Iz Kicks Ass
Iz, usually an apathetic sister to Leelo, kicked some ass for him all over the park yesterday.
Two shitty little boys (ages 4 - 5) wanted to play cars on the low wall that Leelo was happily walking back and forth on. So the boys yelled at Leelo to go away.
Iz came stomping over despite the balancing difficulties presented by her birthday Hee1ies, and tore them both a new one:
"HE IS MY BROTHER AND HE IS AUTISTIC AND HE DOES NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU ARE SAYING TO HIM AND YOU CAN NOT TALK THAT WAY TO HIM BECAUSE HE IS MY BROTHER!!!!!"
The stinky little boys mostly gaped at her. Leelo remained oblivious, and even followed them around for the rest of his time at the park, ignoring their attempts to exclude him (which, from what I can tell, were rooted solely in the fact that he wasn't their friend, and not because of his odd behavior).
But still, Go Iz! So glad to have you on Leelo's team.
Perhaps turning seven as she did yesterday flipped the compassion switch we've heard so much about.
1.17.2006
My Insanity Level Has Returned to Normal
Oh thank heavens. All the birthdays and holidays are over. Now I only need to work on:
...and five hundred thousand details that are nowhere near as interesting. But those are the big ones.
Iz's party went well, I think. As usual it would not have been possible had 1) Babysitter A not been present the entire time, supervising Leelo's 3.5 hour bouncy house session and 2) My friends not played pass-the-Mali-potato for the party's duration. Thank you folks!
As I may have mentioned, it was a spy party. I decided to let the kids rely on their brains, a few sheets of xeroxed paper, and fellow partygoers--instead of a musician or magician--for entertainment. Since they're now all 5 to 9 and clever, it worked splendidly. Here is how the party went:
2:00 Arrive and bounce in the bouncy house
3:00 Get called in for pizza, sit in living room eating pizza and spilling soda on the carpet while I tell them the rules:
4:00 Pinata! FYI, those number ones suck balls. Too light and fragile and crappily made.
4:30 Cake and Singing Happy Birthday
5:00 Go home everyone!
Iz quotes from lately that make me laugh:
Oh thank heavens. All the birthdays and holidays are over. Now I only need to work on:
- Hiring another therapist for Leelo
- Setting up Leelo's IEP (Paperwork)
- Visiting local kindergartens to evaluate them for Leelo
- Getting all the paperwork together for Leelo's psychopharmacology consult
- Getting all the paperwork (a shitload), testing, and touring done for Big Noggin, for Iz
- Managing the architectural process for our rebuild
- Sneakily still looking at houses
...and five hundred thousand details that are nowhere near as interesting. But those are the big ones.
Iz's party went well, I think. As usual it would not have been possible had 1) Babysitter A not been present the entire time, supervising Leelo's 3.5 hour bouncy house session and 2) My friends not played pass-the-Mali-potato for the party's duration. Thank you folks!
As I may have mentioned, it was a spy party. I decided to let the kids rely on their brains, a few sheets of xeroxed paper, and fellow partygoers--instead of a musician or magician--for entertainment. Since they're now all 5 to 9 and clever, it worked splendidly. Here is how the party went:
2:00 Arrive and bounce in the bouncy house
3:00 Get called in for pizza, sit in living room eating pizza and spilling soda on the carpet while I tell them the rules:
- Who wants to help find Iz's stolen birthday cake?
- Some of the adults in this room have printed clues in their pockets. The other adults do not have a clue (Bwa ha ha!).
- The adults who do have clues will not tell you that they have them. They will lie. But if you're a good spy and know how to tell if someone's lying, then you'll know they really do have a clue. Here's how to tell:
- Liars won't look you in the eye.
- Liars fidget with their hands, especially on their faces.
- Liars talk really fast to get the lie over with quickly.
- Liars are overly friendly or have fake laughs, because they want you to like them and believe them.
- When you have your clue, you'll need to come over here to the spy center and decode it, using this code key posted on the wall (same code as was used for Iz's advent box search). If you can't read, team up with someone who can or have an adult help you.
- Once you've decoded the clue, you'll have a riddle that will tell you where the cake is.
Eggs come from a chickenMost of the kids said "the store" or "a bakery." Heh! Most of them eventually went and looked in the oven. And shrieked!
You came from a mom
Where do you think
a cake comes from?
4:00 Pinata! FYI, those number ones suck balls. Too light and fragile and crappily made.
4:30 Cake and Singing Happy Birthday
5:00 Go home everyone!
Iz quotes from lately that make me laugh:
"But where does the universe end?"
"It's not unlike..."
...well, there were so many other children about."
1.15.2006
Farting Crickets
Aiiie, I just realized that I've 30 little books to put together tomorrow morning amidst standard party prep insanity. Anyone want to be gallant, and come get cozy with a saddle stapler, say around 10:00?
The spy books are both too complicated and too simple. But they are written, and the master is printed. Done.
Seymour's parents are making a truly sincere effort to be helpful and understanding. It is especially touching watching Seymour's dad insist on cuddling, talking, and interacting with Leelo even when our boy is being a noncompliant pain. What awesome fucking grandparents.
Aiiie, I just realized that I've 30 little books to put together tomorrow morning amidst standard party prep insanity. Anyone want to be gallant, and come get cozy with a saddle stapler, say around 10:00?
The spy books are both too complicated and too simple. But they are written, and the master is printed. Done.
Seymour's parents are making a truly sincere effort to be helpful and understanding. It is especially touching watching Seymour's dad insist on cuddling, talking, and interacting with Leelo even when our boy is being a noncompliant pain. What awesome fucking grandparents.
1.14.2006
Iz Got Her Crown Braid
Yay Iz! Have to have evidence in case they go awry before tomorrow. Which is the day of her birthday party. Which we've had no proper time to prepare for. I want to make spy handbooks, but may just have to settle for maps. Sigh.
Meanwhile Seymour's folks are here all day, to help make birthday cakes. But that means someone is with them, and someone else has to watch all three kids--especially since Leelo's on a serious warpath. And I still don't feel recovered.
But still optimistic! No matter what we will have a bouncer and lots of good cheese.
Yay Iz! Have to have evidence in case they go awry before tomorrow. Which is the day of her birthday party. Which we've had no proper time to prepare for. I want to make spy handbooks, but may just have to settle for maps. Sigh.
Meanwhile Seymour's folks are here all day, to help make birthday cakes. But that means someone is with them, and someone else has to watch all three kids--especially since Leelo's on a serious warpath. And I still don't feel recovered.
But still optimistic! No matter what we will have a bouncer and lots of good cheese.
1.11.2006
And Even More Melodrama! With a Leelo Update Folded In!
As I was finishing that last post (near midnight), Mali woke up wailing for her Mommy-pacifier. Seymour came to bed, too, and after Mali finally sacked back out her parents had a good long, fruitful conversation about the state of things in our life. It lasted until 1:30 in the morning, and I at least felt refreshed afterwards.
We talked a lot about Leelo, as he's been having a rough time of it lately. He does every January, really, because he's just spent over two months in the holiday/travel/birthday wringer, and that's stressful for our guy. He's been hitting and kicking a lot lately, too--mostly Seymour and sometimes me (e.g., bedtime tonight featured two straight hours of Seymour and I taking shifts getting pummeled), but also occasionally his classmates and last night Merlin. It's getting more intense, too, which makes us both really worried. This is the kind of shit that would get him bounced from school and that would exceed the skills of even Sandalia the wonder baby sitter, meaning Seymour's and my one brief weekly respite from our life is in jeopardy.
I spoke with Supervisor M and we suspect he's both seeking reactions and sensations (it makes his hands and arms feel good), and that he resents the fact that he gets shunted onto so many other people while Mali is always with me. So I talked to Babysitter A, she who does the Engaged Play with Leelo four times per week, and we've agreed that she will sometimes take Mali instead so that I can have some dedicated rather than found one-on-one time with my son. In the rare moments when I do get him alone and sit down with him, he pulls me in for big hugs, kisses, and snuggles--but they can turn into a wallop at any time so I have to be wary.
His language is not great and he's constantly stimming, chewing on strings (new stim; elbow grabbing is out) and vocalizing. And the little guy still does not get the concept of "counter"--he calls is "table" or "floor" 90% of the time. Although today when I tried to demonstrate three concepts he was having trouble with to Supervisor M, he not only told us that his big sister was Izzy and his little sister Mali when asked to specify his siblings, but nailed "counter" the first time. Little showoff.
We talked about the showstopping thrills of the two nice big BMs he put in the pot for Seymour over the weekend, one after being caught in "stinkbug" position and one--surprisingly--during a routine pit stop. That indicates that things may be settling down for him. He also has had some language progress in the area of pronoun comprehension, using "it" and "it's," as well as "your" correctly most of the time. Many autistic kids have life-long difficulties with pronouns, with applying "you" to others rather than themselves. Contractions can also be difficult.
We also talked about his supplements and diet. Thing is, ever since we went to Phoenix and he went on that brief but apparently steep slide into sugar-land, he's been eating like a horse, and had gotten really chubby again whereas he had just started fitting back into jeans rather than sweats (he is shaped like a fireplug regardless). Two months later he is just starting to slow down and not eat compulsively. Also we are being less yieldy in letting him have only the three or four foods he asks for--we have found out that he will eat an additional three or four foods if he gets hungry enough. (This experiment is carried out only on weekends, so as to not interfere with therapy sessions or school.)
We've modified supplements again. Now his daily doses are:
We discussed how much we missed each other and our lives, how the kids have been so hard to put to bed lately, how little time we have for our individual selves and each other and how we'd better work on that as the kids aren't always going to be around (except possibly Leelo). Then we sighed and rolled over.
And then Leelo woke up. His runny nose had given him a bad cough, coupled with a sinus headache, and he could not sleep.
Seymour and I took that one in shifts. The boy stayed up until 5:30 A.M.. Whenever I would get to go back to bed, Mali would wake up and want to nurse and I'd generally be up until my next shift came on.
We got to start the day on 1.5 hours of sleep. As did Leelo.
A good thing about not getting to blog much is that after a day or so goes by, things that seemed critically bloggable don't seem all that important anymore. Everything above and below seemed MAJOR at the time, not so much 24 hours later. But I'll bore you anyhow.
Leelo had a morning home therapy session after his late night party, but I kept him home from his speech therapy sessions so he could rest. He did well in therapy. I used that time to sign Iz up for one of the five thousand tests and scrutinies required for her Big Noggin School application (this one being an IQ test, which just irritates me, the whole thought of reducing a person to a number--FOREVER) and fret over whether that school's workload would grind her mind flat instead of unleashing its potential.
Then I took Leelo to school. Where Teacher P made it clear that I should not ever drop off Leelo unless a therapist is present already (which I have done exactly once, and then only because one of the other parents took responsibility for watching him until the therapist got there), and that yes, Leelo should indeed stay home until another aide is found for him on Wednesdays. I sense she thinks I'm taking advantage of everyone's goodwill, when in fact I rather pointedly try not to do so. But whatever. (See! Next day. I'm no longer freaked.)
Rushed home to meet the architects for a site survey of our home (we're trying to cannibalize part of it for a small guest cottage). They had not great news: the county is saying that we have to widen our entire driveway to 16 feet (it is 9 currently) so emergency vehicles can get up there, even though they come up here all the time with no problem (Iz's febrile seizures are 911-caliber, and I occasionally set the kitchen on fire). I do not see how the widening can possibly be done, as the foot of our driveway is a ramp built from the flat street, connecting to our steep hill. Also they are saying that we can't live in one house while building another on the same lot. And we may need to install our own fire hydrant--there may be fire hydrants within the legal distance to our house but they're not sure and if we want to have them go out and measure that will cost $$. GAAAAH. All this means the price tag and construction times keep inching up and out. I am tempted to contact our real estate agent again.
Picked up Iz from school and asked her teacher to fill out the Big Noggin "teacher observation and rubric," which led to one of the Maestra's typical charming but meandering monologues about what's going on in the classroom and how she's enriching the curriculum (she's introducing Cervantes) and how incredible the kids all are. Eventually she wandered back around to my questions. She had no problem filling out the application so we can cover all our options, but she was equally skeptical about Big Noggin due to its reputation as a homework overprocessing facility.
By late afternoon I was totally zombiriffic and so asked ever-patient Marroqui if she could come clean on Saturday instead. Since we then didn't have to go out for dinner while she cleaned, we invited Merlin and Ep over to eat and had a grand old time. Dinner was cheese, crackers, wine, and a few containers of salads from The Hole. Mali couldn't get enough of the tabouli, and I will state firmly once more that Ramsay Cellars have never let me down. First cabernet s. I've truly enjoyed in years.
Highlight of the day, for me: Singing the call-and-response Lock and Key song with Merlin, Seymour, and Iz (Ep begged off due to self-professed curmudgeonry). You are the lock, and appoint another person to be the key. Every line is sung to the tune of the first line from "...I Think I'll Eat Some Worms." Here's how it works:
You: "I am a gold lock"
Victim: "I am a gold key"
You: "I am a brass lock"
Victim: "I am a brass key"
You: "I am a stone lock"
Victim: "I am a stone key"
You: "I am a mon lock"
Victim: "I am a monkey...wait!" (Everyone busts up)
It's lame in type but much fun in person! The first three locks are the material of your choice, then the last one is the barb (variations: tur lock, cook lock, don lock, etc.). We all had fun springing our traps on each other, with Seymour coming up with the malar lock and the anar lock, and Iz inverting it to come up with the war key (and then the spoo lock, etc.)
Alas, it is 1 A.M. now and I've still not done a fucking thing for Iz's party. Sigh. I'm sure it'll turn out somehow but don't expect much, folks. Especially since Seymour's folks are coming into town tomorrow night. I will most likely disappear from this space until Monday. Happy weekend.
By the way, here is a photo of Leelo at 19 months. Did I ever mention how much I enjoy fiction featuring unreliable narrators?
As I was finishing that last post (near midnight), Mali woke up wailing for her Mommy-pacifier. Seymour came to bed, too, and after Mali finally sacked back out her parents had a good long, fruitful conversation about the state of things in our life. It lasted until 1:30 in the morning, and I at least felt refreshed afterwards.
We talked a lot about Leelo, as he's been having a rough time of it lately. He does every January, really, because he's just spent over two months in the holiday/travel/birthday wringer, and that's stressful for our guy. He's been hitting and kicking a lot lately, too--mostly Seymour and sometimes me (e.g., bedtime tonight featured two straight hours of Seymour and I taking shifts getting pummeled), but also occasionally his classmates and last night Merlin. It's getting more intense, too, which makes us both really worried. This is the kind of shit that would get him bounced from school and that would exceed the skills of even Sandalia the wonder baby sitter, meaning Seymour's and my one brief weekly respite from our life is in jeopardy.
I spoke with Supervisor M and we suspect he's both seeking reactions and sensations (it makes his hands and arms feel good), and that he resents the fact that he gets shunted onto so many other people while Mali is always with me. So I talked to Babysitter A, she who does the Engaged Play with Leelo four times per week, and we've agreed that she will sometimes take Mali instead so that I can have some dedicated rather than found one-on-one time with my son. In the rare moments when I do get him alone and sit down with him, he pulls me in for big hugs, kisses, and snuggles--but they can turn into a wallop at any time so I have to be wary.
His language is not great and he's constantly stimming, chewing on strings (new stim; elbow grabbing is out) and vocalizing. And the little guy still does not get the concept of "counter"--he calls is "table" or "floor" 90% of the time. Although today when I tried to demonstrate three concepts he was having trouble with to Supervisor M, he not only told us that his big sister was Izzy and his little sister Mali when asked to specify his siblings, but nailed "counter" the first time. Little showoff.
We talked about the showstopping thrills of the two nice big BMs he put in the pot for Seymour over the weekend, one after being caught in "stinkbug" position and one--surprisingly--during a routine pit stop. That indicates that things may be settling down for him. He also has had some language progress in the area of pronoun comprehension, using "it" and "it's," as well as "your" correctly most of the time. Many autistic kids have life-long difficulties with pronouns, with applying "you" to others rather than themselves. Contractions can also be difficult.
We also talked about his supplements and diet. Thing is, ever since we went to Phoenix and he went on that brief but apparently steep slide into sugar-land, he's been eating like a horse, and had gotten really chubby again whereas he had just started fitting back into jeans rather than sweats (he is shaped like a fireplug regardless). Two months later he is just starting to slow down and not eat compulsively. Also we are being less yieldy in letting him have only the three or four foods he asks for--we have found out that he will eat an additional three or four foods if he gets hungry enough. (This experiment is carried out only on weekends, so as to not interfere with therapy sessions or school.)
We've modified supplements again. Now his daily doses are:
- Kirkman Kids Multivitamins (instead of their NuThera blend; the new ones are broader spectrum)
- Probiotics
- Calcium Powder
- Kirkman Happy Enzymes (not their real name, but they are gluten and casein aides; he was taking their Phenol Assist enzyme complex before, but his diet has become very low in phenols)
- Cod Liver Oil. Mmmmm.
We discussed how much we missed each other and our lives, how the kids have been so hard to put to bed lately, how little time we have for our individual selves and each other and how we'd better work on that as the kids aren't always going to be around (except possibly Leelo). Then we sighed and rolled over.
And then Leelo woke up. His runny nose had given him a bad cough, coupled with a sinus headache, and he could not sleep.
Seymour and I took that one in shifts. The boy stayed up until 5:30 A.M.. Whenever I would get to go back to bed, Mali would wake up and want to nurse and I'd generally be up until my next shift came on.
We got to start the day on 1.5 hours of sleep. As did Leelo.
A good thing about not getting to blog much is that after a day or so goes by, things that seemed critically bloggable don't seem all that important anymore. Everything above and below seemed MAJOR at the time, not so much 24 hours later. But I'll bore you anyhow.
Leelo had a morning home therapy session after his late night party, but I kept him home from his speech therapy sessions so he could rest. He did well in therapy. I used that time to sign Iz up for one of the five thousand tests and scrutinies required for her Big Noggin School application (this one being an IQ test, which just irritates me, the whole thought of reducing a person to a number--FOREVER) and fret over whether that school's workload would grind her mind flat instead of unleashing its potential.
Then I took Leelo to school. Where Teacher P made it clear that I should not ever drop off Leelo unless a therapist is present already (which I have done exactly once, and then only because one of the other parents took responsibility for watching him until the therapist got there), and that yes, Leelo should indeed stay home until another aide is found for him on Wednesdays. I sense she thinks I'm taking advantage of everyone's goodwill, when in fact I rather pointedly try not to do so. But whatever. (See! Next day. I'm no longer freaked.)
Rushed home to meet the architects for a site survey of our home (we're trying to cannibalize part of it for a small guest cottage). They had not great news: the county is saying that we have to widen our entire driveway to 16 feet (it is 9 currently) so emergency vehicles can get up there, even though they come up here all the time with no problem (Iz's febrile seizures are 911-caliber, and I occasionally set the kitchen on fire). I do not see how the widening can possibly be done, as the foot of our driveway is a ramp built from the flat street, connecting to our steep hill. Also they are saying that we can't live in one house while building another on the same lot. And we may need to install our own fire hydrant--there may be fire hydrants within the legal distance to our house but they're not sure and if we want to have them go out and measure that will cost $$. GAAAAH. All this means the price tag and construction times keep inching up and out. I am tempted to contact our real estate agent again.
Picked up Iz from school and asked her teacher to fill out the Big Noggin "teacher observation and rubric," which led to one of the Maestra's typical charming but meandering monologues about what's going on in the classroom and how she's enriching the curriculum (she's introducing Cervantes) and how incredible the kids all are. Eventually she wandered back around to my questions. She had no problem filling out the application so we can cover all our options, but she was equally skeptical about Big Noggin due to its reputation as a homework overprocessing facility.
By late afternoon I was totally zombiriffic and so asked ever-patient Marroqui if she could come clean on Saturday instead. Since we then didn't have to go out for dinner while she cleaned, we invited Merlin and Ep over to eat and had a grand old time. Dinner was cheese, crackers, wine, and a few containers of salads from The Hole. Mali couldn't get enough of the tabouli, and I will state firmly once more that Ramsay Cellars have never let me down. First cabernet s. I've truly enjoyed in years.
Highlight of the day, for me: Singing the call-and-response Lock and Key song with Merlin, Seymour, and Iz (Ep begged off due to self-professed curmudgeonry). You are the lock, and appoint another person to be the key. Every line is sung to the tune of the first line from "...I Think I'll Eat Some Worms." Here's how it works:
You: "I am a gold lock"
Victim: "I am a gold key"
You: "I am a brass lock"
Victim: "I am a brass key"
You: "I am a stone lock"
Victim: "I am a stone key"
You: "I am a mon lock"
Victim: "I am a monkey...wait!" (Everyone busts up)
It's lame in type but much fun in person! The first three locks are the material of your choice, then the last one is the barb (variations: tur lock, cook lock, don lock, etc.). We all had fun springing our traps on each other, with Seymour coming up with the malar lock and the anar lock, and Iz inverting it to come up with the war key (and then the spoo lock, etc.)
Alas, it is 1 A.M. now and I've still not done a fucking thing for Iz's party. Sigh. I'm sure it'll turn out somehow but don't expect much, folks. Especially since Seymour's folks are coming into town tomorrow night. I will most likely disappear from this space until Monday. Happy weekend.
By the way, here is a photo of Leelo at 19 months. Did I ever mention how much I enjoy fiction featuring unreliable narrators?
1.09.2006
More Melodrama!
Mali was indeed too sick to go to the city. So I cancelled on my stylist/doula via voicemail a scant few minutes before she called to cancel on me because of a client's emergency c-section.
Friday morning I hauled my and the girls' asses to the local stock broker branch to open up a college account for Mali and deposit Xmas checks for the other kids. They must have boot camp unflappability training for their agents, as first of all Iz forgot her own training regarding querying people about reproduction, and pushed a big page covered with sperm cartoons under said agent's nose, demanding, "I love the Sperm Cycle the best, don't you?" Then Mali, still sick, started squalling and since there is no way I was going to be getting back there within the next year, I hooked her up without a word of apology or the slightest flash of skin showing, and kept on with the transaction--seamlessly.
Afterwards I reminded Iz that she was supposed to state a certain phrase before talking to people about reproduction, and she said, "It's more of a sentence, Mommy." Little smartass.
Friday afternoon I finally did what Supervisor M firmly suggested I do months ago, and let one of Leelo's therapists go. That suuuuuucked. But so did she, though not by her own fault, because she really tried--I am starting to realize that you are either born to do ABA or you are not. Training will only take you so far. She was very sweet and gentle with Leelo, and affectionate. He will miss her, I think.
What this means in the immediate future, though, is that Leelo has no aide for school on Wednesdays until a new aide has hired on (one of his other therapists picked up the other newly open shift). I conferred with Teacher P and we agreed that it's best for Leelo to stay home from school until he has an aide again. Sigh.
The other therapist can't take on the Wednesday shift, so I am placing a Craig1ist ad. In that same email in which the shift was declined, said therapist also wrote that I'd mentioned one of Leo's other therapists moving to Austra1ia and did I have any information about working abroad as that was a lifelong goal? A crash-course in Not Freaking Out Already On-Edge Parents of Autistic Children might be appropriate here. (I wrote back that I'd be happy to volunteer absolutely all the knowledge I possess--in August.) I do remind myself that this therapist is simply incredible with Leelo and that's what really matters.
Anyhow, by Friday night Mali was definitely feeling better. While she was still trailing streamers of green snot, she was also chatting and playing again instead of lying on our shoulders and laps like the ragdoll baby of the day before. I was excited to see her better, also excited that Seymour was going to get to go out that night and see some poetry.
Except that by mid-afternoon I started getting flu symptoms. Chills, headache, malaise. I stayed in bed for almost two days wondering if I had the psychosomatic edition of the flu, as there were no respiratory symptoms. But then my bosoms caught on fire and I eventually realized I had mastitis (confirmed by the first Google hit starting with "If you are a nursing mother and think you have the flu, you probably have mastitis").
Nursing lots and drinking hydrating fluids helped, though I am still weak. And I bow to Seymour, who watched all three children single-handedly for the majority of the weekend.
This morning I felt well enough to take on a Monday (having shaken the previous night's incapacitating chills) and so took Leelo to OT. I capped it off with a trip to the pediatrician for Mali (the office is practically next door to Leelo's OT), to follow up on last week's ick and make sure her lungs and ears were clear. Not so the examination room furniture, though--while I was holding Mali for the doctor to examine, Mr. Leelo--who I really do think is starting to get sick of all the attention his baby sister receives--stuck his hands down his pants and wiped a big smear of the unmentionable all over his chair. I have to say, in my weakened state I funneled all my energy into immobilizing and sanitizing his hand, and so only blinked at him for a facial reaction.
After a good wiping down of all befouled Leelo areas, I returned home, changed his clothes, and Leelo hung out with his morning therapist. Mali cooperated while I fielded calls from dear friends TLF and the local MB! And I finally got most of Iz's birthday invites sent out (though Seymour declared the color version too gory for most and we created an alternate B&W version). Good thing they're afield, as the party's in six days.
Then I dragged my sorry butt off to Iron Gate for my work day. Which was surprisingly mellow, but still depressing as all fuck. Leelo is so very dramatically existing in a universe only tangential to that of his classmates, and as his mother it is painful to observe. And even though I made it to circle time for the first time in ages and was excited to get to hold Leelo in my lap, he was not excited for me to do so. He quickly bucked and yelled and reared back, bashing his skull against my cheekbone and sending my poor bosom into new agonies. His aide immediately took him away for a break, but I lost it and had to run for the bathroom to sob in private.
I was still ground down when I picked up Iz from Jo's, who may have wondered why I was so unfriendly and curt. But I couldn't make eye contact without breaking down anew, which I refused to do in front of Iz. She doesn't need to see that shit. I already see her taking on more than a kid should have to where her brother is concerned and I do NOT think she should have to worry about her mother's emotional state as well.
The only rational thing to do was to pay homage to El Rey de las Hamburguesas via his drive-through altar. On the way there, my mother called to chastise me for not letting her know I was sick (TLF told her; they are homies now as TLF has moved to her 'hood). Which was fine, I think it's sweet that she still worries about me so much. She also said that my dad, in addition to his recurring heart problems and leukemia (seemingly in remission) now has a squamous-and-basal cell cancer patch on his nose, and his moron of a physician had put off surgery for six weeks--and then scheduled the wrong kind of procedure. So now he has to wait an additonal three weeks for the correct procedure. Grrr. Please think good "Cancer kiss my ass" thoughts for him.
My mom also referred to a friend by the blog pseudonym I use. Which made me start, but then think that either 1) Honest mistake, it's his real, though less commonly used name, or 2) She reads this blog. In which case she should comment or let me know so I can ban her IP address! Just kidding, Mom. You should let me know, though.
Rough time getting the kids down tonight (rougher for Seymour; he had Leelo duty and Leelo did not want to go to bed at all). I am so hoping things smooth out soon. I am craving lack-of-drama.
Mali was indeed too sick to go to the city. So I cancelled on my stylist/doula via voicemail a scant few minutes before she called to cancel on me because of a client's emergency c-section.
Friday morning I hauled my and the girls' asses to the local stock broker branch to open up a college account for Mali and deposit Xmas checks for the other kids. They must have boot camp unflappability training for their agents, as first of all Iz forgot her own training regarding querying people about reproduction, and pushed a big page covered with sperm cartoons under said agent's nose, demanding, "I love the Sperm Cycle the best, don't you?" Then Mali, still sick, started squalling and since there is no way I was going to be getting back there within the next year, I hooked her up without a word of apology or the slightest flash of skin showing, and kept on with the transaction--seamlessly.
Afterwards I reminded Iz that she was supposed to state a certain phrase before talking to people about reproduction, and she said, "It's more of a sentence, Mommy." Little smartass.
Friday afternoon I finally did what Supervisor M firmly suggested I do months ago, and let one of Leelo's therapists go. That suuuuuucked. But so did she, though not by her own fault, because she really tried--I am starting to realize that you are either born to do ABA or you are not. Training will only take you so far. She was very sweet and gentle with Leelo, and affectionate. He will miss her, I think.
What this means in the immediate future, though, is that Leelo has no aide for school on Wednesdays until a new aide has hired on (one of his other therapists picked up the other newly open shift). I conferred with Teacher P and we agreed that it's best for Leelo to stay home from school until he has an aide again. Sigh.
The other therapist can't take on the Wednesday shift, so I am placing a Craig1ist ad. In that same email in which the shift was declined, said therapist also wrote that I'd mentioned one of Leo's other therapists moving to Austra1ia and did I have any information about working abroad as that was a lifelong goal? A crash-course in Not Freaking Out Already On-Edge Parents of Autistic Children might be appropriate here. (I wrote back that I'd be happy to volunteer absolutely all the knowledge I possess--in August.) I do remind myself that this therapist is simply incredible with Leelo and that's what really matters.
Anyhow, by Friday night Mali was definitely feeling better. While she was still trailing streamers of green snot, she was also chatting and playing again instead of lying on our shoulders and laps like the ragdoll baby of the day before. I was excited to see her better, also excited that Seymour was going to get to go out that night and see some poetry.
Except that by mid-afternoon I started getting flu symptoms. Chills, headache, malaise. I stayed in bed for almost two days wondering if I had the psychosomatic edition of the flu, as there were no respiratory symptoms. But then my bosoms caught on fire and I eventually realized I had mastitis (confirmed by the first Google hit starting with "If you are a nursing mother and think you have the flu, you probably have mastitis").
Nursing lots and drinking hydrating fluids helped, though I am still weak. And I bow to Seymour, who watched all three children single-handedly for the majority of the weekend.
This morning I felt well enough to take on a Monday (having shaken the previous night's incapacitating chills) and so took Leelo to OT. I capped it off with a trip to the pediatrician for Mali (the office is practically next door to Leelo's OT), to follow up on last week's ick and make sure her lungs and ears were clear. Not so the examination room furniture, though--while I was holding Mali for the doctor to examine, Mr. Leelo--who I really do think is starting to get sick of all the attention his baby sister receives--stuck his hands down his pants and wiped a big smear of the unmentionable all over his chair. I have to say, in my weakened state I funneled all my energy into immobilizing and sanitizing his hand, and so only blinked at him for a facial reaction.
After a good wiping down of all befouled Leelo areas, I returned home, changed his clothes, and Leelo hung out with his morning therapist. Mali cooperated while I fielded calls from dear friends TLF and the local MB! And I finally got most of Iz's birthday invites sent out (though Seymour declared the color version too gory for most and we created an alternate B&W version). Good thing they're afield, as the party's in six days.
Then I dragged my sorry butt off to Iron Gate for my work day. Which was surprisingly mellow, but still depressing as all fuck. Leelo is so very dramatically existing in a universe only tangential to that of his classmates, and as his mother it is painful to observe. And even though I made it to circle time for the first time in ages and was excited to get to hold Leelo in my lap, he was not excited for me to do so. He quickly bucked and yelled and reared back, bashing his skull against my cheekbone and sending my poor bosom into new agonies. His aide immediately took him away for a break, but I lost it and had to run for the bathroom to sob in private.
I was still ground down when I picked up Iz from Jo's, who may have wondered why I was so unfriendly and curt. But I couldn't make eye contact without breaking down anew, which I refused to do in front of Iz. She doesn't need to see that shit. I already see her taking on more than a kid should have to where her brother is concerned and I do NOT think she should have to worry about her mother's emotional state as well.
The only rational thing to do was to pay homage to El Rey de las Hamburguesas via his drive-through altar. On the way there, my mother called to chastise me for not letting her know I was sick (TLF told her; they are homies now as TLF has moved to her 'hood). Which was fine, I think it's sweet that she still worries about me so much. She also said that my dad, in addition to his recurring heart problems and leukemia (seemingly in remission) now has a squamous-and-basal cell cancer patch on his nose, and his moron of a physician had put off surgery for six weeks--and then scheduled the wrong kind of procedure. So now he has to wait an additonal three weeks for the correct procedure. Grrr. Please think good "Cancer kiss my ass" thoughts for him.
My mom also referred to a friend by the blog pseudonym I use. Which made me start, but then think that either 1) Honest mistake, it's his real, though less commonly used name, or 2) She reads this blog. In which case she should comment or let me know so I can ban her IP address! Just kidding, Mom. You should let me know, though.
Rough time getting the kids down tonight (rougher for Seymour; he had Leelo duty and Leelo did not want to go to bed at all). I am so hoping things smooth out soon. I am craving lack-of-drama.
1.05.2006
Poor Sick Baby
Mali has been hit with a bad bad cold. We have been up the last two nights with her, mostly because she just can't get comfortable and so wakes up every 20 minutes or so and needs to latch on to her mommy-pacifier again. Or sometimes rearrange herself without unlatching in the first place. To get an idea of how it feels to do this dance with her all night long, have someone grab your nipple hard enough and deep enough so that they won't be able to let go easily, and then have them do the Electric Slide. Do this every half hour.
Truly, though, I am glad that she hasn't let me wean her yet. Otherwise, I don't know how I'd be able to keep her hydrated, since she doesn't want to eat or drink anything else. She has the most horrible cold I've ever seen in a baby without pneumonia or RSV or an ear infection (the doctor checked her out yesterday and pronounced her unlucky but also not in imminent danger of hospitalization, which is my constant fear). She has a deep, hacking cough; is breathing rapidly and with effort (but is only wheezing intermittently); has a marathon-style runny nose (now turning green), red, swollen eyes and face, and an undulating fever. I'm pretty sure her throat is sore, too.
The doctor sent us home with a1buterol for Just In Case, and recommendations for infant decongestant and pain relievers. I find it hard to believe we're supposed to use all three at once, and so have only used the decongestant a couple of times. Even that with trepidation. It seemed to really help, though. That and shower steam treatments.
I also am leery of bombing her with meds because Leelo went through a similar horrible illness at the same age (a GI bug that finally put him in the hospital for rehydration), and we did use the full range of artillery on him. That was around the time he turned from sweet giggly baby to stone-faced baby. So I am paranoid.
Thirteen months is generally not a lucky age for our kids. It is the age when Iz had her first febrile seizure, and landed in the ER with half her body paralyzed (the paralysis only lasted an hour, but you can imagine how long that hour felt).
I am hoping Mali feels better today (shockingly, she is now asleep without being attached to me) as I've my first haircut since March scheduled this afternoon in the city, and my daughters and I are supposed to have dinner with Godfather M at his restaurant afterwards. I am selfishly hoping that I can at least get my mop topped.
Humorous/nasty aside to the sleeplessness of the past two nights: Pat our sole remaining cat keeps bringing ticks into the house. First time in his four years as a free-range cat so it must be a banner tick year. Seymour and I admitted to each other the morning after our first sleepless night that it wasn't just the baby that kept us awake; it was freaking out over every little twinge and itch, figuring that it was a tick. Ewww. Thankfully no human tick attacks yet.
Leelo 13 mos (left) and 15 mos (right):
Mali has been hit with a bad bad cold. We have been up the last two nights with her, mostly because she just can't get comfortable and so wakes up every 20 minutes or so and needs to latch on to her mommy-pacifier again. Or sometimes rearrange herself without unlatching in the first place. To get an idea of how it feels to do this dance with her all night long, have someone grab your nipple hard enough and deep enough so that they won't be able to let go easily, and then have them do the Electric Slide. Do this every half hour.
Truly, though, I am glad that she hasn't let me wean her yet. Otherwise, I don't know how I'd be able to keep her hydrated, since she doesn't want to eat or drink anything else. She has the most horrible cold I've ever seen in a baby without pneumonia or RSV or an ear infection (the doctor checked her out yesterday and pronounced her unlucky but also not in imminent danger of hospitalization, which is my constant fear). She has a deep, hacking cough; is breathing rapidly and with effort (but is only wheezing intermittently); has a marathon-style runny nose (now turning green), red, swollen eyes and face, and an undulating fever. I'm pretty sure her throat is sore, too.
The doctor sent us home with a1buterol for Just In Case, and recommendations for infant decongestant and pain relievers. I find it hard to believe we're supposed to use all three at once, and so have only used the decongestant a couple of times. Even that with trepidation. It seemed to really help, though. That and shower steam treatments.
I also am leery of bombing her with meds because Leelo went through a similar horrible illness at the same age (a GI bug that finally put him in the hospital for rehydration), and we did use the full range of artillery on him. That was around the time he turned from sweet giggly baby to stone-faced baby. So I am paranoid.
Thirteen months is generally not a lucky age for our kids. It is the age when Iz had her first febrile seizure, and landed in the ER with half her body paralyzed (the paralysis only lasted an hour, but you can imagine how long that hour felt).
I am hoping Mali feels better today (shockingly, she is now asleep without being attached to me) as I've my first haircut since March scheduled this afternoon in the city, and my daughters and I are supposed to have dinner with Godfather M at his restaurant afterwards. I am selfishly hoping that I can at least get my mop topped.
Humorous/nasty aside to the sleeplessness of the past two nights: Pat our sole remaining cat keeps bringing ticks into the house. First time in his four years as a free-range cat so it must be a banner tick year. Seymour and I admitted to each other the morning after our first sleepless night that it wasn't just the baby that kept us awake; it was freaking out over every little twinge and itch, figuring that it was a tick. Ewww. Thankfully no human tick attacks yet.
Leelo 13 mos (left) and 15 mos (right):
1.03.2006
Not My Narnia
All I can really say besides "Why did they have to mess with the storyline so much; abridging is one thing but any additions or tweaks beyond that are blasphemous" is that 1) Beavers look silly in chain mail, 2) As1an was not big enough and was also just wrong, and 3) It is time to stop casting English child actors based on how pillowy their lips are.
Addition: Once again, Ti1da Swinton KICKS ASS. Never yet has she disappointed; She remains atop the all-time-favorites list. Do yourself a favor and go see Edward II if just for her and not the red hot poker.
All I can really say besides "Why did they have to mess with the storyline so much; abridging is one thing but any additions or tweaks beyond that are blasphemous" is that 1) Beavers look silly in chain mail, 2) As1an was not big enough and was also just wrong, and 3) It is time to stop casting English child actors based on how pillowy their lips are.
Addition: Once again, Ti1da Swinton KICKS ASS. Never yet has she disappointed; She remains atop the all-time-favorites list. Do yourself a favor and go see Edward II if just for her and not the red hot poker.
Huh?(mps)
Leelo and Iz both get massages and songs before they go to sleep, if Mali is amenable (i.e. not being nursed to sleep at that same time). I didn't do this when they were wee as they were too squirmy, but now they like it and it is particularly calming for Leelo.
As Iz was getting her rubdown last night, she asked me to massage her tummy. I said that usually people don't massage tummies or kidney areas, as they had no skeletal protection.
"What about my chest?" she asked.
"Usually no, that's private. Although I've no idea if real masseuses give men or children chest massages. Not women, though."
"Because of your l0vely lady lumps?"
Leelo and Iz both get massages and songs before they go to sleep, if Mali is amenable (i.e. not being nursed to sleep at that same time). I didn't do this when they were wee as they were too squirmy, but now they like it and it is particularly calming for Leelo.
As Iz was getting her rubdown last night, she asked me to massage her tummy. I said that usually people don't massage tummies or kidney areas, as they had no skeletal protection.
"What about my chest?" she asked.
"Usually no, that's private. Although I've no idea if real masseuses give men or children chest massages. Not women, though."
"Because of your l0vely lady lumps?"
It's Not Just the Rain
Although the excessive storming kept us from our Saturday morning cafe routine on New Year's Eve. Which sucked.
Nor is it Sunday morning's lack of child care at church, discovered after Seymour had to stay home during a work fiasco and so I hauled all three children into the sanctuary after having to park a rainy block away--even though there was a free and clear spot in front of the church reserved for handicapped (an issue I think we could probably take advantage of, though I only long to do so during these brief flashes of inconvenience). The kind people who were church Greeters encouraged me to stay; my very favorite fuckwad (the "why don't they just chain them to the ground" parent) chimed in with "Oh, yes, of course you can't stay!" Sage has mentioned that she is more likely clueless than callous, but since when is that an acceptable excuse for making families of special needs kids feel even more excluded?
Nor is it hanging out a dear friend's home later, even though I knew it was and it turned out to be a bad idea. There is no such thing as having a good time in a house that is not ours, not with Leelo along. As much as our friends really did try.
It's none of these, really. More it's the realization that Leelo is now full-blown and obviously different, and people who haven't been conditioned to treat him nicely (as have the sweet lovely Iron Gate classmates at the New Year's Eve party who sought him out and made him say hi to them by name) are uncomfortable around him. Kids his age are old enough to say that they don't want him around, and far from mature enough to communicate that diplomatically. They say so right in front of him, as though he's not there.
Also it's his tailspinning outside of his routine. So we really shouldn't be taking him on trips, and we really shouldn't be taking him to peoples' homes, unless we have calm environments for him to retreat to, and at least 75% coverage of his usual therapy schedule. Which is a coordination nightmare.
He is slipping away. I still don't think he's going to end up like the woman in the Get The Truth Out site (not linked to, though you can Google it if you like; it is a good advocacy site but fucking depressing for parents in my spot). He is still a love, but a remote one, and hard to connect to. The holidays and all the nutiness around them made it hard to focus on him like I should. And it shows. So we're just going to be hanging around here being mellow for now.
Once Iz's birthday party is over, anyhow.
Although the excessive storming kept us from our Saturday morning cafe routine on New Year's Eve. Which sucked.
Nor is it Sunday morning's lack of child care at church, discovered after Seymour had to stay home during a work fiasco and so I hauled all three children into the sanctuary after having to park a rainy block away--even though there was a free and clear spot in front of the church reserved for handicapped (an issue I think we could probably take advantage of, though I only long to do so during these brief flashes of inconvenience). The kind people who were church Greeters encouraged me to stay; my very favorite fuckwad (the "why don't they just chain them to the ground" parent) chimed in with "Oh, yes, of course you can't stay!" Sage has mentioned that she is more likely clueless than callous, but since when is that an acceptable excuse for making families of special needs kids feel even more excluded?
Nor is it hanging out a dear friend's home later, even though I knew it was and it turned out to be a bad idea. There is no such thing as having a good time in a house that is not ours, not with Leelo along. As much as our friends really did try.
It's none of these, really. More it's the realization that Leelo is now full-blown and obviously different, and people who haven't been conditioned to treat him nicely (as have the sweet lovely Iron Gate classmates at the New Year's Eve party who sought him out and made him say hi to them by name) are uncomfortable around him. Kids his age are old enough to say that they don't want him around, and far from mature enough to communicate that diplomatically. They say so right in front of him, as though he's not there.
Also it's his tailspinning outside of his routine. So we really shouldn't be taking him on trips, and we really shouldn't be taking him to peoples' homes, unless we have calm environments for him to retreat to, and at least 75% coverage of his usual therapy schedule. Which is a coordination nightmare.
He is slipping away. I still don't think he's going to end up like the woman in the Get The Truth Out site (not linked to, though you can Google it if you like; it is a good advocacy site but fucking depressing for parents in my spot). He is still a love, but a remote one, and hard to connect to. The holidays and all the nutiness around them made it hard to focus on him like I should. And it shows. So we're just going to be hanging around here being mellow for now.
Once Iz's birthday party is over, anyhow.
1.01.2006
Starting The New Year Out Right. At Least My Feet Are.
My mom is just the best. After years of trying to get me to wear pink cardigans, she's finally started to get me not only things that I'd like, but things that I don't even realize how much I'd like. Witness her Xmas gift to me this year below. I can't even being to capture how tickly these shoes make me feel.
Off to church, followed by a New Year's Lunch at Sewerage. Anyone up for breaking Naan with Leelo?
Hope your day is a wondrous one.
My mom is just the best. After years of trying to get me to wear pink cardigans, she's finally started to get me not only things that I'd like, but things that I don't even realize how much I'd like. Witness her Xmas gift to me this year below. I can't even being to capture how tickly these shoes make me feel.
Off to church, followed by a New Year's Lunch at Sewerage. Anyone up for breaking Naan with Leelo?
Hope your day is a wondrous one.
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