At Long Last, the IEP Meme

Karen, at Solodialogue, created this awesome IEP meme, so we can each share information about the supports we’re getting.  Along with me, she also tagged Grace at That’s Right I Said It Dot Mom, Rhonda at Going Insane, Wanna Come, and Kelly at Unplanned Trip to Holland.  What great company, right?  Make sure you check out what support they’re getting for their kiddos.

Following are the three questions of the Meme:

1.  A list of tools (special chairs, iPad, visual schedules, gums, chewlery, squishees, headphones, whatever devices help focus and sensory issues);

Connor has a rubber-band type thing on the legs of his chair, that he can use to fidget.  He also has a visual reminder strip taped to the top of his desk, that has picture/word reminders about expected behaviors; raising hand to speak, not talking, focusing on work, etc.  There are also picture schedules in the regular classroom and resource room.  A weighted lap pad was tried last year, but he didn’t like it and found it more distracting.  He has used headphones during assembly time, despite the recommendation of the autism specialist, who told me in a meeting that “in the real world, he wouldn’t wear headphones to a meeting, so we should try to get him to attend the assembly without them.”  I’m not even going to go there in this post.  I will say that the headphones were available to him at every assembly until he decided, on his own, that he didn’t need them anymore.

2.  Services (Speech Therapy, Physical Therapy, Occupational Therapy, ABA, TEACCH, Special Ed teaching rooms, aides during class, tutors, etc.) and how many hours per week of each your child receives;

Connor has never received speech, PT, OT, or ABA from the school.  In pre-K, I requested an OT eval, since he was already receiving it through a private provider.  The school tested him and he scored in the below average range for function, but that was still considered “acceptable.”  Last year the SPED teacher expressed concern about his fine motor skills, and mentioned an OT assessment.  I just about had a cow, because if they had listened to me in pre-K, he would have already had the extra help.  He still tested as just barely being in the acceptable range.  So the school staff was kind enough to provide ME with extra workbooks for us to do at HOME.  In other words, “we won’t spend the money on extra support for him, but are expecting you, as a non-professional, will just do it for free.”

As for support, Connor begins and ends each day in the resource room for check-in and check-out.  He also receives extra 1:1 support during different times of the day; reading, math, etc.

In addition he has a BIP (behavior intervention plan) as part of his IEP.  It took me 3 IEP meetings last year to get that BIP added.  They initially didn’t think it was “necessary”, despite the fact that was hitting or pushing almost daily.  Then they chalked it up to pre-holiday angst.  Then he hit the SPED teacher.  Now we have a plan to support his behavior, that includes extra motor time, as well as being given opportunities to say “no” to a request.

The other thing I insisted on was that he have extra support during unstructured time (recess and lunch), since that’s where most of his challenges occur.  His social skills are impaired because of his disability, which affects his ability to learn because he is distracted by the negative peer relationships that are being caused by his lack of social skills.  See that nice little circle?  Since his aggression has almost disappeared this year, I will need to follow up and see if they’re still providing this support, which I doubt.

He also receives shortened assignments as an accommodation and preferred classroom seating (near the teacher).

3.  Your opinions of the effectiveness of (1) and (2) above.

I think the visual reminders are very helpful for Connor, especially the strip they have taped to his desk.  He gets off track so easily, that it’s good to have that right in front of him.

Time spent in the resource room is also very helpful.  He gets more 1:1 attention, and is able to get the extra help he needs to work on things that he is struggling with; telling time, money values, reading, math.

The BIP was moderately helpful.  The key there was that having it in the plan makes them accountable for supporting him and trying to teach replacement behavior, rather than just sending a note home saying he hit.  That drives me insane.  Don’t send me notes about “bad” things he did.  Tell me what happened and what you’re going to do to ensure it doesn’t happen again, or at least try to minimize it.

The last thing we achieved this year wasn’t even in the IEP.  At the IEP meeting, I mentioned that staff at the after school program (which is run by the district, this is the key here) expressed interest in having someone do a disability discussion with the after-school kids.  Someone to tell them about autism and other challenges, explain to them the differences, and how to be a friend.  I jumped on this and told them at the IEP that I could ask our behaviorist if that’s something she could do.  They all nodded in agreement and said it was a great idea.  Then I mentioned I would find out what her rates are and what she would charge the school.

Frownie faces all around the table.  Then the principal said they couldn’t really pay for that service if they have district staff that could provide the same service.  Then the SPED teacher said she would be willing to do the presentation for them.  This is what I wanted all along, but since every one of my requests has been turned down initially, I thought I’d ask for the most expensive option, and then negotiate down to an acceptable compromise.  Haha, suckas!!!!

Seriously though, it was really, really helpful.  I think it should be done in every classroom, in every grade, and every school.  Period.  1 in 110 (or whatever the number is now), plus all the kids with other types of special needs.  Damn straight they should start in kindergarten teaching kids acceptance of those that are different from them.

Next IEP I’ll be pushing for a regular classroom presentation.

So that’s it.  I hope someone finds this helpful.  My advice is to take an advocate to your meeting if you need the extra support.  And I personally NEVER EVER sign the agreement at the meeting (this makes me unpopular, but I’m not there to make friends).  I always demand to take a copy home for review, before I will sign anything.  It gives me a chance to process things, read over what we discussed, and decide if there’s anything else that wasn’t covered.

Now, as for tagging others:

Kara, at Karacteristic.  She’s been scarce lately, and I miss her!

Amber, at Airing My Dirty Laundry, One Sock at a Time - this should be good!

And last but not least, Karen, at Confessions of an Asperger’s Mom – she’s got TWO, so she should have some good advice.

One Million Books campaign

Lana, at Along Came the Bird, had this posted yesterday.  Being an avid reader, I thought I’d steal her words (stolen from somewhere else), and pass this on to my fellow book lovers.

 

 

List your favorite books, help a kid in need: Scholastic recently kicked off the One Million Bookprints for One Million Books campaign, an initiative to donate one million books in need through the nonprofit Reach Out and Read.  When you join You Are What You Read, you make a “Bookprint”—a list of 5 books that have shaped your life. Both kids and adults can do it. For every Bookprint, Scholastic Book Clubs donates a book to kids in need, distributed through pediatrician offices around the country.

You can also check out the Bookprints of some famous people,too, like Taylor Swift, Bobbi Brown, The Jonas Brothers, and Eli Manning.

It’s 3am, Do You Know Where Your Cuddle Buddy Is?

Meet Puppy Dog:

 

He’s been part of our family since 2005, when Connor was a baby.  He spent most of his time on the shelf, because Connor had no interest in stuffed animals, other than to pile them on the floor and stand on them to reach the light switch, for those middle-of-the-night rave parties he was throwing in his room.

He still took things to bed.  He had a “nest” of items.  Some of his favorite things to keep in bed were:

*kitchen whisk

*swim goggles

*American flag

*my hair clips

*die-cast cars

*kitchen timer

*flashlights

*toy trains

*bells

 

Nothing cuddly here...

Absolutely zero interest in blankies or stuffed animals.  Nada.

 

Last year I started using his stuffed animals during nightly story time.  I would make them talk or bark, or listen intently to the story.  I would make them kiss the boy or jump on his head.  They were my accoutrements to enhancing his pretend play.

 

And now, he loves Puppy Dog.

 

See, everything he took to bed before had a personal connection.  I know, how could a whisk have a personal connection, right?

 

I use the whisk to make blueberry muffins, his favorite.

 

And the hair clips, well I wear one almost every day.

 

The swim goggles reminded him of summer camp.

 

Now, we’ve created connections with the animals.  Puppy Dog is his good friend now.

 

But someone else loves Puppy Dog too.

 

You can see the evil emanating from her eyes.

 

So at 3am, when the boy wanders into our room, to crash in his homeless camp, he must keep Puppy Dog safe.

 

Perilously close to the Dingo's reach.

 

When I wake up and start my day, and go into the bathroom to look for a new roll of toilet paper, I’m greeted by this:

 

Well good morning to you too! Hope you slept well in there.

 

Each morning I retrieve Puppy Dog from his POW camp, and return him to his rightful place on Connor’s bed.

 

So that each night can begin like this:

 

The nest of oddities is GONE!!

 

And now I have my whisk back.

.

Words With Hubs

If only all our conversations could be this exciting.  Oh wait, they are.

This is the part where you go, “Wow, I am sooooo glad I have a girl”, if you just so happen to have a girl.  If not, then you’re going “been there.”

And then, hubs throws me under the bus.

See what I live with?

I’ll Never Let Go, Hostess

Like me, you probably remember exactly where you were when you heard the news that Hostess was declaring bankruptcy.  I’m pretty sure the world stood still.  Panic crept through my body quickly.  My thoughts raced, wondering what would happen if Hostess was no more.  An unsettling thought crept in.  Little Debbie.

Growing up, it was no small feat to get my budget-conscious mom to deviate from her task of getting only grocery items of merit; meat, bread, milk.  Sometimes fortune smiled upon me when I was able to verbally wear her down, and get her to agree to buy a non-essential item, like snack cakes.

Hostess snack cakes.  We were a Hostess family.  No Little Debbie, or weird, off-brand snack cakes for us. 

I still remember when the Ding Dongs were individually wrapped in aluminum foil.  I miss those days.  And the Twinkies, they came in a white wrapper.  A major part of the Twinkie ritual involved scraping my finger along the paper, to capture the stray bits of creamy cake goodness that was smeared on the wrapper.  The new wrappers are a clear, thin plastic, and you just can’t get all the remnants because it gets all crinkley.

For the sophisticated palette.

I think this is the fatal flaw in the Hostess plan.  The undoing of a giant.

Facing the very real possibility of a full-scale snack cake Armageddon, I formulated a plan.  Snack cake reconnaissance.

In the Target snack cake aisle, I got a box of Ding Dongs and a box of Twinkies.  Staring at those Little Debbie boxes, her smug little freckled-face, I just couldn’t bring myself to willingly let her have one damn nickel.  And then I noticed something I hadn’t seen before.

What the fuck, Little Debbie, What. The Fuck??!!

“That toothless, inbred, snack cake WHORE!!!!”"  People in the aisle turned to look.  I didn’t care.  That little cake-twat had blatantly STOLEN the entire Twinkie likeness!  Like that girl did to Kim Kardashian!  I was definitely not buying her crap cakes now.

My plans might have been laid waste right there, but as it turns out, I have a pregnant co-worker.  And she decided to go on a snack cake buying binge the other day.  She, being of a questionable family background, bought a mixed bag of Hostess AND Little Cunt Cakes (yeah, I wrote that word…I’m passionate about snack cakes).

So here, at last, was my chance.  Facing an uncertain snack cake future, I knew it had to be done.  And I couldn’t let Connor take part in this.  He’s been fully indoctrinated on Hostess, but to be honest, he’s pretty much like a crack-head when it comes to cake products.  It would be wrong to subject him to a lesser, inferior cake product, and risk the possibility of him getting hooked on crack-cakes.

I refused to consider sampling the “Cloud Cakes”, so I chose a non-Hostess-stolen, indiscriminate item. 

Oh look, an item that doesn't appear to be STOLEN from Hostess.

 

Ashamed to allow my family to witness me at this low point, I covertly ate the traitor-cakes in the car, on the way home from work.

 

They weren’t awful.

 

No, no, no. I know what you’re thinking.  But they were clearly sub-par to any Hostess snack cake.  Are they reasonable, in times of crisis?  Well, yes.  Yes, in a post-apocalyptic snack cake world, they would be adequate.  Not AWESOME, just adequate.

 

It’s not what I want, people.  But if this thing goes down, I’m not just going to lay down and die.  Me, my family, we are survivors.  We will go on.  If that means second-rate skank cakes, then so be it.

 

I did this for you, too. In this uncertain climate, we needed to know.  But remember, if the worst happens and we have to eat her shit cakes, it doesn’t mean we have to like her.

.

To Answer Karen’s Question, a Novel

Karen, at SoloDialogue, left a comment on my last post (regarding Connor’s recent artwork) asking about how we had accomplished that milestone. Since most of my posts are written in about ten minutes, I thought it would be a good idea to spend a little more time providing some background and details on what we’ve done to get to this point, what works, and what hasn’t. Maybe someone will find it helpful. Maybe not. Most certainly, you will find it lengthy, simply because I can’t answer that question easily.

Connor was diagnosed, by a pediatric neurologist, at the age of 3 with Severe ADHD (yes, 3, it was that severe). We knew this diagnosis was coming. You don’t live with a child for three years, who never stops moving, hardly sleeps, and wreaks havoc on everything he can touch to not know that he has ADHD. At this point, we had to make decisions about medication.

I really believe that medication is a personal decision, and it’s up to each family to decide what is in the best interest of their child, and what will bring the child and family quality of life. This isn’t up for debate here, and negative comments will not be tolerated. It’s enough anguish for a family to have to face that decision, without the criticism of those that have not walked in their shoes, or the fringe element that wants to denounce the use of medication for any disorder (Scientologists, I’m talking to you, so move along somewhere else).

Anyway, medication helped a bit, and we moved on to an evaluation from the school district to see if he qualified for PPCD (early intervention), based on his ADHD diagnosis.

After 2 1/2 hours of testing and questions and observations, the diagnosticians sat down with us, smiled, and said that he qualified based on the ADHD, as well as having mild Asperger’s Syndrome. “Don’t worry, it’s really mild, and he should be able to live a pretty normal life.”

Don’t worry? What a slap in the face.

Figuring out which behaviors and deficits were due to ADHD or Asperger’s or typical child behavior was challenging. It still is. The biggest challenge we dealt with was aggression. It was mostly in the school/after school/summer camp environments. It was obvious that the stress of socializing was something he couldn’t manage on his own, despite therapy. We knew that socialization was impacted for both ADHD and Asperger’s.

We spent three years tweaking and changing medications, and we just got to a point a few months ago where things are working. We stopped the stimulant last year because it exacerbated the aggression. But although it lessened, it did not go away, so we introduced a mood stabilizer, which (although scary) has worked amazingly well. We added the stimulant back a couple of months ago because he was falling behind in school, and just couldn’t focus. We held our breath, worried the aggression would resurface, but it didn’t. Finally, we found a successful regimen that works.

But aside from medication, what else have we done? Did we solely rely on medication to “fix” our son’s problems so he could function outside the home?

No. I almost wish it was that easy.

As an aside, I should explain that before moving to Texas, I was an administrator for an agency serving adults with developmental disabilities. I worked with clients with mental retardation, autism, down’s syndrome, Fragile X, and a variety of mental illnesses including bi-polar disorder and schizophrenia. For years, I attended psychiatric appointments, team meetings, and advocated for integration and inclusion. Still, I was not prepared for this challenge in my home, with my child. But that background definitely gave me a host of behavioral management tools, and the ability to find resources.

The first therapy we did was attachment therapy. I think it’s an awesome therapy for kids with RAD, but not very helpful for a child that can’t sit still for 2 seconds, and gets frustrated and angry when made to sit in one spot. We did that for 3 months.

Next we tried a version of floor time therapy. We did that for several months, and graduated. We’re really, really good at sitting on the floor and playing with toys, what can I say? Was it helpful? Yes. Yes, it’s helpful to learn to have specific playtime each day, where your kid gets to be in charge and direct the play (appropriately), and have that control and one-on-one time with you.

Last year we had 6 months of in-home ABA therapy, done through students at the University of Texas. Since none of the ABA providers accept insurance, you must pay out-of-pocket and then try to get reimbursed from your private insurance company. And since we have a horrendous $2400 yearly out-of-pocket deductible, it wasn’t feasible for us to do it through a regular provider. The nice thing was that it was in our home, about 6-8 hours per week. The down side was that it was limited to 6 months. So we really took advantage of it, and made sure to continue with what we learned once it ended. It has come in very handy with schoolwork, which I will get to shortly.

The next therapy, and the one we still continue with, is social skills playgroup. Connor has been attending for over a year-and-a-half. They meet each week, for 45 minutes, in a group of about 5-6 kids the same age. The curriculum covers everything from learning to share, taking turns, accepting no, conversation skills, etc. It’s slow progress, but progress nonetheless, and Connor really looks forward to his weekly play group.

Now I know that we are all dealing with varying degrees of diagnosis’, and that means that each person’s interventions for their child will be different. We all know the saying about how “when you’ve met one person with autism”, yadda yadda. All I can say in that regard is you have to keep trying different things, and find the approach that works best for your child. There’s no use in comparing your kid with other kids, because sometimes you can’t “see” the challenges that others may face.

For example, some children with autism will sit in the corner, quietly lining up toys and not making eye contact or speaking to their parent. My son ran laps through the house, leaving a trail of toys and debris in his wake. That may sound “typical”, but he was always moving so fast that he could not focus and make eye contact or have meaningful conversation.

He did not toe-walk, nor did he have an obsessive interest in one particular subject. But he would completely melt down and freak out if I set a cup of milk on the kitchen island, instead of the kitchen table. It didn’t follow his preconceived script of what would happen, and he would demand that I relocate the offending cup to the table. My refusal resulted in screams, and Connor lying on the floor, kicking, crying, yelling. For 45 minutes. Over a cup of milk.

He was fine the day I picked him up from school, and announced that we had to make an unexpected stop at the grocery store for a couple of items.

He was not fine the day I picked him up from school and announced that I had to run to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. Well, to be fair, he was fine with it, initially. But when I drove to a different pharmacy than usual, one that was actually closer to home, he completely Lost. His. Shit. “This isn’t the pharmacy we go to. We’re not supposed to go to this one. Turn the car around!! Go to the other pharmacy!!!!” Again, the expected outcome changed, and he just could not cope with it. The meltdown continued through the pharmacy drive-thru, all the way home, and into the house.

It doesn’t matter what you think you know about the child, you probably have no idea what’s really going on. The challenges might not always be obvious to others, but they are still big challenges.

This brings me to our approach to things in our home.

I read a lot of blogs (when I can), and I read about the “acceptance” of autism, the acceptance of the diagnosis. From a cognitive standpoint, I understand this. But from an emotional standpoint, I struggle. See, I have control issues. We are supposed to be able to control our children, and then you have a child on the spectrum and you have to come to terms with the fact that you can actually control very little. A short list of things we were unable to control are: sleep, potty training, feeding, and behavior.

The short answer for some things is that Connor did them when he was good and ready, and not one moment earlier. That holds true for eating and potty training. He wasn’t completely trained until almost the age of 4. That doesn’t mean that we didn’t work on it consistently, and offer rewards and bribes. It just means that it wasn’t going to happen until he was ready for it to happen.

As for other things….

I mentioned my control issues. Well let’s revisit that milk meltdown I mentioned earlier.

I knew if I gave in to his demand to put the cup on the table, that I would endure a stream of never-ending, unreasonable demands. So I let him throw his fit. I told him the cup was right there, whenever he was ready to take it. He kicked and screamed, and, at one point, got up and looked like he might throw the cup of milk. I told him if he knocked it over, I would make him clean it up, pour another one, and put it right back in the same spot. He knew I was serious, because we had had standoffs before that lasted hours. So he carried on and on, until he finally gave in and got the cup. I followed up with big praise to reinforce him for doing it.

Homework? Sort of the same approach.

Regardless of what I think about homework, and school curriculum, the fact remains that homework is sent home. We spent almost all of kindergarten establishing the routine of sitting down every single night to do homework before dinner. The table must be completely clear, because even a piece of extra paper will be enough of a distraction to derail him. We had many, many fights about homework.

For a while, I sat down at the table with M&Ms every night, and used them as an incentive. Finish one line of letters, get an M&M. Finish the page, get 3 more, and so on. I also made it into a game of beat the timer. We have a digital kitchen timer that beeps, as well as an hourglass with sand that measures 5 minutes. I would make it a game to see if he could win, because he is VERY motivated by winning. But that didn’t mean he could do sloppy work. If his letters were floating up in space (above the line) or were extra big, he’d have to erase and start over. And he did, many times.

3 M&Ms if you get to the end of this post...

Also, I employed the first/then strategy. First we do homework, then we can have dinner. See, we will all sit there and starve if it doesn’t get done.

There were melt downs, believe me. There was one evening when he got so angry with me, that he held up his pencil, pointed at my face. I took a deep breath and said, “I can see that you’re feeling very angry. Homework is hard. But the more you practice and do your work, the smarter you will be, and the easier it will be. I’m your mom, and my job is to help teach you, and I won’t let you give up. If you’re so angry that you want to hurt me with that pencil, then go ahead, but it will just make you feel so much worse.” And I moved my face closer to him, and held by breath.

I still have both my eyes.

Control. I have control issues, I told you.

I accept that Connor is on the spectrum somewhere. But I don’t accept that I will let that dictate his potential for success. As I mentioned, my former job included advocating for integration and inclusion. That’s what I believe in, to the extent possible. If I want my son to have a chance at life, to be able to get through school, I have to fight for inclusion. But I also have to help him minimize his behaviors, and learn coping strategies so he can be included.

I’m going to die, someday. I will die, and Connor will still be here, without us to protect him and fight for him. He has to learn to pick up that cup of milk, get that homework done, and ultimately, to take care of himself. That means I will spend hours teaching him the difference between playful teasing and mean teasing, how to read and write, how to deal with unexpected changes, and how to deal with people.

Karen, my friend, I hope this gives you some answers or, at least some ideas. I’ll almost bet you’re sorry you asked!

As for me, I’m glad to be done with this. Writing a cohesive, thought-out piece is not my forte. It was long, and rambling, and took far more attention than I normally have. I’m much better at writing about zombies or dingoes.

*

It’s More Portable Than a Mini Chihuahua, But You Don’t Have to Feed It

I totally overslept this morning, which means that much chaos ensued.

 

“Get dressed, Connor.  Get dressed!  GET DRESSED!!!!”  For a child that is always moving, always going faster than everyone else, it’s amazing how he can drag his feet in the morning.

 

We were about ready to bolt out the door, when he says, “wait, I have a note in my backpack to show you.”

 

Crap.  We don’t have time.  But I held my breath and bit my tongue, because it was important to him.  He takes this folded paper out, opens it up, and says “I want to read it to you.”

 

“Mom, thanks for taking me to school so I can be smart.”

 

I almost missed that moment, because I was worried about being late.  To hell with being a couple of minutes late.

 

Super awesome progress.

 

Now I could get hung up on the spelling, or the fact that he wrote “has” instead of “thanks”, but I’m more fixated on the fact that this is amazing progress.  And I’m ashamed to say that I had feared my son would not get to this point.  I had serious concerns that he might not learn to spell or write.  A few months ago, as he sat at the table crying because the homework was too “hard”, I told him “you will learn to read and write if it kills me.  I will not let you grow up to be dumb.  You are a smart boy, we will not give up until you learn, and I promise you, one day you will thank me.”

 

This note was totally a first-grade style thank you, complete with awesome pictures of us in the car.  See how we’re both smiling?  That’s because we are so happy to be out of the house at the ass-crack of dawn, driving to school in my five-wheeled car (I’m such a super awesome mom that I have an extra wheel on my car, in case of some kind of wheel emergency).  Also, our house has no windows because it is the homework dungeon of doom.  But who cares, it worked??!

 

Me:  “This is the best, most perfect note you have ever given me.  I’m going to take it to work and hang it up at my desk, so I can look at it all day.”

 

Connor:  “But what about after work?”

 

Me:  “Uhhhh, well….”

 

Connor:  “You know, you can just fold it up and take it with you.  You can take it to the beach with you.”

 

Me (thinking):  We live in the middle of Texas.

 

Connor:  “Or you can take it with you on the train.”

 

Me:  I’ve never been on a train in my life.

 

Connor:  “Or you can take it in the car when you drive around town, and go to Target.”

 

Me:  DING-DING-DING-DING, we have a winner!!!!

 

Me:  “You’re right, I sure can fold it up and bring it with me, wherever I go.  Thank you so much.”

 

Connor:  “You’re welcome.  Now, let’s DO THIS THING!!”

 

Me:  “Okay, let’s do this thing.”

 

And after school, the stitches come out of his noggin.  It’s a good day, people.  Maybe I’ll take that note with me over to the Target and get some Hard Lemonade to celebrate!

Johnny Knoxville Will Never Run Out of “Jackass” Associates

I’m not sure if I should blame the cat or not.  I don’t really believe in such superstition, but it’s one helluva coincidence.

My friend is moving away, so I took her to dinner Sunday night.  On the way back to my house, a cat darted across the street in front of me.

“That’s a bad sign, that cat was black,” my friend gasped.

Cats, they're the devil's minion.

“You know I don’t believe in that superstitious crap,” I replied, “but that cat has to compete with the big black cloud that is always hovering over my head.”

It never goes away...

My cell phone started ringing as I pulled in the driveway, it was Auntie.

“There’s been an emergency, and Connor needs to go to the ER for stitches.”

What?!  “I’m in the driveway, be there in a second.”

As soon as I opened the door, I heard his screaming.  I ran into the bathroom, and found Connor lying on the floor, surrounded by blood.  Hubs was holding a bandage to his head and applying pressure.

In the car, on the way to the ER, I got the story.  Hubs sent Connor to the bathroom to brush his teeth before bed.  Since Connor can get distracted by lint, he immediately got into the bathtub and started jumping over the tub wall, like a kangaroo.  Because…well, because it’s more entertaining than brushing your teeth, I guess.  And apparently he caught his foot, and came down and hit his head on either the sink or toilet.  When I asked him what he hit his head on, he said “I don’t know, I didn’t see it coming.”

Ironically, I just had a conversation with him last week about why we don’t jump out of the tub.

“Because you could fall and hit your head and bust it open.”

“Would it bleed?”

“Of course it would bleed,” I sputtered.

“Well how would it stop?”

“You would have to go to the emergency room and the doctor would have to sew stitches in your head.”

And that’s exactly what they did.

Jumping out of the tub is almost always a bad idea.

Honestly, he was pretty much a trooper.  Except when he got annoyed that there was a crying baby in there.  Explanations of “it’s a sick baby, he can’t help that he’s crying” were lost on him.  Why is it that he can make noise like a construction crew, but if someone else makes noise he loses his shit??

They had to strap him to one of those papoose boards.  After it was done, he surprised me by exhibiting a firm grasp on sarcasm.

“Thanks mom, THANK YOU for taking me to the emergency room and letting them strap me to the papoose board.  THANK YOU for letting me be strapped down and not able to move.”

Yeah, yeah, I know it was a stressful night for him.  Scary and all that.  Still, do I need that attitude??  I mean, it was all I could do not to yack up all the surf and turf I’d had.

Two days later, the Vice Principal called me.  He was concerned for Connor’s safety because he had been STANDING ON THE TOILET IN THE BATHROOM.  Again.  And could I please speak with him?

Oh yes, yes I can.

“Hello, Connor?  Remember how you jumped out of the tub the other night and cracked your head open and bled all over the place?  Remember how you had to go to the ER and get strapped down and have stitches sewn into your head?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Was that fun for you?  Did you like doing that?  Are you wanting to do that again?”

“No.”

“THEN STAY OFF THE DAMN TOILET BEFORE YOU CRACK SOMETHING ELSE OPEN!!”

“okay.”

I’m thinking he may just need to wear a helmet wherever he goes.  Maybe when he’s older he can get a job on one of those Jackass movies.  At least it would be a job.

Look ma, no helmet!!

Obligatory Winter Break Post

Hey, I’m back.

It’s not like I actually went anywhere. It was the holidays and I was busy and didn’t really have anything to write about. But now it’s been so long I feel like I better get something up here or just quit the whole thing, and that’s a big decision to make so I better just write something.

So…the holidays. At 3am on Xmas morning I woke up puking my guts out. Santa had come while we were sleeping and left the flu in my gut. Thanks, Jack.

I dragged out of bed to watch Connor open presents, but couldn’t even make it to the end. He gets so wound up and overstimulated, that he insists on taking each item out of the package and playing with it, before he’s even finished opening all the gifts. That means the endeavor of opening presents takes about an hour and a half. I just couldn’t do it, and dragged back to bed after a half hour.

We had our official Xmas dinner the next day.

But it was good, and he was happy. It was even smooth sailing at the mall, when we went to see Santa.

See, the mall did this genius thing this year, where they had a self-playing piano set up next to the Santa line. This thing was magic for the kids. Connor was convinced that there was a ghost playing the piano because he could see the keys and pedals moving by themselves. He even made this announcement to the other kids nearby, which caused much speculation about the presence of ghosts at the Santa village. See, here’s my kid:

Best distraction ever!!

Easiest time I ever spent waiting in line, hands down.

A couple of days before Xmas, we were downtown for an appointment, so I decided to take Connor out for a Xmas lunch at one of my favorite places. It’s right on the lake, and it was a nice, sunny day. It was the best damn restaurant visit we’ve ever had, thanks to the ducks.

Apparently ducks like Mexican food. Who knew?

See, Connor was beside himself with glee at feeding the numerous ducks that greedily await patrons who clumsily drop stray bits of food. He started by feeding them pieces of tortilla chips, which I was really feeling guilty and uneasy about, since they are hard and could potentially get stuck in some bird’s throat. But there were other kids out there feeding them tortilla chips, and if I told Connor he couldn’t do it because it was bad for the birds, then he would go all Aspie kid cop, and tell the other kids that they couldn’t either, even though he has no authority over them. Then he’d want to know why they could do it if it was bad for the birds, but he couldn’t, and I’d have to explain about how we don’t control other people, and, well….I just wanted to have a peaceful lunch. So he fed them tortilla chips, and they didn’t die, and we had an awesome lunch.

So except for the flu, and eating too many cookies, it was a pretty great winter break. The best part came a few days after Xmas, when I asked Connor to tell me what the best thing he got for Xmas was. He responded, “having you guys for my family is the best thing I got for Xmas.”

Seriously, he wasn’t even coached to say that. I have no idea where he got it, but it sure was the best gift he could have given me.

I hope the rest of you had a nice, restful winter break.

Thanks, Lizbeth. I Was Perfectly Happy Doing Nothing.

It’s not that I don’t have some holiday tales to tell, it’s just that I’m still on hiatus, and wasn’t planning on expending the necessary effort to write and post.  I mean, I need all my reserve stores of energy to eat the last of the fudge and holiday cookies.

But Lizbeth, at Four Sea Stars, just couldn’t let me hibernate one moment longer, and decided to bestow upon me a big, heaping pile of crap “blog award”, titled the “Sunshine Award.”

Which is ludicrous, isn’t it?  I mean, I am the anti-sunshine….I like dark, rainy days.  Wait, dense fog??  Oh, that’s even better.  But alas, I’m stuck.

So, the rules:

1. Thank the person who gave you the award.  Suck it, Lizbeth, SUCK IT!
2. Link back to the Blogger (or Bloggers) who awarded you.
3. Answer the following questions, down below.
4. Pass the award out and victimize ten other Bloggers letting them know, of course, that you’ve nailed them.

Favorite Color?  Who cares?  Seriously, do you really give a shit what my favorite color is?  I don’t think you do.  Okay, I’m sorry.  Maybe you’re knitting me a sweater right this very minute, and you absolutely MUST know that my favorite color is red.  There.  I’ll be waiting for that sweater.  Or a hat.  A hat would be nice too.

Favorite Animal?  Josh Holloway.  What, you don’t think he’s an animal???  Take a look at this and then tell me you don’t think he’s an animal.

Wild, dangerous man-beast.

Favorite number?  Does anyone ever pick zero?  Probably not.  It’s probably the most underappreciated number in the math world.  So, as a public service, I will pick zero as my favorite number.  It’s light, it has low expectations, it’s my hero…zero.

Favorite drink?  Regular coke.  But it’s become a habit.  A real, serious problem.  I crave it, I must have it.  I know where to get the best cokes in town…the ones with just the right balance of syrup and carbonation.  Therefore, I must walk away from my sweet, sweet liquid crack.  I’m switching to diet.  It won’t be the same, but it’s time to break the cycle of control.

Facebook or Twitter?  I find both to be a colossal time-suck of equal proportions.  We really all just use them to cross-promote our blogs.  But since Twitter carries so many stressful expectations to be uber-witty in 140-characters or less, and I tend to choke under pressure, I will have to choose Facebook. 

My passion?  Anthropology.  If I’d had a college fund, then things might have turned out differently.  But I didn’t, and it didn’t, and so I read about the latest archaeological finds on yahoo news, like everyone else.  But in my head, I’m sitting in a pile of dirt in Egypt with a chisel and a paint brush, and I’m finding cool stuff. 

Giving or getting presents?  Well I guess I’m an asshole if I say I like getting presents, right?

Favorite day?  Friday.  The weekend looms ahead, full of so much promise.  Come on, Friday!!

Favorite flower?  I grew up in Orange County, California.  We went to Disneyland a lot when I was a kid.  On Main Street, there was this cafe called Carnation, and they served Carnation ice cream.  And, of course, they always had carnations on the tables.  I still love those flowers.

Now I get to tag some other victims bloggy friends for this meme:

Dawn, at This Side of Typical – she loves this stuff.

Lisa, at Autism Wonderland.

Tessa, at Apples and Autobots.

Okay, I’ve used up my energy reserves.  I’ve got to crawl back to the fridge for some fudge now.

 

Edit:  I forgot the snazzy Sunshine Award badge, so here it is.

 

Now I'm all legit and shit.