Tired

So this will be disjointed and scattershot.

That whole cuteness thing about Leelo being able to take off his own zipped jammies and diaper? It was still funny when we went to check on him one last time before going to bed at 11:00 last night, and found him sleeping in his bed totally naked yet dry. Seymour easily redressed him and put him back to bed. The nakedness ceased to be cute at 4:00 in the morning when he stripped himself again, peed everywhere, got all cold, started coughing, woke up completely, and refused to go back to bed until 6 A.M.

Leelo and I spent a total of 1/2 hour at home today. Iz, nada.

Leelo's appointment at Stanfford Neurology was fine. Mostly an intake exam. A two-hour intake exam.

He is 38 inches and 38 pounds. Does that make him square? It sure as fuck makes him heavy, says she who lugged his sleeping form from car to bed this evening.

The Neurologist wants to do an EEG, because of Leelo's occasional zoning out, petit mal seizure-style. He says the difference between one of these seizures and an autistic tuning out from overstimulation is not always apparent.

The doctor also wants to do an MRI, because our boy's got a friggin' huge noggin. It's a virtual planetoid. Has its own weather system*. Ninety-fifth percentile for size, on a very short boy. This is also a frequent characteristic in autistic kids, and may point to problems with overdevelopment of his brain's white matter, and problems with myelination. Not that they know what to do about this if it is the case.

Strangely, the doctor took a good five minutes of his precious time (remember, we had to wait six months for this appointment) to go off on the DAN! protocol, how wasteful and wrong it was, and what charlatans all its practitioners were. I told him that, while Leelo's autistic symptoms do not appear affected by diet, I have friends for whom the difference has been noticeable. I also said that it is not invasive, and there's no harm in trying it if the parents are willing to put in the time and effort. He scoffed as politely as he could. I couldn't really get too offended; for purist research scientists like him, non-scientifically-validated methodologies like DAN practices are complete blasphemies.

Also, we did/will do blood and urine tests for amino acid and metabolic irregularities. Will report as all these things take place and we hear back on them.

The phlebotomy was stressful for Leelo, as this is exactly the kind of thing he just doesn't get, so I promised him some naan bread and a sweet lassi when we left. Stupid me, this meant we arrived at the Indian restaurant at 12:00 on a Friday, the day they include beer with the standard buffet price. We couldn't even park in the parking lot, and the buffet line was hundreds of yards long. Thankfully they know and dote on Leelo, and snuck him his lassi without anyone noticing his line jumping.

Then home to get warmer clothes for the zoo. That part of the city is fogged in all summer long.

Off to Iz's school, to pick her up from her very last day. Sigh. The two teachers practically cried when she left, and had made her goodbye posters and signs. Too cute and sweet. Jo frothed over her new iPod. Cuter and sweeter still. Last frolic on the school lawn. Double sigh.

Off to the zoo. JP, Danielle, Elise, and baby Xander were there, so Iz engaged in much merriment and I got to concentrate on keeping Leelo out of the duck pond, or watching him ride the teeny tractors, or clamber around on the rope spiderweb. We stayed until the staff kicked us out. Then I discovered that some sick fucker had stolen Leelo's dinner sandwich out of my stroller. Bastard. I hope that person enjoyed all the vitamin- and enzyme-enriched almond butter.

Then off to retrieve Godfather M from his place near Pacific Heitz, and shuttle him down to San Metao for a birthday dinner at The Best Chinese Restaurant Ever (Godfather M'd rather go there than any similar place in The City). Fortunately this restaurant is adjacent to a stupid overpriced grocery store that nevertheless sells croissants and organic cheesy puffs, so Leelo got something to eat despite the thievery.

Then Seymour took Godfather M back home and the kids and I hit Holey Foods to stock up for tomorrow's BBQ celebrating Jo's birthday and my cousin's staying at our place for the weekend (she, her daughters, and charming Newfie husband arrive tomorrow morning).

I couldn't believe the kids were still awake when we arrived the store at 9:30, especially after so much driving and Leelo's naked party time, but they were patient and non-fussy, and we blasted through speedily and will now have tons of Californian yummies with which to torture my Ontario-dwelling relatives: wines, cheeses, mission figs, strawberries, avocadoes, tomatoes, champagne grapes; so good. We will eat panzanella, strawberries in real balsamic vinegar, soothing guacamole. Oh, and salmon for everyone who's not me or Ep.

We will set the tent up in the backyard and try to convince the non-Leelo kids to sleep there tomorrow night.

I will be busy all weekend long and the relatives will be sleeping in this room, so see you later.

*Come on, people. SOMEONE please ID one of these quotes.

Leelo the Mighty

Righting wrongs and singing songs,
Being mighty all day long...

Okay, geeks, show yourselves. What am I quoting?

Leelo had a totally schizoid day. On an interaction level, he was once again looped. Still has that cold. Won't give eye contact or answer questions without herculean (snarf) attempts by me or whomever.

But then, he did some incredible, unprecedented things. Busting open my closed office door even though it has an anti-child thingamawhatsit on the doorknob. Iz hasn't even figured out that one. Stripping off his jammies and diaper this morning so that I awoke to a naked hooligan having a one-man party upstairs. His jammies were zippered foot-to-neck, so that's some serious fine motor control.

When we're undressing/redressing at the pool, I always have him take his diapers and put them in the trash himself. This afternoon, I noticed that he'd put his wet but otherwise clean swim diaper on top of the trashcan across the room. I told him, once, as I would any other child, that he'd put his diaper on top of the trash can, and could he please go put it inside? My eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he did just that, with no additional prompting.

Little glimmers.

Iz had her second-to-last preschool/kindergarten day today, and her last day with teacher Anarchy. No teacher will ever be that wonderful, or patient with my little firecracker! Also, my kids will no longer attend school with the kids of Ep, Jo, or Badger. I'll no longer have a guaranteed daily sighting of any of them. I am moping.

Iz brought up yet another possibility with Leelo's autism. I told her that I did have a maternity bathing suit and that I would love to go swimming with her some time when I didn't have to watch Leelo, too. She told me that that was okay, she didn't think the chlorine in the pool was good for the baby anyhow. I said, "but I went in the pool with you when I was pregnant with Leelo every single week...oh, shit." Anyone have any other chlorine theories? As long as I'm being totally paranoid?

Tomorrow Leelo has an appointment at Stanfford's pediatric neurology clinic. We've had to wait six months for this appointment, because autism is hot! hot!, and they've apparently only one doctor who specializes in kids like Leelo. They didn't tell me much about what to expect, other than to say that they might be taking a blood sample, and that he doesn't need to fast beforehand.

I have mixed feelings about his exam. On one hand, I'd like to find SOME farking reason our boy is an alien, but on the other, I can't handle much more bad news. Maybe I'll cross my fingers sideways.

In Which I Am All Powerful!

I have successfully warped at least two young minds!

Iz and Leelo's cousins Danielle and Elise came over today for a facilitated playgroup with Leelo and Therapist F. Afterwards, I hung out with them while they romped about our yard, waiting for their mom to come get them. They soon tired of trying to push each other off the fort, and started peppering me with questions about trolls. Because I am thick, it took me a second to realize that they were asking about the trolls from the story I wrote as a holiday present for Iz and all her friends. (I am cheap; xeroxed, the books cost $1.50 each.) They completely believe the story, and wanted some specifics on when and how to make the trolls appear. I was astounded, then overcome by a feeling of mad power, and couldn't help but cackle.

In other news, I got Leelo to pee in the potty for me today. For his therapists, he had multiple pees as well as a nice big dump. Gosh, it's great to be alive!

Iz went for her yearly eye exam today. Her ophthalmologist finally agreed to estimate how much longer she'll need to wear glasses for her mild exotropia: two to three years. Iz seemed bummed, but then the eye doctor--who could easily moonlight as a children's TV show host--got her all jazzed about new glasses with pink frames and those funky lenses that turn dark when you go outside.

Later on our girl informed me, after reading a book that contained both fictional and non-fictional elements, that it should be put in the "niction" category. I snorted, then agreed. I get my jollies where I can.

How Has Your Life Changed?

That was one of the questions the reporter asked me last week, about life with Leelo. I hope she didn't bother to look past my poker face, to see the crumbling, hastily spackled, aching person behind it. I don't need that part of my personal shit in the paper, even if it's a paper that no one reads besides Ep and Jo.

I try not to dwell too much on why we live in this tangential universe, even though Leelo and his ways and needs have reshaped most of what we do, and how we do it. This is the reality we know, this is where we live. No use wishing it were otherwise.

But I do, sometimes. I think of how things might have been, how they were supposed to be. Tiny things like Leelo being the only kid who isn't interested in picking blackberries when our friends come over, even though their son is one year younger than him and picked a whole bucket himself. Bigger things like being stuck down here in the basement all day long while Leelo is in therapy, when by rights Leelo and I should be spending our afternoons at the park or zoo, or riding a train.

Those of you who read Jo's blog may recall her briefly mentioning my participation in a discussion at the park. My being able to join in was an anomaly; normally I spend all my park time tending or chasing after Leelo, and wouldn't be able to participate in discussion threads of more than half a sentence. But Seymour joined us yesterday and took on Leelo duty, bless him. Then again, if Leelo wasn't Leelo, Seymour would've been able to join the discussion, too.

This, the summer before Iz starts at Esperanza, was always intended to be spent in Costa Rica. We've friends with a beachfront place south of Quepos, and they constantly badger us to come freeload indefinitely. This was to be the summer we did just that, the summer we all immersed ourselves in Spanish. Instead, we're hesitant to take Leelo out of therapy for more than five days, and have spent this summer mostly sticking around. When we did vacation, we brought one of Leelo's therapists along.

Iz and Leelo's birthdays are 21 months apart, but fall in consecutive years (1999, 2000). She's January, He's November. Once we got over the shock of having two kids in diapers, Seymour and I thought this arrangement delightful and convenient--our kids would almost always be at the same school, and would graduate in two quick pops. Instead, Iz hopped up a grade, Leelo's slipped down a year, our boy will not be attending Esperanza, and we've got a little surprise coming down the pipe. Ah, well, at least I can rationalize not working outside my own castle for another few years.

Our life isn't without plenty of laughter and levity. Seymour and I were chuckling about the kids we already have the other day, about how unprepared we will be if #3 is a "regular kid." We truly have no context for such a specimen.

Leelo brings us gifts, too. His love and enthusiasms are pure, unbridled, untempered by mood or whim. Iz may sulk and deny and grow away, but there's a good chance Leelo will not. He won't see the point.

I can live with a kid like that, in this universe or any.

She Won't Blog, Don't Ask Her

But she will let us publish her work!

Our brilliant friend EP's musings on Clinton, Carter, and Gore at the DNC:

2004 Democratic National Convention - Highlights from the Highlights

I accidentally caught the NBC news highlights of the National Democratic Convention, while channel surfing, bored, last night. There was Bill Clinton, looking trim and energetic. He was giving a barnstormer of a speech. Relaxed, at ease, a natural, delivering well-reasoned political analyses along with the fire in the belly that makes you want to jump up and take to the barricades. The crowd is in love. They have stars, and tears, in their eyes. Bill says, about John Kerry, "Strength and wisdom are not conflicting values," and "In a time of change he has two other important qualities: his insatiable curiosity to understand the forces shaping our lives, and a willingness to hear the views even of those who disagree with him." And, pausing, "Remember the scripture: Be not afraid." He insults George Bush six ways from Sunday, without ever uttering his name, managing to pick up on every criticism leveled against him, from the working class attack on his jobs record to the intellectual's despair of the man's willful ignorance. No wonder some in the crowd appear to be crying. "Just one more term," they weep, "Why can't we have him back for just one more term?"

Read More -->

I Beg Your Pardon...

Whatever you think of Harper's Lewis H. Lapham, you've got to admit that the man is funny. (I generally heap more superlatives on that adjective pile, since I envy his pen-wielding and agree with almost everything he writes.)

Witness this excerpt from August's kick in the posthumous ass of Ronald Reagan, titled (how could it be otherwise), "Bedtime for Bonzo":

"...and it wasn't as if he promised a rose garden to anybody who couldn't afford the price of a Mexican gardener."

Another recommended read.

Leelo Lore

So much going on with the boy. Sorry I've not written of it much lately, I'm just friggin fraggin tired, and writing about him is draining.

He's still fun, maddening, all that. Sweet, sneaky, bouncy. Increasingly chubby and growing taller too, possibly thanks to his new non-vegan diet. Making great strides. Here's infomation on specific progress, courtesy of fabulous Supervisor M.

As always, it is difficult to see the progress ourselves as we live with him day by day by day. It it particularly brutal for poor Seymour, who comes home tired from work, and encounters a little man who only wants to cut loose and ignore everyone because he just spent several hours in grueling therapy sessions, dammit.

Seymour worries that reports like the one linked to above are optimistically skewed; I can only remind him that these reports are not interpretive. They are based on cold, hard data. The progress is real. It's the generalization--the applying of what Leelo's learned to the non-therapeutic outside world--that takes time.

People who don't see Leelo for long stretches continue to comment on how much he's changed for the better, which is always heartening. Mostly folks can't believe how well he now responds to requests, as he ignored them outright for so long. We now know for certain that he understands most of what we ask him, but frequently chooses to ignore us. Yes, he is a preschooler.

With Leelo, as with so many autistic kids, it's all about (lack of) motivation. He will fully disengage if he's not interested in a topic, and will toss out rote answers in the hope that one of them will be correct and we'll leave him alone. "Leelo, is this carrot purple?" "Yes."

These color questions are a particular sore point for me, specifically "What color is X" vs. "Is X blue, green, etc." He almost never answers the former question correctly, whereas with the second he has 80% success--again, depending upon his level of engagement. However, when I show him some chocolate and ask him what color it is, he practicall shouts "The chocolate is brown!" with great eye contact. He then gets the chocolate, even though it comes from my private Joseph Schmidt stash.

As you may have guessed from my baiting him with chocolate, his diet is increasingly mellow. I guess I didn't realize how stressful this part of his treatment had been, until the other day when Clyde offered him a tray of leftover snacks from Iz and Merlin's school and, instead of jumping in front and saying "No, no, Leelo!," I realized that he could eat it all. I almost cried.

His willingness to eat available foods, well, that's something altogether different. He rejected everything on the tray except the Cheeerios. However, the boy loves smoothies, and I can hide normally tossed-across-the-room things like carrot juice, tofu, and blueberries inside them. Excellent.

Specific dietary crap: We stopped giving him B12 shots last month after we reintroduced dairy. We'd never seen any results, positive or negative, from this very pricey supplement. We'd only kept him on them because B12 deficiency is a problem with vegan diets such as the one he'd kept himself to for the past 10 months.

We are still not giving him peanuts or citrus. I want to get his bowels stabilized before another onslaught. He still gets the trots from whole milk products (yogurt, ice cream) and too much fruit. Plus, the fruit gives him a bum rash, just as it did to his sister.

Which, as always, leads me to question whether or not the dairy reintroduction has anything to do with his current behavior. The therapists say absolutely not. He still has last week's minor cold, and that always means crazies. Specifially, his pronunciation is mush, and conversations have to be forced unless he initiates them. As I type, I can hear normally unflappable Therapist F having to call "Leelo, Leelo, Leelo" repeatedly to get his attention.

However, since I've now been blabbing, er, blogging about him for more than a year, I can go back through these archives and judge for myself. Or maybe one of you can tell me, if you've been reading the backlogs more recently than I.

No, George, No!

Big sigh of relief this morning. Iz was going to bring her No, George, No! book to school today, but at the last minute opted for a kitty cat puppet. Whew! I don't think her preschool is ready for a discussion of why Dubya is a bad man because he takes money away from social programs, etc.

Too bad she's not a little bit older, or I'd have her read this week's Rawling Stone interview with Garrry Trudeaux (by Eric Bates). It's especially good reading because, y'know, he went to Yayle with Dubya. Some of the best swipes were left out of the online version:

...George Bush was a competent public servant but no leader. Now, of course, he seems like a paragon of decency, moderation, and thoughtfulness, everything his arrogant, radical, proudly ignorant son is not. What a shame the world has to suffer through the consequences of Dubya not getting enough approval from Dad.

...The contradiction of this man of the people is that he has utter contempt for them. ... Bush says, "We know best, but don't ask us about our policies because we don't trust you to support them." ... every Friday afternoon he quietly guts an environmental regulation and renames it "Clean Skies" or "Mossy Trails."

An enjoyable rant. Anyone who's interested is welcome to our copy as soon as Seymour's done with it.

Diamonds!

Today I laughed harder and longer than I have in a long time--how I ever kept continent what with the gigglings spasms and pregnancy bladder is a mystery.

Why? Because my daughter asked me the following question in her totally innocent, squeaky little five-year-old voice: "Mommy, do you think people will ever be able to reach the diamonds in Uranus?" I am chortling again as I type.

See, the thing is that the scientists who wrote her book support the theory that Uranus has a layer of diamonds near its center. Or, as she continued to read out loud as I continued to laugh so hard I was gasping for air, "...a THICK RING of diamonds, surrounding a methane gas core..."

Three Things I Learned This Week

Because I do occasionally encounter subjects unrelated to the kiddlings.

From my friend PV the cardiologist
Drinking unfiltered coffee raises your cholesterol level. Bad news for this French-press-and-Turkish-coffee-brewing, genetically-predisposed-to-high-cholesterol girl.

From Seymour
Everyone on Iron Chef is legit, except Chairman Kaga. He is a Broadway-style stage star.

From Sunday's guest sermon
Somehow I never learned about this: American colonists tried to enslave Native Americans before they started importing slaves from Africa. Why was this never taught in American History? I passed the fucking AP exam, for chrissake.

Anyhow, the Native Americans said "fuck you" and escaped easily as they knew the geography, and could disappear back into their communities. That, or they died from imported European illnesses.

Then the price of trans-Atlantic passages nosedived. This simultaneously tapped out the stream of indentured servants coming from Europe, and made African slave importation feasible.

The Africans were ideal victims. They were shellshocked by separation from their culture and geography. They were unlikely to escape as they didn't know the land or language, and stood out instantly.

The early Americans got around that pesky "all men created equal" thing by reason of the Africans' "heathenism." Once the Africans started converting to Christianity, lawmakers created grandfather clauses chaining the converts to their ancestors' status. Yes, I'm sure that's what Jesus would have wanted.

None of this part three information was included in the America Rocks cartoons Iz and Leelo watched this afternoon. When they're old enough, though, I will make sure my kids know and remember these omissions.

Asajj Ventress Now Lives at My House

Badger and I decided last night that, why not, our kids (and, um, Jo's) are ready to watch the fabulous SW: Clone Wars animated series. I particularly enjoyed the aftermath: Iz and Eliz, naked but for their dress-up petticoats, in a full-scale lightsaber battle. One of these days I'll remember to recharge my camera batteries.

Oh, and apologies to the children whose foam lightsabers Leelo destroyed the moment they were left unattended.