And so it begins...

So we came back from our quick trip, which you totally know I'm going to post on, but right now we're looking down the barrel of the gun called SCHOOL.

We had our annual IEP/meet the new teacher meeting a day or so ago and I'm nervously optimistic.  Every year, our school does this big thing where you gate rush the main doors of the school at 4:30PM.  That's when they post the student/teacher list for the year.  Right after that, everyone goes into school and spends time meeting the teacher, sorting through their school supplies and generally getting to know everyone.

This has always been a mess for Alex.  Let me rephrase that, it's what I call:  A Cluster-fuck of Epic Proportions.

To go into school with every single student, with parents and siblings in tow, is meltdown producing.  To go late in the afternoon is mind blowing.  And to not know what's going?  It makes him sick to his stomach.  Add all the excitement, the bustle, the noise and pushing and shoving and its all too much.  

Our school works very closely with us and for that I am grateful.  I know the teachers took out time from their day to help us, to help Alex.  To those teachers that are like mine--thank you.

We no longer do the massive meet and greet at 4:30PM.  We have a separate meeting a few days before.  I take Alex in to school and he gets to spend about 1/2 hour or so with his new teacher.  They sort out school supplies and they figure out where things go.  He gets to see his desk, where he's sitting and what the classroom looks like.  He finds his cubby, puts his supplies away and this is a big one---he gets to see the classroom schedule.

We just had our meeting for this upcoming year.

His teacher went over some of what they are going to learn this year and you could literally see him take it all in.  "Mom, we're going to learn cursive!  We're going to learn how to write in cursive!  Quick mom, where's my pencil?"

It was quiet.  It was calm.  He was nervous and he stimmed.  He sized up his new teacher and they nervously chatted.  He met his other teachers as well---he has three new teachers this year, so for us, this year is already one of tremendous change.

The first day of school was yesterday.
So far, so good.

He did so well meeting his teachers.  So incredibly well.  Sure, he stimmed and he was anxious and nervous beyond belief but he was also excited.

Excited.

And I'm hanging on to that excitement.  I have a feeling it will wear off sooner than we all expect and we'll be dealing with sensory overload and meltdowns but for right now I'm excited with him too.

Wish us luck.

Steer clear of I-94. We're going to be on it.

By the time you read this we should have worked our way from south Kansas City to North Dakota.  See, we left on Thursday to go to a wedding.  A wedding that we could not miss.  One that under any other circumstances I'd have written it off and sent back the reply card with the "Unable to attend," box checked off faster than you can read this paragraph.

But....but.

This is a wedding we didn't want to miss.  It's the wedding of a dear friend.  She's one of several friends that make my heart stray to the Northern Plains.

North Dakota: home of the sugarbeet, soybean and sunflower.

And then we turn right back around and come home on Sunday.

And then school starts.

And because of that, we're anxious, nervous and stimming.  We've had a volley of emails regarding meeting new teachers, of which we have three new ones this year, IEP concerns, agendas and the list goes on.

Somehow our summer is over and we're right back to another school year.  And I'm loathe to see it happen.

Like a switch, Alex has been turned on, stimming---flicking his wrists, shaking his head back and forth at lightening speed and melting down at the slightest of things.

I'm sad to see our summer melt away, right before our very eyes.

So by the time you read this, we'll have dealt with car sickness, cussing, swear words and more fights than you can imagine.  And all of that before we're even out of the Kansas City metro.  Add to it, I have a new found fear of our car tire falling off, and visions of how horribly wrong our vacations can go, and I'm nervous too.

I don't know how much I'll be able to access the computer over the next few days, as it's our go to item when Alex is stressed.  If I don't surface by Monday I'd start to worry.

We're being squeezed.

When Alex was younger I lived in fear that he wouldn't talk.  I think it was that way with all my kids, I think everyone worries to a certain degree about this.  Every last one of my kids started talking late and when they did start to talk?  They never stopped.  There was a steady stream of conversation, chatter in the house.

Both the girls have an understanding of when you can talk and when you can't.  Alex has not acquired this small bit of information.

Consequently, when he did start talking, he didn't stop.  When something was on his mind he'd blurt it out, whether it be at dinner, or smack in the middle of going to the bathroom.  I've been listening to this boy talk at me for eight years.

And the thing is, he doesn't let up.  He doesn't stop talking.  Ever.

Do you know how draining it is to have an eight year old question everything you do?  Or give you a running dialogue on how you could be doing it better?  Correcting you every time you make a mistake?

From taking the chicken out of the freezer, to how I use the computer, to how often he thinks he should take a shower, there is a conversation.  There is a negotiation, a lesson, or a correction, not for him---for me.

Every day.  All day.  The conversation does not stop.

And the thing is, it's my job to teach him the difference between talking to someone versus talking at someone.  It's been a hard lesson to pass on---for both of us.  

I've come to deal with this constant stream of conversation headed in my direction in several ways, depending on how much I can take, versus how willing I am to debate the issue at hand.

At first I was so damn happy he was talking, I talked back and engaged him.  He loved it.  I loved it.  But as he got older, the demands became something I couldn't handle.  I simply could not stand around and talk about how a lake's ecology progresses through time or how a battery functions or how the transformer on the telephone pole works.

I tried redirecting him to another project but that invariable let to more questions.  Even the volcano project we did last week ended up with us in front of the computer Googling the earth's mantle and the ring of fire.

Our volcano has jewels and grape sticks.
That's how we roll.

And now he's no longer is just interested in acquiring information.  He's interested in when I'm going to be done making dinner and he'll set time limits on what I do.  He's slowly trying to work our schedules around what he wants to do.  What he wants to do and when he wants it.

I couldn't figure out why we've had an uptick in behavior.

And then it dawned on me.  We moved into August.  He starts school in two weeks.  He's nervous, anxious, fearful.  He wants to go back to school but he's looking down that great big gaping maw called uncertainty.

I'm looking down it too.  For as busy as this summer has been, I've liked to see my kids stress free, wrangling with each other, and happy.

So for right now I've figured out what he needs and I'll be on the receiving end of our conversations.  I'm OK with that.

I think I grew a set of balls.

I know I've mentioned in the past that Alex takes Tae Kwon Do.  It's the only sport he'll do.  We don't do group sports such as soccer, football, basketball or baseball.  No T-ball for us.  Trust me, we're OK with that.

We searched long and hard for our current Instructor because we wanted someone who understood our child and understood Autism.  Someone who knew there would be difficulties with gross motor skills and motor planning.  Our current Master not only understood, he took Alex under his wing.  Alex loves it and he's been flourishing.  His instructor told me a while ago, "It's not what the body can do, its the mind.  The mind and spirit, these must be good.  The rest will follow."

And so we began our time at Tae Kwon Do.

Lizzy, hauling ass.

I was sitting in class the other night and I was watching my kids do all their shouts and kicks and whatever else they do, generally minding my own business.  Alex was working one-on-one with an instructor, working on forms.  All the kids generally spend some one-on-one time with an instructor throughout the class and Alex loves for me to watch him.

So unlike most of the other moms I don't drop and run and then scamper off across the parking lot to Starbucks.  Yeah, I'm so on to you ladies, I stay put for the whole fifty minutes and watch my kids.

And Alex loves it.  Loves to know I'm watching and he beams when he makes eye contact with me.  And that, right there, is why I stay glued to my seat the whole time.  He seeks me out and looks into my eyes and smiles.

He smiles.

So while the other moms are getting all hopped up on their lattes, I'm getting my smiles.

The kids getting their swords.  Awesome.  

Anyway, there was a new mom who's kid just joined so she sat next to me.  I guess she didn't get the memo that the cool moms bust it to Starbuck's right after drop-off.  After watching Alex for a little bit she leans over to me and says, "Is that your son?"

"Yeah, sure is."  I say as I'm giving him a thumbs up and getting a smile back.

"I just love all those faces he makes.  Look at him!  He really gets into it, doesn't he?  Look at how he moves.  And all those grimaces, frowns and wiggles.  He really likes to get into it doesn't he?  Wow, look at him!"

And then she started to giggle.  There was something about what she said and how she said it that didn't sit well with me.  She wasn't outright making fun of him but it was insidious and right below the surface.  It was there.

For a second I just sat there in shock.  I wasn't quite sure what she was saying.  She was giggling at him and how he moved.  I went from intense rage to grief in zero to sixty.  I got that hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach that you get when you go over a hill too fast or you're just about to take a major exam or something.  I blinked a few times trying to register what she was saying.

She didn't have a clue.

But she was laughing.

At my son.  

She was laughing at my son.

And then I started talking, almost a whisper.

"I normally don't go around and advertise this, but my son has Autism.  Those faces he's making?  Those are facial tics or stims that he does when he's stressed.  He can't control them.  And right now he wants to do well and impress the instructor so he makes more of them.  And how he moves?  With Autism he has difficulty with fine and gross motor skills.  Especially here in Tae Kwon Do, the gross motor skills are really hard for him.  These are skills which makes some of the movements and forms difficult for him, why he looks funny to you, I guess."

"I'd like to think you meant no harm to me or my son and you just didn't know.  I guess that's why I'm telling you this.  I hope you know what the face of Autism looks like.  If you'll excuse me."

And with that I got up, went to the bathroom, and cried.

When I came back out, she had gone.  I guess she went to Starbucks.


Note:  I am telling you this because, well honestly, I don't know why.  I came home and immediately started typing, banging out what happened.  And then it took me a few weeks to hit publish.  I think I'm telling you this because this was very difficult for me.  Normally I don't say anything.  Just let things slide.  This time I didn't.  This time I found enough of whatever to stand up and confront ignorance.   


Little by little we can change things.  Little by little.


And I am trying to get around to all your blogs....I'm trying.  This summer has been long, hot and hard for us.  

Like you couldn't see this coming...

I went back to the pool.  I took all three kids back to the pool to see what would happen.  I had to get that image of my daughter floating lifeless on the bottom out of my head.  I'll tell you now, it didn't remove the image, but it did bring my comfort level back at taking all three of them to the pool by myself.

Go here if you want to get caught up.  

At some point in our marriage, my husband bought each of the kids their own kid size broom.  You know, so they could help me clean.  Most of you know, I have a few issues about keeping the house clean and I can't stand having dirty floors.  Consequently, I'm always sweeping and mopping.

Now I'll let it be known right now, I'm not missing out on the kids formative years.  It's the only thing I know to do to de-stress while I have the kids home with me twenty-four/seven.  Since I've been a bit stressed with all our fun going on this summer, you could eat off my floors right now.  

Anyway, I told the kids they aren't allowed to have their swords in the house.  They can practice in the garage or on the porch, but I draw the limit at having swords in the house.  Last time they had camp, they had nunchucks and it was a colossal mess.  They brought them in and were nunchucking everything in sight.  I think the only thing that saved us was the fact our gross motor skills suck so bad.  You should have seen how clean my floors were then.

The brooms have left the building.  

Anyway, at some point, all three brooms made it into the house and Alex and Lizzy were practicing forms in the family room---with the brooms.  I let them practice because it was the first time that whole day they were actually quiet and to be honest?  It's was too damn hot outside.

Out of nowhere I hear a THWACK then, "Ouch!"  Immediately followed up by another THWACK then, "Ouch!"

I heard all sorts of commotion, a little rolling around of the floor and I think I even heard Lizzy saying my favorite expression, "God Bless America!"

Then I got bombarded with complaints from Alex, "Mom, that's not fair!  She didn't do the forms at all!  Gracie just came in and hit us on our heads.  That's so not fair!"  To which I turned it into a bit of a life lesson and said, "Well honey, sometimes life isn't fair.  Do you think when you get into a fight people are going to follow the forms?"

Alex looked at me, looked back at the two year old, his wheels turning.   Without missing a beat he goes, "Like this?"  And he thunks the baby on the head with his broom.

And do you know what I thought, smack in the middle of another cat fight???  I thought, "Yay!  He's generalizing!"

Shortly after that, all three of the brooms made it back outside and in the garage.