride the train <em>everyday</em> and resented our car. (I thought of you Annette when we were in California. Even though I was in the same state, you were still far away!) </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><br /></strong></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Lb2jeEU6V1hiWYEL00rb8lgb7EjVCzxRu9HViPIngJaBcpyaP_eJN_c_1bNICNcnOAJCNL9SWddH2BlnGteMXD9oFKDczbunLUqjr0jpctKcL_RPNqDO9-0CL9dblujrcW2T/s1600-h/100_1023.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078327361251633458" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5Lb2jeEU6V1hiWYEL00rb8lgb7EjVCzxRu9HViPIngJaBcpyaP_eJN_c_1bNICNcnOAJCNL9SWddH2BlnGteMXD9oFKDczbunLUqjr0jpctKcL_RPNqDO9-0CL9dblujrcW2T/s400/100_1023.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>At the San Francisco Zoo riding........a train. (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">lol</span>) </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><br /></strong></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW0hdu4JdKhQlfG2LP7JFVF-j_vesW61sirLQBi2c3pzR_bhS2VPzzDhRk_rr1RP0EguzmvHLF3kiL38PPOxtOMa7_BXGmnOL3HYEUjYtSrLV0Ev9drzucRr7FbV6i1YDhPkIJ/s1600-h/100_1018.JPG"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078327404201306434" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW0hdu4JdKhQlfG2LP7JFVF-j_vesW61sirLQBi2c3pzR_bhS2VPzzDhRk_rr1RP0EguzmvHLF3kiL38PPOxtOMa7_BXGmnOL3HYEUjYtSrLV0Ev9drzucRr7FbV6i1YDhPkIJ/s400/100_1018.JPG" border="0" /></strong></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><br /><br /></strong></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">The zoo reminded me of Detroit's zoo, making gains in better habitats for some of the animals, but still some were living in pretty deplorable conditions. The foliage and plant life was amazing.</span><br /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Boo is now an official first grader.(I am a mom to a <em>first </em>grader!)<br /></strong></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnqVjdG9gjPGMZtOH-izWulEBOt07SMvH0qLWFINVxKO_iZxc1SulrHoKxNOvw-BOk1wrssbabOMNX8HQOxVn4-uQGcpqdFYvn1UBmCcb9sn9SAuCY9JJS_32-7l_WE4k9mbsJ/s1600-h/100_1132.JPG"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJm32VabGdOfubHeOykbBwT51XICQHTo4tJdWqPUiqCUpgfqxfixxMjiIko0NH74kusz6Gk2FVDxW0-hDPKT2ClXEx0HzMBSRAipGTPEL_xzouaq1MSaZLJhQf3iyyWgGj-IOR/s1600-h/100_1122.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078332132960299362" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJm32VabGdOfubHeOykbBwT51XICQHTo4tJdWqPUiqCUpgfqxfixxMjiIko0NH74kusz6Gk2FVDxW0-hDPKT2ClXEx0HzMBSRAipGTPEL_xzouaq1MSaZLJhQf3iyyWgGj-IOR/s400/100_1122.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Who likes to give SD (Super Daddy) a heart attack with her dollar store press on nails. (They fell of two minutes after this picture was taken)</strong></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPUsA6a9tbRUcS5WAPNrLu4wmIo_rgRX2R8APjYrX138E0nUrmlqV7dK7IjrfgrbcpPcQb77gh1-Int3-FZxCSeaOHkXgTl6Lz-32wgdkQvi3J2271KkF8uUXZGYxAy8gTw_if/s1600-h/100_1132.JPG"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5078333747868002690" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPUsA6a9tbRUcS5WAPNrLu4wmIo_rgRX2R8APjYrX138E0nUrmlqV7dK7IjrfgrbcpPcQb77gh1-Int3-FZxCSeaOHkXgTl6Lz-32wgdkQvi3J2271KkF8uUXZGYxAy8gTw_if/s400/100_1132.JPG" border="0" /></strong></span></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Gabe finished his speech based preschool. He made his way to the top of his class. He was becoming a model for the other children. Amazing. He's worked so hard. I <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">couldn't</span> be prouder.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">This fall is "Big Boy Preschool". Gabe being mainstreamed completely in our public school preschool. All our support, professional and otherwise agree. He's on his way. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Sorry about the mess, words scattered every where. I should not have messed with the HTML Gods.</span></strong>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-49108750235119663222007-05-11T10:45:00.000-04:002007-05-13T13:36:06.156-04:00The Other Group of Moms<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59gvRjNHl-tQkMx7vdvwKqy_IpJ5fqZ_lVvdmBkyDUCsrJaB2AA9bMgJ3n1rLAzKPle0C8vEMP-z5Jvq_czP-wrIZ3IKm6vQx5oN6c0-YPYw7lYGCFpnea22QCAbkEszJOK3g/s1600-h/StainedGlasschurch.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063327930807825970" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="340" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj59gvRjNHl-tQkMx7vdvwKqy_IpJ5fqZ_lVvdmBkyDUCsrJaB2AA9bMgJ3n1rLAzKPle0C8vEMP-z5Jvq_czP-wrIZ3IKm6vQx5oN6c0-YPYw7lYGCFpnea22QCAbkEszJOK3g/s400/StainedGlasschurch.jpg" width="139" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div><div></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Off I went, <span style="color:#000000;">landing </span>into yet another social gathering with other moms. I picked out an outfit, more trendy than dressy, wearing a smile that says "My hair looks fabulous today!" I just can't seem to get away from this insanity. This mom group, however, is from <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Boo's</span> school. Most of these moms I have yet to meet and have an actual conversation with. There are only two that I have spoken to more than once and in complete sentences. Today, I knew would not be one of those days, because Gabe would be with me.<br /><br /></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7fAWQUBnxLhE8yaFwJGp7LYfxJdhX4VFhpe1v7tv_OCUqrDYFPkfWpXh6T_wXtXh1ufq3uVEf1917kfjLjK3IM1L6vJfPJf0dPb0vYp4sEzwXcGrH1aluVi65847qUduJWaHH/s1600-h/diamonds.jpg"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063327926512858658" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 126px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 118px" height="172" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7fAWQUBnxLhE8yaFwJGp7LYfxJdhX4VFhpe1v7tv_OCUqrDYFPkfWpXh6T_wXtXh1ufq3uVEf1917kfjLjK3IM1L6vJfPJf0dPb0vYp4sEzwXcGrH1aluVi65847qUduJWaHH/s400/diamonds.jpg" width="161" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">The moms seem harmless, especially since they too have sent their children to a private religious school. So the caddy, tartness and overt attempts at making you feel less than are frowned upon at our church, I felt safe. And in the end, I was. Boo was so beautiful, talented and amazing as she read her reading for mass. She also did some wonderful hand gestures to 3 of the songs sang in church. She did them front and center, facing the entire school. Wow! I thought. She is so brave. I was so proud. I wanted to give a standing ovation after each song, but as is typical in our church, the room went silent and everyone bowed their head in prayer at the completion of each song.<br /><br />The diamonds and <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">expensive</span> purses are still there, but not flaunted as much. For, in my denomination, <em>if you can <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">flaunt</span> it, you can donate it</em>. The church says put your money where your soul is, not in your Coach purse. I like that philosophy. It keeps the wealthy masses humble. I looked and felt right at home here. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Kind've</span>. Mass is a good hour or so long. The pews are covered with non removable cushions, that I think Gabe maybe sensitive too (Dust Mites?) The eye rubbing started soon after we were seated. Now, here's the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">dilemma</span>, do I go sit far away, where we sit in non<span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">upholstered</span> chairs, but can barely </span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwlDnmCxt7ZaWIIItyRHH3w9ev2ioi0kcdNtAAqAnr_a6lhHnNaZwzUQN0pJOrSKaNOscez8ujRqyE931K7BR2NZjadpDor_oQt4kXu3UD7fl59UGDmFXo4ESdZmS5aX01TJ8/s1600-h/cushionpews.gif"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063327930807825986" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="143" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwlDnmCxt7ZaWIIItyRHH3w9ev2ioi0kcdNtAAqAnr_a6lhHnNaZwzUQN0pJOrSKaNOscez8ujRqyE931K7BR2NZjadpDor_oQt4kXu3UD7fl59UGDmFXo4ESdZmS5aX01TJ8/s400/cushionpews.gif" width="187" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">see Boo? Or, do I take <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">intermittent</span> breaks, where Gabe and I leave to go for walks between <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Boo's</span> appearances to ease Gabe's reactions? I chose the latter. I chose to sit right up front where I could cheer Boo on. Where, for once, it was all about her. I gave a lot smiles and blew several kisses. I did offer Gabe eye drops and other medication, but he unfortunately turned them down. So, I reinforced his good behavior every 5 minutes at first, then ten later on during the entire mass. I made sure to bring my timer, and we set it together and waited until it beeped. If he was still in his seat, being quiet he could have a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">marshmallow</span> or S<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">wedish</span> fish. This worked for most of the mass. I would like to say it was perfect and not a strand of my hair fell out of my head from stress, but in retrospect, Gabe did awesome all things considered.<br /><br />As we were about to leave, I noticed all the moms hanging around chatting as if they were just about to go out and get coffee or perhaps delaying a little before spending the afternoon casually preparing for the busy weekend. I, on the other hand, gave Gabe a big kiss on the head, smiled and said "Ready to go?" We did it, not totally unscathed, but my hair still looked good, Gabe had a snack and Boo smiled knowing she too was important to me.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></div><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH96X0SFJCkIT5ysqpDDua1N80RsUq6dyShvoq4k1GetyUJBj7QQ-CwifVA4hyphenhyphenLTT7bzVxkBoDDSwRFygMjcTFSf_CwBITs6BCL-sczkydocAHRekspD0FFPB1zFvNGGwu7JNG/s1600-h/100_0330.JPG"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5063327935102793298" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiH96X0SFJCkIT5ysqpDDua1N80RsUq6dyShvoq4k1GetyUJBj7QQ-CwifVA4hyphenhyphenLTT7bzVxkBoDDSwRFygMjcTFSf_CwBITs6BCL-sczkydocAHRekspD0FFPB1zFvNGGwu7JNG/s400/100_0330.JPG" border="0" /></span></a></div>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-29776001202797983962007-04-27T14:33:00.000-04:002007-04-27T15:59:57.622-04:00A Sobering Reality<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguUo14KGvcXEbmfLTa7Tj-uZf9jOn99GbGnNH-2KUPa410W_Tc9OJzGbClXdvEoUt_3klYdfZ2OHU0GdoFc2iJ7PzKRlVj3EvE8R5R62dDzifTJBgnsaJe5sfYbEZirExEtWoL/s1600-h/Outerspace2165.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058198365466867218" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguUo14KGvcXEbmfLTa7Tj-uZf9jOn99GbGnNH-2KUPa410W_Tc9OJzGbClXdvEoUt_3klYdfZ2OHU0GdoFc2iJ7PzKRlVj3EvE8R5R62dDzifTJBgnsaJe5sfYbEZirExEtWoL/s400/Outerspace2165.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I am not perfect. I don't even come close. I am so far flung from that reality, I don't think I can even see it from here. My world seems so <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">separate</span> from everyone <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">else's</span> that I feel as if I am the visitor here. An outsider than can barely speak the language. What's ironic about the whole situation is that it has nothing to do with Autism, this feeling of being alone. Because, for a brief moment in time I felt like my world could actually be the same world as other people I came in contact with when Autism was first introduced. Together, myself and these other mothers, could make a connection, that was real, had substance. Autism gave me that. It gave me an <em>in </em>with other mothers, who felt lost, saddened, stressed and still hopeful that amongst it all they could still be there for their child. But, the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">loneliness</span> is still there for me, even after the curtains pulled to the side for the final act. Before the applause was to happen, the standing ovation for all the dedication, love, heart and soul that I have poured selfishly into my child, I stand alone. Maybe it was never Gabe, but really all me. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">Somewhere along the way, his world <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">separated</span> like mine, drifting away from the one where every seemed to be headed. How am I to provide for my son what he needs if I can not even manage it for myself? I don't even speak the same language. It is all so foreign to me. The Kate Spade handbags, casual conversations about nothing, diamonds that sparkle as their heads turn. I am so far out from where everyone seems to be. Like I missed Adulthood 101 "This is how you act". I am having a really hard time. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKBwkuGhZRqaEMF-DukZg2ZgCrSOvBgu5_0awKy4-IGIg7APe6BOgrN_Y7IMw4aGTpcpMzBCQ9OmZaRuOFpXGInN2HVJp1HcId9Cfcdtahil6qHMzKHhd1J49vxKobTAwIVott/s1600-h/jimmy-choo_stiletto_49.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058198361171899890" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 121px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 115px" height="317" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKBwkuGhZRqaEMF-DukZg2ZgCrSOvBgu5_0awKy4-IGIg7APe6BOgrN_Y7IMw4aGTpcpMzBCQ9OmZaRuOFpXGInN2HVJp1HcId9Cfcdtahil6qHMzKHhd1J49vxKobTAwIVott/s400/jimmy-choo_stiletto_49.jpg" width="142" border="0" /></a>I didn't know that you are to dress up when you go to McDonald's. Really? That heals are not meant only for anniversaries, the theatre, and Galas, but should be worn when picking Gabe up from school, grocery shopping and (how stupid of me) to greasy <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">fastfood</span> places where your kids socks turn a swamp black as they run through the germ infested play area. Who knew? That proper <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">protocol</span> was to <em>only</em> wear something that <em>Ann Taylor</em>, <em>North Face</em>, <em>Ralph Lauren</em> or anything else (Thank God no one was actually wearing <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"><a href="http://www.bebe.com/gp/home.html">BeBe</a></span>) that could be purchased at <a href="http://www.thesomersetcollection.com/">The Somerset Collection</a>. You don't just wear a shirt and pants, but an <em>ensemble.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">Gabe and I were invited to meet a friend and her kids at McDonald's this afternoon to play in the play place. (Can I just let out a big '<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">EEEEWWW</span>!' about the condition that our play area is in). I go, because I really would like to spend some time chatting with this friend, I am trying to continue and hopefully maintain at least some friends from before Gabe's diagnosis. I live in a small town and all these moms know each other and they know me or at least "about" me. They know little <em>about</em> Gabe, most have no clue what our lives truly entailed the last two years<em>.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">Our worlds collided, these moms and I, it was awkward and the lack of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">interest</span> was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">palpable</span>. Did I tell you that the friend that I was meeting to spend time with also called most of the moms that I have, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">deliberately</span>, chosen not to talk to to meet us there? Did she know? Probably not. I was just hoping that she was as interested in getting together to talk with me as I was her. I am so way off in most of my friendships, it blows my mind <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">every time</span>. I am constantly being slapped in the face with this reality. That perhaps the store clerk who rang my groceries may not want be my Maid of Honor at my wedding? Am I that far off? No, but it sure feels that way sometimes. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">So, I would normally handle this 'rejection' by not talking to any of them again and starting over from scratch, in hopes to find more people like me. But, you can not run far enough away here. It is high school all over again. I liked that comparison. Funny enough, that was how my 'friend' described it too. I guess it will be a first in my life that I will have to stick it out. It's killing me. There is no bright light at the end, no rainbows after the storm, just me being an outsider, occasionally asked to join a few select functions. Mostly birthday parties and the rare <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">play date</span>. I hate saying this about myself. I know it can't all be me, but when you are the only one left waiting on the side lines and everyone else is out playing the game, scoring touchdowns for their kids, yeah, it's <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">kind've</span> a rude awakening, a painful one at that. Oh, and my neighbor of 5 years, that I just had over for a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">play date</span> not but a week ago, leaned over and told me," Yeah, 'L' (my friend) called and invited me and "J' and 'K' too, I thought about calling you, but you know...." and her voice trailed off. Not because she was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">embarrassed</span> or had an epiphany about her <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_16">blatant</span> disregard not to invite me, but because she knew, just as I did, that I don't belong. Not here, not in this group. I could feel the corners of my mouth drop as she was talking to me, by the end I pulled a smile and turned around, sinking quietly in my chair. "Why was there?" I thought. </span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9ZyK1cx69LDErEdlHv99OovntInMRHzp9YjV8GD6OsV8Fx91sIswHTWTXF7HkThTuvb8lBfDujzSD98a3gTGHSWeH66oi5ZBVxvTlqpXKYZusPWKwu5z7SO0LAvOW4JRXIIA/s1600-h/Mcd.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5058198365466867202" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 74px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 71px" height="223" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_9ZyK1cx69LDErEdlHv99OovntInMRHzp9YjV8GD6OsV8Fx91sIswHTWTXF7HkThTuvb8lBfDujzSD98a3gTGHSWeH66oi5ZBVxvTlqpXKYZusPWKwu5z7SO0LAvOW4JRXIIA/s400/Mcd.gif" width="228" border="0" /></a>Gabe had a really rough time at McDonald's. There was hitting, lots of sweat, pee in his pants and a lot of screams bellowing "No Thank You!". I had to carry him out to the car when we finally left. We sat there together, quietly. Gabe was protesting the car seat and I wanting to just drive away to anywhere that did not have golden arches. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">I haven't felt so trapped in myself in a long time. I was trapped in a car, outside the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_17">McDonalds</span> in sight of the play place. My 'friend' grabbed my bag for me and Gabe's coat when I said I had to go, because he was having a hard time. After unlocking the door, frantically watching as Gabe started walking away in the parking lot with just socks on, my 'friend' throws my stuff in the front seat, turns waves and says goodbye. If I didn't know better, I would think that I have just been voted off this world. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">It's OK if you have <em>that </em>icky feeling after reading this. The sourness in your stomach that reminds you, <em>Thank God you're not her</em>. I have it too, but unfortunately I am her. </span></strong></div>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-60121601945064708122007-04-26T12:41:00.000-04:002007-04-26T20:36:27.952-04:00The Group, The Diagnosis, The Million Dollar Question<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmplB9ED-L2RXNFlPNJ8AFCSiMn3zxnCQsADiFyUYcKGQEYHrqy0SwjSCdDb5BOXiN-o-SvIVsmZ-0QBupLMsBxc5ecI0xJBXRBB5rg6ZnvwU2mZmcQSVDBC6kwoS-yXSexPM/s1600-h/doctors_office.gif"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057889544433382866" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZmplB9ED-L2RXNFlPNJ8AFCSiMn3zxnCQsADiFyUYcKGQEYHrqy0SwjSCdDb5BOXiN-o-SvIVsmZ-0QBupLMsBxc5ecI0xJBXRBB5rg6ZnvwU2mZmcQSVDBC6kwoS-yXSexPM/s320/doctors_office.gif" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;"> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>I made the long drive today to Gabe's doctor. What used to be a 10 minute drive, is now an hour from our house. It was so <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">conveniently</span> close to our former house, going to the doctors <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">couldn't</span> have been any easier. We have tried switching, but doctors are really funny about letting you join their "patient club". You are snubbed appointments, until you can prove yourself worthy. I just don't have time to play that game. Our doctor has never turned us away, we have never had to wait an obscene amount of time in a waiting room or examining room, and he always greats us with a smile. So, what's a little scenic drive now and then?</strong></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">There have been times that our beloved doctor is not in and we have to reluctantly see one of the other doctors in the group. I will describe them as follows....</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8i4tbc2pXSKc3psd1j4QsDtzC4CmrP7XCOuan8E7HFp36qCFun4jTvdbRzMbbwfGJMKcrNp9zeJq1XaUPv2kjRQYoA3w1HeIzSGTcUscfnxYynSPlBwjFXnqwq4NnHlaFe0N7/s1600-h/smileywavingfinger.gif"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057889153591358914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8i4tbc2pXSKc3psd1j4QsDtzC4CmrP7XCOuan8E7HFp36qCFun4jTvdbRzMbbwfGJMKcrNp9zeJq1XaUPv2kjRQYoA3w1HeIzSGTcUscfnxYynSPlBwjFXnqwq4NnHlaFe0N7/s320/smileywavingfinger.gif" border="0" /></a>The Head of the Practice</em>- Doctor "I know everything and you know nothing"</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">He was snubbed once by parents with a child who has Autism, because they wanted to try <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Chelation</span> and he obviously thought they were wrong. He takes up <em>all </em>his issues about Autism with me, much to my chagrin.</span></strong> </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">We see him only under the most extreme circumstances.<br /></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIY7De6Zor-FUYiNZT_BWAkwnFtH2BLS_l7u0bsRlCRZZWR8wVr_YD4S-F_w4R8Mdt4wc7CkJUi9YROirBznKGJufBdEooBF-zCw6Kh6ekvfqhH8prPgMhsE_FqzSY2LtHXAO/s1600-h/angrysmileyface.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057888152863978882" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 73px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 48px" height="122" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQIY7De6Zor-FUYiNZT_BWAkwnFtH2BLS_l7u0bsRlCRZZWR8wVr_YD4S-F_w4R8Mdt4wc7CkJUi9YROirBznKGJufBdEooBF-zCw6Kh6ekvfqhH8prPgMhsE_FqzSY2LtHXAO/s320/angrysmileyface.jpg" width="177" border="0" /></a><em>Doctor #1</em>- She has a great accent ( I always <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">envision</span> a beautiful countryside in some far away place when she talks), but she is a terrible listener and can be a tad bit condescending.</span></strong> </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">Boo was born </span><a href="http://www.webmd.com/content/tools/1/slide_fetal_pos"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:100%;">Frank Breech</span></a><span style="font-size:100%;">. <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">She was the only doctor to advise getting X-rays of her hips to make sure they were OK. I can't help but have a place in my heart for her. </span></span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavNsQZdVm5-nG5L_Xxa7ielCXWYijDa2QcbCNp7jYaPjuCgzWo3ZHhFBXeNkbWfjucOG_BltvwNg90x2ch4tmpoU06zSJw6anUw6KLWe6qq-ZRIwSfgtQwNrJSBJKxxjuafBj/s1600-h/smirkeysmiley.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057888152863978914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 74px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 49px" height="194" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhavNsQZdVm5-nG5L_Xxa7ielCXWYijDa2QcbCNp7jYaPjuCgzWo3ZHhFBXeNkbWfjucOG_BltvwNg90x2ch4tmpoU06zSJw6anUw6KLWe6qq-ZRIwSfgtQwNrJSBJKxxjuafBj/s320/smirkeysmiley.jpg" width="94" border="0" /></a><em>Doctor #2</em>- She loves to reference books, talks really fast, but still not a bad alternative.</span></strong> </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">She was the first doctor to visit me in the hospital when Boo was born.<br /></span><br /></strong></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB8jrPHePnsUdI9x4x1REoeIlbvbhsbAECWHQu-mSoROeZiIBt3EBQmfbowgFee1QgzaCXop8nf6xJgvaJcotlHM5q24wrsZ9rJyXq41dz08Qnq5DrDIfK3w2JixLyEeqQuNVS/s1600-h/halfpoutsmiley.gif"><span style="font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057890150023771618" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB8jrPHePnsUdI9x4x1REoeIlbvbhsbAECWHQu-mSoROeZiIBt3EBQmfbowgFee1QgzaCXop8nf6xJgvaJcotlHM5q24wrsZ9rJyXq41dz08Qnq5DrDIfK3w2JixLyEeqQuNVS/s400/halfpoutsmiley.gif" border="0" /></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;">Doctor #3-</span></em><span style="font-size:130%;"> First doctor we interviewed in the practice, but she never really takes a close enough look for me. Just didn't jive with her, so we switched to our current doctor in the group.</span></span></strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPDDlJHc3O2bEsT8ihlpF4Zzf-h7Wn09qfgdp6zcnkpWjC4ZbYzeqhCy7bMZrmVZrIUAU5NdwMa0am_HBdl50gTYxPRQRX-mHj53QYFTHnH2yAYL-hCKazaOwrvLtaGEGYP7Ul/s1600-h/flirty+smiley.gif"><em><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057888148569011570" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPDDlJHc3O2bEsT8ihlpF4Zzf-h7Wn09qfgdp6zcnkpWjC4ZbYzeqhCy7bMZrmVZrIUAU5NdwMa0am_HBdl50gTYxPRQRX-mHj53QYFTHnH2yAYL-hCKazaOwrvLtaGEGYP7Ul/s320/flirty+smiley.gif" border="0" /></em></a><em>Doctor# 4</em>- Doctor P., our doctor now. He's funny, the kids love him, not too shabby to look at and is smart in a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">non condescending</span> way. I wish he knew more about the specifics about Autism.He told me once that," being a doctor feels wonderful when you can help someone, but there are times when you can't and that's hard to take."</span></strong> </span><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">I felt like hugging him after that comment. We had just found out Gabe had Autism. He was the first (and only) doctor to admit that he didn't know everything.<br /></span><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7c-k5LbA41HbKke82OX2HjbK0WMHlfvAk-QO4coXDDvchCSw7pdxIYXc7oVAHPQ8XH2byBNbamawbHS626As1atemduTENiyHWGXJRmL378mN0KajGvzZqx_m9FXU9h1NV3eD/s1600-h/smileywithglasses.gif"><em><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057888157158946226" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7c-k5LbA41HbKke82OX2HjbK0WMHlfvAk-QO4coXDDvchCSw7pdxIYXc7oVAHPQ8XH2byBNbamawbHS626As1atemduTENiyHWGXJRmL378mN0KajGvzZqx_m9FXU9h1NV3eD/s320/smileywithglasses.gif" border="0" /></em></a><em>Doctor #5</em>- She has read all the research, keeps up on all the journals and could <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">possibly</span> cure a disease in her spare time. She is all business. No time for all the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">niceties</span>. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHgV9kWzUfgfJdt3MvoWvzIp9Y8rd3Y4GMvwpOh4s4t0z-bCaM7hpwY0EH6AOUr8kTfa9HCnLTX670HvVA9Kfm4UmolH8HNS_e9r5O-taQHMUD9cQWItE9zNvfRWVV4BbDtiW_/s1600-h/sexysmileyface.jpg"></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"><span style="font-size:130%;">The last doctor is who we saw today, Doctor #5 (Please do not attempt small talk). Doctor P. was not in today. I asked again about the rash on Gabe's face and, much to my surprise, received another possible diagnosis...</span><a href="http://www.emedicine.com/ped/topic1246.htm"><span style="font-size:130%;"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">Keratosis</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Pilaris</span></span></a><span style="font-size:130%;">. Huh.....not </span><a href="http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/000869.htm#Symptoms"><span style="font-size:130%;">Contact Dermatitis</span></a><span style="font-size:130%;">, because it is persistent. Yet, still no affective treatment.</span></span></strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Our main reason for being there was due to the appearance of some bumps by Gabe's wrist and on his legs. We had spent the entire weekend outside and I had just thought it was bug bites. I saw him swatting in the air the other day as we played outside saying, "Go Away! Go away!" arms swinging wildly. Isn't it odd how the people that hate bugs the most get swarmed 9 out of 10 times? Gabe's itching lasted for days and a few more bumps joined the already present ones. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">SD swells when he gets <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">bitten</span> by <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">mosquito's</span>. I thought maybe Gabe was also very sensitive to the bites. By the third day, SD told me it could be Poison Ivy. We both thought, where would he have come in contact with Poison Ivy? Our trees do not even have leaves yet. Maybe a dried up leaf from the fall? Come to find out, Gabe must have come in contact with <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">something</span> he was allergic to, tree pollen, maybe grass, and scratched himself, letting the allergen under his skin and "<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">TaDa</span>!" instant reaction. The bumps aren't infected, so no <a href="http://www.kidshealth.org/parent/infections/bacterial_viral/staphylococcus.html">Staph infection.</a> (Gabe is more prone to those kinds of infections due to his <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eczema"><span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">excema</span></a>) Whew! </span></strong></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">I kept asking him (as he was itching) "Do you want some itchy medicine?" (<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">Hydrocortizone</span> or chewable <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_15">Benadryl</span>-both not bad in his book) </span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Gabe kept saying, as he was itching wildly, "No, I'm OK." </span></strong></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Doesn't it itch?" I say sympathetically.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"No." he responds.</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">"Gabe, then why are you itching? It must really itch. Are you sure? Let's get some medicine." Two seconds later, he is fully medicated and itch free. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">How come he just can't tell me?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Where is the connection not being made?</span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">This has become a huge mystery for me lately. So many things have clicked with him lately that I am completely blown away everyday. But, this, telling me he needs help when it comes to his body is just not coming together.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">What is preventing him from making that connection?</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">He asks me all day to help him with his marbles, choosing a video to watch, what to eat, and so on...just not with his own body. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">What am I missing? </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">Or better yet, what is Gabe missing?</span></strong><br /></span><br /><br /></span><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-79469634495073342822007-04-24T11:32:00.000-04:002007-04-25T10:50:19.518-04:00My Third Start<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_IBKbcPHMAqJU_cSxGoTL9KHkWU3H-DJkPNWKJAgiZEcFcs_1b1i1EhgY0Nl_A72gCWYnGKTeDhNauN1shdmwLYHo23pQ0g8BL_6X-zXhETve7qXjYjj1s1yeH-xyL2HHzj-Y/s1600-h/100_0131.JPG"></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0BQdto20487Yrgq1HY9-teaC0aFuwJZfIUX-rBCRzWca_Ke-0noB0AnyrcP9tdLyoCRF2kVhggcwIfQeCnTJp7Py4hnamrKMJ-0NQC4kkENwI6HESAcWdGfV5A1II6t-1bMk2/s1600-h/100_0218.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057038684101941938" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0BQdto20487Yrgq1HY9-teaC0aFuwJZfIUX-rBCRzWca_Ke-0noB0AnyrcP9tdLyoCRF2kVhggcwIfQeCnTJp7Py4hnamrKMJ-0NQC4kkENwI6HESAcWdGfV5A1II6t-1bMk2/s320/100_0218.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhyY8HtLIMF1Ijks37UWzZscJQ-txynGEXBenlC5LWEUR69I6JDAHZuj-dnYMzgKh1bxhgKrOkiF88dCex6OHQjVUj6pOTR8V2VCejH8w3Etf5OCBWsj82vJUTjWrpWVQ3FYDx4/s1600-h/100_0240.JPG"></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJdDK_WrpHgtrh2ulJm-DNBzzG7enwKxRuw2R4vWAK9wAnEitnPzbHwcsJcrg20XSoLynPdmencI_pQnvGCnkmidlan3YQOsadJw83YJ3IFvtFx31j_tc20C5ncwoDfKcXRf_m/s1600-h/100_0243.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong></strong></span></span></div><br /><br /><div><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>*</strong></span></span></div><div>*</div><div>*<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><strong>I have actually had a few things to talk about, but after I purged them out onto my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">cyber</span> canvas, they didn't seem to be able to sustain the dimensions of the page. They just fell flat, sprawled out, taking up space. So, that left me here with these random thoughts that have been floating around in my mind lately...</strong></span></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>#1</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>What classifies something as an epidemic? </strong></span><a href="http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/epidemic"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Dictionary.com </strong></span></a><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>defines it as something that is extremely prevalent and widespread. So, with that in mind, even with the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">argument</span> that just more children are being <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">labeled</span> as <em>"on</em> <em>the spectrum"</em> due only to diagnosis criteria, isn't Autism still an epidemic? I read a parenting magazine yesterday, while waiting in an office, that was clearly trying to convince parents not to buy the hype. What is that magazine trying to sell? That Autism is just a figment of <em>some</em> people's imagination and it doesn't normally happen to <em>good </em>people that read their magazine? </strong></span><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">#2</span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">I still love to walk. I walk as much as I can, because it keeps me sane and a whole lot less anxious. One thing I have noticed is I have great toned legs that I can now flex and show an impressive muscle. However, that same muscle that helps also to <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">tighten</span> the rear is still resting under *ahem* a few extra pounds . These <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">unwelcomed</span> pounds are making my pants tighter and less forgiving. God has a sick sense of humor when it comes to my body. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_PRuopbJOsiVN_tNHDRQSOpVZjEVj4ue78hqivP1DWtwXz6xoViyd2dOXLXA8kbGdXa2aT4riOKVMN4yS_eX6j1xnR33xx23oUe8ufzB33vYBRTtma2OIy-JJmRT1_XsEBGPJ/s1600-h/100_0112.JPG"></a></span></strong></div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNsXwl48CF1HZq_ICs-9pYyNaO61H3L3UF5wZqW67bohByOaqyC2CrTgmlANdaDEO-qGN9OfChUefgU5kLPIMJqIX_V9CRErfsE3jTFmANCJeyP86SppzuDssl5E9c-qpv_fEc/s1600-h/100_0240.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057376673798632802" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNsXwl48CF1HZq_ICs-9pYyNaO61H3L3UF5wZqW67bohByOaqyC2CrTgmlANdaDEO-qGN9OfChUefgU5kLPIMJqIX_V9CRErfsE3jTFmANCJeyP86SppzuDssl5E9c-qpv_fEc/s320/100_0240.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><br /><div><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /></div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div></div><div>*</div><br /><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">#3</span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">Gabe is still doing great, in fact we have left the "ABA trial table". I work on his programs <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">incidentally</span> throughout the day through books, play and general conversation. His last day in his speech based preschool will be in June. In the fall he will attend a regular preschool. I have begun to create a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">flyer</span> to give to the teachers about some <em>Gabe-isms.</em></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><em>*</em></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><em>* <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPI2ST1yas0yKRyXww9Sd2XUiA6wJPUx-c1NFDKK0599VKlI6OcuWdnhPY37lcKJzXPEuuXQ84JMgUnhO92AsOcwnCq2oy1SUNdpWmh3LsmVTLreB_E8Tz0GFKbWwmasSfQlTM/s1600-h/100_0106.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057036643992476290" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPI2ST1yas0yKRyXww9Sd2XUiA6wJPUx-c1NFDKK0599VKlI6OcuWdnhPY37lcKJzXPEuuXQ84JMgUnhO92AsOcwnCq2oy1SUNdpWmh3LsmVTLreB_E8Tz0GFKbWwmasSfQlTM/s320/100_0106.JPG" border="0" /></a></em></span></strong> </div><br /><br /><div><br /><strong><em><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></em></strong><br /></div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><br /></div><br /><div><br /></div><div>*</div><br /><br /><div>*<br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">Some<em> Gabe-isms</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><em>1) Sometimes I repeat what people say when I don't know what to say. Just ask me another way. There are times I may need a little extra help.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><em></em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><em>2) When I am hurt, I may not tell you. Sometimes I say "No, I'm OK" even when I am not. If you ask me very specific questions like "Does your knee hurt? I will be able to tell you. I may even give a little hug.</em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><em></em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><em>3) I am allergic to many foods. I am also a pretty picky eater. I don't mind only eating what mom sends from home. She also packs special treats in my bag in case someone brings in a special treat I can not have. </em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><em></em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><em>4) There are times I get so excited about something that I may ask for it over and over. Mom reminds me what she said and then lets me know if I ask again I may not get what I am asking for. I have to admit, this technique works well with me. </em></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><em></em></span></strong></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Those are a few that I have thought of. I don't want to mention that he is Autistic, although they already know, for the simple fact that I believe people see the word Autism and think of its stereotype before seeing Gabe. </span></span></strong></div><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><p><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"></span></span></strong></p><br /><br /><p><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">Here are some more thoughts....</p></span></span></strong><br /><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;">#4</span><br /></span></span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">With Melissa's great advice, I am going to call and make an appointment for my thyroid this week. Thanks Melissa!</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">#5</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">We have had quite a few schools on <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">lockdown</span> since Virgina <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">Tech's</span> shootings, because of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">similar</span> threats. The school locks all the doors, outside and in, the teachers remain with the students in the classroom, while police officers search the school. It can be very scary, real or not. SD is a school teacher. Everyday now I wonder if he will be coming home. What has happened to our world?</span></strong> <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jglQeyn3wyfx_OmmoBbtCnUO8F5TgdBz-T8GswgXynhEhh5Tf_TqsemPI8w3SAOSMX2592U9gdQC4V6DLJfGvUU5gOHrUsN0LfSxqo89pCyRN627LYJSXJbovDCS6wpGczCU/s1600-h/100_0111.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5057036652582410898" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8jglQeyn3wyfx_OmmoBbtCnUO8F5TgdBz-T8GswgXynhEhh5Tf_TqsemPI8w3SAOSMX2592U9gdQC4V6DLJfGvUU5gOHrUsN0LfSxqo89pCyRN627LYJSXJbovDCS6wpGczCU/s320/100_0111.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">*</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">*</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">So, there you have it, my current state of mind. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-15506795948156209882007-04-10T21:57:00.000-04:002007-04-12T09:41:06.637-04:00Change<strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Did I mention that change is difficult for me sometimes? <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Even though</span>, I know it is inevitable? That it is happening even when I swear it isn't? That I am so hell bent to keep this fast pace of therapy for Gabe that I missed the flags declaring the last lap of the race?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTcP1pJiD-6uzsDWittXqmWoCSZSJRn1Qug_n7NInF5iRq5_hY9AWm4ccWvZWAqe8oEX3sX4Gp6nuPHJG7fnEmhH9Xv_MCygVuKj0mrF-WtpQT8khhc0fbY_EFQL8BDXpIOVQ8/s1600-h/100_0057.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052528305986979602" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTcP1pJiD-6uzsDWittXqmWoCSZSJRn1Qug_n7NInF5iRq5_hY9AWm4ccWvZWAqe8oEX3sX4Gp6nuPHJG7fnEmhH9Xv_MCygVuKj0mrF-WtpQT8khhc0fbY_EFQL8BDXpIOVQ8/s320/100_0057.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></span></strong><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">*</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">*</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">*</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">-Gabe is age appropriate for his <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"><a href="http://www.behavior-consultant.com/whatablls.htm">ABLLS -R</a> (Assessment for Basic Language and learning Skills- Revised)</span>.<br /><br /><br />He </span></strong><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"><em>is age appropriate!<br /><br /></em>He walks, talks and acts like a soon to be 4 year old.<br /><br />He is picking up things at lightning speed. Gabe is filling in a lot of the gaps all on his own-no program, no fruit snack <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">reinforcers</span>....just Gabe putting all the pieces together. He has not completed the ABLLS, but he is on his way!<br /><br />*LOUD APPLAUSE*<br />*Bring in the band! *<br />*Swedish Fish for everyone!* </span></span></strong></div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></strong><br /><p><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></p></span></span></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFGUaNrEaNF7sXdADhmzG2wWzvG4lqlklJPoKlnpTLjmYuDgRiRWUaM6zwR4SCA9dGbpR3WATxSMCd3oG4IG4uniUZcvLz0t5tiYPUS3lYCN_FK4kl26vMyJ0uKdcu0NydJau/s1600-h/100_0056.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052528314576914210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPFGUaNrEaNF7sXdADhmzG2wWzvG4lqlklJPoKlnpTLjmYuDgRiRWUaM6zwR4SCA9dGbpR3WATxSMCd3oG4IG4uniUZcvLz0t5tiYPUS3lYCN_FK4kl26vMyJ0uKdcu0NydJau/s320/100_0056.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></strong><br /><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;">I wonder, silently (selfishly?), where does that leave me? What I mean is, what role will I play now? I obviously will still be Gabe's mom, but his needs are different. It feels like a shift, movement of the earth's plates, similar to your child entering the years of being a teenager. The years where what you thought was right, could be so very wrong. How do you navigate that world?<br /><br />I left the NT world 2 years ago. I left the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">phony</span> friendships that were based on where you live, what kind of house you have and the image of being the "perfect" mom. I was scared, but somewhat relieved. I was losing that race quickly, I was more interested on where I was going with my kids then who was running next to me and if they were wearing the "right outfit". </span></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">*</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">*</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;">In return, after venturing forward in a completely different direction, I was then unconditionally embraced by this Autism Ring and other parents with children on the spectrum. I found a world that revolved around what it truly meant to be a parent, especially a mother. I have felt more of a connection to the amazing women and men through our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Autismring</span>, than neighbors I have lived next to for the past five years. I have cheered, cried and sent good vibes to many who have posted ideas and thoughts about their children that have enabled me to push through another day. I will forever be <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">grateful</span>. </span></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">*</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">*</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;">When I am asked about what I think are the first things a parent with a child newly diagnosed <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">ASD</span>, I always say, get the best evaluation you can afford, write everything down (<em>everything</em>) and read blogs or journals by other parents with children who have <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">ASD</span>. You can begin to feel very alone and just reading other parents thoughts can be very comforting. The world of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">ASD</span> doesn't have to always have horrible <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">connotations</span>. I have found that doorways exist here that would've never been opened anywhere else. I have had <em>many</em> doors closed with the mere mention of <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">ASD</span>, painfully, right in front of me. There were also many more opened for me by another caring parent who just knew what it was I was going through with Gabe, because <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">ASD</span> had touched their lives too. </span></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;">*</span></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:130%;">*<br /><br />My son is ready to move on. He is ready to explore beyond the world that I have created. He is dipping his sweet, little toes in the crisp, cool, spring puddles. He is dancing around the edges, laughing at his reflection, admiring the ripples created by the gentle tap of his foot. I, however, can't help but hover, anxiously, arms poised to catch each and every <em>possible</em> fall. I am on the sides, trying to cover the puddles with my coat, hand within reaching distance, hoping to guide him safely around them. I am still the mother that worried about her son night and day, spent late evenings reading anything and everything about Autism, called doctors and pursed answers. I can't just flip the switch to off and leave that person behind. I can't seem to even dim the light.<br /><br />Am I out of my mind?<br /><br />This is the path Gabe has created. This is where he needs to go. All his therapy has lead him here. Isn't this the road I created? <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">Shouldn't</span> I be skipping, running towards the end?<br /><br />I am.<br />I am overjoyed.<br />I am <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">estactic</span>.<br /><br />With it comes anxiety (Can it be true?) Hope that seems so fragile (How long will it last?) Self doubt (Will I recognize when he is having trouble again?)<br /><br />I know that we are heading in the right direction. The world just looks different. Sunnier perhaps? More flowers? More smiles?<br /><br />Change is hard for me, but it seems to really work for Gabe</span></span></strong>.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu8RzblJA5a1oYESJ5we4jBStzmoqudplUBxRbpAyI-cG1drIgjGzuN2vRzVssVPFCSJwyWUP0epojohrYZH2C5_NZbCUS9vaPDN2zt9xBqMvk-avSJ2Zu23lbkwPaTTqd1J6O/s1600-h/Gabe+on+swing.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5052530303146772274" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhu8RzblJA5a1oYESJ5we4jBStzmoqudplUBxRbpAyI-cG1drIgjGzuN2vRzVssVPFCSJwyWUP0epojohrYZH2C5_NZbCUS9vaPDN2zt9xBqMvk-avSJ2Zu23lbkwPaTTqd1J6O/s320/Gabe+on+swing.jpg" border="0" /></a></div>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-32616653082467729902007-03-30T07:00:00.000-04:002007-03-30T15:39:51.478-04:00My thoughts on the book Strange Son by Portia Iverson<strong><span style="font-size:130%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwyycMM6ILZrrZAVG_DB6S_1MMstPcemIG8gtxdbsYb2uSKByy0NPbh8P6j0liw4IKnXFIIP9_ep2biXAKwXe8fUeeoc-e_Z6-XW8UAAKl8i80KGLuyVtu-yNfKLy_8AlLBhBM/s1600-h/Gabe's+2nd+bday+(52).JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047673209530503474" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwyycMM6ILZrrZAVG_DB6S_1MMstPcemIG8gtxdbsYb2uSKByy0NPbh8P6j0liw4IKnXFIIP9_ep2biXAKwXe8fUeeoc-e_Z6-XW8UAAKl8i80KGLuyVtu-yNfKLy_8AlLBhBM/s320/Gabe's+2nd+bday+(52).JPG" border="0" /></a></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">It has been two years and a half years since I first heard the word Autism float through the air and into my thoughts. It has been an incredible journey. I know that sounds cliche, but I do not think, personally, that there are many journeys in life like this one. Maybe that is my own ego erupting with, "Autism is something that only those close to it can understand." But, it changes you, your family, how you see the world, whether you like it or not. I have found that some changes were very painful for Gabe and I. Such changes forced us to stretch our thinking and ourselves in understanding how to continue forward, while still embracing each other's limitations. Some changes have opened my eyes to a world that does not lend itself to a "wait and see approach". The world of Autism has many different countries with numerous dialects. What is acceptable in one country of Autism, may deliver a totally different response in another. Each day the language may change, current currency exchange may rise and fall, and the day's special could be something wonderful you never even anticipated. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">I remember what it felt like to have a child that never interacted. My son's absent smiles, toys that were more preferred than me and the empty look as he gazed off in the distance. Gabe <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">tantrumed</span> constantly about almost everything from getting into the car, eating or putting on his coat. Everyday things became huge mountains to climb. To top it off, Gabe was non verbal without any use of gestures. When some days became too much and I needed a little reassurance that we would make it through this. I would long to hug Gabe. But, giving him a hug was received as something painful and unloving to Gabe. He would so desperately want to get away from your touch. As parents we felt like our son was unreachable in every way a parent should love their child. He was in his own world and we were not welcome.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">I was fortunate that that period lasted for only a year. It was a year of desperation, <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">loneliness</span>, and anger. Anger not towards Autism, but towards the medical profession for taking the stance that my son was not worth even exploring the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">possibilities</span> that were starting to emerge. I had many doors shut in my face, phone calls gone silent, and blank stares during that long year. It is the part of my journey with Autism I would choose not to relive again. As a mother, there is nothing more heart wrenching than when someone shuts the door of possibility right in front of your child. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">All these memories have been stirred to the surface since I started reading <em>Strange Son</em>.<br /><br /></span></strong><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5IWXPYrA5vF8kHbwEbNdhT2g0z-qopZ5pMx0LpPmcI_s-Lr4oWnT4InjaeGTtxEzu8-j-nt5HSpDjJD2cfMOK4_B8afjK0oFJF18hWNKs0B8CG7hH7aXbgzRKnoiWT3LK-wHG/s1600-h/strangesonbook.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5047673205235536162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5IWXPYrA5vF8kHbwEbNdhT2g0z-qopZ5pMx0LpPmcI_s-Lr4oWnT4InjaeGTtxEzu8-j-nt5HSpDjJD2cfMOK4_B8afjK0oFJF18hWNKs0B8CG7hH7aXbgzRKnoiWT3LK-wHG/s320/strangesonbook.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">The title makes me shiver <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">every time</span> I pick up the book. <em>Strange</em> son? How could a mother choose such a title for her book about <em>her </em>son? I almost didn't put it on my <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">birthday</span> list, had I not heard that she also did a lot of <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">research</span> about Autism and was the driving force behind one of the largest Autism Groups, <a href="http://www.cureautismnow.org/site/c.bhLOK2PILuF/b.1021889/k.BFD8/Home.htm">CAN (Cure Autism Now). </a>As I read, I begin to understand her choice for the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">title</span>. It is not a word that denotes seclusion, lower status in intelligence or perpetuates the stereotype that follows Autism everywhere, but rather, the reaction from the world to her son, the wall of denial that was built too tall to climb, to overcome, the <em>strange</em> circumstance that no one knew what to do with Autism everywhere in regards to research, schooling, health care, or in creating an atmosphere for success for these children. The<em> strange</em> world you are thrust into when your child is diagnosed with Autism. It is a third dimension, sometimes created by Autism itself, but mostly by the uneducated community that surrounds you. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">So, those are my thoughts for now. I am only about 1/4 the way through and am hooked. I admire her drive and tenacity. I also am saddened by her sense of loss she feels with her son. I wonder if I could have kept hope for Gabe for so long had he never improved with ABA, Speech, outstanding therapists and the incredible <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">bloggers</span> that keep me sane everyday with letting me know I am not alone and neither is Gabe.</span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">A couple things to remember when reading this book, the author's journey began almost 14 years ago. Her and her husband were alone in their journey. There wasn't an incredible group of Autism B<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">loggers</span>, Yahoo groups (Yahoo started up around 1996 <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">publicly</span>), and the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">Internet</span> was hard to navigate with little or no medical listings. Another aspect to consider, Autism was completely dismissed by the medical community. We are still being quieted by our doctors being told our fears are <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">unwarranted</span>, when in truth they just missed the <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">blatant</span> warning signs. Can you imagine if every doctor said and felt the same thing? That your child was mentally <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">inferior</span> with nothing of merit to contribute to this world? Children were still being sent to institutions. Special education and the public schools? I can't even imagine the atrocities. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-size:130%;">So, with all that in mind, I applaud her. In fact, standing ovation. When there was no one, nothing for Dov, she made something. It may not have been the same thing we would choose today for our children diagnosed with Autism, although I can not imagine what she possibly did not do for her son, she did <em>something</em> where there was <em>nothing</em>. That to me is amazing. </span></strong>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-5618506313617883242007-03-27T07:52:00.000-04:002007-03-27T10:20:48.652-04:00OK, Let me just explain....<div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">Last night, SD turned to me and said with an eyebrow raised, "Autism for Dummies?"<br />He was looking over my <em>Books I had read on Autism</em> over in my side bar of my blog.<br />"Do they really have a book <em>for Dummies</em> about Autism?"<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizKneh_HzGPq4E4E7WZAFkj19S-4fSYOFTPWBl_zSrKxtsS865f1bNIlGy5tbEhfcGVSY_dIuKY0xppuDl3M8pxOJ1QOh7yGEvc4TZPUoLnDWAmHjHa3yrTkp-oibF08O3IG6j/s1600-h/Autism+for+dummies.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5046608728173016594" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizKneh_HzGPq4E4E7WZAFkj19S-4fSYOFTPWBl_zSrKxtsS865f1bNIlGy5tbEhfcGVSY_dIuKY0xppuDl3M8pxOJ1QOh7yGEvc4TZPUoLnDWAmHjHa3yrTkp-oibF08O3IG6j/s320/Autism+for+dummies.jpg" border="0" /></a>"Yes. " I pause, embarrassed by such a <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">title</span> and the fact that it is indeed a part of my cherished library at home. "But let me explain..." I stop what I am doing in the kitchen and look through the window that opens to where SD is sitting on the couch, lap top in hand.<br />"The reason I bought that book, although extremely difficult as it was with such a title, was due to the fact that it had a few very informative chapters on government <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">assistance</span>, agencies and support groups." I explained with conviction that I had indeed made an appropriate purchase.<br />SD smiled at me, then replied,"I just thought it was funny that they had one about Autism, that's all. The <em>For Dummies </em>books can be very helpful."<br /><br />Oh.<br /></span><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvp2jiC_VkwZ2mANFgnhm0O8tUsmAoJ9Y7HYqVeZn3akBKJ2cT_8H4ey6i96DeCR7prRo0P9yxrxQzzd20C1kc8dEOB05ELnd0IH52ZKbk8PekaE9xXhzUxx7Ycf3gDKUcK1g/s1600-h/for+dummies+3.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5046608728173016610" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEirvp2jiC_VkwZ2mANFgnhm0O8tUsmAoJ9Y7HYqVeZn3akBKJ2cT_8H4ey6i96DeCR7prRo0P9yxrxQzzd20C1kc8dEOB05ELnd0IH52ZKbk8PekaE9xXhzUxx7Ycf3gDKUcK1g/s320/for+dummies+3.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNh8YBtjp1UPKIrBZkzpKsx4pCBIHm4XfG_PAO09yohlMCNhx18CwqPTQsReAWPAhiTCPdgaLG1HV165Sqc9RIyjGpYF2gO2pYsCtHCBPx7K4xi9ina6d2WDDgFR_1g9OUf_oj/s1600-h/for+dummies+1.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5046608728173016578" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNh8YBtjp1UPKIrBZkzpKsx4pCBIHm4XfG_PAO09yohlMCNhx18CwqPTQsReAWPAhiTCPdgaLG1HV165Sqc9RIyjGpYF2gO2pYsCtHCBPx7K4xi9ina6d2WDDgFR_1g9OUf_oj/s320/for+dummies+1.bmp" border="0" /></a></strong></div>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-79304345146814994782007-03-22T11:42:00.000-04:002007-03-22T18:39:14.997-04:00Hypotonia<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyASH7Z91JcnpWxTnX3Ti_ZUIfM39pzFYlPzyJ4JQH8_MWtb1ZgL8BImdPXcvSFzl3sv1vXJUEswn0JJ1SeJDRzet5_QWxpcq8WcDebTAVwqHZsp46kY49fgG3d0bpkMYIImfY/s1600-h/hypotonia.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044789801099793554" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyASH7Z91JcnpWxTnX3Ti_ZUIfM39pzFYlPzyJ4JQH8_MWtb1ZgL8BImdPXcvSFzl3sv1vXJUEswn0JJ1SeJDRzet5_QWxpcq8WcDebTAVwqHZsp46kY49fgG3d0bpkMYIImfY/s320/hypotonia.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">When Gabe was first diagnosed at 20 months, I <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">immediately</span> had him evaluated for OT, PT and speech. Speech began at square one. She started with trying to get Gabe to say anything. The speech therapist had not only the longest road, but the most rewarding. She saw first hand his amazing growth over the past two years in language. The Occupational therapist suggested we work on his eating, holding utensils and expanding what he would eat. Physical therapy revolved around Gabe's new diagnosis of <a href="http://www.mamashealth.com/muscle/hypo.asp">H<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">ypotonia</span></a>. <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Hypotonia</span>? I thought after reading <a href="http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/imagepages/17229.htm">online</a> and seeing pictures of limp babies, I just didn't see it. Gabe is strong with a capital "S". The therapist agreed and added that it was only a slight <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">affliction</span>. I then wondered what that meant? He is <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">kind've</span> limp? I still wasn't seeing it, but continued therapy anyway. We stopped after a month or two, because he was, still is, right on mark for what he should be doing developmentally motor/physically. This "Hypotonia" didn't seem to be affecting him, that we could see, like his speech and eating were. So, we focused instead on those two things. Some of you know how intense his <a href="http://eterniti1.blogspot.com/2006/03/what-is-successful-eating.html">eating program </a>was at <a href="http://www.beaumonthospitals.com/pls/portal30/site.web_pkg.page?xpageid=center_care">CARE (Children with Autism Reaching Excellence) </a>and Gabe goes twice a week to a private speech therapist.<br /><br />So, week after week, Gabe and his physical therapist worked on his "core strength", <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">building</span> and adding tone to his middle. We refer to that area as "The Chubs". Is he overly flabby? No. He looks like a boy who is turning four and still has a little squish in the middle. He does have <em>my</em> genes. Boo is long and lean like SD was growing up. Gabe is not <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRgXphvBKEH0Zcmzv1LtMOVO_oD6o8KVBXre_-wnXJ09A9Ad622OetESEV2jaV0eadOweNIuMEM8vQQTIx3698EukfZ8HRjxTjOKYxq8lnOQb_VVtUGaYRmlaxRXSnuWxV4L3Y/s1600-h/DSCN0039.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044789818279662770" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRgXphvBKEH0Zcmzv1LtMOVO_oD6o8KVBXre_-wnXJ09A9Ad622OetESEV2jaV0eadOweNIuMEM8vQQTIx3698EukfZ8HRjxTjOKYxq8lnOQb_VVtUGaYRmlaxRXSnuWxV4L3Y/s320/DSCN0039.JPG" border="0" /></a>overweight or inactive. </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">What struck me, almost two years later, was how Gabe never got the hang of some simple body movements that babies do naturally.<br />Let me explain, because I really wonder if anyone else sees this in their children, Gabe as a baby never gripped my hip with his legs when I carried him. (Boo was like a monkey) I had to fully support Gabe's body (You can see it in the picture above). If I were to let go of him, which I would never do, but if I did, he would fall to the floor. He would not even attempt to hang on. Another example, is if you were to help him out of the car he would not jump to assist you or hang on to your arm. I would be lifting his whole body. Same with putting him in. Gabe would'nt lean in and reach for his car seat, balancing his weight,while I helped him slide into his seat. I had to lift and place him there, unassisted for a long time. My back hurt every night. Now he walks in and sits in his seat all by himself. Thank God!<br /><br />I thought about this a lot today while I watched him at gymnastics. They have a mini bar that Gabe's class practices holding themselves up on (Arms straight, body balanced on bar). G<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">abe</span> does pretty good with that most of the time, it is when she bends their body to flip around, that he goes limp. Putting all his weight on her. It's as if he doesn't know how, to either assist with movement, or he is missing something else. Is that the H<span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">ypotonia</span>? I noticed it again when he got to go down the slide into the foam pit at the end. When his teacher tried helping him out of the pit, Gabe went limp. I could see the strain in her face. She said, "Gabe's a big boy!"<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqTm8Ie07HKTX-68ZjZmUV432H7FTL1BwArBO-nMaR2vo_HUrJyLFa5ACGj4BemGA_ya6_jnqcQwWqIh1Je-k6GKjwdx6o8ZFh4HceTx5gaLenGndcTK0sPPED62OozFW8GBN9/s1600-h/9monthschubby.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5044789809689728162" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqTm8Ie07HKTX-68ZjZmUV432H7FTL1BwArBO-nMaR2vo_HUrJyLFa5ACGj4BemGA_ya6_jnqcQwWqIh1Je-k6GKjwdx6o8ZFh4HceTx5gaLenGndcTK0sPPED62OozFW8GBN9/s320/9monthschubby.jpg" border="0" /></a>He is tall and has a strong build. I have heard "solid" when <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">referring</span> to Gabe's stature. But, I wonder how much is Gabe and how much is it being limp? I've been trying to plan ways to work on it, as if it was a skill to learn, but wonder how can I make him grip me? Maybe he just doesn't know that is what he is supposed to do? Why should he help, if someone else will do all the work? </span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">(Gabe at 9 months old. He has lost most of the baby chubs, but still has a little squoosh around the middle)</span></strong>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-6200389948053766282007-03-19T07:26:00.000-04:002007-03-19T08:03:33.535-04:00Hello?<span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>I have a feeling that I have somehow fell off the Autism <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Blogger sphere</span>. The comments have dwindled to a very (cherished) few. Is anyone out there? Did the switch from the old Blogger to the new leave me stranded out in blog land? </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>SD said my last blog was <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">depressing</span>. He wasn't sure he <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">would've</span> commented either. Although I did get a lot of welcomed hugs from SD, with a great set of ears that listen to me babble on and on occasionally. I have to admit, it was a bummer one. I just can't write a lot of "Chicken Soup for the Soul" like entries. Which is funny, because I like reading those the most on other people's blogs. It's hard to read the posts where people are struggling, because I live far away from each of you and I just want to give a hug with a reassuring smile. Sometimes comments and email just do not feel like enough. Then <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">some days</span>, it does the job perfectly.</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQb1lH40GIZlyef9RDMt5YnLRoAX5wjItRVpSYN50in7-l8nTDCWnctX1a3lrQvKwGCBYhHRSw6yZvwYtUVCWJJlvHdoOfSj3vfMtR1CdrQuf6TY9CXrEZjnfqcvjsMIqUen_5/s1600-h/IMG_0342.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043603882090045826" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQb1lH40GIZlyef9RDMt5YnLRoAX5wjItRVpSYN50in7-l8nTDCWnctX1a3lrQvKwGCBYhHRSw6yZvwYtUVCWJJlvHdoOfSj3vfMtR1CdrQuf6TY9CXrEZjnfqcvjsMIqUen_5/s320/IMG_0342.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Do I just have people that prefer to read, rather than comment? I have also spent a lot of time reading lately and leaving the comments for another time. Blogger for awhile wouldn't let me comment. It's a long process for me to comment now with the new log in. </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>So, I just was wondering...</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>If you're just a reader, browser, fell upon my blog by shear coincidence or just wondered what Gabe was like, </strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Welcome!</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Please feel free to just say Hi </strong></span><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Thanks.</strong></span></p>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-38425903078160100472007-03-17T22:12:00.000-04:002007-03-17T23:34:51.894-04:00Maintenance after 30,000 miles<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc7ZWOhZv1b2e8KardBythQuT5rqd0i2JfW-RSbvxlB8pQDSJ59q_oRU7ABWsoFbscWgnb6Jn-l4J1WvAPij6IsZQ7PO9Xl7L-fFyb3VJOzVRbGQ98p2fFtyD_UM3ITcVqZTwM/s1600-h/candles.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043098222705385794" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 224px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 111px" height="174" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc7ZWOhZv1b2e8KardBythQuT5rqd0i2JfW-RSbvxlB8pQDSJ59q_oRU7ABWsoFbscWgnb6Jn-l4J1WvAPij6IsZQ7PO9Xl7L-fFyb3VJOzVRbGQ98p2fFtyD_UM3ITcVqZTwM/s320/candles.jpg" width="257" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>So, my birthday is coming up fast, just around the bend and with it, I feel like I am loosing my mind. The two being totally unrelated, I think.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><div><div><br /><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span></div><div><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>I'm anxious, irritable, elated, joyous, complacent, saddened,overwhelmed , energized and lost, but found <em>all at the same time</em>. Did I mention that I am exhausted?</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>I know there is something wrong, but am just too stubborn to approach the <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDD1YU2q50wLxkgV5QdDJmEn2bafSAyrh1eQPCCxNI7LWipIJrS3cqHJ1p3K0Wg2EiYg5T_cjGKI3SYPwtQpEIGlkC11EEEW0bRz9p9Ds7uS5XK0xqI3M0i9K7227_nwPEsZ5-/s1600-h/pills2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043099403821392210" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 162px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 145px" height="319" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDD1YU2q50wLxkgV5QdDJmEn2bafSAyrh1eQPCCxNI7LWipIJrS3cqHJ1p3K0Wg2EiYg5T_cjGKI3SYPwtQpEIGlkC11EEEW0bRz9p9Ds7uS5XK0xqI3M0i9K7227_nwPEsZ5-/s320/pills2.jpg" width="309" border="0" /></a>medical community with the same gumption that I use with Gabe. I was diagnosed with borderline hypothyroidism when I was pregnant with Gabe. They prescribed the appropriate medication and off I went. At every checkup, I was inundated with questions about how I felt. Each month, as they massaged my neck looking for a goiter, I always responded with, "I feel pregnant." Because outside of all the stuff that goes with being pregnant having hypothyroidism just adds some pepper to the already salty soup.</strong></span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:130%;">Early symptoms:<br /></span><a href="http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/003174.htm">Weakness</a><br /><a href="http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/003088.htm">Fatigue</a><br /><a href="http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/003095.htm">Cold intolerance</a><br />Constipation<br /><a href="http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/003084.htm">Weight gain (unintentional)</a><br /><a href="http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/003213.htm">Depression</a><br /><a href="http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/003261.htm">Joint or muscle pain</a><br /><a href="http://www.nlm.nih.gov/medlineplus/ency/article/003247.htm">Thin, brittle fingernails</a><br />Thin and brittle hair<br />Paleness<br /><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>Some of those symptoms fit my pregnancy profile, except the hair and nails. I have always had thick hair and nails. But, I have terribly dry skin and hair.</strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong></strong></span><br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><strong>They never felt a goiter and I was taken off the medication for hypothyroidism soon after Gabe was born. Do I still have hypothyroidism? Could it be depression? Anxiety issues? I just feel a little <em>off.</em> I'll be 35 years old soon. Did someone throw me on the menapause wagon a little too early? Early dementia? I'm at a loss as to where to start with the medical community. I don't even have a doctor. When I find one, they either disappear from "the group" (that should be a clear sign of something) or they leave to continue their profession elsewhere. So, I have specialists scattered everywhere, but no one that knows <em>me</em>, my medical history or needs. </strong></span></div><br /><br /><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_K4QN5th7_YImmEDqZY2CBpLaHyocO6eV5yxEcfhi8WdEVmnbPSaMrgcBWB806py_7j-lRjX17sK2GyVMcJVcrJHP5ovGJ_rKBr_gSGKMemBQSMlK6hQb3y7EcCDzQh9-Q_AK/s1600-h/fairytopia.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043094653587562786" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="153" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_K4QN5th7_YImmEDqZY2CBpLaHyocO6eV5yxEcfhi8WdEVmnbPSaMrgcBWB806py_7j-lRjX17sK2GyVMcJVcrJHP5ovGJ_rKBr_gSGKMemBQSMlK6hQb3y7EcCDzQh9-Q_AK/s320/fairytopia.jpg" width="178" border="0" /></a>I couldn't even get an appointment today (Hello strep throat) because I had not seen a doctor within 'the group" within the last six months. I was not a "current" patient, so they could not squeeze me into their already booked time slots. I do not exist. I could not even get accepted by a group of people I would <em>pay </em>to see me. This left me with a whole new list of feelings to deal with today along with my burning throat, exhausted body, a killer headache and a sad Boo, because I was too sick to play Fairytopia with her. </span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong> </div><div> </div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">I always wondered why it is that someone doesn't hand you a maintence schedule at the doctors office? I could really use a clingy that reminds me that if I haven't had sex, slept well, or had skin that peeled and cracked no matter what, that in three months I need to see someone about it. I need a list that states specifically what I need to have done every so many "<em>miles</em>". I need it to cater specifically to me. Does the fact that my father had pallaps mean I should have a colonoscopy earlier? I need a list! I wanna know. Does the fact that my mom smoked consistency around me for 18 years and then I coninued for 9 years mean I should be screened for lung cancer? </span></strong></div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><div><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHvna4571SzPGt_Du2c-QEfPv7FxcmYlCLUX9RtLnux8V1emtwQGao8SEmwDUAkepzbosGftDNSAh4yNeEhF8mRmmDKdxDOme6geOn3mz_npcboSrf7MRAMWKMB7Vxa86rzS0S/s1600-h/Car.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5043095993617359154" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHvna4571SzPGt_Du2c-QEfPv7FxcmYlCLUX9RtLnux8V1emtwQGao8SEmwDUAkepzbosGftDNSAh4yNeEhF8mRmmDKdxDOme6geOn3mz_npcboSrf7MRAMWKMB7Vxa86rzS0S/s320/Car.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:Trebuchet MS;font-size:130%;">As I get older, I find that I am more drawn to other people's health issues. I want to know what that test was like and how exactly does Chemo work? I want to be prepared. Is 35 the year you start planning for your health for tomorrow? </span></strong></div></div></div>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-22566914775032623742007-03-14T19:43:00.000-04:002007-03-14T20:20:03.155-04:00Gabe's New Phrase Besides Me Too!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6YbdfEg2rO_Zb82UUwI7xzq9oWH1226WSgOz7_jmyIayO_XgB3oh_PW6_b5FJFLFO99gqj0pWot4iKC_fFWhTazoo0ubBMY-QqsJxQbj4WfO_RBe1jX6iDE9lSb1qxEF-KozS/s1600-h/IPOD.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041936520562926034" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6YbdfEg2rO_Zb82UUwI7xzq9oWH1226WSgOz7_jmyIayO_XgB3oh_PW6_b5FJFLFO99gqj0pWot4iKC_fFWhTazoo0ubBMY-QqsJxQbj4WfO_RBe1jX6iDE9lSb1qxEF-KozS/s320/IPOD.jpg" border="0" /></a> What's on my <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Ipod</span>? Obviously very little that Gabe wanted to listen too. Because, according to Gabe, when I asked him if he wanted to listen to The Goo Goo Dolls' song <em>Sympathy</em> he replied with,"I don't think so."<br /><br />Pink!? Dixie Chicks? Christina <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">Aguilera</span>? Maroon 5? Black Eyed Peas?<br /><br /><br /><br />Was that an <em>I don't think so</em>?<br />I said, "Oh really?"<br />"Highway song. Listen to highway song!" Gabe cheered.<br />Gabe has a few songs that he is really into. They are the following...<br /><br /><em>Life is a Highway</em> Rascal <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">Flatts</span><br /><br /><br /><em>Real Gone</em> Cheryl Crow<br /><br /><br /><em>Time to Start</em> Blue Man Group<br /><br /><br /><em>Shine </em>Robots soundtrack<br /><br /><br /><em>Black Horse and the Cherry Tree</em> KT <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">Tunstall</span><br /><br /><br /><em>Irresistible</em> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">Beyonce</span> (He says to the right, to the right instead of to the left)<br /><br />He loves to sing. In fact, Gabe knows much more than he lets on. I remember about 6 months ago we started expecting Gabe to participate in grace. First, just sitting quietly, then putting his hands together to pray, and then saying Amen. It took him about a month to catch on.<br /><br />One evening, we made Gabe's favorite, steak and french fries with a cold cup of milk. We all sat down, hands together and began in prayer....Bless us <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">O'Lord</span>....enthusiastically, Gabe continued...and we stopped. We stopped saying grace, because Gabe was not only saying Grace with us, but could <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">recite</span> our prayer in its entirety, word for word, all the way up until the Amen.<br />"Amen!" he smiled.<br /><br /><br />Amazed, I asked Gabe, "What are you thankful for?"<br /><br /><br />He laughed and proudly stated, "French Fries!"<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ewskWAWuvkTvOOZtzFReEBxdx-C0-KkQj2kirVuOFtXfBSL6s1E9DpmozdY2xyqGMjq7jRFKQ8foTKD6ksdR8xQw1hC_LikHSmYgkQSA8DpqoSgK5Za3khpJCcpIW83qtp1I/s1600-h/french+fries.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5041936524857893346" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" height="128" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg0ewskWAWuvkTvOOZtzFReEBxdx-C0-KkQj2kirVuOFtXfBSL6s1E9DpmozdY2xyqGMjq7jRFKQ8foTKD6ksdR8xQw1hC_LikHSmYgkQSA8DpqoSgK5Za3khpJCcpIW83qtp1I/s320/french+fries.jpg" width="181" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />Amen.Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-14674525.post-39066787966529253392007-03-08T20:41:00.000-05:002007-03-08T21:58:41.340-05:00It's All About Chocolate and Karma<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0jbU1GLjtQdpzqVHTxX0i38F1sDJaVaByXfhK1QlMTBUwmQST6uVRbZ13njg0XCFS5WJRh44OJiO-GfB1-nPVXKuxuP7ZSyQEU5YEe4NknDOAL1hRhrh2PEWv63gcJbeHBhO/s1600-h/DSCN4567.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039744392819064914" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR0jbU1GLjtQdpzqVHTxX0i38F1sDJaVaByXfhK1QlMTBUwmQST6uVRbZ13njg0XCFS5WJRh44OJiO-GfB1-nPVXKuxuP7ZSyQEU5YEe4NknDOAL1hRhrh2PEWv63gcJbeHBhO/s320/DSCN4567.JPG" border="0" /></a> <strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">February/March marks the time of year for placing your child's name on several preschool waiting lists...for <em>next </em>year and the possibility for an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">IEP</span> meeting with our district. If you remember, Gabe can not attend school until he has been </span></strong><br /><div><div><div><a href="http://eterniti1.blogspot.com/2006/06/well-have-to-adjourn-this-meeting-then.html"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">"re-evaluated"</span></strong></a><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"> (I am laughing, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">snarkly</span>, at how <a href="http://eterniti1.blogspot.com/2006/02/net-plastic-tote-swinging-screaming.html">our district evaluated Gabe</a>) We are tossing around a few ideas.<br /><br /></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"></span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">This has raised an interesting question for SD and I.....<br />"Do we <em>have</em> to have an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">IEP</span>?"<br />Can he attend preschool without one?<br />It's an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">interesting</span> question. Academically, Gabe is right on par with his peers, I work very <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">closely</span> with a Behavioral Therapist (ABA) for all his goals, his speech is coming along while he receives private speech, and the school district seems reluctant to provide any help with behavioral issues....So....."What does Gabe need an <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">IEP</span> for?"<br /><br /></span></strong><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bQKinZpEF760L4Bzk8AYD6cT5GNldAR4leGx2i-gaPjh1NCwUYSjVpPLGjswrIMtm290v72XlQnYgn5HryO5uU5GYFrI5BWo35XY0lMvIcADY507F5j0MEKPo-rJSCrsngvw/s1600-h/DSCN4564.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039742799386198082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 256px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 217px" height="106" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bQKinZpEF760L4Bzk8AYD6cT5GNldAR4leGx2i-gaPjh1NCwUYSjVpPLGjswrIMtm290v72XlQnYgn5HryO5uU5GYFrI5BWo35XY0lMvIcADY507F5j0MEKPo-rJSCrsngvw/s320/DSCN4564.JPG" width="169" border="0" /></span></strong></a></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I was planning on sending Gabe to the same preschool that Boo went to in our public school and I would be a room mom or shadow him for the first week or two. If his behavior became an issue, then we would look to preschools that cater to children that need extra help in certain areas, like Gabe's preschool now. Unfortunately, Gabe's current preschool only provides preschool for two half days a week. Next school year, Gabe will need to be in preschool for 5, 1/2 days. He is just ready. He's ready right now, but it's too late in the year. I also want to continue his involvement in extra curricular activities like swimming, gymnastics, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">soccer</span>, <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">storytime</span> and such. </span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK50i_Tp7I1ad36SXzw7bM2web63k24vHFkcRpwFY8zHRH7rOzb_A80IMJiIsx_Ug11M-pB-TkTdOwPGU6T2ZabPXbYTtGLaNjNUqQkwGDEl5lakSpk9qAIVRGzQKuU5C85nUz/s1600-h/DSCN4542.JPG"><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039744985524551778" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 221px" height="240" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhK50i_Tp7I1ad36SXzw7bM2web63k24vHFkcRpwFY8zHRH7rOzb_A80IMJiIsx_Ug11M-pB-TkTdOwPGU6T2ZabPXbYTtGLaNjNUqQkwGDEl5lakSpk9qAIVRGzQKuU5C85nUz/s320/DSCN4542.JPG" width="319" border="0" /></span></strong></a><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;"> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">SD's</span> thoughts are this....I should call the Special Education Director and let him hear some of our thoughts, this way the preschool teachers would not feel like they were being <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">deceived</span> if we just put Gabe in their class. I had asked during our last <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">IEP</span> if Gabe could attend the regular preschool with an aide and I was told no. But, were they saying no to the aide or the preschool part? I want to believe it was the aide, because the people in the room during our <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">IEP</span> had never even met Gabe and the only info they have about him is from when they <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">evaluated</span> Gabe at 18 months old. (!) </span></strong></div><div><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">If it doesn't pan out, we have a few other ideas up our sleeve outside of our district. We just really wanted to Gabe to have friends that live nearby and not an hour away like he does now from his current preschool.</span></strong></div><div><br /><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I just want what is best for Gabe.<br />I just want a preschool teacher to fall in love with all that is wonderful about him.</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I want someone that will not stereotype or limit him based on his diagnosis. </span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I want him to keep soaring and I need someone who will help him with his wings from time to time when we are not there.</span></strong></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">It's a big list, but I am going to go out there with the belief that that person is out there. </span></strong></div><div><br /><br /></div><div><strong><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;font-size:130%;">I am going to extend good <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">Karma</span>, good vibes and chocolate. Chocolate.....just because.</span></strong></div><div><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uQfU0NQqjisFyZ6k_ElqR4zot0cITnMfskCmP-_XdeJHOrI8fLxQ5E7bUJHx-M-tl9t2UFpjcFvQx8iE1hHH1XoYrZwFJ6K2_-xzMwuLyCyQ1xw6vFYyWNVzq7ayB5G4tEhn/s1600-h/DSCN4537.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5039751475220136082" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4uQfU0NQqjisFyZ6k_ElqR4zot0cITnMfskCmP-_XdeJHOrI8fLxQ5E7bUJHx-M-tl9t2UFpjcFvQx8iE1hHH1XoYrZwFJ6K2_-xzMwuLyCyQ1xw6vFYyWNVzq7ayB5G4tEhn/s320/DSCN4537.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /></div><div><span style="font-family:Georgia;font-size:100%;"></span></div></div></div>Mom to Mr. Handsomehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03664592848896720811noreply@blogger.com