Special Needs Ryan is Alive With the Sound of Music

Oh yes, Special Needs Ryan Gosling is back.  This time he’s bringing the music.  He is multi-talented like that.

Special Needs Ryan Friday is brought to you by Sunday Stillwell, check her, and the other Special Needs Ryan peeps, out here:

This week I have TWO Ryans.  He’s so good, I had to do him twice (pun intended).

Whatever you say, Ryan, you're the boss.

This is an old In Living Color reference. You remember it, right? Come on...

Have a great weekend!

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Progress On Wheels

One of the moms from Connor’s social skills play group messaged me last week about getting the boys together to go skating.  I warned her that Connor had only been skating once before, and wasn’t very good, but she assured me that Alan was at the same level, so we made plans to meet on Saturday.

I used to love to skate when I was a kid, and I was pretty good.  Although, I never did master the coveted “backward skating” that kids do, looking all cool and shaking their assets to the music.  And believe me, I had ass-ets.

But alas, I’m old now, and have bigger, more fragile ass-ets than I used to, which is why I laughed when I saw the other mom on skates.  “Oh no, not me, sister.  I’m not even totally reliable on foot, and I have a bad back, so I’m hoofin’ it today.”

It wasn’t long before her sneakers were back on, and we chatted as we walk/rolled/held up the boys and made our laps around the rink.  Her adorable son was like an octopus made out of rubber bands.  Long, gangly, and extremely resilient.  He’d start to fall, flail around and grab our hands, bounce back up, start to fall again.  Her wrist was killing her, and my lower back was screaming at me.  But shortly, something amazing happened.

They didn’t need us anymore.

Her son found a helpful, cute girl, and he chatted her up and held the rail all the way around.  Connor seemed to find his balancing point, and alternated between talking to his friend, and skating a lap around the rink.

And we sat and talked, like people do.  Other people, usually.

Of course, we had to keep one eye on the boys.  Even though he was still shaky on skates, Connor managed to find a stairway leading up to the area where they have tables and chairs set up for parties.  In true ADHD fashion, he sneaked (snuck?) past me three different times to attempt to make his way up the stairs on hands and knees.  He didn’t really have a reason why he wanted to go up there, but there were stairs, dammit, and he was going to climb them.

"Must get to stairs, must get to stairs, must get to stairs-oh look, a candy machine! Must get to stairs, must get to stairs..."

Luckily we all made it out in one piece, and no one needed an ambulance ride.  Although muscle relaxers were certainly in order (you know, for the moms).

It was a pleasant, semi-relaxed outing, which is always welcome.

Connor was so pleased with his newly acquired skating prowess, that he proclaimed in the car, “THANK YOU FOR TAKING ME SKATING, YOU’RE THE BEST MOM EVER!”

Word.

Also, he mentioned that he saw a kid skating backwards, and  “it was so cool, I’m going to do that next time AND I’m going to even skate on the walls and up to the ceiling!!!!”

He might be combining Spiderman with roller skates, I’m not sure.  I just wish him luck trying to master backward skating, because if he does, he’ll already be light-years ahead of me.

"I'm skating backwards and I'm KING OF THE WORLD!!!"

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Not Just Another Post About Bullying

How would you feel if your child was being bullied at school?  When I ask that, I mean your child with autism, who is minimally verbal.  How do you feel now?  Now imagine your child suddenly starts acting out aggressively at school, with no prior history of that kind of behavior.

It would be pretty upsetting, I imagine.

What if you found out your child was being called a “bastard” and told to “shut his mouth”?

Me?  I’d feel a burning rage hotter than a thousand suns.

But wait.  It’s not another child saying those things to your kid.

It’s his teacher.  And his teacher’s aide.

Feel sick yet?

We would never, ever stop until those people were held accountable, would we?  The very people entrusted with the care and nurturing of children that are already vulnerable, children with special needs, are the ones to violate that sacred trust and cause HARM to those children.

This really did happen.  It happened in Cherry Hill School District in New Jersey, to a little boy named Akian.  You see, the reason we know these things happened is because his dad sent him to school with a wire.  He was so desperate to get to the bottom of things, he had to resort to wiring his child to get answers.  What he got was hours of recorded evidence of the teachers having inappropriate conversations and bullying his son.

The teacher DID NOT GET FIRED.  The aide was dismissed, but the teacher was moved to another school.  Case closed.

Not for Akian’s dad.  He has put together a video that includes the actual recordings taken that day at school.  He has also put together a website.

He is not suing for money.  He is asking for a public apology from those teachers, to his son.  He is asking for the teacher’s resignation.

He is asking for his son’s dignity.

Please watch the video.  It’s about 15 minutes long.

http://youtu.be/tfkscHt96R0

Here is the website where you can sign a petition:

http://www.hnva.net/teacherbully/

The video has made it’s way around, and caught the attention of Jillsmo, who is not looking for any recognition from this.  She put up a post and link to the video on Facebook.  I happened to click the link and watched the video.

Now, we are asking that fellow bloggers from the autism community put up a post about this horrible case of teacher bullying.  We want this to get noticed.  I want to see media attention.

Personally, I want every teacher and administrator throughout this country to know that parents of special needs kids are watching, and we will rally together to call for accountability of all school personnel involved in bullying, or covering up bullying. 

As you read this, I ask you to put up a post on your blog.

For Akian.

For your children.  And mine.

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Editors note:  This post may be copied in its entirety and reprinted elsewhere, without credit to the author.  It must, however, contain links to Stuart Chaifetz’s website and video.

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One-Eyed Dog, A Follow-Up

Last week I wrote about how our golden retriever got a tumor IN his eye, and the eye had to be removed.  If you missed it, you can go here.

I asked you lovely people to help me with ideas for nicknames (just a nickname, not a brand new name completely), and you did!  I mentioned that I would ask Connor to pick his favorite, but I forgot for a second that he has Asperger’s.  Here’s how that conversation went:

Me:  Hey kiddo, I’ve asked my friends on the computer to help think of a funny nickname for Bailey, since he only has one eye now, because it’s good to have some humor to help us feel better.

Connor:  His name is Bailey.  That’s his name.

Me:  I know that’s his name.  I named him.  12 years ago.  I only meant a NICKNAME, like when I call you “pumpkin” or “sweetie-pie”.

Connor:  Well I don’t want you to call me those, my name is Connor.

Me:  But you don……

(interrupted by ADHD moment)

Connor:  Can I watch a show?  Can I watch Avengers, PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE??

Me:  But what about picking a nickname for Bailey?

Connor:  His name is Bailey.  That’s his name.

Me:  Oh forget it…I’ll put on the Avengers.

So yeah, that didn’t really work out like I had planned.  I mean, I should have anticipated this, but sometimes I get carried away and think that something will just happen in a normal fashion, but that is just silly.

Anyhoo, after careful consideration and much negotiation between myself and hubs, we have decided that our favorite nickname is:

Wonky Cyclops

See, I combined the recommendation of Marj and Lisa, with the one from Grace.

There were a lot of good suggestions, and many of you voted for “Patch”…but I felt like we needed something with a little…extra.  And that extra is “Wonky”.

We all need to incorporate “wonky” into our vocabularies a little more, don’t you think?

So, be sure to visit the winning creative geniuses behind “Wonky Cyclops” at their places:

Marj, at The Domestic Goddess

Lisa, at Autism Wonderland

and Grace, at That’sRightISaidIt.Dot.Mom

And now it is time for the unveiling of Wonky Cyclops!!!  First, here is Bailey a few months ago:

Awww, he loves his boy!

And here is Bailey on Saturday:

You know what? The hair will grow back and cover that right up, so don't be so down.

I know, poor baby, right?  He was looped up on pain killers for several days, but now he is doing much better, and is actually pestering the other dogs to play!  Of course, they don’t like his new accessory, because he wields that cone head around like a samurai sword.

The stitches should come out this week, and Bailey will be good as new.  Well, not new, but slightly dented and pain-free, so we’ll take it!

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Special Needs Ryan Friday

It’s Special Needs Ryan  Friday again, created by Sunday at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood.

It’s hard to believe, but I think Ryan gets hotter every week!  Here’s this week’s photo:

Be sure to click on over to Sunday’s site to check out the other SN Ryan entries.

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Edit:  ALSO??  My buddy Lisa, from Autism Wonderland, asked for guest posts last week, and today she is running an oldie but goodie that I recycled and sent her.  How awesome is she?  Way awesome!  So check her out, and check me out while you’re there, checking her out!

 

Of One-Eyed Dogs and the Boys Who Love Them

Long before the Dingo came on-board as chief security patrol of the house, we had another dog.  Bailey, our 12-year-old golden retriever was with us long before Connor was a sparkle in my eye, or a zygote in my uterus.

Bailey was there when we brought Connor home from the hospital.

It doesn't smell like kibble.

Bailey patiently took a back seat to the new Emperor of the Kingdom.  In fact, he pretty much steered clear of Connor unless he had toys out, because the crying and fussing made him nervous.  Balls and toys though, now that was intriguing.

When no one's looking, the toy balls are mine.

As Connor grew and left the whining, fussing, tail-pulling stage behind, the two of them forged a great friendship.  Since Connor sometimes perseverates on new tasks, Bailey patiently obliged him as he overfed him biscuit after biscuit.   And Bailey was grateful, oh-so-grateful for Connor’s enthusiasm.

Thanks for being a spaz, kid! Another cookie please!!

But now since Bailey is in his “golden years” of dog-hood, he’s had some health challenges.  A recurrent eye problem had him back at the vet.  Connor accompanied hubs and Bailey on this recent trip.  Now, as is typical for Connor, he was so busy playing around, messing around, running around, jacking around, and climbing around that he did not really catch the gist of the conversation my husband was having with the dog ophthalmologist.  So it was news to him when I informed him of the dog’s health, and ultimate outcome of his eye.

“They are NOT going to take out Bailey’s eye!  There is NO WAY I’m letting that happen!!!”

I’ve never seen such moral outrage and indignation from a six-year-old.  And I felt so proud to see him feel empathy and compassion for his friend.

But a tumor in the eye is a big deal.  So we talked about it, and about the pain that Bailey is in.  Connor agreed that the doctor needed to help Bailey.

And when you have a tumor IN your eye, apparently the entire eye must come out.  There is no other option.

We brought Bailey home that evening.  He was still seeing purple elephants from the anesthesia, and looked like he was in the worst bar brawl ever.  Connor was so gentle, so kind, whispering words of encouragement and endearment.  Softly petting Bailey’s back.

At bath time, he came into my room and broke down.  He sobbed and said, “it’s not fair, it’s not fair that they cut Bailey’s eye out!”

I explained about tumors and aging, and tried to get him to understand that Bailey was very lucky to be alive, and not hurting any more.  He calmed down and has rolled with it.

This morning, he was back to feeding him biscuits.

So that stereotype about autistic kids lacking empathy?  Bullshit.  I can’t speak for every kid with autism, but I can say without any doubt that someone can be on the spectrum and still possess boundless empathy.

Now that the ordeal is over, we need a new nickname for Bailey.  Because humor heals, people.  Between the angry birds and the dog drama, I’m spent.  The only names I’ve come up with are:

Blinky

Frankendog

Captain One-Eye and the Empty Socket of Doom

See???  I need help.

I need you guys to leave comments with suggestions for a new nickname.  You’re all much more creative than me.

Connor will help me pick a winner.  The winner gets…glory and recognition (you’ll get linky love and I will whore the winning post all over web-nets).  That’s it.  (Hey, having dog eyes removed isn’t cheap, so I’m on a tight budget this month.)  I will post a picture of poor Bailey (come on, don’t act like you’re not the least bit curious to see what a one-eyed dog looks like), with a banner around his neck with the new nickname.

Come on people, bring the creativity!

 

Editor’s Note:  We are not changing the name of our 12-year-old dog.  We are simply coming up with funny nicknames for him.  Our other dog is named Dora, and we refer to her often as “the dingo”. 

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Angry Birds, Level Two

Several of you asked what happened yesterday, after the mighty bird siege that happened over the weekend.

Dear Angry Birds:

Yesterday morning when I left for the day, with my son and the dog, I was very disappointed to see your baby bird, once again, roosting in the middle of my driveway.  I’m sure you couldn’t help but notice that we were, once again, armed with tennis rackets.  My son, being adventurous, was happy to oblige by “covering me” while I got the dog into the car.

When I arrived home after work, I was pleased to see that, sometime during the day, you sought out more appropriate accommodations for your offspring.  I did not see your baby bird in the driveway, bushes, nor on the front porch.  We really appreciate that since my husband had to carry in a 65-pound sedated dog.

Last night, after our other dog’s final trip to the “privy”, we were surprised to see her at the back door, dancing wildly and wriggling like a belly dancer on meth.  We opened the door, and there was your dead baby bird at her feet.

So…yes.  Yes, a dingo DID eat your baby.  Looks like you chose badly.

Game over.  Better luck next spring, bitches.

Warmest regards and a big FUCK YOU,

Flannery

No, there are no dead baby bird pictures.  You’re welcome.  Although hubs did ask me, when he scooped it into the Target bag, if I wanted a picture for my blog.  I acted like the idea was beneath me.  It wasn’t.  I secretly wished I had taken a picture.

Happy Springtime!

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Weekends Are For the Birds. Literally.

We were at nature’s mercy yesterday, and I’m not talking about the tornado activity that swirled through the midwest.  I’m talking about birds, ala Alfred Hitchcock.

Yesterday I was out getting an oil change and inspection, and didn’t have my insurance card with me.  I called husband to bring it to me.  When he got there, he informed me there was a baby bird in residence in the middle of our driveway, and when he walked out to the car, he bent over to pick it up and move it.  He was promptly dive-bombed by two very angry parent birds.  He dove for cover and skinned his knee on the driveway.

No, not this angry bird.

This story made me laugh.  It made Connor laugh.  We laughed and laughed our asses off.

Arriving home a while later, I find that the baby bird is still smack in the middle of the driveway.  I parked several feet away from it, and made it into the house without incident.  But later when I went out on the front porch, I was promptly driven back inside.  We were being held hostage in our house, by the angry birds.

Get back inside, bitch!!!

This went on for a couple of hours, until we decided to take a stand and reclaim our house.  Hubs had the genius idea to trick them by going out through the garage.  Connor came along, and we all armed ourselves.  Up the garage door went and there we stood, wielding deadly tennis rackets just like our mighty viking forefathers, who once wielded…something.  Whatever vikings wielded, that’s what they wielded.

SURPRISE, the baby bird was no longer in the driveway.  So Connor and I commenced to playing tennis in the driveway.  Oddly, I kept hearing this cheap cheap sound.  I finally noticed that baby troublemaker had hopped himself into the planter, under the bush in front of the house.  So I was literally standing three feet from it while we played tennis.

This turned out to be an awesome exercise for Connor, because I used this time to work on his perseveration issues.  He was stuck on the fact that the baby bird was there, and I reminded him to stay away because it will upset the mommy and daddy birds, who want to protect it.  Then I distracted him by hitting the ball back and forth.  We kept at it for about 20 minutes, and he did really well with switching gears and getting himself “unstuck” from the baby bird.  And the other benefit was that we established our ultimate dominance over our driveway with our stealthy, ninja-like movements with the rackets.

Sports paraphernalia AND deadly tools of bird destruction.

It turns out that my feeling of superiority was not only delusional, but also short-lived.  Later when I went out to the front porch, I found this:

When nature fights back...

Yep, little baby Mofo hopped his fuzzy ass right onto the walkway by the front porch.  Take a look at that picture again.  Look up there towards the top of the tree.  See that?  Yeah, that’s momma bird.  She’s just waiting to peck someone’s eye out if they step off the porch.

So I did what any mature person would do.  I stood on my front porch, yelling at the damn birds.  “Come and get your goddamned kid and get it off my walkway!  Listen you bastard birds, this is MY house, you better RECOGNIZE!!”

I don’t care much for the neighbors anyway.

As I stood on the porch, I heard the tell-tale cheap, cheap sound, but not from the bird on the walkway in front of me.  I looked around, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t see this:

Why you little #&@&&@!

A SECOND baby bird…right ON my porch!

I’ve got to get the dog to the vet, the boy to school, and myself to work in the morning, all before 8am.  So I’m not going to say that I stuck my foot out and punted baby jackass #2 right off the porch, into the grass below.  Nope, not saying it.  But I’ll say the porch is clear.

So, come 7am tomorrow, Connor and I will have to forge a trail down the walkway with our tennis rackets.

Hey, nature ain’t pretty all the time, people.  Sometimes it’s kill or be killed.

And I’m not being taken out by a pair of birds.  Not today.

And I can thank my viking ancestors for my warrior spirit.

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Friday Means Ryan…

It’s time to link up with Sunday at Adventures in Extreme Parenthood for Special Needs Ryan Gosling!

This week’s Ryan…

See you next week, when I discuss one-eye dogs and how many Fords there are between home and school.

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Posting at SPD Blogger Network

Today you can find me posting at SPD Blogger Network.  They were gracious enough to run my post about safety, a topic of major importance for all of us with kids on the spectrum.

 

Please check it out and be sure to comment.

 

While you’re there, be sure to look around at the other great articles and information at SPD.