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Five Things My Kids School Gets Right

autisminourhouse

I’m very often guilty of focusing on the negative. It’s a bad habit of mine. In light of that, today I want to give you five things my kids’ school does right.

1.) 99% of the teachers are wonderful and understanding and teaching for the right reasons.  They get that every kid has needs that are different from his or her peers.

2.) The nurses at my kids’ school are amazing caregivers. They care for kids with something as simple as a bump on the playground, dispense sometimes life saving medicines and are sometimes just a soft place to land on a hard day.

3.) The principals are not just authority figures to the kids. They know almost every child by name. Do they dole out punishments? You bet, but the kids seem to know that they are a grownup on their team.

4.) My kids have PE three days a week. While they don’t always like the games they play, it’s so vital when kids only get 15 minutes of recess a day, weather permitting, that they have this opportunity to MOVE their bodies.

5.) Our school psychologist is a lifesaver. I’m serious. She sees my kid weekly for social skills and various other needs that may pop up, she conducts ARDs (Similar to an IEP meeting) in such a way that it’s not so bad, she makes sure each kid she sees is prepared for changes the following year, she’s a go between for parents and teachers, she has a stack of paperwork a mile high on her desk yet has NEVER turned this mama away when she needs an ear. 

There are more than five things my kids’ school does right, certainly, but this is a good start. 

Happy Weekend Y’all.

#FiveOnFriday

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Room

autisminourhouse

Blogging earlier  led to a lot of messaging back and forth with a dear friend of mine. She’s awesome in that she “gets it.”  We were discussing “balance.” Blah, blah, blah. How do we find it? Blah, blah, blah. We’d kinda taken a break from the convo to, you know, “work.” And, I had a thought. Just now. As I was washing dishes. 

I can’t even give my kid room to screw up without looking for a diagnosis.

I am so entrenched in this life of worry and what does it all mean that I can’t let my kids be kids and make mistakes. That’s a lot of pressure. For them and me. 

Could there be a diagnosis? Maybe. But I’m taking a step back and giving some room for errors.  I often say, “Without challenge, there is no growth.” Can’t the same be said for mistakes.

Wow. I’m smart.



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All Autism All The Time?

autisminourhouse

You know how I’m always saying it’s not all autism all the time around here? No? Well, I do say that. A lot. Sometimes it’s all about the NTish WeeOne getting himself into big trouble at school and wondering what int he world is happening here. The WeeOne has a temper.  I think I’ve told you about it before. I say temper, but I really feel like it’s frustration that exhibits as anger. Okay. Splitting hairs. He’s got a temper. We’ve worked with him on all the things we know to do that could possible help him:

  • Breathe in for five, out for five.
  • Imagine yourself using the force to control your emotions.
  • Count to ten.
  • Count backwards from ten.

This kid can meditate six ways from Sunday. But he just can’t control his temper. At home it exhibits as lots of yelling.  We’re not talking about the occasional shout of displeasure. Anytime there is the slightest hint that something won’t go his way, it is histrionics. Of epic proportions.

I thought Bigs meltdowns on his younger years were big. They were, but this kid’s tantrums are nothing short of impressive. Take for example the way he apologizes.  It’s hilarious from an outside of your body experience, but in the moment fairly painful. Picture it: mild infraction against him, usually greatly blown out of proportion on his part. Him:  HUGE reaction. HUGE. Yelling, crying, the works. Then, a mild reprimand for the overreaction.  The fun really starts now. You truly haven’t lived until you’ve had the cutest brown eyed boy scream, “I’M SORRRRY!  WHY WON’T YOU ACCEPT MY APOLOGY?!?! I SAID I’M SORRRRRRRYYYYY!” Insert much stomping and noise as a child of 8 can make.  Yes we’ve ignored. Yes we’ve reprimanded. Yes we’ve used positive reinforcement. We’ve seen a marked improvement at home. Then….da.da.da….

I pull through the pick up line I so often write about on my Facebook page. Big gets in (we’re just fresh off a doozy of a week the week before with him) happy as a clam. WeeOne gets in and immediately starts yelling at me. (No bueno.) I try calmly to tell him to chill out and quit yelling that no one is yelling at him, I need to drive safely there are tons of other cars around. Turns out he’s telling me that he’s in trouble at school. Big trouble. We tackle the unavoidable task of going to the grocery store. (That was fun.) We get in the car to find a voicemail from WeeOne’s teacher.  I call back. Yep. Trouble. Big Trouble.

What I gather is:  at the end of the day, as the kids are lining up to go home, WeeOne “thinks” the child behind him is digging in his backpack.  He physically felt nothing, he just “thinks” the kid is trying to steal from him.  WeeOne turns around angrily, elbowing the child in the stomach, knocking him down and making him cry. (UGH. Typing this out makes my stomach hurt.) We get home, WeeOne is seriously freaking out. This isn’t the I’m freaking out because I am scared of what punishment lay ahead. This is the I am disappointed in myself more than you will ever be freaking out. (Don’t ask me how I know this level of freaking out.) Punishments are decided and accepted relatively well, considering who they are dolled out to.

The next morning, I walk the boys in. Because it’s Thursday (I always walk the kids in on Thursday), and because I need to talk to the principal before she calls me.  When she sees me.  Do you know what she says? “Kristi, I thought I’d be seeing you first thing this morning. I have the WeeOne’s paperwork right here.” She assured me that knowing she’d see me meant she knew I cared and wanted to take an active role in school. (AKA I hover with the best helicopter pilots ever.) The principal and I discussed WeeOne’s punishment, agreed, and I went about my business.

When I picked the boys up, I asked how the boys days were. I was shocked(ish) to hear that the WeeOne enjoyed his day in In School Suspension (ISS); he said “I was able to do my work in two and a half hours, read and concentrate.  It was quiet and calm.”  At first I was worried (like a lot) about this statement. Really though, truth be told, a smaller, more controlled classroom environment would be good for this high expectation having NT(ish) WeeOne. It would be good for all kids.

I worried about all of this so much that I gave myself hives. (What does this say about me? No. Don’t answer that.) I worried that I’m missing something.  I worried that I’m ignoring something bigger. Then I broke down all the explanations (NOT EXCUSES).

  • He’s EIGHT and on a good day gets 15 minutes of outside time at school
  • Full Moon
  • It’s not easy being the NTish Brother of a Kid on the Spectrum
  • Winter-No Recess For At Least Two Weeks
  • Another cold front
  • He’s EIGHT

Don’t get me wrong.  If another darling child such as mine did this to MY kid, I’d be up at school the next morning. I KNOW this about myself.  I also know this. WeeOne is in no danger of becoming Dexter. Do we need to talk to his pediatrician to see if there is an ADD dx or the dx formerly known as Aspergers? Probably. But, in perspective, he’s a good boy who made a mistake. Is it worthy of consequences and discussion, yes! Hives? No.

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Boys And Loss And Compassion

autisminourhouse

I originally wrote this piece over two and a half years ago on July 29, 2012.  At the time, I believed Big struggled with empathy…It turns out, not only does he NOT struggle with empathy, he may feel more than most.

A week ago today, my cousin’s wife lost her battle with breast cancer. Although, she is in heaven now, I don’t actually feel she lost at all. She fought bravely, with grace, courage and beauty. She maintained her faith throughout, and was strong for everyone else. Kathy showed us all what it means to have family and friends in our lives. She lived her life up until the very end. When I got “the phone call” the wind was knocked out of my sails to say the least. I was devastated for Chandon, auntie Mary Jo, Taylor, Taylor’s babe and Kathy’s family and friends. I cried. And cried.

The eldest has trouble with empathy. He loves his family so much that I often forget. He struggled to understand why I would be so upset. After all, we didn’t see them often. I explained my grief the best I could and went about the business of packing our bags to make the drive to say our final good byes.

On the day of the visitation, I talked again to the boys about what was not appropriate. When we arrived, Chandon was greeting people. Accepting hugs, “I love you(s),” and condolences. The eldest, of his own accord, walked up to this cowboy in his starched white shirt and “pink for gray” bracelet, who is more a brother to me than a cousin, and hugged him tight. Joe looked him in the eye and said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”. One single tear trailed down this brave cowboy’s face. He bent down to reply, but couldn’t. Later after the funeral, as we all gathered at Kathy’s sisters, Chandon said he wanted to say something to Joe, but the words were stuck in his throat.

As we were driving home yesterday from my dad’s Joe asked why there had to be cancer in the world. I said, “Baby, I just don’t know.”. My youngest babe says, “Taylor’s baby still has her grandma.”. I say, “No, baby, her grandma is in heaven.”. Chet says, “No, mama. I mean just like we all have Jesus with us always, the baby will have her grandma with her always.”. What you have to know is that we are not a particularly religious family. We (sometimes) make it to Christmas eve and maybe (ok rarely) Easter services. We tend to find God when we are with our family, or fishing, or at the beach, or in the company of our friends…Chet’s had three school years of once weekly chapel that must have really sunken in.

I’m so very proud of my boys for really grasping the important things in life. Sometimes, it takes five and a half and seven and a half year old boys to show grownups how to travel through this inevitable part of life…loss.

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More Than…

autisminourhouse

I vaguely remember a time when I had hopes and dreams and desires that belonged solely to me. Sure some of those were childish hopes and dreams that I left behind long before having children, but they were mine and mine alone. When I had kids, my whole identity became those two beautiful boys. My whole life was doctors appointments, therapy, to and fro here and there.  It was my identity. It IS my identity, but I am more than that, right?

I think all moms (I ass/u/me dad’s too) feel a certain amount of this wondering who am I now?  But I think for stay at home parents it is especially hard. Who am I aside from this amazing little creature I made my family (either by birth or adoption)? What do I want? The answer for so long was, “I want ___________ for my kids.” But that’s not the question.  The question is what do I want FOR ME? Honest to God, I don’t have a clue anymore. I want to rediscover myself outside of being a parent, outside of being an “autism mommy blogger”, outside of being a wife. I love those aspects of my life so very much and find comfort and joy in them, but I’m more than that, right? I am more than my son’s autism diagnosis.  I am more than “WeeOne’s mom.” I am more than worrying about what activiites would simultaneously fill the need to practice social skills and increase self esteem for Big while still being fun for the WeeOne.

I am more than sleepless nights worrying about IEPs and school placements and high stakes testing and the effects it is having on both of my boys. I am more than scheduling a rare play date with a friend. I am more than the woman who fixes breakfast, cleans the dishes, fixes lunch, cleans the dishes, washes and folds the laundry, cleans the toilet, sweeps and mops, fixes dinner, cleans the dishes, makes sure everyone in the household has meds and maintaining my sweet and never wavering even demeanor. (That last part is a joke, just in case you couldn’t read my sarcasm.)

Saying I am more than these things does not in anyway shape or form diminish their importance or the fact that I get some satisfaction from a job okayly done.  But what about ME.  What other than my family brings me joy? My friends. Okay…so I need to make some time for friends.  What else? Writing. Okay…I need to write more and work on developing my craft. What else? Reading.  I can totally make time for that.  But what ELSE? I’m really trying to dig in and look at my desires and find a way to find myself again. Find who I am not independent of my family because that’s neither attainable nor desirable, rather who I am next to them.  It won’t be long, judging how fast the ten and a half years have gone since we had Big and my boys will be living on their own.  I don’t want to be left without something for myself. I want to be a person now so that when they do flee the coup, I don’t have an identity crisis. Really, I’m in crisis prevention mode and that’s pretty smart of me.  I usually react rather than prevent. So yay me.

How do you make yourself feel more than?

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