What’s Working

I talk about a lot of stuff that I’m going to do, but I don’t always get back to you and let you know what’s working, so…

  • The cold oatmeal in a jar?  That’s been working!  Like clockwork.  Except just in the last week or so, I’ve been getting a little sick of it, so I’m going to switch up some flavors.
  • The 6-Shelf Sweater Sorter!  The Boy actually filled it himself this past weekend and was proud of himself for doing so.  And the best part is that he is wearing every pair of his pants now, not the same pair every day.  Success!  It also keeps me on track with making sure the laundry gets done so it can be filled.
  • It’s early days yet, but the Magnetic Menu Planner is working SO well!  It helps with making the grocery list, and reminding me what’s planned (and what needs to be defrosted, etc.).  I have been cooking like a fiend, and loving it.  I’m even freezing leftovers and reducing waste.

Another success I’ve had recently is with chores.  I have written about allowance, and not basing it on chores before, but saw this post about how to make a visual chart for kids, and allowing them to have input.  I implemented only the chart of what gets done each day, and The Boy is actually doing chores (like wiping the kitchen counter, and picking up his things)!  The best part?  We haven’t even talked about allowance – he’s doing it because I need him to help out (and I need to teach him basic living skills).  You can’t get any better than that.

Build upon success

Take a minute and think about what’s working for you lately.  Let us know how it’s going in the comments below.

Most Important

The Passage of Time

The Passage of Time (Photo credit: ToniVC)

The Boy and I are first to the school every single day, with the exception of the lone morning custodian. He lets us in the door shortly after 7am, and we wait, often for at least 10 minutes, until other faces arrive, children and their parents, but rarely the same ones. And then around 7:15am, the Kids Club staff arrive.

There have been a couple of times when a parent has come in, assumed I worked for Kids Club, and promptly left their children with a quick peck on the cheek. Nevermind my big puffy coat and scarf… Or there are times when a parent comes in, constantly looking at his/her watch, declaring over and over how they have to get to work (as if I don’t). Today, a woman actually pecked her kids and told them she was going to go wait by the door, because she had to “skedaddle”… Yep, that 15 seconds from the gym to the parking lot door is really going to make a difference, Lady.

When I overhear things like this, I often look at the kids, who look embarrassed and sad. All of these parents are sending a message, with their words, actions and body language that no kid could miss — work is more important.

There are times when we have a rough morning, and yes it’s irritating to have to text my boss and tell him I am running late, but he’s my kid. There is nothing on this planet more important than him. And if I have to be a few minutes late to work, so be it.

I hope these parents get a clue before their children are grown and gone, but realistically how will they learn?

 

Valentines and Stuff

Anthropomorphic Valentine, circa 1950–1960

Valentine’s Day. It always has me pondering stuff and

  • do I want stuff,
  • why do I want stuff, or
  • why is it ok to/not to get stuff, and back to
  • it’s really not about stuff.

Or other people, which is reason number one why I think people want stuff for Valentine’s Day. It is not a display of love between two people, it is a display of love “between” two people that is promptly shared with all and sundry, as in look-how-much-he-loves-me-because-he-got-me-this-stuff.

I get a little piece of Valentine’s Day every time he sends me a card in the mail on some random day, sends me a funny email, or any of the wonderful ways he makes me feel loved even when we’re separated by 900 freakin’ miles. Last year on Valentine’s Day, I got a little thrill when I pulled out my phone to set a tempo in class, and realized he had called and left a voicemail. My students would tell you I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, and was blushing and giggly, just knowing he had called me. I don’t need stuff, and I don’t want stuff. I have what I want. And I am a lucky, lucky lady.

 

 

Got Your Summer Booked Yet?

One of the biggest anxieties The Boy has about moving is that he will miss his ESY program (that’s Extended School Year, if you weren’t aware).  ESY is a service that public schools provide to children who would otherwise take a drastic step backward in their academic and behavioral progress if they did not continue a type of school structure through the summer months.  Many districts keep this service on the down-low because if parents don’t know about it, and don’t ask about it, and they don’t happen to mention it at the IEP, they don’t have to have a program and pay for it.  I know districts that do this on purpose, intimately. Some districts even go so far as to tell parents that their children don’t need it, just so that they don’t have to have a program…

But The Boy’s district has a fabulous program, although it has scaled back even in the five years The Boy has attended, I’m assuming due to funding cuts.  In any case, he digs it.  Looks forward to it, and collects the T-shirts (even from years before he attended, thanks to an awesome gift from his amazing ASD teacher).  It’s like really, really laid back school.  But it’s structure, and school-like, so The Boy can’t get enough.

The Pink Shirt

Now, when we move, from what I can tell, there is nothing like that where we will be.  Plan B is a summer program offered either by the Boys and Girls Club or the City Parks and Rec department.  If it isn’t Boy-friendly (i.e. they’re not used to having special needs kids participate…), it soon will be. I can guarantee that.

I just hope we can get him in a daily program with enough structure that he will enjoy it, and maybe meet some new friends.  It breaks my heart that he won’t be able to attend ESY, but I hope with a little planning and forethought, we can find him the next best thing.

Wish us luck!

Something Borrowed, Nothing New

A letter from my grandpa to my grandma, dated 1939

A letter from my grandpa to my grandma, dated 1939

My grandparents were married in 1925, in New York City.  My grandfather was 25, my grandmother 20, and they had eloped, staying with a cousin, as they were both from upstate New York, near Buffalo.  They were both Italian immigrants, and as such, very Catholic, and this eloping thing got them in pretty hot water.  And they knew it would.  They went so far as to rent bridal regalia and have a picture taken (not a cheap process in 1925!) as proof of the marriage, and the seriousness of their intentions to my great-grandfather.  It didn’t work real well, as he didn’t speak to them until after they had their first child, almost two years later, even though they lived only blocks from each other.

Before they eloped, they dated of course, but my great-grandfather made it clear that one of my grandmother’s brothers had to “chaperone”.  My grandfather was a bowler (scandalous!), and hung out at a bar called “The Red Front” which wasn’t the most savory of places, and so my great-grandfather didn’t think him a suitable match for his eldest daughter.  Some of the brothers did a better job of chaperoning than others, and some of the younger kids reported having learned to kiss from watching my grandparents on the porch at the end of a date.

I have been reflecting on this, because sometimes we think we are the first to experience everything we experience.  And sometimes we think our ancestors led rather boring lives.  But I admire their strength and courage.  They knew they had found their one true love, and they pursued each other, even though there were clearly obstacles, namely my great-grandfather.  And it was important to them that he understand, which he eventually did.  My grandparents were married for 63 years, and although it looked like a typical love from the outside, you never know a relationship unless you are in it.

He called her “Darling”.  ❤

Pity and Forgiveness

sad

sad (Photo credit: Kalexanderson)

I’ve been thinking a lot about forgiveness.  As I’ve written before, I find it hard to forgive the ex for the constant disappointment he  inflicts on The Boy.  When he cancels a week of visitation, when he only makes time to see him 4 weeks out of every 52, it is difficult to control the “mama bear” instinct inside of me that wants to thrash him within an inch of his life.  When I have to hold my son while he cries because “it’s too far” for his dad to come and pick him up, forgiveness is probably the furthest thing from my mind.  And I know forgiving him would be healthier for me.  But it is one of the most difficult of my internal struggles.

Today, though, after receiving a text from the ex on Friday saying that due to getting his tax refund back, all of his arrearages in child support will be paid in full as of next Friday, and that he would call The Boy on Saturday (he didn’t)… Today, I find I feel pity.  Pity that the man has a college degree, and is almost 40, but cannot hold a job long enough to prevent this situation.  Pity that his anger sometimes controls his actions, never for the good.  Pity that he just can’t get his sh– straight.  Pity that he just has no clue about what he is missing.

And I suppose pity is closer to forgiveness, right?

A Different IKEA Effect on Singlemomdom

 

I can remember living in the same house the three of us lived in, only after the divorce, and the toilet seat broke.  Having a broken toilet seat is not just something you can live with, so I needed to solve the problem for myself, especially with an octogenarian landlord.  I went and purchased a new seat, and installed it myself, and for the first time, I realized that I really could do this being single thing.

 

After dividing up our assets, I needed some new furniture.  At the very least, I needed new things to look at if I had to stay in the same house.  My parents had come up to stay for a month or so, to help me purchase a car and get things settled before the school year started.  Enter IKEA.  I think I spent $800 in one day.  I had never, ever spent that much money in one place at one time, ever in my life.  But as some of you may know, $800 goes a long way at IKEA.

 

And as you may also know, IKEA purchases are almost always un-assembled, meaning you have to put them together.  It was a project, but with my parents’ help, we got it done, and it really started to feel like a different place, with my personal touches (including a duvet cover with flowers on it, just because I could).

 

And since that time, I have made more purchases, always putting it all together myself.  And every time it reminds me of how strong I have become, how capable, and how independent one can be, even when they don’t know it.  IKEA was good therapy for this single mom, and I suspect for many others out there.  If you are struggling with the emotions of a divorce, get yourself to an IKEA store, bring home a project, build it yourself, and give yourself a little reminder that yes, indeed, you can do this.

 

English: Logo of Ikea.

For the record, this post was inspired by this story on NPR, and also for the record, not all IKEA furniture is pressboard junk.

 

The Look

"Now I can buy the things I love^ Here's ...You know the saying about there being a fine line between bravery and stupidity?

Increasingly, I have been getting “the look” from people I know and work with.  The look that says the person can’t quite tell which one I am, brave or stupid.  This “idea” of giving it all up and moving south.  “Is she really gonna do it?” is what that look says.  Mostly it’s people who don’t know me too well, because the people who know me well also know it isn’t an “idea” — it’s a reality.

I can understand the look.  I can understand the thought process behind it.  But the truth is, my parents prepped me for big moments like this the entire time I was growing up.  Education, education, education was the key to independence, independence, independence.  For a long, long time, I assumed it was freedom from depending on someone else.  But it isn’t just independence from other people.  It’s also independence as my own person.  Independence from a job, career path, lifestyle, society, thought, etc.  The ability to think for myself and know myself enough to know when to walk away.  To walk toward something simpler, easier, more satisfying.  Toward a smaller pile of money, sure, but much more happiness.  And not just for me, but for my boy, too.

And it’s not all that easy.  Some things will be infinitely harder down there.  But there will be love.  Lots of love.  And I guess I never quite stopped believing that love is enough, especially now that I know what true love feels like.

The most interesting part about “the look”?  Mixed in with all of the incredulity, disbelief, and sizing up?

There’s more than a little jealousy in there, too.

Strategy for Meltdown Recovery (For Mom!)

In the immediate aftermath of a “rough morning” (which usually includes some lost thing, screaming, blaming, slammed doors, etc…) I am shaken.  Someone will say “Good Morning!” and I can barely respond.  I will often cry in the car on the way to work, not for a specific hurt, but because it is a release from the anxiety and tension that were at sky-high levels only moments ago.

Usually, a rough morning means a crappy day, because I am distracted and upset, which leads to less focus on work, which leads to less work getting done, and so on…

English: Peanut butter cookie with a chocolate...

But today, I made a split second decision that helped me recover.  I decided to take the surface streets to work instead of the express way, and I decided to stop at a convenience store that I know carries my favorite sweet tea.  I picked up my tea and some peanut butter crackers, and happily munched and drank on my way to work.  By the time I got there, I was MUCH better off than I usually am on a rough morning.  I won’t always have the time to do this, because rough mornings often lead to being late to work, but I have found a coping strategy that works, and it makes me happy.

Tackling a Few Myths About Autism

How can there still be so much misinformation about autism?  I understand that there is a lot of research going on, and there is still a lot that is unknown, but really?  Here are a few common misconceptions:

  • People with autism do not have empathy.

My son has empathy.  There have been times (like on my birthday a few years ago), where I thought he lacked a shred of it, but there have been times that he has comforted me when I was crying or upset, or just needed a hug.  In fact there are many who will say that people on the spectrum have too much empathy, and that is why they have to distance themselves from others, because they just feel too much.  I particularly like Diary of a Mom’s post on this subject.

  • People with autism are either really good at things or really bad at things.

I believed this one for awhile, too, thinking The Boy was just really, really smart.  At everything.  And he is extremely bright.  But you know what?  He doesn’t get math too well.  He has a great ear for music, is a wonderful speller, doesn’t like to read a whole bunch, although he can, and at a high level of comprehension.  But math is not his best subject.  I used to think it was because he didn’t like it, which is partly true.  Truth be told, he struggles with it, and I’m not sure I can say it’s just because he’d rather be playing video games.  But he doesn’t fail math either.  In fact, he usually gets Cs.

  • People with autism do not have good eye contact.

This is one of the reasons I was not so sure he was on the spectrum in the very early days.  In everything I had heard, this was the number one “sign your child may have autism” and it just didn’t bear true for The Boy.  He was a happy, giggly boy, and did not avoid eye contact as an infant, toddler, or small child.  It is more apparent now, but this is not a hard and fast rule for all children on the spectrum, by any means.

Happy, Giggly Eye Contact

  • People with autism may not have it forever.

This site, which attempts to address some myths about autism, actually has this listed as fact, rather than a myth!  This is basic stuff, here people.  There is no cure.  Autism is a neurological disorder, and you cannot “fix” a neurological disorder.  You can, with early intervention and therapy “retrain the brain” to function more typically, but autism is for keeps. And this “research that shows you may outgrow autism” consists of one study.  With fewer than 40 participants.  What’s really at work here is those early interventions and therapies allowing those with autism to be able to function more typically in society, rather than not having autism anymore.  They just hide it better.  (Won’t it be a great day when our children don’t have to hide their true selves?)

What are some other myths you’ve encountered?