Brown Thursday is for
TURKEYS!
Don't be a turkey!
Friday, November 22, 2013
Wednesday, November 13, 2013
Pardon My Chinese
"My weiner is bugging me!" G, groping and adjusting at the bus stop.
"Yeah, me too," I laughed.
"No, you don't have a weiner!"
...pause
"Wait, what's your weiner called again?"
"Do you remember?"
...pause
"China something... Oh, MyChina!"
"China something... Oh, MyChina!"
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| MyChina I think the stars represent erroneous zones |
Teehee. That'll work for now.
Coincidentally, I've been thinking about MyChina for the past few days. G was born 8 years ago today. Happy Birthday, Super G! After 10 years of every imaginable hellish fertility agent, weepy false hopes and heartbreaking near successes, 2 beautiful beloved adopted babies, I became pregnant. Who knew MyChina actually "worked" as nature intended it! And work it did for 3 days until this very day 8 years ago. Our 3rd miracle baby was born and we welcomed him into our family. We thought we were whole, but he completed us by bouncing into our lives and never stopping. He's our breath of fresh air, our lessons to be learned, our wonder and delight.
We love you, G!Monday, November 4, 2013
Stash Cache
G: "Oh, like Abraham Lincoln and his hat!"
"What?" Mystified Mom.
G reported his knowledge,
"Abraham Lincoln used to store important papers in his hat."
"Oh really? Like what?"
"Oh probably important things like volcano eruption warnings and things like that."
Lol. Of course I explained and discussed the reality.
This is a typical conversation with my G. He holds these random facts in his magnificent mind, and blends them with his own interests. His memory cache is outstanding. It's the comprehension/application that gets wonky. Is this behavior a verbal or language processing error, as he often mixes up words or definitions? Is it anxiety-based obsessive thinking? Or is it simply a typical 7 year old imaginative thought process? It's likely a combination, G style. Whatever it is, it worries me in turn. I worry about my own "G anxiety-driven" anxiety. LOL. I fear for his anxious little psyche. I wonder what else he's worrying about. I know that he thinks and frets much more than he relays to me. Often he'll tell me weeks, months or even years later about his worries from a certain time or incident. Many so insignificant that I can't recall the event, but have obviously tormented him. I remind him to share his fears with me or another caregiver when he's scared RIGHT AWAY so we can help. I work on my calming strategies. I try to remain peaceful and not over-react when his queries get far-fetched. I try not to laugh, though stopping his siblings and peers from giggling or poking fun is a challenge. These questions are legitimate horrors for him. He gets hurt and upset when we laugh or don't take him seriously. He closes down when I get alarmed and react.
The results of his odd ruminations range from funny - whimsical; distressing - bizarre. G's OCD weighs him down with a fixation for natural disasters. He constantly asks if tornadoes are coming, earthquakes, hurricanes, etc. When we travel somewhere, he anxiously asks if tornadoes happen there. Then asks again. And again, foreboding on. I don't dare watch or listen to weather alerts with him in earshot. Today's "Doppler 6 Gazillion" and sensational reporting sends the common public into a flurry of emergency angst. G with his propensity for extreme "fight or flight" response, spirals into full panic attack if he sees ANYTHING ominous on the weather map, even clear across the country. He sees the arrows and knows weather travels. If he sees a news report on a tree uprooted from a wind storm, he stays up at night nervous that one of the huge trees in the backyard will crash through our roof and kill one of us. I dread days when his reading bag is filled with natural disaster readers and picture books, knowing he's destined for a stormy sleepless night of distress that will echo for days. He's written many stories in his school writing journal about natural disaster heebie-jeebies. I so wish I could ease his mind more than I do. I fear if I connect him with a website or app with stats on disaster realities, it may backfire only to further amplify his apprehension.
So, what to do? I calmly explain the reality. I shelter him as best I can from triggers. I worry about his worry. I re-direct him back to saving what he has control over: his gloves! This is all I know how to do for now.
Just keep swimming...
...and hope there's no hurricane predictions.
As an aside, I came across these books while searching for a volcano image for this post. "My Mouth is a Volcano" is a picture book is about learning manners related to interrupting. I was excited to bump into a book in which interrupting is explained in a visceral, visual way that just may resonate with G and other spectrum kids. Volcano Mouth Etiquette 101. Plus a handy activity workbook! The problem I have is, what if G gets too tied up in the "volcano" aspect and begins his cycle of whirling tornado worry? We'll see. The reviews are excellent. I'm going to check our library. Have you read it?
Got helpful suggestions? I'm always up for been there - done that help.
Friday, November 1, 2013
Lunch Munchies
Making lunches this morning...
I told G to find a piece of candy or 2 for a treat to put in his lunchbox.
"Oh, probably only 1, I don't want too much sugar. It's not healthy."
??? Who is this child???
Hmmmm....
This explains it.
The JUMBO bar.
Did NOT pass go..or Mom.
Nice try!
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Spooky Insights
G, pointing up excitedly, "Look what the spiders left us for Halloween!"
You just keep right on believing that, kiddo.
I'll dust after Halloween. :)
G: Mom, my pumpkin looks like Van Gogh!
I'm a bit horrified that they learn about this mad act in 2nd grade. Is that knowledge really necessary to appreciate Van Gogh's work through the eyes of a 7 year old?
Then again, he remembered. ;)
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Sensory Green Zone
"This really makes everything look great!"
I found G taking a sensory break, watching tv in a hamper. Green's his favorite color, what could be better? He scooted around the house for an hour like this.
Friday, October 18, 2013
Bring it!
Mama's Autism-Ready...
Big $4 off sale today.
These will make thoughtful gifts for all my autism parent friends.
Thursday, October 17, 2013
Meet Mrs. Google Face
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| http://www.amazon.com/Roger-Hargreaves/e/B001HP0AXO/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_1?qid=1382025031&sr=8-1 |
411. Information please. Do other parents find themselves researching acronyms at every possible moment? The library was my second home as an only child growing up. I've always been curious. But now I fear I may have an addiction problem.
Hello. My name is Perky and I'm addicted to Google. I have no intention of quitting, but I thought I should announce it. Call it my public service action towards Google Addiction Awareness.
My friends and family suspect that I have an addiction to Facebook. Ha! That doesn't even scratch the surface. Oh, the autism facts my hard drive history could tell...
I take breaks from researching my latest alphabet soup issue (ASD, ADHD, OCD, SPD, etc.) to scour Facebook for breaking news on my key topics. Laws, therapies, meds, op-eds, technology breakthroughs, visual aids, strategy, coping, opportunities, forums, groups. I mark my calendar and set alarms for local parent and family events, podcasts, blogcasts, online discussions, conferences, support groups. I sit down to search one item and find my head whirling hours later with no clear solution. I'm faced with multiple possibilities and little time to put them in cohesive order, let alone an action plan.
Do we have too much information at our fingertips? Today's searches by the numbers:
Autism: 45,300,000 results
ADHD: 36,700,000 results
OCD: 19,800,000 results
Asperger's: 4,360,000 results
Sensory Processing: 8,980,000 results
Anxiety: 137,000,000 results
Autism Symptoms: 22,000,000 results
Autism Treatment: 55,300,000 results
Autism Diet: 35,500,000 results
IEP: 11,100,000 results
So many results, so little results.
Autism: 45,300,000 results
ADHD: 36,700,000 results
OCD: 19,800,000 results
Asperger's: 4,360,000 results
Sensory Processing: 8,980,000 results
Anxiety: 137,000,000 results
Autism Symptoms: 22,000,000 results
Autism Treatment: 55,300,000 results
Autism Diet: 35,500,000 results
IEP: 11,100,000 results
So many results, so little results.
I used to stay awake at night, struggling to put the information to work. Debunk, sort, prioritize, fit into my complex family life. Now that G's sleep is more regulated and his bedtime earlier, my body and brain collapse each night as if rejoicing after the years of brief interrupted sleep. I may be more rested, but I don't have the balance time of sifting through my daily research that I used to. Before, I'd be so worked up from G's late night energy surges and meltdowns that I'd research myself into exhaustion, then toss and fret myself to sleep for a couple hours. These days, I just crumble and pass out at midnight.
I justify my addiction. As autism parents, we're isolated in our oddity. Our disordered kids don't have neatly stacked symptoms and phases. Our kids often carry multiple acronyms in their diagnosis file, each adding complexity to their struggle. We don't have the luxury of calling a friend to compare notes and share parenting strategies. Our kids are individually wrapped with unique challenges and gifts. Rarely do we find a friend offline who's working on the same solution. We're left to seek out our lone epiphanies. When we do call another autism parent, their child may be in major meltdown or manic state, interrupting an enlightening conversation. We have other children to tend to, jobs, household and personal endeavors, sleep to catch up on if we're lucky.
Support groups are wonderful. Even if we don't get a chance to voice our concerns, we can offer hope and tips to other struggling parents. It gives us a lift to be able to guide or comfort another in our Lonely Hearts Club. But then at times our own issues pale by comparison. How can I bring up my frustration of my son's nose picking problem when the last bruised mom sobbed about her child's violent outbursts? This can work both ways: we may feel relieved that we're not currently in that horrific phase, yet still frustrated that we didn't share our own troubles.
Support groups are wonderful. Even if we don't get a chance to voice our concerns, we can offer hope and tips to other struggling parents. It gives us a lift to be able to guide or comfort another in our Lonely Hearts Club. But then at times our own issues pale by comparison. How can I bring up my frustration of my son's nose picking problem when the last bruised mom sobbed about her child's violent outbursts? This can work both ways: we may feel relieved that we're not currently in that horrific phase, yet still frustrated that we didn't share our own troubles.
The answer: we return home to google the quirks out of our own daily acronym-ism. We search for answers from fleeting e-relationships with peeps the world over who are dealing or have dealt with the same concern. We give virtual hugs. We friend them on Facebook if we've encountered each other in the same rocking boat multiple times. We invite them to like our pages or blogs as if we're inviting them to coffee. Come over to my blog, read awhile. Would you like cream and sugar? We seek community. We seek acceptance. We seek validation.
I seek, you seek.
We all seek for nice speak.
I seek, you seek.
We all seek for nice speak.
We take a break to see what our typical friends are up to. We wistfully sigh. We die a little inside. We throw up a little in our mouth. We share their joy, humor, triumph, love. We wish for them to never ever personally know the challenges we conquer. We wish for them the maturity, beauty, delights, warmth and human perspective that autism/special needs can bring to a home. We share happy photos, searching for the one in 238 pics where our kid has eye contact, no drool, no nose-wiped sleeves, no stains, possibly a natural smile. We celebrate our other kids a little too often. We post jokes and memes a bit too intensely, attempting to cheer ourselves as well our friends. Sally forth!
Then we return to our dear research. There's no expert on your child...except you.
Dear Google.
I love you a google and a peck. Indefinitely. Not gonna stop. Gotta get my fix. Must get my Google on.
Love Always,
Mrs. Google Face
((((((((virtual hugs))))))))
Then we return to our dear research. There's no expert on your child...except you.
Dear Google.
I love you a google and a peck. Indefinitely. Not gonna stop. Gotta get my fix. Must get my Google on.
Love Always,
Mrs. Google Face
((((((((virtual hugs))))))))
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
It Don't Mean a Thing if You Ain't Got that Swing
A dear friend gathered a few moms to set up a "G playday program" with their sons from his classroom. Each day, a different boy was assigned to ask G to join in their fun and games at recess. I'd ask G daily who he played with. He often couldn't remember their names or got them wrong, though he'd known most of them for 2 years. He'd just as often say he'd played for awhile and then gone on the swings by himself.
"Sometimes I just want to swing the whole recess, Mom!" he explained.
"Don't you want to play along with the others and run and laugh and play games?"
"Some of the other kids get mad at me because I play their games wrong."
"Ask your "buddies" to teach you the rules. Or find another group that's doing something you enjoy and play with them."
"Really Mom, I don't care about playing with anybody. Swinging makes me feel all better."
One day I asked him who he played with and what they'd done at recess. He told me Boy A, when I knew that he'd played with Boy A the day prior and played with Boy B this day.
"Really G, I know you played with Boy B today, I talked to his mom."
"Nope. It was Boy A. It was wearing the same coat as yesterday."
IT.Was.
Wearing.
The.
Same.
Coat.
IT! .....Coat!
This truly brought home the realization of how deeply I overestimated his social awareness. No facial recognition, because G never looked at the boy's face. No personification, because IT was merely a plaything, not a person. I cried for days. Then I moved on. As we must.
Hope. I'm not holding my breath, but this year G may be getting more socially active. I gave up pressuring him and badgering him about being social after the grand lesson from last year about It Boy. But now he offers up his recess adventures more freely. He tells me that he plays with this group, or this boy. Always with a variation of, "My bestest friend EVER in the whole wide world", which changes daily. He still may not know exactly who he's playing with at times, though I've been impressed that he's naming different boys in his class and from last year too. But what matters most is that he's getting joy from social interaction. I dream of him having a best friend someday, but maybe I'm selfishly projecting my wishes on him. He may not need a best friend. For now, at least he's moving towards social. Plus, he's supremely happy. Who can argue with that?
Sensory Rocks! And swings, apparently. This photo says it all: I love that G is casually crossing his legs while swinging high. He's most definitely "got that swing"!
Since he was a baby, G reacted the opposite of others. While I used to take my colicky infant daughter in the car to calm her and put her to sleep, G conversely revved up and cooed. When we go to family outings and drive home late, my teens fall asleep within minutes in the car. G hypes up and chatters us home. No worries about falling asleep at the wheel with G on board. The faster the highway, the more intellectual he gets. "Did you know that...," "What does it mean when..." "How does...", etc. He gets very loud, talks very loud, and sings like a bird. His siblings get quite annoyed in the confined space. Their carpool friends have grown accustomed to it. I love it, and get a large charge out of it. Of course, I have my days when I dream of silence and a Motrin. But we have some of our best discussions and silliest moments on the move.
The most telling moment of the sensory-seeking movement phenomenon was at Cedar Point Amusement Park this summer. G asked, "Mom, can I ride Top Thrill Dragster again? You know, when I go really fast it calms me down." I was floored at his self-awareness! We don't talk about his sensory needs or behaviors, so this was all him, as were his self-soothing swinging stims at recess last year. If only I could drive 120 mph and go straight up and straight down each hour to calm him. I wonder if there are zoning laws in my neighborhood for such a Thrill ride? I'd bet we'd have a line of bestest friends ever in the whole wide world lined up to share in his sensory play.Monday, October 14, 2013
De script or...not
G wearing what he dubs his "Blonde" pants.
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| Squinty night owl in Blonde pants eating breakfast on the way to school |
Friday, October 11, 2013
Star Struck
G was Star of the Week in his 2nd grade class the 1st full week of school. Each day we were assigned a different fun project to introduce him to his classmates. I was thrilled that he was chosen so early in the schoolyear. It gave us the opportunity to get him talking about himself to his peers and sharing items that are important to him. You know, like real social stuff!
I was tickled to read his "About Me" poster that he'd filled in at school.
I quizzed his siblings to guess what his answer was for the question, "I'm a star because...". Like me, they both predicted it would be something about his Minecraft skills (obsession).
What a delightful surprise! I'm gratified that our consistent stream of hugs, cuddles, laughs and chatter is breaking through. His family IS actually more important to him than Minecraft. Imagine that. He never ceases to amaze us. You're absolutely right Super Star, we DO love you most.Get Your Quirks On!
You're cordially invited to:
Invite all your friends! Please share.
Families and caregivers touched by special needs/autism need a perky party! Find your happy place. Share your priceless stories, photos, videos, drawings, parody, someecards, sound bytes, creations... of quirky FUN!
Facebook special needs pages and groups are full of info, news, questions, trauma, heartbreak, fear, help, sharing, caring and love. I love all of it. I couldn't cope without my precious Facebook support in my isolated world.
But, what's missing? Laughs! A sweet spot to share our playful, adorable, gleeful, zany treasured stories.
Special needs parenting often brings zany ridiculous moments to the mix. All parents have stories about the amusing things their kids say or do. We all have memories of hysterical times with teachers, therapists, friends, strangers. A twist of the mundane can turn silly. Let's shine some light on our lives. Spread humor to celebrate our random moments of comic relief.
Please submit your merriment to:
perkyquirks@gmail.comOr post it to Facebook page:
https://www.facebook.com/pages/All-in-a-Days-Quirks/111116812270654
Necessary Warnings:
Life's a laugh riot. Get your quirks on!
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Wednesday, October 9, 2013
Quotable Quirks #1
We've all heard the famous quote:
Life's not about avoiding the storm,
but learning to dance in the rain
~Unknown
I've adapted it to reflect autism parenting:
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Sunday, October 28, 2012
A Look Behind the Mask
I saw this note posted and shared several times on Facebook this year. I've tried to find the original poster/creator, to no avail. I wish I could thank them for creating awareness. I'm stuck in my little world of
G's issues, fears and needs and this post opened an even larger perspective to me. Considering my sizable exposure to special needs in the past several years, I have become much more tuned in to all children's behaviors, typical or other. But, on a daily basis, it's sometimes all I can do to live up to my own duties and concerns as an Autism parent, tween and teen as well.
G's issues, fears and needs and this post opened an even larger perspective to me. Considering my sizable exposure to special needs in the past several years, I have become much more tuned in to all children's behaviors, typical or other. But, on a daily basis, it's sometimes all I can do to live up to my own duties and concerns as an Autism parent, tween and teen as well.
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| How's that for Eye Contact? |
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| His "Scary" look |
BUT, not all kids who look brave are. Our special needs kids react very differently to this strange holiday. His/her parents may have worked for weeks to prep them, condition their child for this frightening night with its odd customs and costumes. Each year, these parents work on the same issues as they once did with their babies, toddlers. Our kids stay stuck in those early stages or move slower into it, delayed. Therapists instruct parents: In all things - repetition, practice, patience, DE-SENSITIZE.
But...Halloween is all about senses, more than any other holiday, its' theme is designed to attack the senses, create fear. Many of our children are seized by fear and anxiety as part of their core symptoms. Many cling to safety, routine, familiar, CONTROL. Because this holiday is celebrated at night, that familiarity is gone, the safety difficult to discern. Their fear goes much deeper than typical Halloween fear. Their fear may quickly escalate to fight or flight; cause anxiety attack or full-on meltdowns, screaming, running, grasping for the familiar, needing control. For this reason, even parents of older children on the spectrum must accompany their kids and be on high alert to their body language, eye movements, tone of voice (if verbal), etc.. Our kids often don't recognize their limitations or know when to stop. We know our kids best: how to persuade them, cajole them to safety before they reach high alert. Not only would that situation be uncomfortable or embarrassing for the siblings, friends and (possibly) child - it could easily escalate to a dangerous level. My G runs blindly when he reaches a high level of anxiety or excitement. He may run into traffic, hide or run into someone or something. The possibility for injury to him or others is high with all these factors - dark, many cords and odd placements for decorations, many walkers, wagons, cars, portable campfires, difficult visibility. It's certainly a recipe for disaster without carefully planned safety checkpoints in place.
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| Captain Candy in Control |
Your house may be the first or only house a special needs child can find the courage to come to. We're blessed with great neighbors that we know. We skip those we don't. Because G gets spooked, he only goes to a few homes and then returns home to hand out candy, where HE is in control. Last year he made it a few short blocks, then ran as fast as he could home almost losing my speedy daughter, my husband minutes behind, out of breath and flustered. Thankfully we had walkie-talkies and a super fast sister. I shivered in fright to think what might have happened if my daughter had gone ahead with her friends earlier instead of spending the first few blocks helping G. Still, we were thrilled that he lasted as long as he did. As soon as he arrived home he drew a big labored breath, let it out in a rush as let me hug him briefly, asking about handing out candy all the while. He put down his orange bucket, threw off his costume, and took post in front of the door. He was in control, Captain Candy in Control.
I've come up with a few extra ideas I'll put into place this year. Many are practices we've always done like flashlights, phones, etc., but this list will keep it all together.Because in all areas, as he ages and gets more verbal, taller, smarter - most people (and even us) take him at face value, as he looks or talks. He often fools others into thinking he has it all together. Don't get me wrong, this is exactly what my long hours of research, working with him, getting him extra help, and talking talking talking to him have paid off with (and won't cease any time soon). I'm very proud of this kiddo and what he's moved past. But, we need these items in place for that reason. We cannot take anything about his safety for chance. Underneath, he's still ridden with anxiety and fight-or-flight responses to stress and fear. During these times, he loses language and shrieks and runs, getting physical with anything willfully blocking his path. This is exactly what I want in a stranger-danger situation, but Halloween not so much. His shrieks will fit right in to the neighborhood din, I'm afraid.
Day(s) Before:
- Plan maps and gather all supplies, laying the path for a smooth Halloween day
- Let G write and check off items on To-Do List
- Ask G if he wants to go Trick or Treating, and how long he thinks
- Plan route for trick or treating
- Let G draw the Route Map with street names
- Label the homes with neighbor's names and let him decide if he wants to go to unknown neighbors
- Draw in Safe Points at close friends' home where he can go if he gets lost or scared
- Pass out copies of map to whole family, whether they'll be with him or not
- Decide if he'll accompany other groups of friends walking
- Phones/walkie-talkies* for all
- Flashlights for all
- Fresh/charged batteries for above
- Wear safety reflectors
- Carry a whistle around his neck in case he gets lost or scared and walkie-talkie doesn't work
- Carry whistle of another tune for Dad to for G to locate**
- Ask G where he wants Dad to stand while he goes to porches
- Have Dad ask him every 15 minutes if he wants to continue to avoid overdoing it and meltdowns mid-route
- If Dad notices G is weary but he denies it, remind him that he can hand out candy at home or sort his candy
- Have fun!
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| The Big Haul, time to sort! |
** Several items overlap with redundancy. I've found that if I give G one way to communicate, he may not remember to use it. If I give him 2-3, he may find the right method that suits him. Example: If he's running, he may use the whistle instead of trying to figure out the walkie-talkie.
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| Pumpkin-Carving Day 2011 with DMUM, an amazing Autism Treatment Fundraising group of University of Michigan Students |
Monday, October 22, 2012
One Step Forward, Two Steps Back
Stress by Numbers: The Quirky Report
This marvelous dance of life gets mighty frustrating
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| I love that this sign goes with my cha-cha motto |
Employment stress:
5,000 steps forward, 500 steps back
5,000 steps forward, 500 steps back
Finance/Recession:
1 step forward, 500 steps back x 1,000
Weight loss YoYo Struggles:
5,000 steps forward, 2,500 steps back x 100
Infertility Issues:
one step forward, 1,000 steps back
Adoption:
1,000,000,000 forward x 2, 0 steps back
Dysfunctional Extended Family Conflict:
1,000 steps forward, 1,000,000 steps back
Friends (Chosen Family) Support:
100,000 steps forward, 1,000 steps back
Marital Strife:
1,000 steps forward, 5,000 steps back
1,000 steps forward, 5,000 steps back
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| http://www.zazzle.com/256853555741858037 |
1,000 steps forward, 500 steps back
Autism Acceptance:
25,000 steps forward, 15,000 steps back
Autism Coping:
50,000 steps forward, 100,000 steps back
Autism Therapy:
100,000 steps forward, 25,000 steps back
Autism Advocacy:
5,000 steps forward, 1,000,000 steps back
Autism Life Lessons:
1,000,000 steps forward, 0 steps back
...and so on, You get the idea. Not a walk in the park.
Just like everyone else, we're each fighting our own battles.
...and so on, You get the idea. Not a walk in the park.
Just like everyone else, we're each fighting our own battles.
I'm surely glad that I'm not
a mathematician.
I'd be completely depressed at the sum total of back steps.
Then again, maybe not.
I try my best not to dwell
on subtractions,
focus only on additions.
a mathematician.
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| http://www.zazzle.com/235570888085018672 |
Then again, maybe not.
I try my best not to dwell
on subtractions,
focus only on additions.
Life lesson:
Step out of your box.
Go forward.
Go forward.
Take baby steps.
Take giant steps
when you're up to it.
Accept that no one knows what you'll step into until you do.
Take giant steps
when you're up to it.
Accept that no one knows what you'll step into until you do.
Keep dancing...
turn up the volume, kick off your shoes, sing loudly, laugh, dance!
Let it all out!
Don't tally your problems.
Count your lessons. Learn.
Press onward.
Your journey, your strength, is what counts.
YOLO!
These cowboys look like the're having a blast!
I'm not a big country music fan, but this sure is a romantic idea to with your sweetie. :)
turn up the volume, kick off your shoes, sing loudly, laugh, dance!
Let it all out!
Don't tally your problems.
Count your lessons. Learn.
Press onward.
Your journey, your strength, is what counts.
YOLO!
These cowboys look like the're having a blast!
I'm not a big country music fan, but this sure is a romantic idea to with your sweetie. :)
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Quiver and Quake
I'm feeling proud of my 13 year old for telling the truth about an extremely poor choice. While I'm ashamed, I'm proud of his courage for facing authority and consequences on his own.
I'm quite sure his voice was shaking.
Tuesday, September 18, 2012
Artsy Autsy
I'm going to art class today!
(with a bunch of 6 year old's)
I'm positively thrilled to be back helping out in the school art room after a 3 year G-induced hiatus. I worked for years volunteering in N and M's art classes. We had to stop participating when G began pulling paints, paintbrushes and paintrush-cleaning water cups, chalk, and other fine messes onto his lap or the floor. From his stroller. In the middle of the aisle. He'd work at scooting/pulling his stroller over to a table and go from there.
Quick as a flash.
Before that at 2, he was harmless entertainment. The students loved to give him items simply to watch him throw them across the room, cracking himself up. Tirelessly, over and over. The art teacher was so incredibly patient. Thank goodness G was adorable with his blonde ringlets. Those little curls saved us from being booted out of the art room, saved my sanity and let me get some creative input. Saved by the curls.
After that, I became Craft Mama for a few mom's clubs I was in. My thinking was that if I involved G, he'd remain engaged. My kids would make examples of the crafts the day before our craft days, and I had notions that he'd help me get needed supplies together. We all know how that went as an undiagnosed, untreated ADHD autistic kiddo. He'd run all over the facility, out into the parking lot, the road, etc. I had to get assistants to take turns watching him and helping the children in the group. I could count on a few minutes at the snack table, as he'd shove 14 cookies, 3 helpings of pretzels, 76 goldfish and 3 juice boxes down. And a banana that he stole from a baby's hands. That was about it. I began bringing games and activities to craft days, hoping he'd play instead. Nope, that sensory beast of burden wouldn't let him relax, engage. It was fight or flight all the way, which led to my feelings of the same afterwards. Most afternoons I'd cry on the way home and pray that just once, he'd take a nap and let me have a break after we got home. Never happened.
I'm thrilled to report that after diagnosis and treatment, G occasionally gets a strong focus (oh, that beautiful word: f-o-c-u-s) on creativity. He draws from memory quite well. I was blown away when at 5, he drew items in a plan view, all sides of an object laid out in a flat drawing. Think fold-up box on a piece of cardstock, a template...
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Obviously not this detailed and no fold lines, but he'd draw all sides of an object, house, car, toy, etc. So interesting!
Now he's in his first school art class. I get to help with his 1st grade class - all year - how cool is that?
Kids often get uptight when their project isn't exactly like the teacher's example.
They cry:
"I messed up!"
"I can't do it"
"Mine doesn't look like that at all!"
"I want to do it over!"
This isn't working!"
"I quit!"
I guided mostly; helped if it was truly needed, especially in technique; or if there were tears, tantrums.
But
my favorite message to relay to children about art is:
"There are no mistakes in art. It's all beautiful." I assure with a smile.
This probably doesn't fit with the elementary curriculum, but it's true. I haven't been fired for sharing this doctrine, and I was invited back, so... you do the math. Or the art, rather.
In the professional creative world, they're often called "happy mistakes". Often the coolest visuals are unintended, mistakes.
Not fussy, contrived or over-thought.
Just as in life, there are few mistakes that can't be fixed. Many don't need fixing. The path we follow is full of bumps and drips, and squiggles that take us right to the place we need to be.
Original, unique, perfect for us.
I'm getting a little lofty for 1st grade art class now, aren't I? I'd better tone it down.
Should I skip the beret?
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
Data LamBasted
Here's a sure sign that your name is on a random database with really bad information. This came for my husband today...and his birthday was 3 months ago. Teehee.
It's the thought that counts, right?
Friday, May 11, 2012
I'm All Ears, Honey
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| Van Gogh's Ear 1888 |
"I can't!"
"Why not?"
"Because this cereal."
"What?"
"This cereal is too loud. It makes it hard to hear!"
Alrighty then. This I can understand. Even we mere mortals with typical sensory processing can relate. Funny how he appears deaf when I call out to him at times, lost in his own world. Strange how he talks so loudly that everyone turns to stare, yet crunchy cereal chewing overtakes his ability to hear Spongebob 5 feet away.
Scooter's sensory issues are a moving target. I never know how he'll react. Even if I followed him around with a notebook - which I do in my head anyway - I'd never discover a pattern, be able to predict his needs. Just when I think I've got him figured out, he switches it up on me.
Scooter was truly bestowed upon me to keep me on my toes. I love to dance to a funky beat; but I'd love to be able to choose my own songs, tempo, bass, treble, balance.
Volume. Pitch. Harmony.
My senses are hyper-focused on your every move, kiddo.
Sensory Assimilation.
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