Pathetic. I missed my own blogoversary date. I knew it was sometime in February but didn't know quite when. Well, guess what, it was last Wednesday. Woo hoo.
It about sums up how I'm feeling right now--completely scattered.
At least now I can see that I felt like this last year at this time also--maybe this is why I've latched on to Groundhog Day as a way to make the holiday feeling last. And then, the cliff ends and I've gone over again.
What's this? I didn't even post about Groundhog Day this year. We had a fun party in DB's class on the Friday before the big day. He was sick on Monday the 2nd, so I didn't get to read to more library classes, but that was OK.
And I sold 2 copies of my Groundhog Day party ebook. Despite having my link misspelled in the ad I had in my side column here. (It was right on the 3 other blogs it appeared on, including the one I paid for.)
One to the librarian at DB's school, and one ... drumroll, please ... to someone I don't know! Another mom said she tried to buy it but couldn't -- will have to look into that more with her.
Ok, back to scattered thoughts. (Not that I ever really left them...) I guess that's all of them for now, really. That and I need to reduce my cleaning lady's hours (or let her go) due to our income situation, and I don't have the nerve. But I have another week or 2 before I have to do it. She probably makes more than we do at this point--- definitely! -- yet I am afraid to say anything to her.
*Sigh.*
Showing posts with label Mondays. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mondays. Show all posts
Monday, February 9, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Parental Love
Most days after DB gets on the school bus, I come upstairs and feel a pang of worry, love, and hope for him. All I can do at that point is pray for his safety and his mental and emotional comfort for the day.
All I can do is hope I've prepared him the best I can for what he's going to face.
And he's only 6... what will I be like as he grows and the challenges increase?
Is this normal?
It makes me think about God's love for us, how much more God cares for us, thinks about us, hopes we'll make the right choices.
Do you think God worries? Seems outside the scope of emotion for a Divine Being. But the others for sure -- hope, love, concern.
After all, we have free will to make our own choices. No matter how much preparation we've gotten from whatever source worked for us -- church, Sunday School, kind neighbors, the Bible -- in the end we decide what to do.
Compared to God, we all have autism.
All I can do is hope I've prepared him the best I can for what he's going to face.
And he's only 6... what will I be like as he grows and the challenges increase?
Is this normal?
It makes me think about God's love for us, how much more God cares for us, thinks about us, hopes we'll make the right choices.
Do you think God worries? Seems outside the scope of emotion for a Divine Being. But the others for sure -- hope, love, concern.
After all, we have free will to make our own choices. No matter how much preparation we've gotten from whatever source worked for us -- church, Sunday School, kind neighbors, the Bible -- in the end we decide what to do.
Compared to God, we all have autism.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
Autism and Church
I wonder if my other blog should shift from Autism and Public Schools, which many people advocate and talk about and research so much better than me, to Autism and Church.
I stumbled across this idea this evening... of a focus on Autism at a church service on February 8th. I wonder if my church might be open to it.
As part of it, I would be willing to --actually, relieved to -- speak and say that DB has autism and how that manifests itself in the way he acts and thinks at church. (Wonder if Husband would be open to that...)
There is another child at church with autism and other more severe disabilities as well, which might be eye-opening for our congregation to see the spectrum.
This was our experience today:
Toward the beginning of the service, DB said "Amen" after the Lord's Prayer, and I thought how funny it is that someone who overheard him might think he was saying "Amen" to the prayer. In fact, I know he was correcting the pronunciation -- most everyone near us said "ah-men" and he prefers "ay-men".
Then during the children's sermon, as usual he was unable to keep from blurting out the answers when the minister asks them all a question. (Someone has actually commented to Husband about this. Someone with a well-behaved, hand-raising child of course.)
At least he only eyed up the communion elements as he walked past and did not try to take any. Whew!
In his Sunday School class, DuckyBoy does well sometimes and other times not, and the teacher rotates so no one quite knows how to deal with him. They are wonderful moms with good hearts but the best they can do is tolerate him for the 30 minutes. I know he's disruptive, today I get the impression he was intractible. (He's been "off" the past few days anyway, and , I forgot his snack.) He also told me tonight a boy in class told him he was a baby, or playing with a baby toy, he described what he was playing with but I don't know what it was. On the upside, he reconnected with his old friend K., and they drew pictures for each other (the project was to draw for a secret pal in the class and give them the artwork, and apparently they picked each other.)
He flat-out tells the beautifully-voiced soprano who volunteers her time to sing with them that he doesn't like her, her voice, etc. *Sigh.*
DB also got us in an embarrassing situation today after church. Kids are allowed to play in the gym during coffee hour, but, well I'll admit it, they are supposed to be supervised by their parents. He has always been good about coming to get us when he needs us, but today he got a little hurt or something ( I still don't know if it was physical or his feelings that got hurt) and while one mom tried to comfort him, another came to get us.
And, well, she had a few patronizing words for us, too, about how we "might want to keep an eye on him" ... "because he likes to play with the bigger kids and yadda yadda" and "I try to keep an eye on him because my son is there too" and "I think he's hungry" and I think Husband wanted to strangle her. (Edited to add: Later on, Husband was grateful she'd come to get us.)
Anyway, today's experience made me look around a bit on the web. Preliminary search turns up a few drips and drabs -- like a good article from 2002 about a mom and her young child, a Dad's heartfelt post that rang true for me, and a decent-sounding book, Autism and Your Church, though it may be more for my children's ministry coordinator than me.
Since I said an hour ago I was going to go to bed and since tomorrow is The Grind Begins Again Day with the 6 AM alarm, I will cease research for the night. But it's not like I came up with anything that covers the topic extensively. I think there might be a place for me.
I stumbled across this idea this evening... of a focus on Autism at a church service on February 8th. I wonder if my church might be open to it.
As part of it, I would be willing to --actually, relieved to -- speak and say that DB has autism and how that manifests itself in the way he acts and thinks at church. (Wonder if Husband would be open to that...)
There is another child at church with autism and other more severe disabilities as well, which might be eye-opening for our congregation to see the spectrum.
This was our experience today:
Toward the beginning of the service, DB said "Amen" after the Lord's Prayer, and I thought how funny it is that someone who overheard him might think he was saying "Amen" to the prayer. In fact, I know he was correcting the pronunciation -- most everyone near us said "ah-men" and he prefers "ay-men".
Then during the children's sermon, as usual he was unable to keep from blurting out the answers when the minister asks them all a question. (Someone has actually commented to Husband about this. Someone with a well-behaved, hand-raising child of course.)
At least he only eyed up the communion elements as he walked past and did not try to take any. Whew!
In his Sunday School class, DuckyBoy does well sometimes and other times not, and the teacher rotates so no one quite knows how to deal with him. They are wonderful moms with good hearts but the best they can do is tolerate him for the 30 minutes. I know he's disruptive, today I get the impression he was intractible. (He's been "off" the past few days anyway, and , I forgot his snack.) He also told me tonight a boy in class told him he was a baby, or playing with a baby toy, he described what he was playing with but I don't know what it was. On the upside, he reconnected with his old friend K., and they drew pictures for each other (the project was to draw for a secret pal in the class and give them the artwork, and apparently they picked each other.)
He flat-out tells the beautifully-voiced soprano who volunteers her time to sing with them that he doesn't like her, her voice, etc. *Sigh.*
DB also got us in an embarrassing situation today after church. Kids are allowed to play in the gym during coffee hour, but, well I'll admit it, they are supposed to be supervised by their parents. He has always been good about coming to get us when he needs us, but today he got a little hurt or something ( I still don't know if it was physical or his feelings that got hurt) and while one mom tried to comfort him, another came to get us.
And, well, she had a few patronizing words for us, too, about how we "might want to keep an eye on him" ... "because he likes to play with the bigger kids and yadda yadda" and "I try to keep an eye on him because my son is there too" and "I think he's hungry" and I think Husband wanted to strangle her. (Edited to add: Later on, Husband was grateful she'd come to get us.)
Anyway, today's experience made me look around a bit on the web. Preliminary search turns up a few drips and drabs -- like a good article from 2002 about a mom and her young child, a Dad's heartfelt post that rang true for me, and a decent-sounding book, Autism and Your Church, though it may be more for my children's ministry coordinator than me.
Since I said an hour ago I was going to go to bed and since tomorrow is The Grind Begins Again Day with the 6 AM alarm, I will cease research for the night. But it's not like I came up with anything that covers the topic extensively. I think there might be a place for me.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Pickles and Honey and Bumps on the Head
Db hit his head on a tow truck Friday afternoon.
How is THAT possible, you ask? OK, picture this:
It's raining hard. He's wearing his oversize Mets jacket with the hood up. He's still got his patch on. (That reminds me, I forgot his patch this morning. Don't care.) He's not really looking where he's going.
The tow truck was parked at the corner. The iron cross bar sticks out at a 45-degree angle at a height of, I now know, about 42 inches.
I had crossed the street ahead of him (it's a quiet street) and was encouraging him to come along and stop looking at whatever he was looking at. His body moved before his head turned and
The first thing he said after he stopped crying was, "Will it be better when I'm a grownup?" Later he said something about "the truck that broke my forehead."
Poor guy.
Needless to say, he wasn't too interested in doing gymnastics after that.
We went inside anyway, mainly because it was pouring rain, and he watched part of the class and played with his friend P (whose sisters take that class) for a bit, then we left.
He didn't black out, he never took that long-nap they warn you about following head injury, yet... I still worry.
I grew up with the mindset of, "If it's not life-threating, there's no reason to go to the doctor." So I'm not the type to drag him to the pediatrician when there's probably nothing they can do.
But I wonder -- because, oddly enough, he was Really Good all weekend. Doesn't that qualify as an uncharacteristic behavior change?
Now, he may have been really good due it it being Birthday Party day (Saturday) and Sunday he had lots of new stimulation from all his new presents. Very possible.
But we also took him to Pickle Day on the Lower East Side, and he tolerated being there and even tried some honey and wanted to buy some.
Last night he said, as he laid in bed, that he was dizzy. How can you be dizzy lying in bed? So I figured it was that dropping-off-to-sleep dizziness. Then he was hot. But fever doesn't show up as a symptom of head injury. (And my Google search about pediatric head injury symptoms didn't give me anything, really, to worry about.)
Then this morning, everything worked right. He woke up and I was right there but didn't startle him. He roused himself, told me he was waking up enough to get up, got his classes, and said "I'm ready," then sat up and headed to the playroom. His bus was late so we had time to do everything: Tell a story (the usual); eat his marshmallow bar; and have a race. We said after we did all that if the bus hadn't arrived, I'd drive him, but just as we finished, the bus pulled up ... and he was OK with it. Amazing.
How sad is it that my delight is tempered with, "Is he OK?"
How is THAT possible, you ask? OK, picture this:
It's raining hard. He's wearing his oversize Mets jacket with the hood up. He's still got his patch on. (That reminds me, I forgot his patch this morning. Don't care.) He's not really looking where he's going.
The tow truck was parked at the corner. The iron cross bar sticks out at a 45-degree angle at a height of, I now know, about 42 inches.
I had crossed the street ahead of him (it's a quiet street) and was encouraging him to come along and stop looking at whatever he was looking at. His body moved before his head turned and
****W-H-A-M!*****
The first thing he said after he stopped crying was, "Will it be better when I'm a grownup?" Later he said something about "the truck that broke my forehead."
Poor guy.
Needless to say, he wasn't too interested in doing gymnastics after that.
We went inside anyway, mainly because it was pouring rain, and he watched part of the class and played with his friend P (whose sisters take that class) for a bit, then we left.
He didn't black out, he never took that long-nap they warn you about following head injury, yet... I still worry.
I grew up with the mindset of, "If it's not life-threating, there's no reason to go to the doctor." So I'm not the type to drag him to the pediatrician when there's probably nothing they can do.
But I wonder -- because, oddly enough, he was Really Good all weekend. Doesn't that qualify as an uncharacteristic behavior change?
Now, he may have been really good due it it being Birthday Party day (Saturday) and Sunday he had lots of new stimulation from all his new presents. Very possible.
But we also took him to Pickle Day on the Lower East Side, and he tolerated being there and even tried some honey and wanted to buy some.
Last night he said, as he laid in bed, that he was dizzy. How can you be dizzy lying in bed? So I figured it was that dropping-off-to-sleep dizziness. Then he was hot. But fever doesn't show up as a symptom of head injury. (And my Google search about pediatric head injury symptoms didn't give me anything, really, to worry about.)
Then this morning, everything worked right. He woke up and I was right there but didn't startle him. He roused himself, told me he was waking up enough to get up, got his classes, and said "I'm ready," then sat up and headed to the playroom. His bus was late so we had time to do everything: Tell a story (the usual); eat his marshmallow bar; and have a race. We said after we did all that if the bus hadn't arrived, I'd drive him, but just as we finished, the bus pulled up ... and he was OK with it. Amazing.
How sad is it that my delight is tempered with, "Is he OK?"
Monday, February 4, 2008
Groundhog Hangover
Now that my Very First Post is out of the way, here's what I wanted to say that made me go through the laborious process (not) of starting a blog. If I'd known it was that easy I'd have started one a long time ago; why didn't anyone tell me? Sheesh. Anyhoo..
I was doing dishes after reading blogs this morning and had this thought but it sounded, not to flatter myself, like someone else. So, since that person is a better writer than I think myself to be, I thought I'd write the thought down!
And then I wondered, do women who blog and read one another's have writing styles that gradually move closer together, like that menstrual-cycle thing where women who live or work together have cycles that gradually happen at the same time each month? Ah, thank you Internet, I found the name for it: "synchronous menstruation." So I guess this would be "synchronous musings."
Which brings its own set of musings, as it would appear that the jury is out on whether that synchronous periods are a real phenomenon or not. With most of the critics being men, and most of the women being all, "Duh."
And now I've quite forgotten my original brilliant thought. Oh, yes. The party. So, I had this kickass party for Duckyboy on Saturday. We had a Groundhog Day party, complete with banners (with groundhogs), games (with groundhogs), and snacks (shaped like or reminiscent of groundhogs and/or their burrows). Everyone who wasn't feverish or contagious was there, toys were strewn everywhere, Duckyboy now likes to say "It's not a party until someone's in their underwear" (me and my big mouth) and, I thought, a good time was had by all.
Until this morning. Now, Monday morning is always a bummer at our house, coming as it does on the heels of 2 days that involve lots of Mommy and very little homework, not so many rules, and little need to sit still and quietly for long periods of time without a TV on. Today's bummer began, as usual, with coaxing the poor kid out of bed at 6:40 am, and proceeded to a stint at the still-partified kitchen table and this:
DB: Mommy? Can I make a groundhog? [One of the crafts I had lovingly handcreated for son and his little friends.] I didn't get a chance to make one at the party.
Me: Expose chest. Insert knife into heart! Dissolve into sobbing mass on floor. Oh, wait, still have to get the kid on the bus in 5 minutes and he's not dressed yet... Of course, sweetie! I didn't realize you didn't make one!
(We'd made a sample together a couple of days beforehand; frankly, at the party, I forgot.)
We made one then and there. Yes, even before I made him get dressed. How could I possibly have put him on the bus without having made a groundhog???
DB: I tried to tell you, but you were too busy helping S. make hers.
He didn't tell me. I'm perceptive like that. He may have also been sitting there and if I was Truly A Good Mother it would have occurred to me that he wanted to make one too. But honestly, I don't even remember him sitting there.
Am therefore spending part of today trying to figure out how to make it up to him when he gets home. Reliving the party, with him as special guest, is ranking high on the list. Without the bagels though, since I've eaten or frozen all the rest. I will make punch -- any excuse to make punch! -- and even have his very own ice ring in the Bundt pan in the freezer.
That was a big hit, let me tell ya --want to intrigue a bunch of 5-year-olds? Float an ice ring, preferably one made from juice that's a different color than your punch, in a gigantic bowl of punch. (Hint: Plastic punch bowl from party store preferable.)
What? Punch-phobic? Pfft. Obviously you didn't grow up Methodist. Punch rules! Can't believe I haven't used my punch bowl since Duckyboy's first birthday party in '03 -- now I don't want to put it away. Again thank you, Internet, for the ideas for this punch:
Oh, and now in case someone's got something to say about that: My view is, at his age, I'd rather have him have a positive view of The Lord's Supper as something that is for him, as opposed to seeing it as something that he's not allowed to have, which is NOT, trust me, going to have a wistful, dreamy-eyed, "Gee, I hope I can have that someday" effect that it might on someone else's kid. I also let him eat the leftover matzoh. Well, not ALL of it since he'd never have a bm again. Whatever else is left we save to feed to the ducks in Kissena Park. Did you know that ducks like matzoh?
Well, I've written a paragraph that includes both my faith and ducks; I think my work here is done.
I was doing dishes after reading blogs this morning and had this thought but it sounded, not to flatter myself, like someone else. So, since that person is a better writer than I think myself to be, I thought I'd write the thought down!
And then I wondered, do women who blog and read one another's have writing styles that gradually move closer together, like that menstrual-cycle thing where women who live or work together have cycles that gradually happen at the same time each month? Ah, thank you Internet, I found the name for it: "synchronous menstruation." So I guess this would be "synchronous musings."
Which brings its own set of musings, as it would appear that the jury is out on whether that synchronous periods are a real phenomenon or not. With most of the critics being men, and most of the women being all, "Duh."
And now I've quite forgotten my original brilliant thought. Oh, yes. The party. So, I had this kickass party for Duckyboy on Saturday. We had a Groundhog Day party, complete with banners (with groundhogs), games (with groundhogs), and snacks (shaped like or reminiscent of groundhogs and/or their burrows). Everyone who wasn't feverish or contagious was there, toys were strewn everywhere, Duckyboy now likes to say "It's not a party until someone's in their underwear" (me and my big mouth) and, I thought, a good time was had by all.
Until this morning. Now, Monday morning is always a bummer at our house, coming as it does on the heels of 2 days that involve lots of Mommy and very little homework, not so many rules, and little need to sit still and quietly for long periods of time without a TV on. Today's bummer began, as usual, with coaxing the poor kid out of bed at 6:40 am, and proceeded to a stint at the still-partified kitchen table and this:
DB: Mommy? Can I make a groundhog? [One of the crafts I had lovingly handcreated for son and his little friends.] I didn't get a chance to make one at the party.
Me: Expose chest. Insert knife into heart! Dissolve into sobbing mass on floor. Oh, wait, still have to get the kid on the bus in 5 minutes and he's not dressed yet... Of course, sweetie! I didn't realize you didn't make one!
(We'd made a sample together a couple of days beforehand; frankly, at the party, I forgot.)
We made one then and there. Yes, even before I made him get dressed. How could I possibly have put him on the bus without having made a groundhog???
DB: I tried to tell you, but you were too busy helping S. make hers.
He didn't tell me. I'm perceptive like that. He may have also been sitting there and if I was Truly A Good Mother it would have occurred to me that he wanted to make one too. But honestly, I don't even remember him sitting there.
Am therefore spending part of today trying to figure out how to make it up to him when he gets home. Reliving the party, with him as special guest, is ranking high on the list. Without the bagels though, since I've eaten or frozen all the rest. I will make punch -- any excuse to make punch! -- and even have his very own ice ring in the Bundt pan in the freezer.
That was a big hit, let me tell ya --want to intrigue a bunch of 5-year-olds? Float an ice ring, preferably one made from juice that's a different color than your punch, in a gigantic bowl of punch. (Hint: Plastic punch bowl from party store preferable.)
What? Punch-phobic? Pfft. Obviously you didn't grow up Methodist. Punch rules! Can't believe I haven't used my punch bowl since Duckyboy's first birthday party in '03 -- now I don't want to put it away. Again thank you, Internet, for the ideas for this punch:
- 1 container orange juice (No Pulp! "X Pulp! We don't drink no stinkin' pulp," say my son and his sensory-issue-challenged friends. OK, so they don't use those words. Though he might say the "X pulp" part.) If it makes you feel any better, buy the calcium-added version. I felt a tad better about feeding it to my friends' kids that way.
- 1 2-liter container of lemon-lime soda. The more store-brand, the better.
- 1 ring of ice --water mixed with purple grape juice makes the orange pulp turn brown as it melts. (Which is good for Groundhog Day, even though I found that out by accident.)
Oh, and now in case someone's got something to say about that: My view is, at his age, I'd rather have him have a positive view of The Lord's Supper as something that is for him, as opposed to seeing it as something that he's not allowed to have, which is NOT, trust me, going to have a wistful, dreamy-eyed, "Gee, I hope I can have that someday" effect that it might on someone else's kid. I also let him eat the leftover matzoh. Well, not ALL of it since he'd never have a bm again. Whatever else is left we save to feed to the ducks in Kissena Park. Did you know that ducks like matzoh?
Well, I've written a paragraph that includes both my faith and ducks; I think my work here is done.
