2.08.2007

Today's Dose of Righteous Indignation on Leelo's Behalf

Today's Dose of Righteous Indignation on Leelo's Behalf

Ran into a a friend who is a parent from Leelo's old Iron Gate class today. Her older son used to go to Cloy Roud, Leelo's current school. I told her about Leelo's being banned from the playground until his behavioral plan is put in place sometime in April.

My friend made many disbelieving faces. She told me to go on in and ride that principal's ass, as when her son was intentionally knocked over by another student on that same playground, he hit his head on the ground so hard that it took four staples to close his scalp. The child who pushed him is still at the school, and still doesn't have a behavioral plan. Seeing as her son's event occurred under the current principal's aegis, I am sensing some discrimination towards Leelo here. Just a smidge.

I then spoke with Al, one of Leelo's classmate's moms, during pickup. I told her that I was trying to go the non-confrontative route, (donating books, offering to go in and do autism awareness presentations, etc., even though the principlal made me feel like an ass for implying that she and her staff were not set up to deal with autistic kids, even though it's true). Al told me that it was okay to explode on the administration, that it was useful for them to see how upset I am. And I agree, but I also know that I would get too furious and tearful to make any headway. Besides, Supervisor M and I agreed that we would try for a non-confrontative solution first, including an Emergency Behavioral Plan to get Leelo back on the playground a.s.a.p.

Later on I spoke with Rosie, Leelo's aide, about how he was doing during second recess, which is the one from which he's banned. She said that Leelo keeps asking to go out and that it makes him sad not to go play, and he doesn't understand why he can't go. Those of you who know Leelo know that he has to be really motivated before he'll use verbal rather than demonstrative language to ask for something. My heart is breaking for him, anew.

Mali fell asleep early today and even let me transfer her sleeping self to a beanbag in the living room, so I got to spend a good long hour one-on-one with Leelo before Therapist L arrived for his afternoon session. He is such a wonderful boy, so sweet and alive, so vibrant and cheerful. I spent a lot of time hugging him and telling him how much I loved him, and he gave me hugs back until he was done, at which point he suddenly shoved me away (those of you who have cats will recognize this behavior). That's okay. I am trying to be more attentive to his non-verbal cues, but he is so adorable and huggable that it's hard to resist giving him more physical affection than he'll tolerate.

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2.07.2007

Doesn't Everybody Need Ski Week?

Doesn't Everybody Need Ski Week?

Here is what you really want in your face during the two free hours you have after getting in late from a flight the night before, waking up far too early with your autistic son, working at your toddler's co-op nursery school, spending all mid-day running your children to and from schools and appointments, but before you have to make yourself presentable and then drive twenty-five miles to your husband's company's launch party: An eight-year-old who is supposed to be doing her homework but is instead throwing a screaming tantrum because she "can't understand why you've never taken me to see real snow."

Yet another discussion of how people generally react better to non-accusatory inquiries ensued. Still, I was wondering where a little girl whose grandparents regularly truck snow in from Snoqualmie for Christmases that include a personal visit from Santa and his for-real reindeer gets off on implying that she is somehow lacking in privilege. She then told me that a school friend's mother was surprised when Iz told her she had never been skiing or played in the snow because, "...it is uncommon to live in the Bay Area all your life and never go to Tahoe." RIGHT. As if everyone has the free time and cash to participate in ski week. *Splutter*

I would be more shocked if this wasn't the same mother who pulled her kid out of Leelo's weekly facilitated playgroup because said kid "didn't want to come anymore." Now, there is nothing wrong with her kid feeling that way, and I don't want kids coming to play with Leelo who don't want to be there. But I think that when humans coexist well it is often through a tacit agreement to weave white lies around each other if 1) emotions are at stake and 2) more good than harm will result. I do believe in honesty, but I also believe in empathy and tact. And I believe that parent could use a refresher course in both.

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In My Language

In My Language

Several people, including Signora Blog and Melle, have sent me a link to this thought-provoking autism video. Please do take the time to watch the whole thing.



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2.06.2007

Be a Cephalopod for a Day!

Be a Cephalopod for a Day!

Here is the schedule I wrote up for Seymour so he could properly pinball the kids around town all yesterday while I was in Vancouver toasting/roasting/burying my Auntie Diamond#2 and her larger-than life.

My partner did a great job, better than I would do had I his job for a day, of that I'm certain
.

-----------

Get all three kids up and dressed before 7:30, ideally.

Iz needs:
  • Backpack
  • lunch
  • binder
  • filled water bottle
  • jacket
  • Aikido duffel
Leelo needs
  • backpack
  • filled water bottle
  • snack (croissant, etc.)
7:45 Drop Z off at Marys's

8:00 Take Leelo to school, park, walk him to class

8:30 - 9:00 Drop Mali off at time agreed with JP

11:00 Pick up Mali from JP's

11:25 (do not be late) Pick up Leelo from school, TAKE HIM TO POTTY AT SCHOOL

12:00 OT at FDR School for OT with Therapist K. Park in upper parking lot and take Leelo across playground to the Motor Room (lefthandmost room facing playground). Play with Mali on the playground or take her for a walk in stroller, but don't move your car or you'll never get a parking spot at

12:30 when you pick up Leelo from OT. TAKE HIM TO POTTY AT FDR.

12:45 Feed Leelo and Mali snacks, get ABA room ready:

--Make sure computer is on and set to my profile (pword b*****o**)
--Nothing on center area of desk or chair
--Nothing on Leelo's table/chair
--Snack/reinforcers and water out and waiting
--Downstairs bathroom presentable

1:00 Therapist L arrives to do ABA with Leelo at home.

2:50 Iz will get ride from Ream's mom to Aikido.

3:30 Leelo's Therapist L session over

4:20 Pick up Iz from Aikido and make sure she has signed in. No, she can't have a playdate.

5:00 Iz needs to do Monday homework and reading.

7:30 Scrub kids + their teeth and put them in jammies.

9:15ish pick me up from airport

I think that's it.

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2.05.2007

Next Stop: Alcatraz

Next Stop: Alcatraz

[2/4/07 I am writing this from SFO where my computer keeps teasing me with a "Free Airport Wifi" connection that never materializes.]

[2/5/07 Now I am trying to publish this from YVR where I am being tortured by an intermittent "Hotspot temporarily unavailable" message. Damn you, Telus!]

Yesterday the girls and I went to a local school's authors and illustrators fair. It was well attended and wonderfully inspiring. The girls went gaga over the amazing selection of books to browse. Several authors and illustrators had salons. And the savvy organizers had pizza and popsicles for sale, right next to the playground (ooh, happy Mali).

And, oh my, the authors! I always want to jump on their shoulders and suck out their brains, or at least peek in their ears for clues as to how in the world they do what they do. But I didn't bring Mali's stroller and didn't want to put her down and lose her in the crowd, so, next time.

We got to chat with Milly Lee, author of the wonderful book Earthquake! It was inspired by her mother, who was eight years old when the 1906 San Francisco earthquake struck. Milly said that her mom wasn't scared during the earthquake, because, "She had never stepped foot outside of China before so it was all part of the adventure." Understandable; we Californians sometimes enjoy the roller-coaster thrills of our larger non-destructive earthquakes.

We also got to go to a presentation by Gennifer Choldenko, author of the Newberry Honor book Al Capone Does My Shirts. I didn't get to stay for much of her talk as Miss Mali started throwing a twoful tantrum, which was too bad as I missed any discussion of the book's autism themes. But I did appreciate Ms. Choldenko's great sense of humor in relating how her goal after having "about fifty-two" manuscript rejections was no longer to get a book accepted but rather to get a longer rejection letter--that way she knew she was making some headway. When she got a full one-page rejection, and then a two-pager after that, she knew she was getting somewhere.

Ms. Choldenko was very diligent in her research for Al Capone. She even signed up to be a docent on Alcatraz so as to experience the island's daily and seasonal rhythms. Iz was entranced by her description of life on Alcatraz and I think we'll be going there very soon, possibly on the night tour she so heartily recommeded.

Later on we lined up so that Iz could get her now-very-cherished copy of Al Capone signed. Ms. Choldenko was very generous with her time, chatting pleasantly with with everyone who came to meet her. I am especially grateful for her patience, as when our turn arrived Iz came right at her with all filters down: "...and my mom finally got me this shirt with words on it and I'm so excited because it's what I've always wanted and look, it says 'Yes, I'm perfect, now stop staring,' and don't you think that's funny and it's even sparkly too and this is my little sister Mali and she's not autistic but our brother is and Mali took apart our globe but that's okay because it was so old that it had the USSR on it [eyeroll] and then she took the top part and started walking around with the Northern Hemisphere on her head!"

And Iz got a huge belly laugh out of Ms. Choldenko with that one. "You're quite a girl, Isobel," she remarked. Iz was deep into Al Capone when I left for Vancouver. I can't wait to get home and find out what she thought of the book. I'll bet she's itching to send Ms. Choldenko some compliments of her own.

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A Sojourn Project Final Thank You

A Sojourn Project Final Thank You

My friend Amy leaves in eleven days to go on the Sojourn Project. Yep, she made it! I saw her on Friday and she was in a state of such intense anticipatory glee that she couldn't stop squealing (she is sixteen). I am so happy for her, and so jealous. Can you imagine, getting to meet the people who made the civil rights movement happen, people the rest of us can only read about with admiration and for inspiration?

All you wonderfully generous blog friends need to know that Amy's trip wouldn't have happened without you. We got her close and confident enough that she pitched her story to a local Salvadorean radio station; they let her go on the air to talk about the Project and ask for the final couple hundred dollars that she needed. And she got it, almost instantly!

Friends, thank you, thank you, thank you. Especially MB T., who gave a final very generous donation which I believe was never acknowledged (D'oh!). Sorry, and thanks one more time.


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2.02.2007

A Package From the Land of WTF

A Package From the Land of WTF

So, I've got a friend in Mali. (Really. He's actually from Timbuktu.) We mostly connect via email, but it is always sort of surreal as I suck at reading or writing French--his country's official national language--and he doesn't write French that well, either, even though he's smarter than most people you've ever met. His emails stick in the craw of online translators and come back only halfway digested, leaving me even more befuddled than I usually am.

Recently he sent an email that appeared to be about jewelry. I thought he was sending gifts for my girls. Turns out he was sending me a shitload of jewelry to sell for him. Except he never asked me about it beforehand--by the time he sent the initial email the package had already left his country.

As you can see, the jewelry is gorgeous, hand-tooled silver, and it's from Timbuktu, which is always a great conversation point, but, uh ... fuck. I have no idea what to do with it, I don't even like to wear jewelry, and anyone who's ever sold stuff on eBay knows that even a single auction can suck down inexcusably huge chunks of time and effort.

Random Jewelry From Mali

Want to buy a bracelet? Sigh.

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Waiting to Cross the Street at Night

Waiting to Cross the Street at Night

Last night I had babysitting for a few hours. Yeah! So I went by the downtown crack-laden tortas supplier* (just typing about them makes me drool) for some dinner to sneak into a movie. A guy walked up next to me while I was waiting to cross the street. We exchanged pleasantries about how brutally cold it was for California, even in February.

"Dude," I said, "You're wearing a hoodie and you have no hair on your head. Why don't you put your hood up?"

"Uh, no... I don't really want to do that."

"...Okay. Well, have a good one, then."

I skittered off to get my dinner, wishing no one had ever had to worry about whether or not it was prudent to pull up their damn hood on a freezing cold winter night.


*Yes, I did choose that link because of the endearing animated lunch bag.

2.01.2007

Liftoff!

Liftoff!

Hurray, Seymour's site launched today! It rocks! Go fill up the blog with comments! (But don't link back here, please.)

That's all I have to say about anything until Seymour or I get more sleep.

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1.30.2007

But Actually Fine

But Actually Fine

FYI, I am not moping and droopy, despite the previous two entries. What I am is tired and tired. And sad, too--but if I was really truly down I would call someone to come keep me company, not bleat into my blog. My bleating is not a call for help; it is merely journaling so that I can look back and go, "Wow, Dude! That month fucking SUCKED!" So, no worries, not about me anyhow.

No Longer Grumpy, Sad Instead

No Longer Grumpy, Sad Instead

Seymour's favorite Uncle passed away yesterday. My mom just called to let me know that my favorite (great) Auntie passed away this morning at age ninety-fuckyouforasking. She was ready to go, but I'm never ready for anyone I love to leave me.

I am actually glad that Leelo and Mali are still awake (and I will go retrieve Leelo from atop the TV cabinet eventually); I'm glad to have company until Seymour gets home.