We were supposed to have Z's IEP meeting at school last week, but unfortunately the school psychologist had to cancel, so we rescheduled for December. The main reason I'm disappointed (besides the fact that I took a day off work for it) is that I'm very curious about some information that I think will get revealed.
At a meeting a few weeks ago, the Special Ed teacher mentioned that she had Z's IQ tested, because (I'm quoting), "you have to admit, we're all a little curious." Yeah, not an educational reason at all -- just wondering! She assured me quickly that I'd signed off on it (yes, I signed many, many papers). And while I might not have sought to have her IQ tested myself, now that it has been, I'm kind of curious. Especially since they let it slip that her scores were even higher than the first grade GATE tests had indicated. In fact, the school psych said they were "not used to working with students with scores like this."
Of course, we know she's bright, and a number isn't going to mean much in the long run unless she can also figure out how to eat with a fork and go to the bathroom before she leaks pee. But I am still pretty curious.
She's been pretty good lately. I mean, she has her moments of shouting, doing stuff long after we've politely asked her to stop (whistling, and thumping around in a cardboard box, just to speak of today). But we've been going outside a lot -- to the park, to the nature center -- and that seems to calm her.
The boy is just a love, as always. He gave me my first un-asked-for kiss a couple days ago. He's making lots of signs. Today he saw a kestrel and made the sign for bird. He also grunted and shouted at me to get the water bottle, and I said, "Lochlan, just ask me, please. Say, 'Water, please, Mama.'" He didn't look at me showing the water sign (he never took his eyes off the bottle), but he made the sign.
For some reason, although he can climb, walk while holding hands or strollers, and even run (while holding on to the couch), he just will not walk on his own. The doctor said to call if he wasn't walking by 15 months, which is now only two weeks away, but I'm not sure I will call. He obviously has the motion down and the strength -- he just needs the confidence to let go.
One thing that I hope I don't forget as he gets older is how he says "cat." He LOVES cats and gets excited when one of ours saunters by. He says cat in a high or low pitch, in a statement or question, as a yell or whisper, but most often just like "CAAAAAAAAAT!" Like a happy, high pitched sigh.
He's not a picky eater, but it surprises me how many things he will eat. Like, sometimes Sweetie will give him a Spanish olive. He grabs it quickly, pops it in his mouth, gives a little shudder of horror, then happily eats the next one. He was demanding to eat some spicy sriracha peas the other day, so finally I let him have one, thinking he'd spit it out and get over it. No, he wanted more and more, and got mad and cried when I put them away. The other night I made enchiladas with mole sauce, and while Z was throwing a hissy over how spicy they were, he was munching away.
Thanksgiving is in a few days. I'm thankful for the same things I always am -- family, home, health, my job -- but I am especially happy for two things. I'm happy that we got Z's autism diagnosis this year. I think that although it's slow going, it's really going to help us help her. And I'm thankful that Lochlan is such an easy, sweet little guy as he grows older and his personality starts to shine.
The news these days is bleak. Like... bleak as fuck. Donald Trump is running for president, and he keeps saying these insanely racist things, and after each one you think "Well, this is it! He's going to alienate people, drop in the polls, and quit the campaign, because people are basically good and sane." And then instead, people are like, "Yay, Trump! Right on! Brown people are terrible!" And you're like... really? Are people... NOT good and sane? Yeah, that pretty much sums it up. I'm sick to death of this election season and we have a year left to go.
I couldn't help myself and I took the bait of someone posting an anti-Obama AND anti-refugee meme tonight, so they posted an anti-Obama thing on my timeline. And I should really just have a no-debating-politics with people who don't have enough brain cells to rub two together policy, but I posted a like "hey, here's why you're wrong, and here's the links to prove it." And got called a dumbass. By, literally, probably one of the dumbest people I know. So, like, just fuck it all, man! I AM a dumbass, for engaging with that bullshit! Learn to let it go, Mockula, because that guy can't find his ass with both hands, let alone make his way to the nearest polling place. It doesn't matter one whit whether I can change his mind, show him the error of his ways, or whatever. OMmmmm, mothafucka. Ommmmmmm.
Monday, November 23, 2015
Wednesday, November 04, 2015
Learning as we go.
Let's get right to the point: Z's behavior has dropped off precipitously in the last few weeks. We've gotten numerous "think sheets" from the school, and yesterday I got a call that she was in in-school suspension.
I drove over there thinking about what I could do to just ease the stress for myself. Take up alcoholism as a hobby? Marijuana? Smoking -- I don't even like cigarettes, but there was a long moment where having an excuse to leave the house for periodic ten-minute breaks sounded fairly appealing. I mean, I'd love to just go soak in a hot tub and get a massage or something, but that means leaving Sweetie alone with both kids, which is basically cruel and unusual punishment. If I so much as go to the grocery store without the girl, generally she freaks out, runs into the driveway, and then is threatened with losing everything she ever loved. So my punishment for leaving is having to deal with her when she can't have TV, her Kindle, etc.
ANYWAY... I went into this meeting, and mainly because I joke when I am upset, I said, "I just want to say to begin with, that I breastfed her. I followed the recommendations on screen time. I took prenatal vitamins."
And it was a joke, but also sort of not. I mean, Sweetie and I really have done everything we thought was right as parents after careful consideration and lots of reading. I sometimes feel like if there had been some switched-at-birth scenario, 9 out of 10 of the stranger babies we might have raised would now be pretty awesome contributing members of society.
Conversely, in the stranger family, Z would have about a 4 in 5 chance of having been forced to drink a bleach milkshake to exorcise her demons. (Well, more likely, of having the everloving shit beaten out of her on a regular basis.)
So we are in this sort of limbo state right now, where the behavioral therapy people haven't gotten us on their schedule yet, and the school is still evaluating her for her IEP, and we know what's wrong but not how to address it, and in the meantime she's been pinching and grabbing people in class.
I had an informal meeting with the principal and the special ed teacher (and I have more official one that will include the classroom teacher on Friday) and we all agreed on one thing: Zadie is an unusual case. She's stubborn. She's ambivalent about rewards and punishments. She's NOT high-functioning, but she's highly verbal and so smart that it's easy to forget that. As the special ed teacher said, we're used to kids like my cousin (who also attends her school). To look at or talk to them is to be reminded of their disability. But that's not so with Zadie, so we're all on a learning curve together. How do we help a kid who according to the teacher probably ought to be in 12th grade English (flattering, but not exactly true) but who can't choose which bathroom stall to use, panics, and pees herself?
How do you help a kid who can explain sound waves in understandable layman's terms, but can't tell by her classmates' expressions that they don't like it when she dances around them, swinging her backpack?
It's hard to reconcile the fact that she can narrate a story, play with her brother, draw a portrait, make bad puns, sing along with Queen, and also not be neurotypical.
I'm not some anti-Western medicine hippie, but it's rare that I take medicines myself. I've met my general practitioner about three times. Once as a follow up to my appendectomy and I think twice for hives. I never thought I'd have a kid that takes medicine twice a day to help her focus, medicine at night to help her sleep, medicine in the afternoon to help her poop... It just strikes me as strange sometimes how much help she needs just to function in ways that I never have to give a second thought to.
And yet, if you've met her, if you know her, you know she can be funny, sweet, charming, athletic, loving, and creative.
Today, she didn't pinch anybody. There was no think sheet. I didn't get a call from the principal. And so, you know, fuck it -- I went to Toys R Us and bought her a Shopkin (all the rage plastic shit from China). I don't know what tomorrow will bring. But she's asleep, and we snuggled, and it's quiet, and I haven't yet taken up smoking. It's good right now.
I drove over there thinking about what I could do to just ease the stress for myself. Take up alcoholism as a hobby? Marijuana? Smoking -- I don't even like cigarettes, but there was a long moment where having an excuse to leave the house for periodic ten-minute breaks sounded fairly appealing. I mean, I'd love to just go soak in a hot tub and get a massage or something, but that means leaving Sweetie alone with both kids, which is basically cruel and unusual punishment. If I so much as go to the grocery store without the girl, generally she freaks out, runs into the driveway, and then is threatened with losing everything she ever loved. So my punishment for leaving is having to deal with her when she can't have TV, her Kindle, etc.
ANYWAY... I went into this meeting, and mainly because I joke when I am upset, I said, "I just want to say to begin with, that I breastfed her. I followed the recommendations on screen time. I took prenatal vitamins."
And it was a joke, but also sort of not. I mean, Sweetie and I really have done everything we thought was right as parents after careful consideration and lots of reading. I sometimes feel like if there had been some switched-at-birth scenario, 9 out of 10 of the stranger babies we might have raised would now be pretty awesome contributing members of society.
Conversely, in the stranger family, Z would have about a 4 in 5 chance of having been forced to drink a bleach milkshake to exorcise her demons. (Well, more likely, of having the everloving shit beaten out of her on a regular basis.)
So we are in this sort of limbo state right now, where the behavioral therapy people haven't gotten us on their schedule yet, and the school is still evaluating her for her IEP, and we know what's wrong but not how to address it, and in the meantime she's been pinching and grabbing people in class.
I had an informal meeting with the principal and the special ed teacher (and I have more official one that will include the classroom teacher on Friday) and we all agreed on one thing: Zadie is an unusual case. She's stubborn. She's ambivalent about rewards and punishments. She's NOT high-functioning, but she's highly verbal and so smart that it's easy to forget that. As the special ed teacher said, we're used to kids like my cousin (who also attends her school). To look at or talk to them is to be reminded of their disability. But that's not so with Zadie, so we're all on a learning curve together. How do we help a kid who according to the teacher probably ought to be in 12th grade English (flattering, but not exactly true) but who can't choose which bathroom stall to use, panics, and pees herself?
How do you help a kid who can explain sound waves in understandable layman's terms, but can't tell by her classmates' expressions that they don't like it when she dances around them, swinging her backpack?
It's hard to reconcile the fact that she can narrate a story, play with her brother, draw a portrait, make bad puns, sing along with Queen, and also not be neurotypical.
I'm not some anti-Western medicine hippie, but it's rare that I take medicines myself. I've met my general practitioner about three times. Once as a follow up to my appendectomy and I think twice for hives. I never thought I'd have a kid that takes medicine twice a day to help her focus, medicine at night to help her sleep, medicine in the afternoon to help her poop... It just strikes me as strange sometimes how much help she needs just to function in ways that I never have to give a second thought to.
And yet, if you've met her, if you know her, you know she can be funny, sweet, charming, athletic, loving, and creative.
Today, she didn't pinch anybody. There was no think sheet. I didn't get a call from the principal. And so, you know, fuck it -- I went to Toys R Us and bought her a Shopkin (all the rage plastic shit from China). I don't know what tomorrow will bring. But she's asleep, and we snuggled, and it's quiet, and I haven't yet taken up smoking. It's good right now.
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