I have found that too often, app developers are all too willing to make a buck on apps “for special needs kids”. Many are upwards if $5, and I have seen quite a few in the $100 range. That is … Continue reading
Vacation is sometimes a double-edged sword for those of use with special needs kids. It’s rarely a vacation for us adults, although a fun change of pace. And the kids, well, the lack of structure and normalcy can tend to … Continue reading
A couple of weekends ago, Fantastic Babysitter took The Boy camping (where he caught six fish – his first ever! Woo hoo!), and although I enjoyed the weekend to myself, I rattled around a bit, not sure what to do … Continue reading
After our less-than-successful dentist visit last week, The Boy and I both had anxiety over today’s doctor appointment. The obsession with being done by a certain time popped up again, and I had to explain in detail three times that we would likely not be done by 3:46PM, as there was a lot of waiting involved with a doctor appointment. Each time, he seemed even more anxious. I was expecting to be there for at least an hour and a half, maybe longer, and I was envisioning another meltdown.
We went a bit early because we missed our appointment last summer. I called to tell them I would be 10 maybe 15 minutes late, and whoever I spoke to on the phone was pretty pedantic with me, repeatedly telling me how important it was to be on time, and that they would have to reschedule our appointment. I was furious. Today, I was not going to take the chance of being a minute late, so we arrived about 20 minutes early.
Ideally, you shouldn’t do this, as this is more time for anxiety to fester, but I kept him busy with games of slappy, a new app on my phone, and plenty of cuddles (which must look pretty weird to others, this tall, lanky boy on my lap, but I really don’t give a flying fig – whatever it takes to dispel my son’s anxiety is what I will do).
Wonder of wonders, they were on time. Took us right in, and the nurse who did the prelim stuff was a PRO. She made a game out of everything, and The Boy was having fun. At the doctor’s.
The doctor came in, and she was quick and efficient, answering my questions, and allaying his fears all at once. And when she was done, The Boy said anxiously, “What time is it?” I looked at my phone, and it was 3:34PM! We zipped out of there, sucker in hand, and were home by 3:44PM.
We even discussed how our next two visits would include “pokes”, his biggest fear when going to the doctor. By the end of the conversation, he was telling me the reasons why “getting pokes” was important, and how brave he would be.
They were such pros. HE was such a pro. And I am very, very happy.
(Photo attribution: By Bart Everson (Flickr: Doctor’s Office) [CC-BY-2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons)
If you recall, I recently ordered Earn It, Learn It by Alisa Weinstein. It’s an introduction to her Earn My Keep program, which is a re-thought allowance program that may just teach kids more about money and the real world … Continue reading
Part of being a single mom, is that there isn’t someone right there when you need that understanding look, the encouraging touch or that gesture of appreciation. And if you are a single mom to a child with autism, you … Continue reading
I’ll be honest. I don’t usually read a whole lot of the anecdotal stories about autism. I do follow some blogs, because I have come to know and respect those bloggers, as far as the internet will allow. And I … Continue reading
Yup. Every restaurant gives crayons to every youngster who enters their doors, and I know this has happened to at least some of you. Junior forgot the crayons in the cup holder on the hottest day in history, and before … Continue reading
Vacation, not “vaca”. That means cow in Spanish. If you must abbreviate, please add the y. Can I just add that the “i lovveeeee you!” nonsense needs to stop? I read it phonetically, so in my head, you sound like … Continue reading
Doo-da-LINK! My phone screeches that I have a new text. I roll over to see that the world is waking and the news is spreading. I realize suddenly that it wasn’t a dream, and I roll back over to try to get that last half hour of the three possible hours I could sleep that night, rather than reply to the text right away. I couldn’t sleep the previous night and had gotten back up around midnight to jot down some new ideas for some lesson plans I was redesigning, when I received the devastating email that would keep me up for four more hours. The email that explained the woman who had been my son’s ASD teacher for his first three years of school was dead at the age of 38.
She was shorter than me, more energetic than me, and overwhelmingly happy and bubbly. She loved her students fiercely, and never allowed the NT students to treat the ASD students differently. On one field trip in Kindergarten, I stood next to her as she told the fellow student who had just talked to The Boy as if he were an infant, “He’s not dumb, ya know! He’s the same age as you!” or something to that effect.
She was persistent. If a strategy wasn’t working, we’d try something else. She was honest to a fault, coming to me for ideas when she had run dry. She got in trouble with her superiors more than once for trying to make sure my kid had the supports he needed, even if it was convincing her own husband to come and “hang out” with The Boy because his own dad wouldn’t step up.
And then she was transferred to a different school. And then her husband was transferred across the country. She made an effort to stay in touch a couple of times a year, via email or a card. I can remember one time when The Boy was beginning to melt down, and he decided to write her a card — magically, whatever had been upsetting him was settled.
She was his first teacher in his corner. She loved him fiercely during a turbulent time in his life. She risked herself for my son. And for that, we will both love her dearly always, and never forget her.
Rest in Peace, RBS.