Yesterday we got to go to the middle twice; first, for Chickadee's 8th grade orientation, then later, for Monkey's 6th grade one. I took Chickie in the morning and marveled at how different it was, now, from her first foray into this building two years ago. She met up with friends easily, ran to greet and hug favorite teachers, and then parked herself at the brief assembly with her buds, leaving me happy to catch her glance now and then from the row behind them. We picked up her schedule and discovered she hadn't gotten a couple of teachers she'd wanted. Worse, it appeared many of her...
Back in May, I baked a ginormous batch of my most sinful cinnamon rolls, and I packed up a plate of them---still warm---and took them over to the middle school. I opened our meeting there with a quick disclaimer: I will always ask for a lot, at these meetings. I'm there as my child's advocate, and I want what I want. But, I always bake. I'm not there to make anyone mad. I want us to be a team. I am not averse to greasing the wheels with butter and frosting. Know this about me. My speech (and my baking) were well-received. Our team from the elementary school came, too, and they were...
To recap: Monkey had to leave his social skills group last week, but this week he was allowed to return for the last session. There were apologies all around and he made a special effort to play nicely with the kid he clobbered last week, and as it was the wrap-up and party I think we were all happy to be able to end on a high note. But all was not sunshine and rainbows; he did end up under a table for part of the time, demanding that his therapist "just please make him shut up" (referencing a chatty kid who was getting on his nerves), and although SuperAspieDoc assured me it was fine and he...
I know I keep saying it, but I really cannot fully express how much I've loved this summer. This is our fourth summer in Georgia and the first one that's felt like everyone is okay and life is good. The stress level has been relatively low and the kids are happy and mostly healthy. Basically I never want this summer to end, ever. But it's going to end in a couple of weeks, and we're starting to brace for impact. It's funny; I had a post planned, yesterday morning. It wasn't anything earth-shattering, but it was going to be about how good summer has been for everyone, but most especially for...
Sometimes I feel like I've got this whole Aspie thing under control. I know what will knock Monkey for a loop. I prepare him ahead of time for trouble spots, or sense when things are about to get ugly and take him aside. Sometimes I don't realize or see what what will set him off, and I feel alternately inept and callous as I try to both get him in line and soothe him. Like, yes, honey, no one likes to wait an hour for the doctor, but that doesn't actually mean it's okay to answer his, "And how are you?" greeting with "I'm PRACTICALLY DEAD because we've been waiting here FOREVER and I'm...
I don't know if I've mentioned how much I am enjoying this summer. I mean---The Saga Of The Fence aside---I feel like we've reached a good place as a family. The kids are old enough that they don't need us every second but young enough that they still like hanging out with us. Otto and I have had time to nurture our relationship. (See, as a grownup I say "nurture our relationship" because I am fancy, rather than saying "be naked more often" because one, I'm a lady, and two, Otto would kill me if I said that.) (Oops!) I'm not going to claim to have that whole work/life balance thing down...
I think that parenting has a certain element of doubt inherent in it no matter what; there's always a niggling "Was this the right decision?" undertone to everything, because being tasked with the care and feeding of another human being is heavy business. So you live with doubt, from the very first cry, the very first decision. No matter what. Having a kid with special needs has, for me, taken the "Is this right?" undertone and magnified it into a booming daily soundtrack. I feel less sure of my decisions, but more certain of their capacity to do damage if and when I get them wrong. Whether...
I'm the one who's not sentimental. I'm the one who gathered with the other moms for coffee on that first day of preschool and while they blubbered about how their PRESHUS BAYBEES were growing up and they couldn't stand it, I was all, "Are you going to finish that scone?" and "This is the first uninterrupted cup of coffee I've had in three years!" It's not that I'm in a hurry for my kids to grow up, it's just that... it happens. And so far I've only liked them more, the older they've gotten. And sometimes, yeah, it feels like a grind---inbetween the rainbows and fluffy bunnies and tender...
This morning over breakfast, I mentioned to Otto the recent article showing that March conceptions are most likely to result in autistic kids, which I find fascinating. (I like to think I'd find it fascinating even if Monkey hadn't been a March conception, but whatever.) Monkey was immersed in his cereal bowl but I could tell he was listening. "Isn't that weird, bud?" I asked him. "I mean, weird that it's apparently true, and that they figured it out. And... I dunno, could you even imagine what you'd be like if you didn't have Asperger's? I can't." He immediately leapt up from the table,...
