Three pairs of flip flops. One pair of crocs. Tubing to a $250 post-surgical cooling system on loan from a neighbor. Countless children's toys (drum sticks, books, boxes of pretend food). A tube of toothpaste (which fortunately was not pierced enough to eat). My other half's business cards.
A hippity hop. A car window visor. Manny Bear's hand. Monkey's hand. Drink straws. An eyeglass cleaning cloth.
You thought I was talking about one of my dogs, didn't you?
No, I was talking about M.
Today is one of those days where I am reminded of how much I hate autism. These things weren't all chewed on in one day, fortunately, but today's chewing was so incessant that I lost it *a tiny bit more* than days past.
Give me my kid back!
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
Short and Sweet
And so is this post...because I think I got a little verbose (one of my favorite words) the last two days.
M's first day of kindergarten was today. Aside from a minor hiccup (read: temper tantrum) we got into the classroom relatively unscathed. He was so happy when he saw the kids, the desks and all the toys, that he could barely contain his grin. He didn't look back at me, and I was able to slip out the door with no issue. As it should be!
Sunday, August 24, 2008
WTF?
Ahh, yes, another rant from yours truly :)
Sent to you with lots of love and concern and hopefully not too much righteousness or bitchiness.
This is a 'what the hell is wrong with people' kind of post; stemming from an event that made me wonder about some folks: Were you raised in a barn?
M has his first day of school at the new elementary school tomorrow. To prepare him for yet another new environment (the third in a year since we moved and he is no longer going to the preschool he finished out the last school year in) we wanted to take him to the school playground as much as possible to give him the lay of the land and make him feel more comfortable.
We live in an area where the schools just don't have a lot of money. We knew this coming in, but chose this coastal quality of life because of all of the other benefits that go along with the terrain. We love it here--we truly do. Our family does more things together. The weather is such that we can be outside just about any day of the year. But damn if this school (and all of the schools on the coast) isn't just horribly rundown...and overrun with litter. It sits right off of the Pacific Coast Highway and the kids get to look at the ocean anytime they step out of their classroom. Amazing, right? Well, they also get to see tons of trash that rude ass people chose to dump there simply because there isn't a trash can on the campus, and they're too lazy to take it home with them and dump it there.
Every time we played there this summer, I spent quite a bit of time telling little B not to play with various trash items littering the playground mulch. Yesterday he tried to put someone's water bottle in his mouth. I'd had it and was appalled that my kiddo was going to start school here on Monday and would have to navigate trash with every step he took in the playground. So I did something about it...I spent nearly two hours of my afternoon yesterday picking up trash at his school. I can honestly say that there was rarely a time that I took more than five paces in any direction without bending down to pick something else up. Here is a short list of the things I collected:
-My personal favorite: 16 grocery bags of dog poo. Yes, that's right...16! (I counted). And I also picked up two other piles that someone wasn't kind enough to place in the grocery bag. Seriously, people, if you take the time to pick up the poo, can't you take the time to dispose of it properly? The piles were all laying on the blacktop that separates my child's classroom from the playground. Totally freaking disgusting.
-A homemade, Coke can bong & beer cans. I expected this. There's not a lot to do here on the coast, so the teenagers end up drinking in random places and smoking lots of pot. And we all know that teenagers are generally selfish, slovenly beings so we half expect them to litter like this. Still doesn't make it right to find it in an elementary school playground, but not surprising either.
-A pair of children's boxer shorts & several socks.
-Ahhh...this one was fun...two dirty diapers. Seriously?
-Too-many-to-count plastic wrappers from juice box straws as well as the straws.
-10 bandaids. Used. Ewww.
-Someone's lunch which consisted of: corn husks from tamales, two corn cobs, organic apple sauce, a container and lid from a Gerber toddler meal and the bag they brought them there in, laying next to it all.
-A shattered beach chair. Someone actually took the time to throw it down the stairs from sidewalk on the street above the schoolyard. It must have made a neato 'bang' that delighted them for the whole night. Wait. These were probably the kids who also made the Coke can bong.
The usual suspects were also there: candy wrappers, a crazy number of ziploc bags, water bottles and soda cans, sticks from lollipops, bags from chips, etc.
Three teachers stopped to thank me for my efforts. I realized later that I neglected to take the time to thank them for what they do for our kids. Cleaning up playgrounds isn't the job of our teachers who already make a meager enough salary. And if there isn't money enough to pay for the proper maintenance person to handle it, then it should fall to members of the community. I am sad that with less than two days left before school started no one else had thought to do what I did.
And my next endeavor? I plan on going out to that playground again next week; armed with some heavy duty work gloves and a shovel, to pull up the enormous milkweeds that border both of the play areas. These milkweeds are about 2 feet x 3 feet and are full of sharp thorns that would really hurt if someone pushed you into them.
Sorry to continue my lecture from my pedestal, (but this is my blog, dammit!), but I find it utterly incomprehensible that we spend 100s of billions of dollars to rebuild a country we invaded, and yet we can't find a little bit of money to pay the salary of a maintenance guy at one of our own schools.
My kid deserves better. Your kid deserves better. Get involved. You don't have to have a lot of money to make a difference. Heck, you don't have to have any money to make a difference. Just help where help is needed. Don't turn a blind eye and hope that someone else will do it for you.
Sent to you with lots of love and concern and hopefully not too much righteousness or bitchiness.
This is a 'what the hell is wrong with people' kind of post; stemming from an event that made me wonder about some folks: Were you raised in a barn?
M has his first day of school at the new elementary school tomorrow. To prepare him for yet another new environment (the third in a year since we moved and he is no longer going to the preschool he finished out the last school year in) we wanted to take him to the school playground as much as possible to give him the lay of the land and make him feel more comfortable.
We live in an area where the schools just don't have a lot of money. We knew this coming in, but chose this coastal quality of life because of all of the other benefits that go along with the terrain. We love it here--we truly do. Our family does more things together. The weather is such that we can be outside just about any day of the year. But damn if this school (and all of the schools on the coast) isn't just horribly rundown...and overrun with litter. It sits right off of the Pacific Coast Highway and the kids get to look at the ocean anytime they step out of their classroom. Amazing, right? Well, they also get to see tons of trash that rude ass people chose to dump there simply because there isn't a trash can on the campus, and they're too lazy to take it home with them and dump it there.
Every time we played there this summer, I spent quite a bit of time telling little B not to play with various trash items littering the playground mulch. Yesterday he tried to put someone's water bottle in his mouth. I'd had it and was appalled that my kiddo was going to start school here on Monday and would have to navigate trash with every step he took in the playground. So I did something about it...I spent nearly two hours of my afternoon yesterday picking up trash at his school. I can honestly say that there was rarely a time that I took more than five paces in any direction without bending down to pick something else up. Here is a short list of the things I collected:
-My personal favorite: 16 grocery bags of dog poo. Yes, that's right...16! (I counted). And I also picked up two other piles that someone wasn't kind enough to place in the grocery bag. Seriously, people, if you take the time to pick up the poo, can't you take the time to dispose of it properly? The piles were all laying on the blacktop that separates my child's classroom from the playground. Totally freaking disgusting.
-A homemade, Coke can bong & beer cans. I expected this. There's not a lot to do here on the coast, so the teenagers end up drinking in random places and smoking lots of pot. And we all know that teenagers are generally selfish, slovenly beings so we half expect them to litter like this. Still doesn't make it right to find it in an elementary school playground, but not surprising either.
-A pair of children's boxer shorts & several socks.
-Ahhh...this one was fun...two dirty diapers. Seriously?
-Too-many-to-count plastic wrappers from juice box straws as well as the straws.
-10 bandaids. Used. Ewww.
-Someone's lunch which consisted of: corn husks from tamales, two corn cobs, organic apple sauce, a container and lid from a Gerber toddler meal and the bag they brought them there in, laying next to it all.
-A shattered beach chair. Someone actually took the time to throw it down the stairs from sidewalk on the street above the schoolyard. It must have made a neato 'bang' that delighted them for the whole night. Wait. These were probably the kids who also made the Coke can bong.
The usual suspects were also there: candy wrappers, a crazy number of ziploc bags, water bottles and soda cans, sticks from lollipops, bags from chips, etc.
Three teachers stopped to thank me for my efforts. I realized later that I neglected to take the time to thank them for what they do for our kids. Cleaning up playgrounds isn't the job of our teachers who already make a meager enough salary. And if there isn't money enough to pay for the proper maintenance person to handle it, then it should fall to members of the community. I am sad that with less than two days left before school started no one else had thought to do what I did.
And my next endeavor? I plan on going out to that playground again next week; armed with some heavy duty work gloves and a shovel, to pull up the enormous milkweeds that border both of the play areas. These milkweeds are about 2 feet x 3 feet and are full of sharp thorns that would really hurt if someone pushed you into them.
Sorry to continue my lecture from my pedestal, (but this is my blog, dammit!), but I find it utterly incomprehensible that we spend 100s of billions of dollars to rebuild a country we invaded, and yet we can't find a little bit of money to pay the salary of a maintenance guy at one of our own schools.
My kid deserves better. Your kid deserves better. Get involved. You don't have to have a lot of money to make a difference. Heck, you don't have to have any money to make a difference. Just help where help is needed. Don't turn a blind eye and hope that someone else will do it for you.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Things that hurt when you're here...
1. Calling about a vacation home rental. When telling the (very nice) woman that you want a place with room for your five-year-old and almost two-year-old to roam, she says 'This house is perfect for your five-year-old to ride his bike.'
My five-year-old can't ride a bike. He can't even ride a tricycle.
2. Filling out the 'appropriate' paperwork at school for your child who though he will be considered a kindergartener is going into a special day program with other children who have special needs. The receptionist tells you 'We give out this packet to all parents of kindergarteners and don't have one specificially for M's class.'
This packet asks things like, check which of these your child can do: Tie shoes. Use the toilet unaccompanied. Write his/her name. I can't remember what else, but I did not check off any of these.
3. You see this list for back to school/meet the teacher night. All of the typical grades meet during the first week of school. The special needs class meets one night during the second week.
I want to point out that I don't fault that woman at the vacation rentals place. She obviously had no way of knowing about M's challenges. But the school...isn't that the place where kids (because of the IDEA legislation and others) are supposed to get a fair and equal education? Would it be that hard for them to make another packet for the special day kids? Can't we go to back to school night with all the other children? It's things like this that just solidify society's views that my child is different. That my child isn't doing what 'normal' kids are doing. And that hurts.
I also want to say here that I am not an overly p.c. person. I think we could certainly stand a kinder, gentler society, but I try hard not to take my own situation and apply it to everyone else. If you don't live this, you may not know. And I am not one to intentionally make you squirm because this isn't your life on a daily basis like it is mine. (but don't get me wrong...if you give my kid the 'he's weird' look, I'll be the first to knock you down a notch and tell you he's not weird...he has autism)
But this leads to a recent discussion on a Mom's board I am on. One mother (I believe she has a child with special needs) sent out a letter that her friend had written in protest of the new Ben Stiller movie "Tropic Thunder." You may have already heard about this. Anyhow, there is apparently a character who is 'simple,' etc. and the 'r' word is used to refer to him quite frequently. I'm not going to go into the full spiel about all this, but to say that even though I absolutely, posi-freaking-tutely do not like this word and don't think people should use it, I did not respond to this post with my own thoughts. I had totally wanted to see this movie before I learned about all this hoopla. Now I am not quite certain how I feel about viewing it and that is sort of symbolic of how I feel about people who use that word. Again, if you don't live this life, sometimes you just don't realize. I think for the most part, people who use the 'r' word don't realize just how painful that could be to someone who has a child with challenges, and I don't necessarily think they're thinking about that when they use it. I can remember being in the 8th grade and playing on the tennis team. Our coach was this wonderfully patient special education teacher named Miss Moll. We were doing drills where we had to run the lines of the tennis court and these two guys I was friends with were egging each other on as they ran. One said to the other, 'The Olympics, Scott. The Olympics!' And Scott replied, 'Yeah, maybe the special Olympics.' And we all laughed hysterically until we looked over and saw how hurt Miss Moll was that they'd said that and that we'd all laughed. We all felt horribly guilty when she gently explained why that wasn't a nice thing to joke about. This memory stuck with me way before M was born. Funny how that is.
It's the same with the short bus reference. I'm certain I made that joke as a kid at least once. But now that my kid would be one of the ones riding the short bus if we didn't drive him ourselves...well, I realize that it's a rather shitty reference.
So I guess the point of this isn't me trying to demand that you take into consideration every single word or action you use that may offend or hurt a specific group (because then, seriously, we'd be offending someone constantly), but sometimes there are some pretty obvious ones that you should take into account, you know?
And finally, let me shout out that I do not, by any means, want any of you to censor what you say to me for fear of hurting my feelings. It takes a lot to offend me, and I hope you all know that :)
*Edit to post, 8/25* Because truth is best, I felt it necessary to amend this post today after learning that we are not alone next week for back to school night as I first had thought. We share back to school night with the 4th and 5th grade classes, though (or and?) we got a big ol' * by 'special day class' and they didn't :)
My five-year-old can't ride a bike. He can't even ride a tricycle.
2. Filling out the 'appropriate' paperwork at school for your child who though he will be considered a kindergartener is going into a special day program with other children who have special needs. The receptionist tells you 'We give out this packet to all parents of kindergarteners and don't have one specificially for M's class.'
This packet asks things like, check which of these your child can do: Tie shoes. Use the toilet unaccompanied. Write his/her name. I can't remember what else, but I did not check off any of these.
3. You see this list for back to school/meet the teacher night. All of the typical grades meet during the first week of school. The special needs class meets one night during the second week.
I want to point out that I don't fault that woman at the vacation rentals place. She obviously had no way of knowing about M's challenges. But the school...isn't that the place where kids (because of the IDEA legislation and others) are supposed to get a fair and equal education? Would it be that hard for them to make another packet for the special day kids? Can't we go to back to school night with all the other children? It's things like this that just solidify society's views that my child is different. That my child isn't doing what 'normal' kids are doing. And that hurts.
I also want to say here that I am not an overly p.c. person. I think we could certainly stand a kinder, gentler society, but I try hard not to take my own situation and apply it to everyone else. If you don't live this, you may not know. And I am not one to intentionally make you squirm because this isn't your life on a daily basis like it is mine. (but don't get me wrong...if you give my kid the 'he's weird' look, I'll be the first to knock you down a notch and tell you he's not weird...he has autism)
But this leads to a recent discussion on a Mom's board I am on. One mother (I believe she has a child with special needs) sent out a letter that her friend had written in protest of the new Ben Stiller movie "Tropic Thunder." You may have already heard about this. Anyhow, there is apparently a character who is 'simple,' etc. and the 'r' word is used to refer to him quite frequently. I'm not going to go into the full spiel about all this, but to say that even though I absolutely, posi-freaking-tutely do not like this word and don't think people should use it, I did not respond to this post with my own thoughts. I had totally wanted to see this movie before I learned about all this hoopla. Now I am not quite certain how I feel about viewing it and that is sort of symbolic of how I feel about people who use that word. Again, if you don't live this life, sometimes you just don't realize. I think for the most part, people who use the 'r' word don't realize just how painful that could be to someone who has a child with challenges, and I don't necessarily think they're thinking about that when they use it. I can remember being in the 8th grade and playing on the tennis team. Our coach was this wonderfully patient special education teacher named Miss Moll. We were doing drills where we had to run the lines of the tennis court and these two guys I was friends with were egging each other on as they ran. One said to the other, 'The Olympics, Scott. The Olympics!' And Scott replied, 'Yeah, maybe the special Olympics.' And we all laughed hysterically until we looked over and saw how hurt Miss Moll was that they'd said that and that we'd all laughed. We all felt horribly guilty when she gently explained why that wasn't a nice thing to joke about. This memory stuck with me way before M was born. Funny how that is.
It's the same with the short bus reference. I'm certain I made that joke as a kid at least once. But now that my kid would be one of the ones riding the short bus if we didn't drive him ourselves...well, I realize that it's a rather shitty reference.
So I guess the point of this isn't me trying to demand that you take into consideration every single word or action you use that may offend or hurt a specific group (because then, seriously, we'd be offending someone constantly), but sometimes there are some pretty obvious ones that you should take into account, you know?
And finally, let me shout out that I do not, by any means, want any of you to censor what you say to me for fear of hurting my feelings. It takes a lot to offend me, and I hope you all know that :)
*Edit to post, 8/25* Because truth is best, I felt it necessary to amend this post today after learning that we are not alone next week for back to school night as I first had thought. We share back to school night with the 4th and 5th grade classes, though (or and?) we got a big ol' * by 'special day class' and they didn't :)
Friday, August 22, 2008
This Guy...
...is my wild man; my little helper who hands me his cup when he is finished and says 'thanks;' the one who loves shoes even though he refuses to call them anything but socks; loves to use the 'more' sign--especially when it comes to food and singing; prefers to 'walk, please' rather than ride in a stroller or be carried in my arms; always gives the dogs a few extra pieces of food (even though I tell him not to) before putting their bowls away in the pantry for me; helps me get his big brother dressed by bringing me his shoes & socks; still calls all cars 'fucks' (when he really means 'trucks'); gives you the 'leaner' hug right after he swats at you; gives giant mouth kisses when you ask for them; yells out 'airplane!' way before anyone else can hear one flying up above; places his food upon his spoon and then puts the spoon into his mouth; loves Elmo; loves his brother; loves to read; loves to dance; and is so loved and needed by his Mom.
Though his screaming makes me totally loony, (if you've heard it, you understand!), B is my buddy and the one that I hope I don't put too much pressure on to pick up the slack for his brother's needs. It is going to be an interesting journey watching the little dude grow and I hope that I don't screw him up too bad in the process. I kid...sort of.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
A Simple Rant
To the parent who let his or her kids ride in the VERY LAST two-seated, red car shopping cart while eating white cheddary-looking cheesy puffs and large slices of cheddar cheese (perfect for those of us with kids who can't eat gluten or dairy): Today I do not like you. It is hard enough to take two children shopping at the world's tiniest-aisled Safeway, and even more difficult when you discover that the only red car shopping carts available to you that aren't covered in cheesy puffs, their sat upon crumbs, and giant pieces of cheddar cheese are the single-seated red cars that will only fit one of your children. You can imagine the fun that transpired when trying to explain the problem and trying to decide just who would get to sit in the one-seated red car. For the record, Brooks made the bigger stink, thus getting the coveted seat (funny how that works) and Miles ended up inside of the shopping cart because walking alongside me just isn't an option.
So that is my rant for the day. Simple really. If your kid eats a bunch of crap in the red car shopping carts, please be kind and clean it up so that the next person is able to do her shopping in relative peace.
This has been a public service announcement brought to you by frazzled Mommy. Thanks for reading.
So that is my rant for the day. Simple really. If your kid eats a bunch of crap in the red car shopping carts, please be kind and clean it up so that the next person is able to do her shopping in relative peace.
This has been a public service announcement brought to you by frazzled Mommy. Thanks for reading.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Driving On Empty & Other Harsh Metaphors In My Life
So today I was reading Gwendomama's post about her really awesome outing with her two children to a local, organic strawberry field where you frolic about with the ocean right freaking across the street, while your children create beautiful memories of picking gigantic, ripe, red, juicy strawberries for which to make a be-yoo-tiful cake with later on. It sounded incredible, so I thought I'd copy her and take my two children today for a similar experience.
Uh...not so much.
When I got to the farm--which isn't close to much of anything--I realized that my yellow, you're-about-to-run-out-of-gas-you-moron light was on. I looked at my handy dandy trip computer that you only get if you're cool and have a minivan like me and saw that I had 14 miles to go. I hooked up the handy dandy GPS to find the nearest station and saw one that was 7.2 miles away through the very windy streets of Bonny Doon (I probably went right by your house while cursing, G!) only to find that about four miles into this journey the GPS suddenly switched to saying that I still had 11 miles to go to the station, which was now a big problem since I was down to 9 miles left on the handy dandy trip computer. Shit, right?
What was even cooler was that these windy roads have no shoulders for one to pull over onto in case of one running out of gas. So my curses turned to little prayers, and I guess God read my post from the other day because lo and behold I made it. I haven't played the see-how-far-on-empty game like that since high school. And let me tell you it's a hell of a lot less fun when you have your two children in the car. But yeah, I couldn't help but thinking that this was just a teensy tiny bit ironic a situation to find myself in given my recent state of zero motivation or energy to do much of anything. There's more to it, but I won't bore you with that here.
So to make a long post longer, here are the other 'harsh' metaphors I have come to realize plague me multiple times a day:
1. My antique cuckoo clock. My Dad bought this for his parents when he was in the navy and visiting Germany in the 1950s. I got it when my Grandma died. I'm totally sentimental and really enjoy having it in working condition, hanging in my office. But damn if it doesn't validate my feeling of partial craziness these days every 15 minutes. Which leads me to the last thing...
2. My cell phone. For some odd reason I programmed the Gnarls Barkley song 'Crazy' as my ringtone. Today I decided I need to change that. Immediately. Any suggestions?
P.S. I'd show you photos of my lovely strawberry outing, but it is 1990 in my world and I only had a disposable camera with me. Check out Gwendomama for what I'd hoped for :)
Uh...not so much.
When I got to the farm--which isn't close to much of anything--I realized that my yellow, you're-about-to-run-out-of-gas-you-moron light was on. I looked at my handy dandy trip computer that you only get if you're cool and have a minivan like me and saw that I had 14 miles to go. I hooked up the handy dandy GPS to find the nearest station and saw one that was 7.2 miles away through the very windy streets of Bonny Doon (I probably went right by your house while cursing, G!) only to find that about four miles into this journey the GPS suddenly switched to saying that I still had 11 miles to go to the station, which was now a big problem since I was down to 9 miles left on the handy dandy trip computer. Shit, right?
What was even cooler was that these windy roads have no shoulders for one to pull over onto in case of one running out of gas. So my curses turned to little prayers, and I guess God read my post from the other day because lo and behold I made it. I haven't played the see-how-far-on-empty game like that since high school. And let me tell you it's a hell of a lot less fun when you have your two children in the car. But yeah, I couldn't help but thinking that this was just a teensy tiny bit ironic a situation to find myself in given my recent state of zero motivation or energy to do much of anything. There's more to it, but I won't bore you with that here.
So to make a long post longer, here are the other 'harsh' metaphors I have come to realize plague me multiple times a day:
1. My antique cuckoo clock. My Dad bought this for his parents when he was in the navy and visiting Germany in the 1950s. I got it when my Grandma died. I'm totally sentimental and really enjoy having it in working condition, hanging in my office. But damn if it doesn't validate my feeling of partial craziness these days every 15 minutes. Which leads me to the last thing...
2. My cell phone. For some odd reason I programmed the Gnarls Barkley song 'Crazy' as my ringtone. Today I decided I need to change that. Immediately. Any suggestions?
P.S. I'd show you photos of my lovely strawberry outing, but it is 1990 in my world and I only had a disposable camera with me. Check out Gwendomama for what I'd hoped for :)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
Sitemeter
