It's happened!!!!

I'M OVER A THOUSAND!!!!!!

1011 people took the time to look at my profile!!!
Now if that isn't a good reason to celebrate with ice cream I do not know what is :o)

Now if only I could reach #1 in the stats in our ring, SD will get a big steak dinner and I will enjoy some King Crab. I think he will be waiting a Loooooooong time! lol There are some big shoes to fill that far up the stats.

Definition of an addict

So, I am still amazed at our society's obsession with the peanut and the butter that is made from it. It reminds me of an addict and nicotine. Kinda scary...at least I think so. What's scary is that my thinking seems to be in the minority. All I'm asking for is 7 hours out of a school day to be peanut free. That leaves 17 hours of peanut eating time all to yourselves.
Death.... peanut butter (hands weighing)......Death?..... peanut butter?...DEATH?...peanut butter?.
I think I could consider that a challenge in life.
A peanut allergy is considered a disability under the Americans with Disabilties Act.

All right. I'm finally letting it go.....

I just can't do it..I can't and I won't

Gabe's not going to our public school.
Period.
At least not now. Not today or this year.
I can't fight the fight.
Not while my child is left in the arms of the ignorant and
uneducated, overworked and uncaring staff at the public school he would attend.
I can't be "the one" to make a change in our district.
It is a title too weighted by circumstance, timing and dumb luck.
Not at my child's expense.
Kindergarten will be the year that we approach our district again.
I will be much wiser.
Gabe will officially be in his "home school" and the team of people we will be working with will be different.
New school, new teacher, new speech, new OT, new PT. If we're lucky, new director of special education (early retirement, job change???)
Just different.
A smudged, yet cleared slate for our district and us to try again.
We just have devoted the last year unequivocally to Gabe.
I can not and will not enable their "program" to create an atmosphere for regression.
Sleepless nights that lead into pavement pounding days have provided new light and possibilities outside of our district for preschool.
My anxiety seems to be lifting.
We still have to notify our district of our decision and get our ducks in a row at his new school.
The cost is only a little more than a regular preschool.
We have decided to continue ABA therapy at home mostly by me and an occasional therapist.
We also decided to pull him from the current ABA school after this semester ends.
It is just too difficult to make the best decisions for Gabe while you are under someone's thumb (SD's parent's have felt more comfortable with sharing their, not so positive and often argumentative,opinions about our choices for Gabe).
Just some paperwork paired with fresh ideas and our outlook and future for Gabe seems brighter.
The day that he goes to his new preschool now brings images of standing by the planter outside for his first day of school picture, lunchbox in hand and a smile on my face.

How hard it is to let go of anger...

I had a difficult time letting go of my anger yesterday. I rolled over in bed last night while SD and I were reading and asked, "Do you think I need anger management counseling?"
"No," he laughs.
I smiled, somewhat relieved.
But then, how am I always in these kind of situations?
Am I letting myself be a victim?
To poorly quote Dr. Phil, "What are you getting out of acting like a victim, because you always seem to be one?"
Am I, that is, a self appointed victim?
I need to let more roll off my back.
It's hard when comments are made about or against your child's circumstances.
I just stand there and let the words smack against my face.
The bruises turn a deep purple the following day and the anger festers, twisting in my stomach and my mind can't stop obsessing.

"Should I email her? Let her know that what she said really hurt me? And Boo?
I look at SD. I'm already forming the letter in my mind.
"No, I don't think that would be a good idea." He sees my angst. I know he just wants to help me get past this.
"Do you want me to rub your back?" It'll help get your mind off things."
"Ok. Thanks," I sigh trying to relax.

As I lay there I imagine our Christmas tree lined with stuffed animals around the bottom, presents stacked with shiny bows, gingerbread houses overflowing with freshly licked candy and the smiles on my children's faces as they wonder what Santa will bring this year.

That is my version of anger management.

Autism isn't the only misunderstood challenge in life

Now, I normally post just once a day. Purge right before bed, leaving my mind clear.
And I did that today, earlier, and my mind was free to enjoy the evening walk with SD and the kids. We admired the large powder puff clouds mingling around the vivid blue sky. Breath taking. Thank you God for another beautiful day.

Midway through our walk, I see someone that I have attempted to meet more than once, only to have short, abbreviated conversations with. She is on the committee of our Moms Club chapter, a real go getter. Gotta love those people, I relish their energy and enthusiasm. I couldn't wait any longer to spark up more than a few minute conversation. It had been 6 months of waving to each other as I drove by her house everyday, Gabe asleep in the car after school, unable to stop and chat. Here was my chance. She was outside with her little girl and husband. We talked about our garage sale we had this past weekend (It went well, thanks for asking :o) and some of the outfits of Boo that had been passed on to another cutie, her daughter. The conversation felt good, easy, flowed nicely. On to school in the fall, where are our kids going. I mentioned that Boo would not be attending the public school in our neighborhood, but another one a few miles away. She went on to say that we probably saved ourselves a lot of hassle, that most people will not be going to our neighborhood school. Our elementary school is a Blue Ribbon school and is rated very highly in Michigan.

"Really?" I was surprised.
"Yeah," she rolls her eyes, "Peanuts are not allowed in school anymore."

SD and I have always talked about inventing a machine that could instantly beam you anywhere, similar to Star Trek. This was a time that it really would have come in handy. Either she would have to go or I.

"Your kids have peanut allergies, right?" She waved her hand towards them.
I stood there stunned by her blatant ignorance.
"Well, anyway," she continues, ignoring the look on my face, "Why should 500 students suffer for one child?"
"What if my kids eat peanut butter in the morning? We eat peanut butter all the time, then what are we supposed to do?"
"It's airborne too, the allergy that is.....Why should we have to change." She ended with total conviction.

I could only say this without ripping her head off, "Wow, I feel for that mom."



This woman is on a committee for a MOM's club. And she ranted in front of my daughter who is four and anaphylactic to peanuts. She fell (Actually kicked with great force) right off my People That Matter In The World list.

Here's my two cents on peanut butter consumption and children...

1. If you believe that peanut butter is such an important part of your child's diet, you need to see a nutrionist.

2. A child spends , on average, 7 hours in school a day. That leaves 17 hours outside of school to totally glutton themselves of peanut butter. Let's even give them 8 hours of rest each night, it still leaves a child 9 hours to eat as much peanut butter outside of school that they want.

3. If you think that eating peanut butter is more important than saving a child's life well....Your morals are in disarray!!!!!

4. This is a great opportunity to teach your children about compassion, adaptability and being a responsible person in the community.

5. And last, but most importantly, you will kill my child if she is near peanut butter.

Shouldn't that be enough? You'd think.

I had to then spend part of our special time before bed with Boo trying to explain why (the mean bitchy woman) the lady we talked to was talking about peanuts so much and why she was so angry. I hated telling her that some people do not understand how important it is that she not be by ANY peanuts. Some people do not get it, and she, sadly, was one of them. Her look was a look of rejection. Like she had been rejected. Oh I wanted to go over to that woman's house and rip her head off and shove peanut butter down it.

Would that be enough? Enough for me to let go of this hurt and anger? You'd think.

Options

When we first suspected Gabe was Autistic, we consulted a special education teacher through my husband's school district that he works in. She was incredible and taught in a wonderful special education preschool program. She was only the first of many that would see and diagnose Gabe with having Autism.


During our meeting, we discussed some things that lead me to believe Gabe could be Autistic. After taking it all in, she began to play with Gabe. He was pretty easy to engage and they both looked like they were having fun. She also explained Floortime and gave me materials that described how to incorporate and utilize it through play. She agreed that he was probably on the spectrum, but he also had a lot going for him, especially in the social department. This teacher was the first person to hint that there was a bright future, or any future for that matter, for Gabe. When our meeting ended, she offered to show us one of their preschool special ed classrooms. It was the first time I saw a PECS schedule.

Then I thought yesterday, almost 1 1/2 years later, why couldn't Gabe go to the school with the amazing teacher we met? They have an open school policy in SD's district. But, does it pertain to special education students? How would picking up and droping off Boo work when she was on the other side of our county about 35-45 minutes away? Could this be the answer I needed? Could this be a possible solution? Or am I just postponing the inevitable of Gabe returning to our district?

SD is going to look into it this coming week. I need to know that we have choices. I hate feeling as if I'm stuck. Stuck in something I can't get out of. Having options just makes the sky seem a little clearer.

All the colors are brown

Only a month left and thoughts of Gabe in our public school system create twists and turns in my stomach. It is in the dark corners, waiting, just waiting to take my child and do with him whatever pleases them. At least that's how I feel. What's baffles me still, is that it didn't start that way. I was way too trusting in the beginning. I handed over my beautiful boy with hopes that they would help me, that the public school system would see Gabe as the amazing and wonderful child that he is. I gave document after document, files and files about him, trying to help in anyway I could. I just wanted to make things as easy for them and Gabe. You know where those files are? All those confidential and extremely personal files ? They have been thrown in a folder that is also filed away, never read, never used to help Gabe.


My husband says we need to keep the communication open between the school and ourselves, that it will benefit everyone, especially Gabe, if we work with the system.
THE SYSTEM SCREWED ME AND GABE!

BUT, ......I know he's right.

I just don't know if I can do this.

What if the teacher is mean to Gabe? (Oh, he's the boy with the aggressive and persistent mother..... He's soooooo special. I can't help your child, because I have to help Gabe.....sneer)

I've never left Gabe with someone I didn't trust.
And I don't trust his teacher and I especially don't trust the public school system.

His first day of preschool is supposed to be a monumental occasion with pictures, smiles, tears and hugs. A switching of the guards. I feel like I will be instead throwing him off a cliff.
Today I have decided to hand it over to God for a few more weeks and then I will start researching alternatives. Although, I do not think that the schools around us have open enrollment.
I need a different picture to look at, because this one is too muddied.

Putting the Clues Together

-Increase in perseveration (especially with his voice)
-Pushing
-reacting more emotionally
-More babbling "Gabey Language"
-Inconsistency with Language (Four word sentences mixed with two word)


I think Gabe is noticing more of the world lately. I can see it in his eyes. He is seeing more than he ever has. He is more aware, more in tune. I wasn't sure what to think when his perseverations increased, but this morning it all came together....at the car wash of all places and over a sundae.

I must say that our car wash is pretty cool in our town. They have a huge waterfall and fountain that you drive around before entering. In the winter they have plastic life like penguins all over the rocks around the waterfall. Those same penguins have Santa hats around Christmas, pumpkins at Halloween...you get the picture. My kids love it! Gabe has started requesting that we have car washes every week. Sometimes we go, but mostly I say "maybe next week."


"This way," Points to the car wash.
"Do you think we should get a our car washed?" I ask.
"YES!!!!" He says with enthusiasm."Car wash!" "Yes!"
"Ok, today is a good day. Let's go!"
"Yeah!" Gabe claps from the back seat.



Today,we drove around the back, oohed and ahhed over the waterfall, handed over the money and begin our car wash journey. First, they sprayed our car with a very strong sprayer. "Look Gabe! They're getting all the dirt off. Our car will be so nice and shiny when we're done." I must admit, I get excited too. I love the look of shiny paint on cars.

Gabe has always looked a bit hesitant when going through the car wash. most of the time I hold his hand and explain what's happening as it happens.
"The sprayer gets all the soap off, like rain. See?"
It seems to ease and relax him. Today was another story.

I made a connection with Gabe today. A deep, profound connection. He was very tense, more than usual, as we went through the washing cycles, I held his hand and explained everything like I normally do, but his reaction to the change in noise, machines diving back and forth from the car made his body very rigid in his car seat. His eyes looked right at me with incredible intensity that left me breathless. He was looking at me like the boy in the snow had. I was seeing Gabe. A part of him that is so often masked by Autism.

His day went well, mastering quite a few more programs. Speech with Dr. Karen also went well, with Gabe working on "Who" questions. He understands "Where" and "What", "Who" seems to be taking a little longer. Before going back to his therapists room, we successfully sat on the potty (in a public place!) without any problems. It seemed almost commonplace. We are adding "after lunch" as a time to visit the potty now. Around 2:00 he fell asleep in the car, and after getting home, slept until 4:30.

Gabe hasn't been too interested in dinner lately, so we have implemented a few rules that also apply to Boo.

1. They Must finish their dinner in order to get "Special Treat" (small vanilla cup of ice cream, topped with sprinkles and two Swedish fish) Dinner portions are small, therefore making it pretty easy to attain the treat :O)

2. Appropriate dinner behavior (Varies due to age) Gabe mostly needs to sit in his chair, facing forward and help say Grace. Boo has to say grace, sit in chair appropriately, and be courteous.

Gabe made it through most of his dinner, but then started to vocally perseverate and turned around in his chair. We asked for him to turn around, a few times, and reminded him that he has to finish his dinner to get special treat. He refused to turn around, so we excused him from the table. He seemed OK with our decision, left the table and played. It wasn't until Boo finished, started doing the "Happy Ice Cream Dance", ice cream cup came out, sprinkles and Swedish Fish that Gabe came and sat at the table.

"Ice Cream Cone?" He was ready for dessert.

"No Gabe. You didn't finish your dinner. Maybe tomorrow after dinner." I said

Normally we would get a small whimper before Gabe admitted defeat to go play in the other room with his trains. Not today. Today was different. He broke out in tears, that rolled over his plump adorable cheeks and hands covering his eyes as he rested his elbows on the table. This wasn't your average repetitive whimper. This was a blown out, three year old, I'm going to die without ice cream cry.

And then it happened. Gabe raised his head up, rested his hands on the table and pleaded......

"PLEEEEEASE MOMMY" with such a look of torment. Huge tears with such desperation in his voice. He has never showed such a desire for something, especially not verbally.

It broke my heart, but I said no. Maybe tomorrow. He sat staring at Boo's desert towering with candy. I waited a minute or two to let it sink in and then asked him if he wanted a hug. When I picked him up, he squeezed me tightly between his legs, something he rarely does. I hugged him as he sniffled, kissed his forehead, and rubbed his head.

I hated being the one to deny ice cream of all things.

My little boy is beginning to really notice what is going around him. Not just physically, but emotionally. I hope it doesn't get too overwhelming for him.

Hellooo Mr. Potty!!! and....Goodbye....

I would like to say as I write this that I am creating the most interesting and thought provoking three-dimensional sculpture out of the remaining 30 diapers that we have left, but after three hours of Barney videos, Swedish Fish, Matchbox Cars and 5 pairs of Nemo underwear,I raised myself up from the bathroom floor, took Nemo, tossed him down into the dark depths of the basement, turned around and literally embraced the left over piles of diapers. FREEDOM!!!

Gabe has many of the "readiness signs", but two important ones. He does not tell you when he has to go/does not fully realize when he is going and he frequently urinates- very frequently. He does not know how to fully empty his bladder at one sitting. A child should be able to remain dry for an hour or two at a time. Gabe can go maybe 10 minutes. His ABA school had taken data about a month ago, which showed he urinated twice/sometimes three times an hour. I just thought, maybe, if we practiced his bladder would adjust. He's just not developmentally there. I could buy the whole alarm when you pee contraption, but I do not think we're at that point yet. I'm OK with the "let's wait and see what happens."
We did see many great "signs of readiness", he is able to sit for a few minutes to wait to go potty, he did not have any problems with a BM (in the toilet I might add :o), he enjoys the whole potty routine before and afterwards, the Nemo underwear was not an issue, and he seems to understand the whole purpose of the bathroom. What a wonderful discovery session we had today.

I feel good about trying to potty train Gabe. Now I know, we tried, he's not ready, we'll try later. We're thinking when he is 3 1/2 in November. We picked this new time, because it gives him time to adjust to all the changes that happen in the beginning of the new school year. It gives us time to adapt to how our public school system is going to fit into Gabe's life, SD going back to work and just juggling everyone's schedules for awhile.

I feel that we became an even closer family today. We pulled together, worked towards achieving a certain goal and then embraced each other when the plans changed. How awesome are we? :o)

The Checklist for Tomorrow

1. Nemo underwear (Check!)

2. Barney Videos (Check) Needed for the time waiting for pee or poo poo.

3. Timer (Check) (initially set for 20 minute increments)

4. Data sheet (Check)(keep track of prompting and independence)

5. Swedish Fish (Yum! and Check) Reinforcer for sitting on potty

6. Step stool (Check)(Proper foot support is very important in order for him to remain relaxed to go)

7. Picture Schedule of what to do in bathroom courtesy of Charmin Toilet Paper and their mascot,Bear (Check) Gabe knows all the steps already, but I thought the pictures would be a good reminder.

8. TV tray (Check) (Something to play /eat/drink on while we wait for something to happen-Please God let it happen!)

9. TV/VCR with small table(check) (To play the endless Barney videos)

10. New Brio trains(Check) (For the times he successfully pees or poops in the potty-crossing fingers)

11. Matchbox Cars (Check)(Ditto)

12. Suckers(Check) (Ditto) He gets to choose one thing from a large dish filled with suckers, matchbox cars and Brio trains for pee and poop only. (The stakes are high here people!) We also bought a matchbox car track to play with in between the time he goes and we are waiting the 20 minutes.

13. Veterinarian Barbie (Check)(For Boo for being such a great sister and cheerleader for Gabe)

LET THE POTTY TRAINING BEGIN!!!!!!!!!!

(Sound of horns blaring, crowd cheering, mother fainting)

Perseverating

About two weeks ago, we started noticing a lot of repetitive behavior (perseverating) by Gabe. It began with him shaking his head back and forth, letting his vocal cords resonate with each passing. Boo, my daughter, sometimes would follow, imitating him, laughing.

"Ok. Ok. You both need to stop shaking your heads or you're going to get too dizzy!" I would laugh.

Boo stopped, but Gabe would continue, never slowing down until a few minutes later. He seemed "hooked" on the sensation of getting dizzy or maybe the sound of his voice and the rapid movement. I shrugged it off. Thinking Gabe was just exploring new things, just happened to be with his head that particular day.

But, the next day it happened, and the next. Now, it seems to slip into our daily routine a few times a day. I try redirecting without drawing attention to what he is doing with his head. It goes like this,

"Gabe, touch your head!"(He touches his head)

"Great Job! Where's your toes?" (Points to toes)

"Are those your piggies? "(Tickle, tickle, smile, giggle)

Half the time he does not continue shaking his head, but instead decides to look at a book I may have handed him or another toy. However, it is the times that he goes right back to shaking his head where I want to just give him a big hug so he can't shake his head. If I redirect with more than a few questions, that in it's self becomes "unnatural".

A few months ago he began the fun, and never tiring running in a circle. At first, I thought he was just running around like kids do, but it didn't seem to expand into anything more than just running around in the same circle. There wasn't a "Look mom! I jumped over a car! Or, maybe I'll slide down the slide once during my travels. Just around and around. He is having fun. Big smiles and laughter. The repetition looks very OCD. (I have OCD, so spotting it comes easily to me for obvious reasons)

Another behavior emerged in Chicago and that was to lick his hand. He did that for about three days, off and on. He has recently stopped for the last four days. I would give him something to drink that had a straw and that seemed to really help.

He also rediscovered his love of button pushing in an aquarium we visted.

*Pause*

I'm listening to Gabe singing his ABC's as 123's in his bedroom. SD tucked him in over an hour ago. Normally he is passed out cold by now. I don't think I will ever tire of listening to him talk and sing.

*Ok, back to what I was saying...*

His behavior and language have been off this past week and a half. He has resorted to more "Gabey Language", but then turns around and says, "Need Chair," picks up chair and heads to the bookshelf. "Why do you need a chair Gabe?" I say. "Get Train." He POINTS!!!! "Do you want to PLAY with the train?" I model with a smile. "YES!" "Gabe, say PLAY WITH TRAIN." Jumping up and down, "Play with train!" High pitch squeal of delight.

Total interactive conversation.

One minute it's "A dubbadiggadooeydunbba" to "Want chair... play train....Yeah!"

We're working on his tone. He can imitate a lower tone, but his "natural" voice that he uses is a little high and soft. If he wants to talk louder, he just gets shriller. It's as if he can't really hear or control his voice. He responds with and utilizes the tone that is being used around him. If women are around him, he speaks higher, around SD -lower, by himself -a little high, not quite to my pitch though.

I wonder if something new is about to emerge with Gabe. I find that his perseverating is the first sign of growth, especially in the use and understanding of language.

Now there's a thought...

"Stand up for what is right, even if you’re standing alone."

from the blog Parents Grove

Shivers down my spine. A good quote can be the spark the ignites the passion that is within us.

Pam Vivian writes on her son's views of Autism and her own personal journey. Although she has only three posts, I am looking forward to reading more about her son Ben.

This Way To Grandma's House

I've been wondering lately if my path for Gabe is going in the wrong direction. ABA, structured social interactions with guidance, a food program and public school were all the "crumbs" I had carefully laid down for Gabe. All the "right" steps were being taken. We were on our way. I even had a map in my basket in case we got lost.

The last few days have opened my eyes to see so much more than the path I had meticulously followed. I began to notice the wild flowers that bloomed along the twists and turns, the sunlight peaking through the trees, rush of the wind that tousled my hair. All the wonderful things that you can not plan for in life. "Happy incidents". Am I preventing these spontaneous adventures from occurring by being so vigilant? Is Gabe missing what's so beautifully displayed before our eyes as we walk along? I see now that he is.

There is so much more to Gabe's growth as a person than what the medical community can offer. They are only a supplement to what he should be doing as a young child. How can you "act" like a three year old if you are never allowed the time to be one. So, we have been exploring the world as a three year old would. Not as a child with Autism, but only as an incredibly creative and inquisitive child. No generalization, no manding, no nothing. Just being a three year old. We still hit on Gabe's ABA programs, but only in the off time we are not exploring. Only when we need to continue on our path, bouquet of flowers in hand.

It has been so wonderful to see him laugh and smile as a three year old should.

My First Report Card

I remember my mom showing me my first report from preschool. I had found a drawing of our family done by me during my preschool years in my mom's dresser drawers. I loved to look through her stuff. Especially the jewelry that she had tucked away in little boxes with tissue. As I look back now, the assorted rings, necklaces and earrings were just costume jewelry, most too gaudy to wear, but they were my secret treasures. My mom either didn't mind or didn't know I was looking for these "treasures" weekly, because I was so careful in making sure everything went back exactly as it had been. Underneath the portrait I had drawn was a piece of paper with pluses and minuses and a comment section with barely two lines to cover a years worth of reflection written by the teacher.

Kristin needs to show some modesty when wearing dresses.
She is also very sensitive.

Nothing was stated about my easy going nature, wonderful imagination and willingness to please..anyone. It seemed the criticism that was so heavy at home followed me to school, even my first experiences in preschool. I brought the report card to my mom knowing there maybe consequences for my actions. My parents bedroom was Strictly forbidden to go into, let alone to riffle through personal affects. Down the stairs I went paper in hand.

Mom was making cookies and watching One Life to Live. I sensed she was in a good mood. Being sensitive does have some perks. I can easily read people through the smallest gestures, elevations in the tone of their voice and various other minute clues. I am one of those people that always say "Did you see that?" Or "Did you hear that?" and the common answer I get is "No." "What?" and they could be standing right next to me witnessing the same thing. I guess I am like an X- Man, my powers would be to read people's initial thoughts and feelings. I know some already have the ability to read minds, so....I guess my powers are obsolete. Shucks. Anyway...

My mom takes the paper, smiles,remembering quietly to herself.
"What's this part about modesty?" I asked
"Oh, when you wore dresses,you were always showing your butt when you bent over." She said in passing, waving her hand as if to shoo such an unimportant question away.
"What about the sensitive bit?" I pushed further.
"You are too sensitive. You need to lighten up," stated very matter of fact and turned her attention to her soap opera.
I was not only saddened by the comments made by a teacher that I didn't even remember, but my mother's tone of agreement broke my heart.
I thought, it must be true.

In high school I found the same report card while helping my mom clean out her dresser drawers for donation. The words " show some modesty" and "sensitive" screamed out from the page at me. I hated seeing it again. How did it make it back to her drawer? Why would she keep something that had such hurtful comments about me?I realized a couple years after reading the report card the first time, that my modesty problems were due to the fact that my mom did not like to buy us clothes. All the dresses I owned were far too small and barely covered my bottom to begin with. I had received similar comments about my modesty issues for the next two school years. My mother finally put pants on underneath my dresses, although they were no longer dresses, but had become tops. This is from parents that in those same years built a house in an affluent neighborhood.

And as for being "sensitive", well I still am. It is so difficult for me to let some things roll of my back. I hold onto the words and the hurt far longer than I probably should. I wish on most days that I missed the nuances and innuendos that occur in general conversation. What's funny is that some days I am really sensitive and others I am completely clueless. I just don't know where I will fall on a given day. I'm not showing my butt off anymore. My modesty is in check, as my clothing now fits. But, when it comes to being sensitive, boy, that's a hard one to mend.

Boo has been HIT!

Boo's list :o)



5 things in my refrigerator:
~Carrots
~grapes
~Fish Sticks
~popsicles
-apples

5 things in my closet:
~clothes
~stuffed animal horsie
~My favorite panda bear
~doll house
~barbies

5 dresser drawer
~socks
~underware
-tights
~Jammies
-stuffed animals

5 things in mommy and daddy's car:
~toys
~umbrella
~rhinoceros
~The Lion King CD

Gabe's list remains confidential or (and most likely) Dora The Explorer is on and he has been mesmerized by her constant questions.

See Elephants....YES!

This weekend is all about us and fun. No letters to write, IEPs to worry about, doctors appointments, laundry or house cleaning. Fun with a capital "F". So, last night SD (Super Daddy) and I sat down to plan our fun adventures. Hmmmmmmm...... Spray park ? Picnic in a park? Waterpark? Our zoo?
"What about trying another zoo? " SD comments.
I said, "What other zoo is there?"
"The Toledo zoo." He smiles.
"They have a zoo?" huh..Who knew?














So, off we went today and it was great. It is a beautiful zoo with an amazing area about Africa. We took a train that traveled around the savannah, which had animals such as giraffes, impalas, wild dogs, zebras and various birds (one being a huge ostrich) that were close or in plain sight. It was amazing. The shops looked like huts along with the food areas. Visually it was very cool. The kids road a carousel that instead of horses had African Wildlife. Gabe rode a hornless rhino(not sure why it was hornless) and Boo road the impala. It influenced her so much that she became an impala for the rest of the day. She had a very interesting squeak that she did, convinced that that was truly how they talked.
































This was taken in the Arctic Zone. There are two things about Gabe that I want to point out. One is that he is wearing sunglasses! After trying the last two summers, he finally will wear them. In fact he will ask to wear them when it is sunny outside! We are still working on wearing a hat. I have bought so many hats, just hoping, maybe someday.
He also is wearing new shoes that are very different than his last two pairs. The last two pairs were identical, mostly my fault, I didn't want to deal with the struggle of introducing new shoes and I liked the style of them too. But, his feet are getting huge, size 11 1/2, and the style he was used to wearing will not be around forever. I also wanted to go back to velcro, because he is learning how to put his shoes on at school and velcro just makes it easier. The times are changing :o)
















I laughed at this picture, because it looks like he's "tickling" the wild boars nose.



















"I see elephants...YES!" Gabe was really into seeing the elephants, especially the baby elephant. Boo named the baby Ellie. I often hear Gabe speaking similar to the questions and answers he practices at speech.
"Is it a shoe?" Dr. Karen sometimes asks as she holds up a flashcard of a ball.
"Nooooo." Gabe shakes his head.
"Is it a ball?" She asks.
"Yes!" Gabe says with enthusiasm.
So when he wants something, you can expect it to be followed with a "YES!"
"Watch Barney video....YES!" Gotta love the enthusiasm!

The day ended with a long drive home, Robots the movie and quick naps for everyone, but SD, in the car. With an hour before dinnertime, we got out the slip and slide for some fun in the sun. Then the two snuggled up for Gabe's "I want sleeping" time.
What a great adventure we had today!



And to answer two questions..
-I did write the letter. I felt good about it, because now it is out of my hands and into Gods.
- The other is to Mom-NOS, I look forward to sharing Boo's and Gabe's answers to the questions soon. Great idea.

What is that smell?

When I went to pick Gabe up at school today, I walked into his classroom and noticed a waft of what smelled like paint thinner rush past me.
What is that smell? I said looking around the room for wet paint.
Laura, Gabe's therapist, responded with, "They are tarring the roof of the building."
After ten minutes I started to feel nauseous.
"Maybe you should take him home," she said.
Wow. How did he make it through 2 1/2 hours of this? The therapists in his room looked peaked. Why didn't someone call me I wondered. When I thought some more, I realized that it was the higher powers that hadn't caught on to the intensity of the smell to close the school. The therapists don't make the judgment call about calling home, the director of the program does. She couldn't have called me if she wanted to.

So, I packed Gabe's bag and on our way out passed another mom.
"What's going on with this smell?" I asked.
"They [the higher powers] told the "principle" of our school to "take some Tylenol, it [ the smell] wasn't that bad." she said rolling her eyes.
"What?" "Who should I talk to about this?" "Maybe we should say something or write a letter." I started wondering about tomorrow and the fumes still being in his classroom.
"I guess you would just go down the hall."

Here's the catch all, Gabe's program is a program run under a much larger program that is the main umbrella for diagnosing all different disorders and learning disabilities. So, getting to the right person to talk to could end up being a long chain of command. I saw the majority of that chain today.

On my way out of Gabe's school, I directed Gabe down the hall to the main office.
I met the first person in the chain, the receptionist. Receptionists always seem to not get the credit they deserve. They maybe first in the chain, but really they are the most powerful. They decide whether he/she will make it easy or very difficult to get your questions answered. So, I always approach such power with caution and respect. I explained my situation with Gabe's school and the fumes and I wonder if there was someone I could talk to about reimbursement ( Gabe left school early) and whether or not they will be tarring the roof tomorrow. She didn't seem to know. So I asked if she had a number for someone who may know and I could just leave a message. Sounded good to me and she seemed perfectly OK to provide the information. She reached for a piece of paper, but I noticed something catching her eye off to the side where I couldn't see.

Then the door to the back office opens and there stands a woman who introduces herself, we'll call her Anastasia. We walk to her office, Gabe runs the other direction. I'm hoping when I catch him, at least I will be able to discuss my concerns in her office, which will contain my son.
But, I was surprised to see that she did indeed lead me to her office, where she sat down along with another person ,who was not introduced, and I was left to stand in the opening of her office. So, our meeting was not a "private" matter nor , from what I could tell, an important one. I began to explain that my son attended the program down the hall, that his classroom has a very strong smell similar to Paint thinner. I asked who I would address about reimbursement since I had to remove Gabe from class early, whether or not they would be tarring tomorrow, who would call and let me know and whether it would be at all possible if the roofers would be able to finish on the weekend or after school hours. Respectful and to the point.

This is what I got from the building manager... (mind you she never introduced herself, remained seated at her computer and only acknowledged me when she had a comment to make)

"First of all, " she began,"it does not smell that bad down there. I was just there and it was fine to me. We also have the smell in our offices."
I took a whiff. Nothing. There wasn't any smell here.
"You went to the classrooms today and you thought it smelled the same?" I wanted to clarify.
"The therapists that work with Gabe said it has been pretty strong for at least an hour or so." How could they argue with that?
"It hasn't. Only when they tar the sides of the building." Her attitude was worsening. I'll add that her office is on an inside wall away from any windows.
"Well," I added, "I know my son's therapists really well and I believe them when they tell me that the smell has been fairly strong for the majority of the morning." This woman was grating on my last nerve, but I kept my tone and responses respectful.

During this whole conversation, Anastasia, the women who brought me back to discuss my concerns reminded me of the parrot that sits on the shoulder of the pirate that repeats whatever is said.
"Bwaaaaack! No smell here. Bwaaaack! No smell here."
It was the office manager, Drisella, that had the "patch over her eye".

It went downhill from there, mostly on their part.
I stayed respectful, stuck to the three or four questions I had and wondered where it had gone wrong.
Finally, I stated that I was just concerned about my son, the smell was very strong in his room and I will need to be reimbursed.
I finished my side of the conversation with, "I don't appreciate the tone you are taking with me. I have heard enough." Then I left. What was the point of staying I thought. They obviously were not the people I needed to talk to.

I don't think they heard me, because Drisella kept talking and Anastasia sat perched on her shoulder as her right hand bird.

Gabe then took that as a sign to leave and run out to the waiting room where they had the coolest table with magnets. Upon reaching the table, I told him it was time to go. I then noticed that the room was full of people and it was quiet. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that they were all watching Gabe and I and had probably heard the conversation I had just minutes prior. We were in ear shot from the office of which I just left and was now praying to God that Gabe would grant me this one small ,humble wish to leave. His hands didn't move away from the magnets. Then, just out of the blue, he let go and walked out with me and my dignity.

The top person from Gabe's school caught up to me as I passed the door to Gabe's school and wondered if she could talk to me. Come to find out that there have been many "concerns"(complaints) about Drisella. She was wondering if I would be willing to explain what had happened on one of their comment forms that are discussed at their monthly meetings. Also she asked if I would also be willing to write a letter to the head of the entire program that is the umbrella over all the programs including Gabe's school.

Through all this I am left with some more thoughts and questions. the biggest one being WHY ME?????
The next, Why can't people just use common sense and thoughtfulness?
Why were they so defensive?
I know it wasn't all about me, then why did they take it out on me?

I just want to get along. I have been fighting all my life it seems. I just want to stop having to defend myself in order to get was is right and just or even what common sense would dictate as such. Ya know?

Oh, and here is my cool new 'do.
Ok, so I can't . Blogger has not let me post my own pictures for over a week now. The great 'do unveiling will have to wait.....

I figured out that without using a "layout", it works.
Here I am :o)

I've Been Hit!

Hooray!
I love these!
It is such a great way to see into our unique and wonderful personalities us MOMS have.....
Thanks to Irish from Sometimes Holland Feels Like Hell for the hit :o)
Here goes....

5 things in my refrigerator:
~Montgomery Inn BBQ sauce
~nectarines
~2% Milk
~juice boxes
~Dora The Explorer lunch box

5 things in my closet:
~Boo's new curtain rod and rings
~Black knee high boots
~Clothes to wear "out on the town" that I rarely wear
~My jewelry box
~I also have my wedding dress in my closet

5 things in my purse:
~Key chain of beads Boo made for me
~a ball that glows (transition toy for Gabe)
~Nemo fruit snacks
~epi pen jr.
~suckers

5 things in my car:
~fleece blanket, Boo gets cold easily
~empty diet coke can
~Gabe's Buzz Lightyear sunglasses
~XM Roadie

5 friends I'm tagging...
Sal
Mamaroo
Mom-Nos
Aiden's Mommy
Melissa H.

Getting Off The Pitty Pot

Ok, so here I am...a new day. I took the initiative to do something about how I was feeling. SD and I talked. We talked about how I was feeling and how he was feeling. We really are not on a different page, but I guess you could look at as if he was the softly, gently written words and I am the large,bold faced writing on a page. We appear very different, but read the same. I guess there are times when I want him to get really pissed off at the insurance companies, IEP Teams and stereotypes that follow Gabe. I want him to get as scared as I do. He just doesn't, not the way I do. He may be upset at what happened at the IEP, disappointed. But Pissed Off with a capital "P", I doubt it. At least not as vocally as I do. Sometimes that can seem as if he is not being supportive enough. He is always by my side, sometimes I just get so fired up that I don't see him standing right beside me, cheering me on.

After the talk, I realized that I will make it through this like everything else. It just freaks me out more because I am not fighting for myself this time, but my beautiful son. It's easy to take risks with yourself, but your children are a whole other ballgame where you hope to never get any strikes or outs, just home runs. The pressure to be perfect is undaunting.

I also picked up a good book which always helps to clear the mind and occupy it with other things. So, I have begun to read and have almost finished
The Glass Castle: A Memoir by Jeannette Walls .
An interesting read about a dysfunctional family and how the children bond together and manage to stay somewhat sane through it all.

I also cut my hair. Yes, I did :o) It's in a cool bob with layers. Very swishy, very flexible, very mod. Fun. I cut it to my shoulders this morning, I am very impulsive at times, and then had a local hair place clean it up. It's amazing what a good cut can do to lift the spirit. Maybe I'll post a picture later, although I prefer to only see pics of my children, because they always look cute, great and fabulous.I'm more hit or miss!

SD and I also got a thriller to watch tonight in our theater that I created for him last birthday. Our getaway from the world. I got the movie SAW from Netflix in the mail today. Horror movies are another great way to clear the mind. I have trouble making it through most of them though.I get too scared. The last one I saw was The Grudge...Wow, that scared the daylights out of me. But, I didn't worry about Gabe's schooling after that. I was too busy listening for bumps in the night.

Thanks to Melissa H., Mamaroo, Gretchen and Mom-NOS and all my other friends through this ring and elsewhere. It is times like yesterday that just a kind word or a hello make a difference.

Confused. Just Confused.

I'm not sure what to think. There has only been one other time in my life where I felt this alone in a journey. Where family and friends should be rallying by my side, I see no one. Where are they? I just want to throw all those relationships to the wind and watch them flail as they fall to the ground. Because, that is what they have done to me. As some of you may know, I do not have a relationship with my side of the family and SD's side is maintained only for his and my children's sake. They were not very welcoming in the beginning, especially by his brother and father. Not sure why. The first time I met them they had already made up their minds that they were not too thrilled about me. Anyways, that's another story.

So, basically, SD's parents are our only "family" outside of us. My friends from high school and college were not the friends you keep with a family and children. I said my goodbyes to them and that life before I got married. I have been out of teaching for 5 years,those were more of work related friendships. I thought when Boo, my daughter, was born I would move into the "Mom Friendships" and I did. That lasted until Gabe was 1 years old. It was difficult for me to leave the house when he started walking everywhere and sucking on everything. When Gabe was finally diagnosed, I thought I could catch a breath, because we could do therapy until he was "better" and I could return to my life. But, that life is long gone. New friendships have developed and are blooming and growing into wonderful connections and support, most being online, some at Gabe's school. I found that these friendships are all with parents who have children diagnosed with ASD. We spend many conversations focused on IEPs, therapies and the uniqueness of each of our children that I know their children well, but not a thing about them. I spend a lot of time alone. Alone in my thoughts wondering what happened to me? Where is my support? What the hell happened?

We did get the funding for another semester by SD's parents.


hooray


My hooray is so small, because my husband was grilled concerning our choices about Gabe's education. The same conversation that he always has with them. I hate asking for help, especially with money. (Just a quick reminder that they asked if we needed help financially. I should've realized there would be a double edged sword. ) Parts of the conversation focus on our "unwillingness" to let go of the ABA therapy, because of our fears, that we didn't really think things through and how they thought we may have created the situation at the IEP by having a consultant, which at the meeting must have caused the "unpleasant atmosphere". On and on it went until SD just couldn't think of the right answers anymore and they walked all over him. They made us wait three days to see if they could cover another semester at Gabe's school.
They would "Let us know.."
This is from people that buy $600.00 sweaters.

Now, I know some of you are thinking,
"Well, that's a lot of money for anyone." (Poor grandparents. Bleh)
My response, "Not if it's your grandchild. Not if he is one of the only two you will ever have guaranteed." "Not if you go on lavish trips every other month."

If trips, material things and status rule your world over family, then you have missed what life is all about.

I feel like my lips are tender and my pride of being a good mother has been stepped all over and discarded with the trash. Only then to have my one true support, my husband, start to waiver and blow back and forth with the wind after hearing my father in laws comments.
I'm exhausted. And I'm alone.

I spend endless hours researching, talking with parents, consulting professionals only to be treated by IEP teams and in-laws as if I had been sitting on the couch watching "The View" through everything. I matter dammit! What I do matters. Who I am matters. My son matters.

Maybe this is yet another lesson that Gabe has taught me.