Carolyn from neurotypical mom

This post is from Carolyn over at neurotypicalmom. Why don't you all go check out her blog! 

My seven year old has Aspergers and I need to become a Pediatrician.  It still feels very strange to say both of those things.  Perhaps because we have only had an official diagnosis for 5 months?  But that's not it, not really.  Getting the diagnosis was such a relief, after years of Z being thrown out of schools, acting oddly on play dates, destroying our house and making me curl up in a ball and cry weekly.  No, once we had the diagnosis I actually exhaled.  Consciously, I never even knew that I was holding my breath, but I must have been.  For five years at least, because once I heard Aspergers, my first thought was, 'finally, thank god!  Now we can actually help him!'  And help him we did.  A whole new world opened up to our sweet boy, he began to blossom in ways that I could never have imagined.  Our relationship flourished as it never has before.  We are close now, he comes to me when he's sad, just last week - he told me he felt sick!  Hence the need for the aforementioned medical degree.  

What a huge victory that was!  I can assure you that has never happened before in his entire existence.  I've spent most of his life feeling as if I were a perfect candidate for 'Worst Mother of the Year' award.  Especially when I would do things like take him on a plane and he would say, casually, mid-flight,  'huh, my ear just popped'.  Why - you might ask - does his ear pop?  Well, that would be because of the raging ear double ear infection that he had prior to getting on the plane.  The one that I never knew about - I swear!  

The doctors would always look at me with reproach, 'this looks like it's been going on for a while, Mom', they would say as I looked at them helplessly, a mix of guilt and anger churning in my gut.

'Do you think I knew and I kept it from you? That there is any part of me that would want him to suffer, EVER?  No folks, he didn't tell me.  He didn't act different in any way.  He was his normal self, running around the house, banging into walls, falling on the floor and laughing.  He was only BUSIER, MORE EXCITED and MORE FRUSTRATING - that's all!  That's the only clue I would ever have that all was not right in Z's world.  And, I'm sorry, sometimes I missed the signs.  I didn't do it on purpose, I would just get busy, in the way that parents do and suddenly it would occur to me that Z was acting like he was on a day pass from the loony bin and had been for the past 48 hours...

How much would be solved if I was a pediatrician.  Then, if Z started acting a little more hyper and I could break out the stethoscope and look in his ears.  Or pull out a throat swab and test for strep.  How I could avoid so much pain for Z (not to mention all of the judgement for me).  If I have one more doctor look down his or her nose at me and treat me like I'm a bad mother I think I will lose it.  I may actually scream the words throbbing in my head!  

'I'm not doing it on purpose!'  

'He didn't tell me!' 

And when he's really sick, the times that I actually do know how bad he feels because his behavior is soooo over the top,

'I want to help him too',  

'I want to hold him and make it better',

'I want him to stop screaming every time I touch him'

'I want some peace'

Most of all, I just want to know how to make my baby feel better, it must be hell to be in his mind sometimes. I can’t even imagine and if I try to, it hurts my heart.  Maybe if I was a pediatrician, this would all be better.  At least, that's what I tell myself.  Soooo, anyone know any good schools that take stay-at-home moms?  Or perhaps there is a way you can get that M.D. online?  Any thoughts?  Anyone? Bueller?

Progress..

This is a lovely post from Kitty Kay who blogs here..Why don't you stop by and say hi.




I had a talk with Roger's teacher recently. At the start of the year when ever they would conference about his writing he would have a complete meltdown. Calling himself stupid, trying to hurt himself, and the motion disorder that was a whole new story that would go into overdrive. These conferences are just when the teacher talks to the student one on one about what they wrote, what she liked what needs to be changed, and how they can change it. The last time she conference with him which can be stressful for her as well as she knows the normal reaction, she got the surprise of the year. Even though she had some things he needed to fix his response this last time was OK, no meltdown. She says the only thing that has changed was he is no longer doing pencil and paper writing she allows him to use a computer and has seen where she used to get a sentence out with handwriting she can get 2 whole paragraphs now. While his ideas are on the paper as he thinks them with no order, they are now out of his head and on paper. We can work on the organization later. Baby steps and he has a great teacher who we will miss when he moves on to middle school next year.

Kicking Kittens gets an award!!

  Isn't that nice?  Scott from "On The Spectrum"( A really unique, funny and positive webcomic/blog) nominated kicking kittens for this award. I am thrilled.  I started this blog a little over a year ago.  The idea was to have a place for people whether they were bloggers or not to tell a positive story about themselves or their kids. People with disabilities, like anyone else in the human race, have dreams, thoughts, ideas, accomplishments...and far too often that is forgotten. No one is "less then" because of disability. That is the point of this blog.  The people who have participated thus far whether it be in a post or a comment have made this the wonderful and positive place that it is. So this award is shared by everyone.

   Unfortunately, someone (who has never been here) took offense to the award because of the blog title. Not understanding the meaning behind it. They thought it awful that with so much violence in the world etc. a blog with the title "kicking kittens" was somehow horrid and disrespectful. I tried to explain the reasoning behind it-it is even posted very clearly on top for all to see. Sadly, they chose not to come over-and instead decided to lambaste me with criticism. I needed to "Act like an adult" "Put on my big girl panties" "Grow up" and even went as far as saying that the title was the same as calling it "Raping autistic children". Unfortunately, people believe what they want to believe-and sometimes nothing will change their mind-ever. I can't stop that.  What I can do however, is continue to find and share all the positive stories that I find and post them here. So I will.

  In order to accept this award-I need to share seven things about myself that you wouldn't know-and then nominate three blogs for this award.  So here goes...
                                                                            

1

1)  This is my cat "Joe" I have never kicked him.

2) I kicked the diaper habit and have been wearing "big girl" panties for about 43 years.  Now, 43 years is just a guesstimate-but I clearly remember being three years old and trying to pee standing up like my playmate, Billy-and wound up being mortified because I couldn't.

3)  I have kicked butt playing pool. Although I have mostly had my butt kicked. Before I had children, I played pool avidly. I also worked in a billiards hall- learning from and playing with professionals. (thus my butt getting kicked)  I still own my own cue.

4) I have three dogs.  Last year I inadvertently kicked one of them in bare feet.  The dog just looked at me-I however broke my toe.

5) I have never learned how to "kick back" and relax. I am constantly moving. I have a very difficult time sitting still. This makes me no fun to go to the movies with...or sit next to(I'm always squirming) I am most happy when I am busy.

6) I was never any good at soccer. I have trouble kicking and running at the same time. I was however given the "most valuable player award" for both basketball and softball my senior year of high school. 

7)  Before I had settled down-I was quite the carefree party girl. I didn't give much thought to my health or my safety. Then I got married and had kids.  There is nothing that makes you question your mortality more than having children does. I worry about "kicking the bucket" before they are ready to be on their own.

  So there you have it-seven kicking things about me that you never knew...Now on to the fun part. I have to nominate three blogs for this award. There are so many to choose from. Here goes..

1) Welcome to the roller coaster ride I think she is wonderful..

2) Floortime Lite Mama Her writing is like beautiful poetry.

3)Out of the Fog She is incredibly informative and personable AND she offered to take my Lima beans off my hands.

So there you have it.  Seven things and three blogs. As always, I would love submissions from anyone interested.  It can be an old blog post you liked..a new one..even if you don't blog but want to tell your story. As long as it is positive-you have a welcome place here. 

Hooray! Gl learned to use scissors today!!

Another really wonderful post from Goldilocks and the three Bears...






Goldilocks has many struggles with fine motor skills. We've been focusing on the most essential, but trying everything, and cheering and encouraging any success, however small. Scissors was one I'd just about given up on. He tends to hold the scissors backwards, with the blades pointing toward him, and even when we can get them turned around, he rotates his wrist so the blades are parallel to the surface he is trying to cut. Then the thing he wants to cut just slides between the blades, and he is once again convinced that the task is impossible: these scissor things just don't ever work! And since we're not doing a lot of kindergarten art projects, there are more urgent skills to work on.

He loves microwave popcorn. He can safely run the microwave (it has a popcorn button); he just needs to get the bag of popcorn out of its plastic outer wrapper first. Sometimes the end of the wrapper is two layers fused together, and relatively easy to separate. Sometimes there is a small notch to make it easier to tear open. Others are difficult or impossible to open without a knife or scissors. He was trying to open one of the latter packages this morning and asked for help (a good sign to begin with). I was about to do it for him, when I thought, "Let him try. What can it hurt? If it doesn't work, I can still open it for him."

So I handed him the scissors, and with verbal instructions and a little help with hand placement, he snipped a notch and tore open the package! Hooray! He may or may not be able to do this next week, tomorrow, or even later today, but at age 13, he successfully cut something with scissors for the first time!

How Rude!

This is a really funny post from the blog "Goldilocks and the three bears"  Take a minute to go check this blog out-it will be worth your while.

GL has a hard time telling when people are joking, so when he gets it, it's a big deal. When he responds with a joke of his own, it's a bigger deal. When his joke is actually funny, it's the biggest deal of all. Yesterday I was out in the yard, and he asked MB for the 500th time, "Where's Dad?" 

In exasperation she said, "I ATE him!"

"Mom, that was rude! You didn't leave any for me!"

Can Will Does

This is one of my older posts...I am hoping to have some new submissions soon! If you are interested, it can be an old blogpost that you are fond of..or a new piece..or a place for anyone who doesn't want the responsibility of a blog to tell their story...

"Veni, Vidi, Vici"

Julius Caesar



I didn't know just how determined he was. I should have suspected something seeing as how he was fully dressed when I came downstairs this morning. Sammy is a slow starter in the morning-a really slow starter. Frozen molasses runs faster than he does. So I should have noticed that he was up, dressed and ready to go...or at least commented on it. But, I had things to do. Sammy had a basketball game, and getting everyone dressed, fed, and out the door takes monumental effort-and at least two cups of coffee. Sometimes more..o.k. actually most times more.


Sammy plays on one of his school basketball teams. It is actually a nice set up. There are about six co-ed teams of third through fifth graders. The focus is primarily on teaching the game rather than on competition. They practice once a week and every Saturday there is a game. Today was the last game of the season. So I was pretty happy...alright, I admit it..I was thrilled. Monday through Friday I rush every morning to get them out the door and onto the bus. Do they have hats, jackets, snow pants, lunch, backpacks, clean faces... sigh..it's always rush rush rush...So the idea of getting back one of the mornings where I don't have to do anything.. well...it's thrilling.

This is Sammy's third year of playing for a team. Sadly, it will probably be his last. Next year, in sixth grade they hold try-outs...and I don't think he'll make a team. He has some large motor skills issues. Although he is a speed demon on his bicycle..running and dribbling a ball is very challenging to him. He doesn't life his feet off the ground when he runs..add a basketball and the results are..well, he struggles. Don't get me wrong-he has improved immensely since third grade. The first year he played, if he saw one of is friends on the opposing team, he would stop to hug them. The second year, anytime he got the ball, he would break down laughing in the middle of the court. This year though... this year he was different. He was focused. He concentrated on defending his basket, and in passing the ball. In fact the minute he got the ball, he would pass it- immediately. My Sammy is tough, but he isn't aggressive. For him, I think it was more about just playing and being part of a team, rather than scoring. Until today that is.



Today he was driven..like a dog with a bone. Come hell or high water, he was going to score. And nothing was going to get in his way. First quarter-Sammy gets the ball..there is no room to move..he is so focused, so set on shooting..he bounces the ball with both hands and walks three feet to the basket..and shoots! and misses..He looks at me-I give him a thumbs up. Second quarter, he gets the ball..he shoots! he misses..it rebounds off the backboard, he grabs the ball he shoots! he misses..He looks at me, I give him a thumbs up. Third quarter..he's fouled, goes to the line..he shoots! he misses...he gets fouled again he shoots! he misses..he gets passed the ball..he shoots! he misses..he gets passed the ball again..he shoots! he misses..My boy must have attempted to score at least twenty times..and every time, he looks at me, and every time I give him a thumbs up...by now everyone has noticed..and is rooting for him...his team mates..the opposite team..the audience..everyone wants him to score. His determination is contagious..The tension was palpable..(I was a wreck) I don't think that there was a person there that wasn't captivated. They can see how badly he wants this. How hard he is trying.. it is no longer about watching the game....or about disability...or the fact that my boy is autistic..it is about Sammy. It is about my boy wanting to make a basket. In the fourth quarter, with thirty seconds left in the game...his team mate gets the ball..he could have scored easily..gotten the glory..instead.. he passes it to Sammy..I hear him say in a matter of fact way.."You CAN do this Sammy"...as if it is no big deal...as if it is just a common every day thing..as if he expects no less. Sammy takes the ball..and shoots..in what felt like slow motion .. it goes up..up..and then ...Swish...nothing but net. Everyone cheers in excitement...and relief! My boy looks at me..he is shining.. I give him a thumbs up-(even though I wanted to rush down and grab him and hug him.-but a mother doesn't do that to an eleven year old boy, especially in public) he runs to finish the game with the rest of his team.


The cynical and jaded part of me could say "oh, how nice..yet another "autistic kid makes a basket..the crowd erupts" story. But that wasn't it at all. Sammy has been at this school since he was seven years old. He is an accepted part of his class. Those kids didn't pass him the ball because of his disabilities..but because he was part of the team. Sigh... Sometimes, I need to remove my sarcastic self from the picture. Because sometimes a game is just a game..and a kid is just a kid. Today my kid was determined. He came, he saw, he conquered because he can..he will and he does. How's that for awareness?

A beautiful little story from Missy...

My little 3 year old boy has autism. He is pretty much non-verbal. After getting on his school bus the other day, he turned and said to me... "a-bye" (aka "good bye") That little word put a huge smile on my face and my tears came gushing. What a little but huge thing to be so happy about! He sure is making strides with talking lately.