King for a Day

One day last week when I picked up Connor from school, he ran toward me, yelling, “I’m king for a day!!”

I was worried that his kindergarten narcissism had risen to a whole new level, but then he produced a poster board, with a note from the teacher.  Throughout the year, a child is chosen every couple of weeks to be king or queen for a day.

They take their poster board home, and they decorate it with all of their favorite things.  Then, on their designated day, they take it to school and they show it to their class and tell them all about the things and people they love most.

Finally, a project that won’t result in yelling or tears.  Yay!

Connor was eager to work on his poster board, but needed some suggestions to get him started.

“Think about your favorite things, movies, food, toys, things you like to do” I suggested.

“I LOVE pizza!!”

“Okay, that’s a start.”  So he drew a piece of pizza.  Then he wrote his name, in his favorite color, across the poster board.

We looked through the Disney movie booklet, and he cut out pictures of Wall-E and Toy Story to glue on the poster.

“Would you like me to print a picture of our family for your poster?”  Of course he does, he adores his family.  I’m sure he can’t wait to put us on his poster.

“No, no family.  I just want my stuff on it, no family.”

[sigh]

Okay, I get it.  He wants it to just be about him, and all his favorite things, not about his family.  Fine.

[nine months, little boy, nine LONG months]

Anyway, I left him to his own devices, armed with colored paper, scissors, glue, crayons and markers.  I proceeded to clean the kitchen.  After a few minutes, I came over to check on his progress.

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The King's Masterpiece

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Wait.  Did you see that?

What is that?  Oh, please don’t tell me…..

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“Um, Connor??”

Well, it turns out he actually had something very ordinary in mind.  So I let him glue it onto the poster board, and I “enhanced” it later.  It was worth the risk of pissing him off, so I could, um, “help” him make his vision a reality.

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See, it was just a giant pen- rocket!!

Whew, good thing I added the fire and those jets, huh?

And so the King told the class about his love for balloons, rockets, ice cream cones, pizza, Wall-E and Toy Story.  He did not, however, discuss his family, his dog, his fish, or the menagerie of toys strewn all over the house.

And everyone in the kingdom lived happily ever after!!

My Eyes, My Eyes!!

You know how we’ve had some “challenges” instilling the love of reading into Connor?  No?  Then click here and get caught up.

Back?  Okay.  So ever since we started pointing to words and making Connor say them, storytime has gone straight to hell.  But this week he brought home a new library book from school.  It’s about a chameleon.  And I hate it.  Really.  It’s disgusting.  Let me show you why.

That thing is eating a caterpillar. NOT a book for mommies.

I hate it because it has real pictures, not cutesy cartoon pictures.  See, these are not pictures I want to look at.  Animals and people, yes.  Bridges and cranes and bulldozers, okay.  Amphibians and insects, not so much.  But boys like things like this, and any book my boy likes is a good book.  Even if it’s totally gross.

The chameleon has friends in this book.

Friends don't sting friends. Someone needs a time out.

 

We’ve read this book every night since he brought it home.  But last night, on the very first page, Connor puts his hand up and says,  “no, I want to read it.”

And in my head, there’s a freakin’ party going on.  Yeah, baby!

He read almost every page of the book.  Granted, we’ve read the damn thing ten times already, and he’s memorized it.  But I was there for every reading, and I don’t have it memorized, so I’m kind of impressed.  And when he read, he ran his finger along under each word.  Bonus!

So while I find the book visually offensive, I’m just going to suck it up.  But I’m really, really hoping the school library doesn’t have any books about cockroaches.

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P.S.  Psssst!  Click the chick, I won’t tell anyone.  It’s our little secret. 

Open Letter to the Kindergarten Girls

 

To the kindergarten girls of Ms. Wong’s class:

Greetings ladies,

I’m writing to you because I feel the time has come to set the record straight on a few things.  On behalf of mothers of sons everywhere, it is time to level the playing field, and come to an understanding.

First, I am aware that you are all graduates of the Barbie boot camp for little mermaids.  Oh yes, I’ve seen the obligatory uniform requirements of Barbie lunch boxes and Hello Kitty backpacks.  I’ve caught a passing whiff of the chocolate chip cookie-scented winter lip balm as I’ve walked the halls with my son.  No, no, don’t embarrass yourselves by denying it.  You thought I wouldn’t notice, but you were wrong. 

Perhaps you were naïve enough to think I wouldn’t look at the valentines he brought home from school.  Silly girls, I’ve been at this much longer than you have.  I saw the valentines with the swirly letters, the princess theme, and the extra hearts drawn on the back.  I took notice of the ones that went above and beyond, and taped a sucker or candy to the card.  You must be feeling quite delighted with yourselves, and reveling in a job well done, seeds that have been sown.

Well listen up, purveyors of all things princess.  You are mere guppies, trying to swim with big fish, junior players trying to compete in the big game.  You can pack up your  pink, glittery winter scarf, and cool your rainbow-sneakered heels. 

The valentine under Connor’s pillow last night was, wait for it… mine!

 

 

 

Take a number, girls.

 

IN YOUR FACE!!  Oh yeah, um, sorry to break it to you.  This might be a good time for all of us to come to some kind of agreement.  If you could just cool your jets for the next fifteen twenty years, I may just be ready to step down as center of my son’s universe, and give you a chance.  Maybe.

Until then, I’ll be keeping my eyes on you little pink, frilly demons.

Warmest Regards,

Your Potential Future Mother-in-Law

364 Days Until Next Valentine’s Day

I am so glad Valentine’s Day is over.  Hubby and I took the pressure off one another long ago to not feel compelled to partake in this manufactured consumer holiday.  We will eat chocolate any damn day we please, thank you very much.  But sadly, it’s the children of the world that suffer on this day.

In addition to nightly homework, and extra assignments added on, the boy and his classmates had to make a valentine mailbox, decorate it, AND prepare 23 valentine cards for their classmates (parents NOT allowed to write the names, per instructions).  They’re  in kindergarten people, KINDERGARTEN!!  And we all know what this means, don’t we???  Extra excruciating homework hours for mom! 

A mere four days later, and the mailbox and 24 valentines were complete.  Almost.  There was still the matter of his special ed teacher not having one, but he had already decided that he was done, and there would be no more valentine-making activities.  Sorry Sped teacher, better luck next year.

Here’s the kicker on this whole thing:  more than half the valentines that little man brought home were filled out by *gasp* the parents.  Yeah, that’s right, those bastards cheated.  They totally gave Ms. Wong the middle finger, and just did it themselves. 

I am SO with them next year.

Holiday Stress, YMCA and Pflugerville ISD

With Connor in kindergarten this year, it was our first time seeing the effects of school combined with holiday stress.  The last week and a half before the holiday break was a real challenge.  We saw our normally happy child exhibit a big spike in aggression and anxiety. 

A couple of incidents at school involving hitting, and I was emailing the teacher, special ed teacher, district autism specialist, and our behaviorist.  Simple common sense tells me that when a child is anxious, and exhibiting a loss of control as a result, then they need some extra supports to help them with coping strategies.  Initially, the teachers did not agree, and chalked it up to holiday angst, recommended that any changes right now would not be a good idea, and informed me they would monitor after the holidays.

Huh?  I don’t think so.

Our behaviorist, on the other hand, completely agreed, and sent a list of interventions to try until the holiday break.  They were simple tools, aimed at helping Connor get out extra energy, and providing a little more structure at recess time, when he was having challenges. 

In an amazing about-face, the teachers and autism specialist “agreed”, and the rest of the week went by without further incident.  In my ongoing commitment to being diplomatic, I humbly thanked them for their enthusiasm at helping Connor through the rest of the week.  It was great that they saw the value of our behaviorist’s recommendations, and I can only hope that in the future they also see the value of parents recommendations, namely, mine.  I’m told by others that my experience is an unfortunately common one.  On a positive note, we have all established my reluctance to be dismissed, and my commitment to a team approach.  Yay team!!!!

And then there’s the YMCA…..

Of course the challenges carried over there as well.  I asked every day if they were using the “happy face” chart and prize box.  Ummmm, no.  Alrighty then, I’m afraid I cannot address your concerns unless you are using the abundant tools that I have provided. 

Next day, better.  They used the chart.  “So you used the tools, and the behavior was better?  So I guess you guys have a handle on things now, and I won’t need to provide any more reminders about using the tools, right?”

It ain’t easy being an advocate.  The hardest part is living in a state that is so very far behind in services for the disabled population.  There are not adequate programs, people have had very little training, it’s still like a foreign concept here.  So I provide tools, I advocate, I teach, and I remind.  I remind them constantly that my son is not going away.  And worse, I am not going away.  Not following through is not an option, because I will be there again and again, asking questions and holding people accountable.  Good grief, these children are your neighbors, your friends, your relatives.  You will not pretend they don’t exist, and you will not just dismiss them when they don’t fit inside your box.

And now we are in the middle of holiday break, and it is going so nicely.  My child is happy, bubbly, and pleasant.  He spent 45 minutes at the McDonald’s playscape, making friends, playing nicely, having good manners, and being a pure joy.  That’s the best Christmas gift I could have received.

Milestones

After all the changes, and the meeting, and changing my work times, things have been sailing along much more smoothly at Connor’s after school program.  He has a new counselor that worked with him at their summer camp, and she is really great with him.  The past two weeks have been rather pleasant (I’m almost sorry I just put that in writing).

On Friday when I picked up Connor, his counselor asked me if I would always be picking him up that early.  She said she’d like him to stay later, since he’s been doing so well.  She’d like to see how he does when he’s there for more than an hour.  WHAT??!!  That is a first!  Never in his five years has someone asked for him to stay longer.  I was just so flabbergasted, I didn’t know what to say.  Then I remembered that they have an early release day coming up this week, and a teacher day off in October.

I reminded her of those, and we decided to see how things go on those days.  Let’s not get all crazy and start thinking he can just hang out for hours on end, being good, for heaven’s sake!

Things have also gone well in his kindergarten class, with only two days of naughty reports.  Two days out of four weeks is not too shabby.  I’ll take it!

I can honestly say, my heart swells with pride.  Maybe he is finally maturing and understanding how to conduct himself.  He even went to his counselor to ask for help with a conflict, rather than hitting or pushing.  He got a trip to the treasure box for that.

Here’s crossing my fingers and hoping things continue this way.  All our hard work is paying off, painfully slowly, but still getting there.

Just Breathe…

Connor and his big stick.

 

The first week of school took more of a toll on all of us than I would have guessed.  With Connor attending pre-K and childcare in the past, I guess I wasn’t expecting this to be a difficult transition.  I don’t know what I was thinking…my child has ADHD and Asperger’s, and almost all transitions are challenging.  This past weekend gave us some good downtime, and I decided to find a fun activity for all of us. 

No, Texas is not my favorite place in the whole world, but Austin does have some pretty areas, and a plethora of creeks and lakes.  Since Connor has never been to the ocean, or a natural body of water, I thought some creek exploration was just the thing.  A few minutes on google, and we were soon on our way to Bull Creek. 

During the drive, we discussed logistics:  what is a creek, how deep is a creek, how far away is the creek, are there sharks in the creek, etc, etc.  As we wound around the road, Connor grew more and more excited, asking “Are we to the creek now?” 

I could not have ordered up a more relaxing and fun adventure for our little family.  We parked the car and got out, and I explained that we had to hold hands near the cars and road, but I would let go once we got over to the creek.  He followed my directions beautifully. 

The three of us waded around, watched small fish scurry by, and enjoyed the scenery.  My boy found rocks to throw in the water, and a huge walking stick.  We explored and looked and laughed.  We even hiked up a small trail for a while and back down.  There were no behavior problems, issues, challenges, nada. 

This was my boy.  My sweet boy that loves to roam around and toss rocks and make noise and ask a million questions about all that he sees.  Maybe someday he will be a park ranger or a trail guide.  My boy just doesn’t do as well with being inside the box of a classroom, with rules and assignments, and competing voices and hands.  He’s like a fish out of water. 

I feel recharged after this family time.  We all piled into the car with our wet shoes and feet and headed home for dinner.  We even brought the big walking stick, so Connor could keep it.  My fear and dread has receded a little, and I think we’re all going to make it.

And So It Begins…

The first week of kindergarten is officially over, and I’m utterly exhausted.  At my house, it’s so much more involved than new shoes, backpacks, and lunch boxes.  It’s extra classroom supports, medication coordination with the nurse, and a love-hate relationship with the afterschool program. 

Connor was nervous, but was excited to be wearing his new sneakers.  There were no tears as we walked him to class on the first day.  The tears came later that evening, but they were my tears.  On day one, I picked him up at the YMCA after school program, in his school’s cafeteria.  The staff was waiting for me with a write-up, and that look.  I hate that look, I’ve seen it so many times before.  The look of bad news, and of people that already can’t stand dealing with my kid.  The look immediately fills me with both dread and anger.

Connor was standing on chairs, running down the hall, not listening, walking away from staff, yadda, yadda, yadda.  We talked about his challenges, we talked about the first day being difficult and confusing.  They asked me how to support him, I gave suggestions, they reminded me several times that they can’t provide one-on-one support.  I grew angry.  I told the director to put in writing that they can’t serve my child, he backed off and said they’re willing to work with him.  It was a standoff.

The big problem is that there are not programs designed to accommodate children with disabilities.  Period.  Beyond that, I strongly advocate inclusion.  I don’t want my son segregated, and with autism numbers growing exponentially, programs need to get on board and beef up staff to start providing services to all children.

We hammered out some short-term behavior supports, and his behaviorist will come meet with program staff next week to discuss ways to work with and support Connor.  Until then, I feel like I race the clock to get there every day, and oftentimes I feel like a pariah.  Why in the hell should I feel like this?  My kid acts out because he doesn’t know how to tell you that he’s overwhelmed, confused, scared.

I’m trying to hold down a job I hate, to support my family, and can’t find after school support that wants to understand and work with my son.  I can only wonder what single parents do.  Texas has left me underwhelmed with their negligence in planning and providing services for the disabled population.  If only we had known this before our move here.

And on Friday came the call from his teacher.  A few instances of hitting, leaving the classroom without permission once, and difficulty sitting still and staying focused on activities.  Yeah, yeah, I know. 

I have to believe things will get better.  This can’t be a snapshot of my son at 8, or 12, or 16.  Of course at those ages, things could be worse.  But I can’t even entertain those thoughts, I have to stay rooted in the present, which isn’t pleasant either.

I wish these people could see Connor like I do:  laughing, smiling, saying funny things, hugging, kissing, tickling, sharing. He does not hit at home.  He does not walk away from us.  He follows us everywhere, and sweetly shares his crackers, and asks permission before he does things.  And he says “Mommy don’t be sad, don’t cry.”  And then his arms are around my neck, and he is wiping my tears and kissing my cheek.

And then I know that I will never stop fighting.  He is worth every tear, and every pitying look, and every dreaded phone call.  And someday they will see what I see.