"Holy Crap"-eteria, An Aspie Poem

Those that know a school aged kid on the spectrum probably know how overstimulating the school cafeteria can be.  Spectrum-y kids tend to have heightened senses, especially hearing, smell and sight, which makes a busy place like the lunchroom even more annoying to them than the average joe.  I mean, really-- do you like to eat in there?!  The cafeteria is particularly stressful for my Princess, and often leads to her imminent defeat on days when she is already having trouble behaving at school.  I thought I'd give you a little insight about how it feels to be an Aspie in the cafeteria, based on my Princess's plethora of complaints about eating lunch in there.  :)

"Holy Crap"-eteria

I walk into the lunchroom

and what smacks me in the face?

A wall of noise, bright lights, loud boys--

You want me to do what in this place?!!!

The New Year

I know you guys may have been wondering whether or not I had died, seeing as how I can't seem to get my act together to put down a few sentences on my blog lately.  I have all sorts of reasons as to why my writing stream seems to have dried up to a trickle, but I'm not going to bore you with it, or try to justify anything.  Let's just suffice to say that I resolve to do better in the New Year, and I hope that my kids and their schedules will agree with that resolution.  ;)

The New Year's party settings and guests, Birdie (L), Hubby, and Princess (R)

Me in my styling 2013
party glasses decorated by Birdie

The Kitty Ball

On New Year's Day, just before noon, Princess surprised our family with a New Year's party.  The party was a spur of the moment event, but P had put some time (20 minutes, at least!) and effort into putting together her shindig.   She made refreshments "from scratch", which consisted of Toaster Strudels and Capri Sun juice pouches.  Her party also had "formal" table settings (which means fancy stacked dishes and cups, and folded napkins), name cards, and party favors, which P commissioned Birdie to make.  To make the party complete, Princess made a New Year's Resolution game called "Pass the Kitty Ball", where we passed around a stuffed kitty toy and confessed our resolutions to the family.  When Princess was holding the Kitty Ball, do you know what that child resolved to do in 2013?!  Very solemnly she vowed,
"I will try to improve my kindness to others."

*cue sound of screeching brakes here*  Whoa!  What kid makes that their New Year's resolution?!!!  We-ellllll... If you knew the whole story...

Field Trips Suck... the Life Out of Me

Princess's stress face :(

Princess:  Mom!  Mom?  MAAAAHHHHHHMMMMMMMM!!!!  WHY AREN'T YOU ANSWERING ME, MOM?!  

Me:  Shhh!  *whispering fiercely*  What is the matter, Princess?!  Why are you yelling?!

P:  *sounds of something plastic having the life beat out of it*  My alarm clock. ISN'T! WORRR-KINNNNG!!!  IT STILL HASN'T RUNG! *hysterical sobbing*

Me:  Honey, it's only 5:00 a.m.  It's not supposed to ring for another hour.  Nothing is broken.

P:  Oh...  Are you sure?!  If we are late to school, they will leave me behind AND I WON'T GET TO GO ON THE FIELD TRIP!! *sobbing again*


Of course.  The "Field Trip Freak Out" is happening.  Again.  I was hoping we were going to avoid the field trip anxiety this year.


Me:  Shhhh!  You will get there on time-- I promise.  Please try to go back to sleep.


Field trips are a living nightmare for lots of spectrum-y kids, my Princess included.  Where most kids are bursting at the seams with excitement about what adventures a field trip day may have in store, the spectrum-y kid is tallying up all the ways that the day could go horribly wrong.  A field trip is a day chock-full of the unknown, and for kids with autism, that's worse than punishment.  On field trip day, the regular school activities, the surroundings, the seating arrangement, the bus ride, the lunch schedule, the grown-up in charge, the bag in which lunch is carried-- all these things are mostly likely different.  Ummmm-- can you say "not good"?!    For a kid that poops at the same time and place every day, a kid who can't find her milk glass at the dinner table if you set it in a different spot by her plate, a kid who gets angry if she outgrows clothes without being warned that the outgrowing might happen soon-- for that kid, this many changes in one day is enough to induce a full-blown panic attack!

Flu Shots

I've had it up to HERE with flu shots.  And by here, I mean there, because I passed my limit with shots about three years ago and kept going anyway.

image courtesy of Free Stock Photos.biz

I'm not talking about the flu shots for myself, but the ones for my kids.  I'll get my flu shot every time it is available to me, because the pros of the shot outweigh the cons.  For me.  When it comes to Princess and Birdie, however, I cannot envision a single scenario or incentive that would make the headache of getting them vaccinated worth it.  No lotto winnings, no promise of luxuries or prizes-- no one could possibly incentivize that experience enough to make me go to a flu clinic with my daughters ever again.  Ever.  I have given it my best efforts in previous years.  I mean, come on-- protecting your child from a preventable illness, in my opinion, is what any good mother would do!  W-heh-helllll.... I am done with being a good mother by this definition.  It. Ain't. Worth it-- their immunity to the flu, I mean.  I'd rather spend 10 days of my life nursing a flu-ridden child back to health, than spend the 40 minutes it typically takes to get through the flu shot clinic.  I am being completely serious.  Those that know me well know I do, on occasion, resort to the use of hyperbole when describing certain events, and my husband was sure this was one of those times.  This is not one of those times.  I really would rather deal with fever, sweats, chills, body aches, and vomit for over a week, than sit at the flu shot clinic with my children for less than an hour.  Hubby finally came along last year so that he could get the full experience, too-- and now he knows I was not joking.  When I mentioned it was flu shot season again in October, Hubby suggested that instead of getting the free shots that our healthcare provider doles out, I might ought to look into the nasal mist vaccine, which would cost us about $70 for the two girls.  Seventy dollars versus free, and we both felt like we would be getting a terrific deal if there was no drama at vaccination time.  It is THAT BAD!

Change is Good

So apparently, change is good!  I mean like, really good.  So good, in fact, that I am beginning to worry that I have somehow gotten off the Crazy Train and entered another, parallel universe, where my children are incredibly agreeable, and the happytime-to-meltdown ratio is much, much more favorable than I am accustomed to.  I keep waiting for the proverbial crap to hit the proverbial spinning blade, but so far no dice!  I am really digging living in this Twilight Zone!

Part of me is not 100% convinced that this fan we speak of isn't just pointed in someone else's direction during the school day, and that I am just happily outside the splatter zone.  I'm wondering, if that is the case, do I even care that my Utopian illusion is just an illusion?!

The Big Shift

Except for the date, this is pretty accurate.

I have spent all summer trying to ease Princess and Birdie into the idea of third grade.  I have subtly changed their lunch time from 11:00 a.m. to 11:30 a.m., which is a pretty big deal.  I have casually mentioned from time to time some of the differences between 2nd and 3rd grade, like working in groups more often, having different seating arrangements, and reading more chapter books.  I have talked about who their teachers will be and how they compared to their 2nd grade teachers.  The Crazies seemed to take the info in stride, and with little worry.  Then, when Back to School Bootcamp began, the first week went so well that I thought my girls were finally going to be relieved of most of the anxiety that they experience this time of year.  Uhhhh-- I was wrong.  They just decided to hold off on the worry for a day or two.  Maybe the good news that we weren't moving helped delay the insanity.  After all, Princess was over the moon that she would get to spend another year at school with Prince Charming.  Unfortunately, reality began to set in early last week, and we have been stress-central on the Crazy Train ever since.

And here I thought I might actually be dodging a bullet...

Cha-Cha-Cha-Changes

We've got a whole lot of change going on here at the Crazy Train in the next couple of weeks.  I know you've heard the whole "change is good" nonsense that people like to spew about.  Hell, even I make this comment from time to time!  But I don't usually say this in reference to me and mine.  At my house, change is most decidedly B. A. D.  Change isn't what makes the world go 'round-- it's what brings the world to a screeching halt for my Crazies.  Change makes Princess and Birdie grumpy and tearful, and makes mama want to hide in the closet with ice cream or wine!  Somehow, Hubby tends to score more hours at the office during times of change, and therefore misses out on most of the excitement.  I'm thinking this is not a coincidence.  Regardless, you get the point-- change and I aren't on good terms.  At least not most of the time.  Change does have it's moments-- just not very often!

(not my photo)

Birdie's SPED Evaluation & Eligibility

You may recall that back in May, I referred Birdie for special education services (<--see the post about this here) at school.  Although it wasn't fun, it was necessary, and Birdie was approved to be evaluated for services.

The series of evaluations began almost immediately, and for those of you with children that receive special services, you know how long this process can take.  Birdie was observed in the classroom, to get eyewitness accounts of her difficulties handling some of the "constructs of a typical learning environment".  She was evaluated by an educational diagnostician, who basically assesses and diagnoses learning difficulties of students, using a battery of tests and interviews.  Birdie was given a psyche evaluation, which is more tests and interviews.  I was interviewed.  Birdie's medical history was required, which included listing all Birdie's missed milestones, medical issues, and relatives with any sort of mental health issues.

Can you say "probed"?!  That's how you feel at the end of all this.  Probed.

The Ever-So-Necessary Summer Schedule

This being the first week of summer break and all, most people are at home basking in the glories of reduced responsibilities and increased relaxation time.  I, on the other hand, feel like I have been relegated to the Inner Circles of Hell.

The Funny Thing About Fear

At 5:18 a.m. this morning, I opened my eyes and instantly knew I would not doze back off again.  Rather than lie there for the next 27 minutes waiting for my alarm to go off, I rolled out of bed and stumbled downstairs to visit my best friend, Mr. Keurig.  After feeding Mr. Keurig a tiny plastic cup filled with magic, he showed me his gratitude by producing one perfectly brewed cup of sustaining life blood coffee.  By the time I returned to my bedroom, coffee in hand, it was only 5:27.  I had more than enough time to shower and dress before the kiddos emerged from their little caves and began to plunder the pantry at 6:05.

Unfortunately, I made one tiny error that led to very big drama.  I forgot to turn off my alarm clock.  Sounds like no big deal, right?  Wrong.

Frozen Moments

As the end of the school year rapidly approaches, and the impending summer "break" looms nearby, I find myself wondering what new and unbelievably embarrassing scenarios I have waiting for me in the near future.  You see, it is my selective memory personal experience that the summer has way more of those situations-- the ones where the occurring events are so completely mortifying that you will always and forever have every detail of it burned into your brain, like it just happened.  I refer to these situations as "frozen moments" since I can see them like the are paused on the tv screen, frozen in time.

Hersheypark and Its Many Signs

The obligatory "we're here" photo.

After our troublesome false start last Friday, we finally made it all the way to Hershey, PA around 9:00 p.m.  Needless to say, we put Princess and Birdie straight to bed, with us to follow soon after.  The next morning, my ladies were up and at 'em only a little later than usual (a whoppin' 20 minutes of sleeping in for missing their bedtime by 2 full hours).  We were soon in the hotel's breakfast area, trying to decide which of the assorted pastries, yogurt, cereal, and "cooked" breakfast foods would give us the most stamina at the amusement park that day.

The Genius Kid

Not my image-- obviously

As I have mentioned before, I work as a substitute teacher at my daughters' school.  This morning, I had the extreme pleasure of spending some time in one of our school's second grade classrooms.  My daughters are in second grade, and although I wasn't in class with either of them, several of the students I was with recognized me as Princess and Birdie's mom.  This started a small tangential discussion with the students.  During our little tangent, one boy, whom I did not recognize as ever having been a classmate of my girls before, noticed the picture of my family I keep in my school ID badge.  "Those are your kids?  Hey!  You're the mom of that genius kid?!  (He was pointing at Birdie's photo when he said this.)  Wow!"  His tone indicated something between awe and incredulity.

Bullies: Inherently Mean or Morally Uneducated?

Stop Bullying Logo I found

bullyingpresent participle of bul·ly

Verb:

Use superior strength or influence to intimidate (someone), typically to force him or her to do what one wants.

I wish I knew what makes mean kids tick.

What about the make up of a human being makes some kids overpower the weak or fragile?  Why do the tears and fears of a weaker child make some feel kids more powerful or superior?  Is this survival of the fittest gone terribly wrong?  Is it learned behavior or human nature?

The Diabolical Easter Egg Hunt

Bwahahahahahaha!

I was up to no good today.  What kind of mother would take advantage of the festivities of the Easter holiday to manipulate her kids?  The desperate kind, like me.

You may recall from my previous post, The Things We Hold Onto, that my children have a hard time putting things away.  And throwing things away, for that matter.  I decided to trick motivate them into cleaning up their disaster zones bedrooms by making them an offer they could not refuse.

We Need a Break from Spring "Break"

Princess's look that says 'I've had enough'

I saw today coming.  After Sunday's big trip to the aquarium and Monday being completely wide open and unscheduled, today was the last possible day I could hope for flexibility from Princess, and it was a crap shoot at best.  Add to that the fact that my husband was preparing to leave home for a few days, and the odds tip further out of my favor.  Good thing I didn't put money on the table.  I started seeing the signs late Monday afternoon that P was nearing the end of her rope... the tightness of her jaw, the amplified aversion to physical contact, the constant noise-making that usually means she's trying to drown out the sounds of the world around her.  To most mom's these are signs that a nap is in order, but to me it means I need to start battening down the hatches to prepare for stormy weather.  If only a nap could fix our schedule issues...

This morning, getting Princess dressed took 26 minutes-- okay, yes, I'm so anal I know to the minute.  Combing her hair almost didn't happen because her scalp was "feeling tight" and when I offered to braid her bangs she shrieked "I DON'T HAVE ENOUGH HAIR FOR THAT YET!!!!"  Well, okay then.

Day Trip to the Aquarium

Not me-- nor my photo.

Today started out as one of those days... the kind of the day you wish is over before it even begins.  I am probably to blame for this.  Somehow, it always comes back to me.

We had been planning all week to spend today at National Aquarium in Baltimore.  As any autism parent knows, in order to do something so out of the ordinary from our daily routine requires days of "prepping" your child(ren) for the trauma of having to *cue the scary music* "be flexible."  I try to strike a balance in the flow of information during this prepping stage.  Not enough info means Birdie and Princess feel like they have been sabotaged by their dad and me;  too much info could lead to more stress if they feel the activities to come sound "scary" or like they might be "too much" to handle.  Apparently, I got the "prepping" all wrong for this trip.

The day began with everyone crying and screaming-- including me.

The Things We Hold Onto

In the beginning...

I look into the abysses that are my daughters' rooms.  I am NOT going in there.  Hurricane Katrina has nothing on my Princess and Birdie.  Clothes are strewn about their rooms with great abandon.  Toys clutter the floor while their toy bins stand open and empty.  Books are in piles all around the room-- sometimes the books are piled by topic and sometimes they're just piled up to clear a path to a pile of something else.  There are bits of trash and paper and "treasure". (Treasure in this instance translates to most folks as "random, formerly shiny crap found in the Target parking lot".)  And then there are the stuffies-- tons and tons of stuffed animals fill every gap, nook and cranny that remains in the room.  How would I get in if I wanted to?  Why would I want to?

The Delicate Flower, The Emergency Vet, and Patience

Two nights ago, I experienced enough stress in one evening to last me for... well, forever.  (That may be a little overdramatic, but the night is still fresh enough in my mind for that to seem true.)

Now earlier I mentioned I have a dog.  I told you he is ridiculous and funny and smelly and has a penchant for home un-improvement.  I failed to mention he is also a delicate flower-- a walking, slobbering, itching genetic disaster.  He is equal parts adorable and allergic.  He is allergic to all the same things I am and they are all things that you cannot avoid, like dust mites, grass, weeds, and mold.  (The similarities in our allergies are so great that I have come to the conclusion that he and I are distant blood relatives.)  When not medicated and left to his own devices, my dog would literally claw his fur and sometimes skin right off his body.  He spends countless hours finding the perfect place to rub his back-- on the carpet, against the tv stand, on the low window sill-- so he can scratch the itch he can't reach.  It makes me laugh and feel sorry for him at the same time.