...to go semi-private here. I've sent a bunch of invites out, so hopefully you received one! And if not, hopefully you'll realize that you can't view my site and you'll email me. But how would you know that I am hoping these things? You can't if you didn't get the friggin' email! Oi...I am over complicating yet another aspect of my life :)
Supposedly if you are a blog author you should be granted automatic access.
And now to see if anyone still reads this. I'm hoping that I'll have some hangers-on. I also am still very happy to grow the readership, so feel free to ask me to add someone. I really do want to be public, but I realized that in responding to some other blogs I was stupidly linking my nieces and nephews to my blog. And really, they don't need to read this crap, do they?!
Onward and upward!
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Monday, September 8, 2008
What's Your Story?
No talk of autism, bureaucracy, schools or insurance companies today!! (For some reason I envisioned Kermit the Frog doing his 'yyyyeeeeeeaaaaa!' with his little frog hands going wild as he departed the stage after announcing a performer on the Muppet Show. You too?! No? Huh....)
Anyway, yesterday I saw Jesus on the side of Highway 1. And if it wasn't Jesus, then it was someone who a.)thought he was Jesus, or b.) was a distant relative of Jesus delivering His word.
You think I'm kidding, but I am not. Oh how I wish I'd had a camera.
As I drove M to horseback riding we passed by a man with a foot-long white beard, a turban on his head, a white, flowy robe with a dark green shawl over it, leather, Teva-like sandals, and what I am pretty sure were Rayban sunglasses. He was walking along carrying nothing but a simple bedroll. An hour and a half later as we returned home, he was sitting on the side of the road taking a rest. He didn't have his thumb out. He carried no signs indicating his desire to go to 'Santa Cruz' or elsewhere southbound. He was just a dude walking along the beautiful Pacific Coast Highway looking like a prophet.
It made me think how often I see random folks walking, cycling, thumbing their way down this highway. Way more than I have ever noticed anywhere else I have lived. I suppose the ocean calls many this way. It is a beautiful road to travel, to say the least. But what's the deal with some of these people? Where are they going? Do they even know? Do they have a permanent address? Is anyone looking for them? Do they have children who miss them?
I think quite a few of these people are drifters. I used to find the thought of being by oneself horribly saddening and lonely. I have this weird recollection of sitting in a KFC in Bristol, Tennesse, on our family's yearly drive in the two-door Pontiac from New Jersey to Arkansas, to visit relatives. I was probably about seven years old. We were eating our chicken in a booth and there was this shabbily-dressed old man in the booth behind us. I vividly remember watching him eat and feeling that this man was very sad and lonely and that he had no one in his life to eat with or be loved by. I cried when we got back into the car, but couldn't tell anyone why for fear they would think I was silly.
Now when I see people who are alone I just wonder if this is their destiny and if they are happy and content where they are.
I think I'm going to write a song about this. Can't you just imagine it?
I saw Jesus walking down Highway one.
He didn't have a sign or a hitchhiker's thumb.
He had a white beard and a robe made of white.
He was walkin' along no destination in sight.
I think he was a drifter.
I think he was alone.
I think he was a-lookin' for a river to throw a stone.
I saw Jesus walking down Highway one.
Thank you very much, I'll put the pipe down now.
(I kid...really!)
Anyway, yesterday I saw Jesus on the side of Highway 1. And if it wasn't Jesus, then it was someone who a.)thought he was Jesus, or b.) was a distant relative of Jesus delivering His word.
You think I'm kidding, but I am not. Oh how I wish I'd had a camera.
As I drove M to horseback riding we passed by a man with a foot-long white beard, a turban on his head, a white, flowy robe with a dark green shawl over it, leather, Teva-like sandals, and what I am pretty sure were Rayban sunglasses. He was walking along carrying nothing but a simple bedroll. An hour and a half later as we returned home, he was sitting on the side of the road taking a rest. He didn't have his thumb out. He carried no signs indicating his desire to go to 'Santa Cruz' or elsewhere southbound. He was just a dude walking along the beautiful Pacific Coast Highway looking like a prophet.
It made me think how often I see random folks walking, cycling, thumbing their way down this highway. Way more than I have ever noticed anywhere else I have lived. I suppose the ocean calls many this way. It is a beautiful road to travel, to say the least. But what's the deal with some of these people? Where are they going? Do they even know? Do they have a permanent address? Is anyone looking for them? Do they have children who miss them?
I think quite a few of these people are drifters. I used to find the thought of being by oneself horribly saddening and lonely. I have this weird recollection of sitting in a KFC in Bristol, Tennesse, on our family's yearly drive in the two-door Pontiac from New Jersey to Arkansas, to visit relatives. I was probably about seven years old. We were eating our chicken in a booth and there was this shabbily-dressed old man in the booth behind us. I vividly remember watching him eat and feeling that this man was very sad and lonely and that he had no one in his life to eat with or be loved by. I cried when we got back into the car, but couldn't tell anyone why for fear they would think I was silly.
Now when I see people who are alone I just wonder if this is their destiny and if they are happy and content where they are.
I think I'm going to write a song about this. Can't you just imagine it?
I saw Jesus walking down Highway one.
He didn't have a sign or a hitchhiker's thumb.
He had a white beard and a robe made of white.
He was walkin' along no destination in sight.
I think he was a drifter.
I think he was alone.
I think he was a-lookin' for a river to throw a stone.
I saw Jesus walking down Highway one.
Thank you very much, I'll put the pipe down now.
(I kid...really!)
Friday, September 5, 2008
I don't get it...
It's been a long, first two weeks of school here. M has not been adjusting well, and the other half and I are beside ourselves as to figure out what is going on with him. I literally have to drag or carry him down the sidewalk and steps that lead to his building each morning. It sucks. The aides are trying their hardest to help me work through it. They meet us at the base of the steps now and we do a quick hand-off so as to not prolong the tantrum. Supposedly he calms down pretty quickly after I leave. Did I mention this sucks?
This isn't my kid. My kid likes going to school. My kid only had the rare tantrum while walking into school, and in fact usually barely even looked back at me as he grabbed his teacher's hand. So what is going on here?
The news got even worse at last night's back to school night. I spoke afterward to his new teacher. She, like everyone at this school, is absolutely lovely and truly trying their hardest to figure out my little guy and how to help him to work to his potential. But the truth is, M, whose autism once presented as PDD-NOS, (For those lucky enough to not know what that means, it stands for pervasive developmental disorder-not otherwise specified; or someone who doesn't meet all the criteria for classic autism and is considered high functioning), now presents much more classically autistic; and the staff just doesn't have the kind of training necessary to deal with it, in my opinion. His little body cannot stop humming and moving. He flicks his fingers in front of his eyes quite frequently while making these guttural sounds, which for him, actually indicate pleasure. But for me, indicate autism. He has hundreds of words and can indicate simple needs, but he seems to choose not to be conversational at most times unless you are fortunate enough to have one of those 'moments' with him where he's really with you. Anyhow, I asked the teacher if he was floundering and she confirmed my fears. She said that he is 'content in his own little world,' and that 'he prefers to flick his fingers, talk gibberish to himself, and tick instead of engage in one on one teaching activities.' Even though I've witnessed this myself at home over the past five months, it hit me straight in the gut to hear it from the teacher.
So here's the real intent of this post and the thing I hope everyone will give some extra thought to after reading: At the beginning of the back to school program, a member of the parent-teacher organization spoke about the year's fundraisers and what past funds have been used for. Last year, the PTO raised $67,000. All of that money is already spent for this year's areas of need. I was so taken aback from one of these things that I failed to remember the other two. The parent said that unfortunately they just weren't able to cover music this year for the school like they had the past few years and that this year the school also presented them with the urgent need for some of this money to pay for physical education. You hear about p.e. and music being cut at schools all around the country, but in truth, I've never actually been at one of 'those schools' and apparently was living in quite the little suburban bubble.
I came home and watched part of the Republican Nat'l Convention and I apologize for spewing political venom here, but I was MAD! I had knots in my stomach as I watched these politicians, who if elected again are just going to continue spending money on invading other countries or drilling for oil and NOT where we need it: on our children. In our schools. Places that are really going to make a difference.
If there isn't money for music...and there was money for p.e. only because of the parents...there isn't going to be money for my child to get the fair education he has been promised by our government.
Vote for real change.
This has been brought to you by a pissed off Mom who wishes none of this bureaucratic b.s. that I have to deal with on a daily basis with schools and insurance companies on anyone else and hopes that before you think that Sarah Palin, the mother of a child with Downs Syndrome, is going to be a great advocate for parents of children with special needs, that you realize it is all just a sham. She actually cut 62% of the special education funding in her home state as governor.
Okay...somebody get this girl a glass of wine :)
This isn't my kid. My kid likes going to school. My kid only had the rare tantrum while walking into school, and in fact usually barely even looked back at me as he grabbed his teacher's hand. So what is going on here?
The news got even worse at last night's back to school night. I spoke afterward to his new teacher. She, like everyone at this school, is absolutely lovely and truly trying their hardest to figure out my little guy and how to help him to work to his potential. But the truth is, M, whose autism once presented as PDD-NOS, (For those lucky enough to not know what that means, it stands for pervasive developmental disorder-not otherwise specified; or someone who doesn't meet all the criteria for classic autism and is considered high functioning), now presents much more classically autistic; and the staff just doesn't have the kind of training necessary to deal with it, in my opinion. His little body cannot stop humming and moving. He flicks his fingers in front of his eyes quite frequently while making these guttural sounds, which for him, actually indicate pleasure. But for me, indicate autism. He has hundreds of words and can indicate simple needs, but he seems to choose not to be conversational at most times unless you are fortunate enough to have one of those 'moments' with him where he's really with you. Anyhow, I asked the teacher if he was floundering and she confirmed my fears. She said that he is 'content in his own little world,' and that 'he prefers to flick his fingers, talk gibberish to himself, and tick instead of engage in one on one teaching activities.' Even though I've witnessed this myself at home over the past five months, it hit me straight in the gut to hear it from the teacher.
So here's the real intent of this post and the thing I hope everyone will give some extra thought to after reading: At the beginning of the back to school program, a member of the parent-teacher organization spoke about the year's fundraisers and what past funds have been used for. Last year, the PTO raised $67,000. All of that money is already spent for this year's areas of need. I was so taken aback from one of these things that I failed to remember the other two. The parent said that unfortunately they just weren't able to cover music this year for the school like they had the past few years and that this year the school also presented them with the urgent need for some of this money to pay for physical education. You hear about p.e. and music being cut at schools all around the country, but in truth, I've never actually been at one of 'those schools' and apparently was living in quite the little suburban bubble.
I came home and watched part of the Republican Nat'l Convention and I apologize for spewing political venom here, but I was MAD! I had knots in my stomach as I watched these politicians, who if elected again are just going to continue spending money on invading other countries or drilling for oil and NOT where we need it: on our children. In our schools. Places that are really going to make a difference.
If there isn't money for music...and there was money for p.e. only because of the parents...there isn't going to be money for my child to get the fair education he has been promised by our government.
Vote for real change.
This has been brought to you by a pissed off Mom who wishes none of this bureaucratic b.s. that I have to deal with on a daily basis with schools and insurance companies on anyone else and hopes that before you think that Sarah Palin, the mother of a child with Downs Syndrome, is going to be a great advocate for parents of children with special needs, that you realize it is all just a sham. She actually cut 62% of the special education funding in her home state as governor.
Okay...somebody get this girl a glass of wine :)
Monday, September 1, 2008
Quick update
Just wanted to let you all know my Mom is going to be okay. She went home from the hospital today and is feeling much better.
Thanks for all the good thoughts!
Thanks for all the good thoughts!
Saturday, August 30, 2008
It's 9:02 a.m. Do you know where your kids are?
Does anyone remember these public service announcements from when they were kids? I think it may have been an NYC affiliate thing we saw on our boob tube in New Jersey growing up. (Along with my personal favorite, the fabric pill puppets who sang the song 'This is serious! We can make you delirious! You should have a healthy fear of us. Too much of us is dangerous. No...no...no...no! Doctors tell the pharmacy. What the pills are that you will need.' And I can't remember the rest of the song, but seriously, it's weird enough that I remember that much from circa 1978.)
And, Ooh! I found it on Youtube:
Anyway, the fog is out. It is after 9 a.m. My children and other half are all still asleep.
So while it is lovely to have the quiet morning to myself, I cannot help but think it a wee bit of a cruel joke that I was unable to sleep past 7:30 on such a day.
*Edited to add: I received a call from my sister while posting. My Mom is in the hospital. I am very hopeful that what is going on with her means that it is treatable and that she will be okay, but with my Mom's past health history, I am not sure. She is apparently in a great deal of pain and my Father is naturally very upset. I am not yet sure if I need to fly there. Please, please spare an extra good thought, prayer, or lit candle for her. I am very worried.
And, Ooh! I found it on Youtube:
Anyway, the fog is out. It is after 9 a.m. My children and other half are all still asleep.
So while it is lovely to have the quiet morning to myself, I cannot help but think it a wee bit of a cruel joke that I was unable to sleep past 7:30 on such a day.
*Edited to add: I received a call from my sister while posting. My Mom is in the hospital. I am very hopeful that what is going on with her means that it is treatable and that she will be okay, but with my Mom's past health history, I am not sure. She is apparently in a great deal of pain and my Father is naturally very upset. I am not yet sure if I need to fly there. Please, please spare an extra good thought, prayer, or lit candle for her. I am very worried.
Friday, August 29, 2008
Enough to Make a Mama Cry
Today when I picked M up at school, one of his classroom aides gave me this:
I waited to open it in the car. Good thing I did because apparently reading this prompted some sort of hormonal wash over me and I started crying like a freaking baby. They'd included a $10 gift card to Peet's Coffee with it. I was so crazily touched.
I'd mentioned how I'd had three teachers thank me while I was picking up trash at M's school. One of them asked who my child was and whose classroom he was in. I reluctantly gave her his first name only as I'd planned to do this anonymously (other than telling you guys, of course!). I can only assume that that teacher passed the word along...unless, of course one of you locals decided to call the school and rat me out :)
Sometimes we need little reminders in life that there are good people left in this world. Today I got one of those and I will cherish it and let it carry me through. You know...until the next wave of cynicism hits.
I waited to open it in the car. Good thing I did because apparently reading this prompted some sort of hormonal wash over me and I started crying like a freaking baby. They'd included a $10 gift card to Peet's Coffee with it. I was so crazily touched.
I'd mentioned how I'd had three teachers thank me while I was picking up trash at M's school. One of them asked who my child was and whose classroom he was in. I reluctantly gave her his first name only as I'd planned to do this anonymously (other than telling you guys, of course!). I can only assume that that teacher passed the word along...unless, of course one of you locals decided to call the school and rat me out :)
Sometimes we need little reminders in life that there are good people left in this world. Today I got one of those and I will cherish it and let it carry me through. You know...until the next wave of cynicism hits.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Insurance
Oh, how I wish I was talking about the type of insurance you put down at the blackjack table at Vegas. That'd be a hell of a lot more fun to deal with than the real axis of evil: medical insurance companies. As I type this I have completed 24 minutes and 36 seconds of a delightful phone call with what might be the world's thickest representative. I think they purposely hire people who cannot spell, type or take proper call notes so that you have to call in EVERY SINGLE DAY repeating yourself over and over until you wonder if you're making it all up . They're trying to beat me in an awful game of who-will-give-in-first. It is absolutely infuriating.
My current dilemma is twofold: First, I am making sure that they process some claims for M's OT sessions that I mailed in with two other claims. The person who opened the envelope went as far as to look at the very top sheet of paper, process it, and pay me back. But they decided that was as much as they wanted to do and filed the other claims in the envelope away into the insurance abyss. Second, I am trying my very hardest to speak to the elusive supervisor I left a message with last Friday. I asked to speak with her as soon as a representative answered, explaining that I'd been calling for six months on this one particular unpaid invoice and didn't want a representative's assistance anymore, thank you very much. You would not believe just how long it took her to finally give up the goods and try to connect me to the supervisor. And then she had the gall to put me on hold for a good five minutes before telling me, 'I'm sorry, Laurie is on the other line. Would you like to leave a voicemail for her?' Uh, yeah. That'd be great. Fuck you very much.
So our friend Laurie calls me back later that afternoon. Naturally it was while I was in the school picking M up, so I was unable to answer. And I know that this will shock you all as much as it did me (not), but Laurie did not leave me a returnable phone number and told me she'd try me later. It's been six days, and again you will be surprised to learn that she has not yet called me back.
So now my hot-to-my-ear portable phone reads that I have been on this current call for thirty minutes and five seconds. I started this post soon after being put on hold (for the second time) and the representative has not yet gotten back on the line. She is doing 'research' for me. You know she's sitting by the water cooler talking to her cohorts saying, 'Yeah, I've got this lady on the phone right now who has been calling in for SIX MONTHS about the same claim. HAHAHAHA. And she wants to talk to a SUPERVISOR! HAHAHAHA. She actually thinks we have supervisors here? HAHAHAHA. Oh, by the way how are your kids, Betty? Did Simon ever have that 'procedure' you'd told me about? Do you think my hair looks good in this banana clip? I'm thinking of having my spider veins removed. Oh, gosh, it's been over 10 minutes since I put that crazy lady on hold. I should probably get back to her now!'
And at 33 minutes, 10 seconds she has finally returned. She has located the other claims I was calling about. (the ones I was told they had in fact received last Friday) Funny thing was that she couldn't locate them after the first 10-minute hold she put me on for 'research.'
I am now at 34 minutes 57 seconds and she just asked me 'Is it okay if I put you on hold again for another couple of minutes.' I am not making this up, people. You're getting this live, as it is occurring. Is anyone else as appalled as I am? I am thinking that I must remember to remind this woman of the original intent of my call: to speak with the supervisor. She naturally wasn't available, which is why I had this genius look into the processing of those other claims while I had a live human on the line. I could totally see myself forgetting to remind her to leave the message for Laurie that I really, really, really need to talk to her.
Alright. I am now at 41 minutes and 33 seconds. Still on hold. Can't. Freaking. Believe. This.
And I do this about once a week. Because I have lots of free time on my hands, dontcha know.
That expatriate job the other half has coveted in Europe with my resistence is starting to look better and better.
at 43 minutes and 25 seconds I will not make you suffer this torture with me any longer. Wish me luck.
*Edit: I finally ended the call at 47 minutes, 58 seconds. I remembered to ask about Laurie again. Genius said she'd be sure to send her an email to call me. Gee, thanks.
My current dilemma is twofold: First, I am making sure that they process some claims for M's OT sessions that I mailed in with two other claims. The person who opened the envelope went as far as to look at the very top sheet of paper, process it, and pay me back. But they decided that was as much as they wanted to do and filed the other claims in the envelope away into the insurance abyss. Second, I am trying my very hardest to speak to the elusive supervisor I left a message with last Friday. I asked to speak with her as soon as a representative answered, explaining that I'd been calling for six months on this one particular unpaid invoice and didn't want a representative's assistance anymore, thank you very much. You would not believe just how long it took her to finally give up the goods and try to connect me to the supervisor. And then she had the gall to put me on hold for a good five minutes before telling me, 'I'm sorry, Laurie is on the other line. Would you like to leave a voicemail for her?' Uh, yeah. That'd be great. Fuck you very much.
So our friend Laurie calls me back later that afternoon. Naturally it was while I was in the school picking M up, so I was unable to answer. And I know that this will shock you all as much as it did me (not), but Laurie did not leave me a returnable phone number and told me she'd try me later. It's been six days, and again you will be surprised to learn that she has not yet called me back.
So now my hot-to-my-ear portable phone reads that I have been on this current call for thirty minutes and five seconds. I started this post soon after being put on hold (for the second time) and the representative has not yet gotten back on the line. She is doing 'research' for me. You know she's sitting by the water cooler talking to her cohorts saying, 'Yeah, I've got this lady on the phone right now who has been calling in for SIX MONTHS about the same claim. HAHAHAHA. And she wants to talk to a SUPERVISOR! HAHAHAHA. She actually thinks we have supervisors here? HAHAHAHA. Oh, by the way how are your kids, Betty? Did Simon ever have that 'procedure' you'd told me about? Do you think my hair looks good in this banana clip? I'm thinking of having my spider veins removed. Oh, gosh, it's been over 10 minutes since I put that crazy lady on hold. I should probably get back to her now!'
And at 33 minutes, 10 seconds she has finally returned. She has located the other claims I was calling about. (the ones I was told they had in fact received last Friday) Funny thing was that she couldn't locate them after the first 10-minute hold she put me on for 'research.'
I am now at 34 minutes 57 seconds and she just asked me 'Is it okay if I put you on hold again for another couple of minutes.' I am not making this up, people. You're getting this live, as it is occurring. Is anyone else as appalled as I am? I am thinking that I must remember to remind this woman of the original intent of my call: to speak with the supervisor. She naturally wasn't available, which is why I had this genius look into the processing of those other claims while I had a live human on the line. I could totally see myself forgetting to remind her to leave the message for Laurie that I really, really, really need to talk to her.
Alright. I am now at 41 minutes and 33 seconds. Still on hold. Can't. Freaking. Believe. This.
And I do this about once a week. Because I have lots of free time on my hands, dontcha know.
That expatriate job the other half has coveted in Europe with my resistence is starting to look better and better.
at 43 minutes and 25 seconds I will not make you suffer this torture with me any longer. Wish me luck.
*Edit: I finally ended the call at 47 minutes, 58 seconds. I remembered to ask about Laurie again. Genius said she'd be sure to send her an email to call me. Gee, thanks.
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