tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-79409735164049185702024-10-24T01:26:16.479-07:00Following the life of a Mom and her three kids on the autism/sensory spectrumDeehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.comBlogger51125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-14809984030459686712015-12-31T00:52:00.004-08:002015-12-31T01:17:12.701-08:00

John is finally asleep. I love my children, but Autism can still go fuck itself in its ear. The worst part about having more than one child with Autism is it is no different than being a child in any family with another sibling with a chronic condition.  My oldest, Jacob is comorbid and complicated. He is also loud, abrasive and an unusually engaging Autistic. He is a sensory seeker, he

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-11609815637150580742014-10-20T01:55:00.001-07:002014-10-20T01:55:33.722-07:00

Today I was accused of being a troll. Really not a big deal, I've been called far worse in far more polite forums. What bothered be about this was the context of said name calling. It was a reply log to an article about something exceptionally close to my heart. A 3 year old boy with autism who was subjected to a 5 hours ride from his school to his home; a trip that would usually take his

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-53037200259060732942014-10-20T01:10:00.000-07:002014-10-20T01:10:12.372-07:00

I have been reading back over my last few blog entries and am quite aware what a lyrical but melancholy sense I have been weaving.  I've been so introverted and selfish, I forgot about the rest of you.  The parents of the 1:88, the aunts, uncles, cousins and siblings of that 1:88.  If you entered my blog you no doubt would have stopped reading four sentences in

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-48148368129926415432014-03-02T22:53:00.004-08:002014-10-20T01:54:13.704-07:00

I hear "My Heart breaks,"...."doesn't it break your heat." Even from those that have plenty enough to bear heartbreak wise. If it's not your child though, that heartbreak seems warranted, even accepted. I have read and followed many an article and thread and it seems "My heart breaks" leads the view. I can only speak from personal experience, my heart doesn't break. It just doesn't, my emotions

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-1731087731732918672012-10-20T23:43:00.002-07:002014-10-20T01:54:35.486-07:00

In a previous blog a long time ago I referred to Jacob's Mood Disorder as Bipolar Bear. He was in the midst of a manic episode and I knew where it would end. I was spot on too; it ended up with an emergency appointment and a swift medication juggle. Here was my dilemma, I was delighted he was receiving the treatment he needed and simultaneously traumatized that once again we had barely escaped

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-89868086754510704402012-09-18T22:43:00.000-07:002014-10-20T01:55:02.915-07:00

When your 4 year old son decides in a fit of rage his best recourse is to attempt to break the body of an acoustic guitar over your back, his cries are suddenly heard loud and clear. At the time I was in reactionary mode; I didn't hear that muffled cry, embedded in the splintered case and sprung strings. I heard the dampened echos of something alright, but his cries were still crouched in the

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-36125237388021411512012-08-30T23:57:00.001-07:002014-10-20T01:57:09.543-07:00

Unfortunately I don't write about the everyday things that would warrant a daily, weekly or even biweekly experience.  The Island of Autism and special needs is far more mundane than you think.  You see, us parents, teachers, leaders, go out of our way to try to make everything the same.  Changes in schedules, glitches in an everyday habit can throw our children and thus ourselves

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-37413395452858859112012-07-31T22:25:00.000-07:002014-10-20T01:57:49.609-07:00

There is a natural order to things, even if the thing itself is a bit off center.  It's been around since I first became unofficially and then officially aware of my three puzzle piece's special needs.  If you are a parent I know you will relate in some fashion to what I mean, regardless of your child's needs, typical or diverse.  It's the hierarchy we are pushed into, the realm of

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-71168076419252879332012-07-12T23:54:00.000-07:002014-10-20T01:58:48.865-07:00

Shit! After nine months of carrying them the first thing that is paid attention to is their pee and poo.  Is it yellow, orange, crystalline?  Is the poo brown, green, solid, liquid or pebble like.  These are things no one tells you in the Lamaze class or the parenting class you take prior to birth. You remember, the one where you're taught to bath a Tiny Tears knock

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-85110372819491339192012-07-05T23:03:00.000-07:002014-10-20T01:58:22.164-07:00

A dear friend pointed out to me I hadn't blogged in a while.  This is true.  There's no real deep reason why, honestly I've been busy.  School ended about 6 weeks ago and it's incumbent on me to tell you my children are too able to be allowed extended school year yet too disabled to attend day camp.  The boys, now 12 and 9 did attend a special needs

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-84824978681145503142012-05-27T01:18:00.003-07:002014-10-20T01:56:36.640-07:00

I am prone to the odd documentary or even feature where the protagonist or central theme involves autism.  Tonight I just finally finished "Dad's in Heaven with Nixon." Yes, alright, I'm more than prone, blame it on my back ground in Film Studies and having three silly Aspie beans.  Most films and documentaries about Autism are hit and miss.  One I may have been angsting 

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-16259865436787690702012-05-22T23:34:00.000-07:002014-10-20T01:15:40.138-07:00

Jacob stormed through the door yesterday, stomped up the six steps to the living room, slumped in a heap on the sofa.  His face was screwed up in frustrated annoyance.  First words out of his mouth, "I'm tired of people who don't want to understand my autism!"  As the parent, you have to think of the two worlds I inhabited at that moment.  The one where I wanted to find the

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-34290753740566170942012-05-18T02:52:00.001-07:002014-10-20T01:14:56.928-07:00

I found myself making a silly joke on a social network tonight that I have no mates.  Of course all my real mates came running and pointed out how wrong I was, and indeed I was.  However, said friends are also between 600 and 3000 miles away.  I have been in Suburban Atlanta for just about six years now and this is how I know I have no close friends.  When schools and camps

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-5690807530449101462012-05-11T01:35:00.001-07:002014-10-20T01:13:55.402-07:00

I have spent so much time and well forged energy allowing my children a space to have a safe space to have their needs, typical or otherwise center stage.  In fact none of them are really aware I blog about them; the good, the bad and the ever so often ugly.  I have not I realize shared my story in the realm of invisible disabilities.  It actually started at

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-9029277777549611462012-05-09T01:44:00.001-07:002014-10-20T01:12:59.040-07:00

Jacob (12) begged for a phone the last few months.  I held off for all the normal parental worries, he's more vulnerable, what's the point, he has no real friends, he's not tech savvy enough.  I was right about not having immediate peers (for now) to text, but it hasn't stopped him communicating with me via text the last three days. In fact, I am amazed at his

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-53798156882654206202012-05-04T22:55:00.001-07:002014-10-20T01:12:20.889-07:00

I started following a few blogs, twitter and facebok pages recently as April was Autism awareness month.  For the most part I found a great deal of supportive and real life "Aha" experiences.  However, I also found a great deal of those that posted how they wouldn't change their children or family member's one iota.  This got me thinking, in fact it got me soul searching. Of

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-16545333635819416472012-05-02T23:53:00.002-07:002014-10-20T01:11:17.779-07:00

"You can only handle what God gives you.......You're SuperMom..............I don't know how you do it."  Remind you of anyone?  Fecal streams of platitudes like that only exude from those who do not deal with special needs everyday.  They truly mean well, but after the 75th version of the same phrase you become numb to it all.  That's the peripheral edging I hear on a daily

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-14383961311318154462012-04-13T22:44:00.001-07:002014-10-20T01:09:23.105-07:00

Last week I lost a friend.  At least I think technically I did. We used to live a few doors down from each other and my easy going Aspie connected with her son.  If I had suggested her son was also splashed with Asperger's I suspect I would have lost that friend a little bit earlier.  It's all good though, in so many ways we are all sprayed with something: Aspie, Adhd, Ocd, Anxiety

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-40380644060622768232012-04-06T23:15:00.000-07:002014-10-20T01:50:55.127-07:00

We met on a Tuesday. Honestly, I don't remember the day.  I do remember we met.  Late for us both, you were willing to call me, listen to my day, my worries, my fears.  You listened. You never judged me, you never named me, you just listened.  Had I known how that call would have rooted itself.  If I had known what we were growing.  Perhaps it's best I didn't

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-50963677081134197892012-04-02T22:55:00.000-07:002014-10-20T01:50:33.946-07:00

April 2nd was Autism Awareness Day.  I had grand notions of links and diatribes, explanations, moving stories and emotive words.  I had my blue light bulb.  I was poised, ready.  I was about to tell you all about the enormity, the dignity and the need to pay attention.  Then I awoke. Screams, hollers, toilet paper strewn around the house, demands for hot dogs for

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-25310454518099793982012-03-14T23:27:00.000-07:002014-10-20T01:50:12.048-07:00

Dearest Jacob,  today you caught me off guard, the way a sleeping soldier, snoozing against his wall in peacetime is suddenly jolted awake with horns and the rushing tide of the shouts of fear and unpreparedness.  There I was watching the beginning of my sports show that comes from the UK.  As usual, I only focus on the first 12 or so minutes, once it gets to rugby, golf

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-80762962986863496802012-03-01T22:03:00.001-08:002014-10-20T01:49:37.600-07:00

I remember my Mother commenting on how the babies we bear, whether to term or not choose their life's start, in a sense choose their family.  It seemed a wonderfully easy and ethereal plane to believe in, especially as a young woman, not yet to achieve that state of pregnancy and motherhood.  In the Bible, most especially the Talmud, the Hall of Souls is known as The Guf. "

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-84040527505742888432012-02-22T22:52:00.001-08:002014-10-20T01:48:57.124-07:00

Dearest, My apologies. It was no accident you chose me, We were the same, raging in a world that blinked indifference. A fresh soul delivered from your warm immersion into sensory terror. Your brain already fighting its mismatched puzzle. Neurons bouncing like beads clicking against the floor. Images of warm deep embraces-edged  into the distance. Childhood pleasures morphed into sensory

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-38843225002184940152012-02-08T23:19:00.000-08:002014-10-20T01:48:23.104-07:00

When one's child is born with an invisible yet neurologically different need, you are met with a physically beautiful and healthy baby.  However, until symptoms appear you just see that.  When you choose to breastfeed and thus room in with him you are met with certain supports, to do with nursing, bathing and the like.  When he starts screaming at 12 hours old he is planted on your

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7940973516404918570.post-39382032525542989062012-01-20T21:42:00.000-08:002014-10-20T01:47:49.951-07:00

Life has for want of a better analogy been a bit of a roller coaster lately.  No, let me clarify, roller coaster with Nascar and Drunk Driving joyrider's thrown in for good measure.  I traced it out on a blog post months back, but to re illustrate I was not born here in the US.  I have however been a legal resident some 13 years now. Being an immigrant is such a deep and shadowy

Deehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13405650002390990798noreply@blogger.com1