Uniquely Child 2

Child 2 went to this preschool that I call "Veeeeeery Berkeley." Picture a preschool created in Berkeley in the early 70s, apply every stereotype you have about Berkeley and imagine what that preschool would be like. Yeah, that's how it was, just like what you're imagining. I also call it "clothing optional," and I've been saying that Kindergarten is going to be a strange culture shock for him when he learns that he's supposed to keep his clothes on all day long.

Well, this morning another mom, whose child also attended this preschool, stopped me on the yard with the following information:

Other Mom: I had to help (your child) get dressed yesterday. He started taking his clothes off on the yard and I stopped him and said "I think we're supposed to leave our clothes on here."

Me: Oh, man, it was just a matter of time...

Other Mom: And he asked me "are you sure?" so I had to ask his teacher if you're supposed to keep your clothes on in Kindergarten; she said you were.

Me: How far did he get?

Other Mom: He got his shirt off and was just about to take off his pants when I stopped him.

That's my boy!

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More about cats

So... remember how I said I hate cats? And then remember how I said we might only have 3 now instead of 4?

Yeah. Not so much.

So, about a week ago, hubs wakes me up about 1 in the morning because I needed to "come see McDougal's leg, I think it's broken." Le sigh. I was like "WTF?!? Hell no! Okay, fine." and, sure enough, there's McDougal (pictured, but about 2 years ago. Y'know, I'm not even sure if I'm spelling his name right; how embarrassing) walking on 3 paws with one of his legs dangling lamely at his side.

This is the cat that never comes inside; he's basically feral. He lives in the yard and only comes inside to eat (kind of like the raccoons, actually) he refuses to be touched by human hands, I don't think I've ever actually pet him, not since he was the size he was in that picture up there, anyway. And now he's got a broken fucking leg and it's 1 in the morning. And, I'm not wearing any pants.

So, we go and get the cat cage, although in this case it's a plastic Ikea bin with holes drilled into the lid, and we put the wailing, angry cat in the bin and safely seal him in with duct tape... and, of course, our perfect cat containment method fails and the broken ass cat with the lame leg squeezes himself out of the box and zooms through the cat door before you can say "OH MY GOD IT'S A FLYING CAT!" And so I go out the door after him, in my tank top and my no pants at 1 in the morning, and end up on my hands and knees in the driveway, looking at him hiding directly in the middle underneath my giant car where there's no way in hell I'm going to be able to get him out of there. I think he actually flipped me off with one of his little paws. So, we'll wait for him to come out, right? Okay, we'll wait. I'm allowed to go back to bed and hubs agrees to stand watch and will come and wake me up as soon as the cat makes an appearance.

Feral days are just beginning

Okay, so now it's a week later and we haven't seen hide nor fur of him. We assume the worst. Wouldn't you? He's got a broken leg, he hasn't come in the house so he hasn't eaten anything, he won't allow himself to be touched by human hands so it's not like a neighbor is going to adopt him, how the HELL can he survive? But we've informed the neighbors of the situation and everybody has been on the lookout. Anyway, it's a week later and Child 2 comes into the room and announces "MCDOUGAL IS IN THE TV ROOM!" and suffice it to say we were very surprised. But we block off the doors and I go out and I buy an actual cat carrier since it's 1 in the afternoon at this point (and I have pants on), and the next day (which was today) hubs brings him to the vet. We have 2 options: 1. Surgery ($2000) or 2. Splint his terribly, terribly broken leg, keep him locked in a dog kennel type thing so he can't run around, administer pain killers and antibiotics twice a day and bring him back to the vet once a week for a check up. For five weeks. This option was $500 and was the one we chose.

So, now we have a feral cat with a splint on his leg locked in a cage in our garage screaming his fucking head off, and we get to go in there twice a day and give him medicine. But what is our other option? Let him walk around in constant pain with a broken ass leg? Let him just die?

Anybody want a cat with a broken leg? He's really cool, as far as you know. And free!

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Fuck. Politics.

The state of California is supposed to pass a budget every year which would begin its fiscal year on July 1. A 2/3rd majority vote in the Legislature is required to pass a budget and every year they argue and bicker and act like fucking partisan shitheads and the budget gets stalled and stalled and stalled some more. As far back as I can remember the state has never even come close to making its deadline.

Unfortunately this means that organizations that rely on state funding are pretty much screwed. If they're lucky they have money in the bank and can hang on and wait until the funding comes through. One of my clients is not so lucky. They are a nonprofit organization that gets its funding from the California Department of Education. Their contract with the CDE has been renewed but they can't get paid until the state budget is passed. They deal with this every year and being a nonprofit organization that serves kids they are very cash strapped. They've had a bit of a reserve but they've been spending it down and now they're just screwed.

I spent the morning coming up with scenarios for how much longer they had until they have to give notice on their office space. Maybe they can get a loan, and surely the state will pass its budget by January, right? But even so, there's not enough money in the bank to cover expenses past November 30th, no matter what. Once the budget is passed, they'll probably get a check about a month or two later. But in the meantime, they're just fucking screwed. Because of partisan politics. Which brings me back to my original point.

I'm sure Meg Whitman will save us from all of this, so... it's cool.

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Birthday parties and autism

I have this unanswered evite sitting in my inbox right now. A kid in Child 1's class is having a birthday party and we're invited. I asked Child 1 if he wanted to go and he said no, which I knew he would. He hates parties; he hates having to interact socially with other kids. He even said just now that he doesn't like cake, which is an enormous lie because he fucking loves cake, but that's his response when you tell him things like "but they'll have cake there!" The offer of cake just isn't worth having to endure the party.

I never know what to do when I get these things. I could make him go, and we could hang out for a while, and he would be miserable but maybe he might have some fun in the end? So, do we go in the off chance that he decides he doesn't actually hate it? Or, do we go because we were invited and that's what you're supposed to do? Or, do we go because at some point the invitations are going to stop coming and we might as well go now while we have the chance?

No, of course, the answer is no, we're not going to go, because he doesn't want to go and I'm not going to make him. Maybe if I were a better teacher I could turn it into a learning experience for him, but as I've said before, that's just not where my skills are. This is that thing I'm constantly bumping up again, though: my internal conflict about what he's "supposed" to be like and how he really is. My instincts always tell me to let him be himself, in this case that would mean not going; but my societally-implanted fear tells me that we should go because that's what the normals would do. Then there's that other part of me that berates myself for not being better at this, I should be able to make this a teachable moment for him, but I just can't/don't know how.

So, as is now my custom, I will make an excuse about how we're busy that day (we're not) and thank the parents profusely for the invitation. I guess I can take heart in the fact that one day the invitations will stop and I won't have this internal struggle to deal with anymore. Sigh.

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Song of the day: Two Step

Love these guys.

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Out of the mouths of babes 12

Child 1: What are you doing, Mama? (LOVE how he asks, by the way)

Me: I'm cleaning.

Child 1: You're not supposed to be cleaning; you're supposed to be making dinner!

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Spotted in Berkeley

My favorite sign. :) This is in front of the City building downtown and it labels 2 parking spots and they were both filled with these adorable little electric cars. They look like toys.

Later I saw a woman with "MOTHER" tattooed across her chest. She was with a small child and while I was unable to spot any visible label of "CHILD" or "DAUGHTER," no doubt there was something on her somewhere so as to prevent any future confusion. I'm sure we can all see how awkward that might be....

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There's something wrong with me

Last night was Back to School Night. I'd never done that Run-Between-Two-Classes thing before; we prioritized Kindergarten so I barely even got to hear what Child 1's teacher had to say. It's okay, I'm sure I'll be meeting with her a lot in the coming months.

Anyway, many of you may know this about me already, but I am a chronic volunteer-er (we have a support group, it's called the PTA Exec. Board, and we meet at the Bread Workshop). I spend so much fucking time doing shit for that damn school it's a miracle I manage to get myself dressed in the morning. Okay, the truth is that sometimes I don't manage to get myself dressed in the morning, but the important thing here is that I get my children dressed in the morning. Anyway, I do a lot for the school, but one thing I've never done is volunteer in the classroom. It might help the teacher and the other kids but I don't think it would be helpful for Child 1, because having me around would make him ignore what he's supposed to be doing and just want to sit in my lap all day, so I think it serves him best if I just stay away. I don't think Child 2 will have that problem, though, so ... um, I think I may have signed up for stuff I don't have time for. And I've never been a room parent before, I just don't have the time and trying to get other people to step up is too fucking exhausting so I don't bother, so last night I was like "I'm not going to be a room parent! I'm just walking right by both of those sign up sheets! HA HA!" But then I looked at the lists and there was only one person signed up for each one, and in the K room it's a brand new parent and I didn't want them to have to do it all by themselves, so, um.... I think I'm now a room parent in both my kids' rooms.

Seriously, will somebody please shoot me? Just shoot me now, at least that way I might get some sleep....

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Song of the day: Hallelujah (Jeff Buckley)

Damn good song. Written by Leonard Cohen and covered by a bunch of people, but this version is by far the best. I used to sing this song to Child 1 when he was a baby and I was putting him to sleep. Also: Jeff Buckley was really hot. Fucking shame.

Hallelujah
Jeff Buckley (written by Leonard Cohen)

Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you
To a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
This is love not some kind of a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Maybe there's a God above
And all I ever learned from love
Was how to shoot at someone who outdrew you
It's not a cry you can hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

Yeah but it's not a complaint that you hear tonight,
It's not the laughter of someone who claims to have seen the light
No it's a cold and it's a very lonely Hallelujah.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah…

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I made a rage comic!

Most of you probably don't read reddit or 4chan, but these comics are (usually) 4 panel comics that end in a person being pissed off and saying "FFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-" (short for "FUUUUUCCKKKK!!!") More info here and here.

Anyway, this just happened and I thought it would make a delightful comic, but I'm only going to put it here and not on reddit or anything :)

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Top 10 Snappy Answers to Annoying Comments

From http://autism.about.com/od/inspirationideas/tp/snappy.htm

If you're a parent with a child on the spectrum, you've probably responded to the same annoying remarks and questions a thousand times. Here's a handy list of responses that...you'll probably never use out loud (but are fun to imagine using)!

1. He can’t be autistic -- he can talk! (or make eye contact, smile, engage)
And yet, amazingly, he’s still autistic! Y’see, autism is a spectrum disorder, and that means…

2. Oh, she must be SO good at math! (or science or music)
Actually, her great talent is in memorizing and reciting lines from Sponge Bob videos! (Or those annoying Thomas the Tank Engine songs!)

3. All he needs is more discipline, and he’ll get the message.
Yup, it’s true -- if you give a child enough time outs, he’ll just stop being autistic. And if I speak French to you loudly enough, you’ll become fluent!

4. You poor thing, it must be so upsetting to have a child with a disability.
Yes, it can be hard. And pity really helps me to get through the day and feel better about myself and my child. So…thanks so much!

5. Will he be able to go to college (or get married or hold down a job)?
Hm. Good question. By the way, has your daughter’s divorce been finalized yet? And I’m so sorry to hear that your son was recently laid off from his job…

6. I have a friend whose child was autistic, and she cured him!
Wow! So I guess she’s enjoying the millions she made after figuring out how to cure autism? I bet her second home is a yacht!

7. If she can’t behave properly, you shouldn’t BRING her to the grocery store!
Wow -- that would be great. Should I fax you my grocery list, or send it by email? I’ll really enjoy the delivery service!

8. We can’t include him in typical classes, it wouldn’t be fair to the other kids.
Hm, that’s an interesting perspective. So I guess you have a pretty big endowment to pay for all the law suits? That must be great!

9. We can’t accept her at our school because she doesn’t have a learning disability
Ohhhh… what a shame! Oh, wait, look, she’s suddenly developed dyslexia! Can she come to your school now?

10. You should make more time for yourself!
You’re so right! So will you be babysitting tonight or tomorrow night?

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The kid called my bluff

I hate it when they do that

Me: Child 2, go brush your teeth.

Child 2: But I'm too tired (repeat ~5 times)

Me: Do you want to go to the beach tomorrow?

Child 2: Yes!

Me: Then you'd better go brush your teeth.

Child 2: Why? What would happen?

Me (I'm not the one taking them to the beach tomorrow, and I won't even be around when they go, and he damn well knows this): UHHHhhhhhhhhh.....  then, um.... you.... uh.... can't? go to the beach?

Child 2: Actually I will go to the beach tomorrow, but I'll go brush my teeth, anyway, or they'll get all rotten and fall out. Except these two (points). Because they're healthy and in the shade.

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Things I really, really hate

In the letter that came home with Child 1 from his new teacher today:

Your child should generally be able to complete homework on his/her own. It's great if you go over the work with your child after s/he finishes.

Yeah, well, not so much in this house. Not even close, actually.

Fuck you, autism.

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Uniquely Child 1

Excellent penmanship. Correct capitalization, including appropriately placed dash. And, of course, multi-colored BART tracks; probably 100% accurate and to scale.

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So. How did it go... ?

The badge that Child 2 wore home today. I'm keeping it; I earned it more than he did.

CHILD 1

He's smooth as silk, man; he has no worries (except fire drills, which were mentioned briefly last night and then not again, so far). Since we had met his teacher yesterday, he's all kinds of prepared for 3rd grade. Last night we were discussing the issue and I asked him what he thought of his teacher. His response: "She's very nice. Not like my LAST teacher.... Mr. F." I was giddy with delight at how hilarious that was and this morning I told as many people as I possibly could, including Mr. F who laughed uproariously. Then after picking him up today I asked him how it went and he got a big smile and said "My teacher is really nice." I think he might have a crush on her. That's awesome.

People have been asking me a lot about that whole "pretend to be normal on the yard" thing that I talked about last week, so here's something I said about the subject in an email I sent to a friend that I'm just copying and pasting (easier than trying to formulate new thoughts); perhaps controversial, perhaps no, but these are my thoughts on the subject:

Yes, in theory kids should be taught to be accepting, but in reality the world is a cruel, harsh place and if you're weird or you stand out you're going to get shit for it. Doesn't it make sense to at least implant the idea that if you want to make your life easier you need to learn how to be like everybody else?

I'm not saying I agree with this, at all, actually I think that everybody should be free to let their freak flag fly, but the worrier mom in me is afraid of what's going to happen when he gets to middle school and high school and the kids could potentially fuck him up bad. He's not socially savvy enough to figure this out for himself and he likely never will be, so shouldn't the grownups who care for him teach him to at least pretend to be normal?

This is probably the hardest part about having a kid with autism, my internal conflict between letting him naturally be who he is and how that directly contradicts with societal norms of how kids are "supposed" to be. One day I hope that he is able to make these decisions for himself and I hope that he will be able to accept himself for who he is, but in the meantime it's my job to (try to) prepare him for whatever kind of shit is headed his way.

CHILD 2

Also smooth as silk. The past few days I've been afraid to ask him too much about how he was feeling because I didn't want my anxiety to rub off on him so we just haven't been talking about it at all. He's so mellow, though (one of these days I'm going to blog about how much he's like my brother; but not today). This morning, though, while getting shoes on he says "I'm actually a little bit afraid." "Why?" I said. "Because what if I make a mistake?" I suppose I could have asked him "like what?" but I didn't really think the specifics were that important at that point so I just said "then you say 'UH OH! I made a mistake!' and you try again." He seemed satisfied with that answer. And then in the car on the way, I had been so focused on getting pictures I forgot to buckle him up, so we're halfway down the street when he reminds me that he wasn't buckled. A perfect life lesson! See? Mama makes mistakes, too! HA HA! That was the plan all along, as far as you know! Because I'm all about the life lessons, you see.

Going into the classroom, I wasn't allowed in the door so I walked him up the ramp and he hugged me and said "you're going to be standing here waiting for me, right? And then whenever I look out here I'll see you and feel better?" (heart = break) I said no, I wasn't going to stand there all day, just for one minute until he found his seat and stuff. He hugged me, walked in the door, saw a friend from preschool and they were both immediately doing that 5 year old excited loud talking thing "MY LUNCH IS IN MY BACKPACK? AND MY CUBBY HAS MY NAME ON IT? AND MY MOM'S GOING TO PICK ME UP AFTER SCHOOL?...." etc. I wanted to barf, but I didn't.

Later in the day I was in the library helping to put books on the shelf; I was by the back door, which was open, and the door looks directly over the Kindergarten yard and into the door of the classroom he was in, which was also open. I couldn't see him.... but I could hear him. His voice was ringing out across the damn yard, he was obviously playing with something that he was making a dinosaur which was eating something else and possibly having a race. He does that a lot, make things race; but then they take turns winning because he's just that kind of guy. The only information I got out of him about how his day was had to do with the gingerbread cookies he ate (first he ate the arms, and then the legs, and then the head). That's just good stuff, right there.

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