You'll never catch me I'm the gingerbread....slave?

"I try to take one day at a time, but sometimes several days attack me at once"
Jennifer Unlimited


It is the end of the year and we are heading to summer vacation. So my weeks have been pretty full with meetings and planning. I have to get things set for next year AND at the same time figure out what I am going to do with the herd for twelve weeks this summer. Twelve very long weeks. Eighty four days. Two thousand and sixteen hours. As you can see, I have been dreading giving it quite a bit of thought. But, I try and pace myself. I figure that I'll think of something when the time comes. But for now, I'm just busy trying to do all the things that the end of the school year requires me to do. One of those things is seeing my kids perform in various school plays.

Musical performances at my children's school are a wonder to behold-and I don't mean that in a good way. (If you are new to my blog, I have written about my children's music teacher here and here. ) Last Thursday, Oscar was performing in the third grade dirge production. I'm not quite sure what the title was, but it had to do with paintings and..well..slavery. I don't know, but those two topics just don't scream "Musical!" to me..But hey, I can be jaded and cynical..I know that..So I cast aside my doubts and went with an open mind.

I did have some scheduling conflicts on that particular day. I don't know if it was self preservation or choosing the lesser of two evils-but I had scheduled a two and a half hour dental appointment for that morning. Totally forgetting about Oscar's concert. Thankfully,(or not) I was done with the dentist in just enough time to make it to Oscar's performance. This was the first time he had ever asked me to be there. "Mama! Will you come see me on stage?" "Mama!!!! This is the first time I'll be on stage!" "Mama!! I get to wear a cape!" "Mama!!! Will you be there?" How could I miss it?

As I walked in to the multi-purpose room (feeling as though the right side of my face was six feet long and draped upon my shoulder) Oscar called out to me-from the stage. He is still young enough to not be embarrassed by me. "Mama!..You're here!!!" I waved..he hopped....and kept hopping for a good ten minutes. I hope he is always as thrilled to see me-even when he is older and is too cool to outwardly acknowledge it. I stayed in the back of the room. I have trouble sitting still and always feel more comfortable standing. It also gives me the option of escaping leaving quietly if the need should arise. I had Zoe with me, and she doesn't like crowds. (Although she did dress for the occasion in a purple boa and sunglasses.) So I thought it best that I stand by the door.

Before I go on...I have to explain something. I had just come from the dentist-a place that gives me horrendous anxiety. My anxiety is so palpable that the dentist prescribed Valium for me. So when I arrived at the performance...the Valium was in full effect. Thank god.

Because I was standing in the back, I did not have a program for the show. I did not know the titles of any of the vignettes being performed. So I'll just give you a brief synopsis of what went on. The first scene featured a group of children with white pillowcases miming picking cotton while everyone sang "Swing Low Sweet Chariot". Far be it from me to criticise..but does anyone else see the sheer weirdness of this? White children (there were only two kids of mixed ethnicity in the entire show-one was Oscar) re-enacting slavery? Yes, teaching about that sad chapter in our nations history is important-but this..this was bizarre. Oh and it only got worse..The next vignette featured children posing like(I think) the famous painting of George Washington crossing the Delaware. Each child (it felt as though there were thousands) stepped up to a microphone and in crystal clear monotone mumbled.. something-couldn't begin to tell you what-only that it went on for what seemed like an eternity. I for one, was ready to start collecting social security by the end of it...Next was the Native American story..or what I fondly call "Riot at the Thorazine Clinic "in which one boy whispered about being happy and joyful (again in monotone) while a bunch of kids shuffle"dance" around him. Oh what a time we had. I could just imagine the N.Y. Times review "Exhausting!" writes Leonard Malton "A treat for the comatose!" It was truly that awful. I didn't think it could get any worse..until we got to the story of the runaway slave. Once again we have a child (wearing overalls with the prerequisite one strap hanging off) skulking about the stage attempting to get to the underground railroad. This would have been fine until they brought out the "captured slaves". Yes, while our hero is hiding, he watches people march by with two captured "slaves" between them. Only they weren't people..(yes, I understand that they weren't going to tie some kids up) instead, they were what appeared to be giant life sized gingerbread men with ropes around their necks. Only without the icing. At this point, I had had it. Gingerbread men!!! I was shaking trying to contain my laughter..tears were leaking out my eyes..and what was worse was that I was the only one reacting this way. Was it the Valium? Or was it just me? I did notice though, that when the lights came up, people seemed overly eager to get out of there.

When Oscar came home later, he asked if I had seen him. I said " Uhh.. you waved at me remember?" "Oh that's right.." "So Oscar, you have done a lot of work learning about slavery.." "Slavery?" "Yeah bud..isn't that what your show was mainly about?" "Oh....did you see the gingerbread men?" Phewww...so it wasn't just me. Sigh... Only three weeks till the next "concert" Sammy will be performing in his last concert at this school. On to middle school for him. And hopefully a different music teacher. I'm just wondering if I can somehow manage a dental appointment that morning?

"Village of the Damned" the musical...

"I always wanted to be somebody, but now I realize I should have been more specific"

                                                                    Lily Tomlin



  Oscar was home sick last week. When he's sick nothing makes him feel better than comfort and reassurance..he heads straight to the open arms and radiant glow... of the television ...sigh..that is where Oscar feels most relaxed. I look at it this way-If he is calm, he is resting. His body will have some time to recover. Normally, I don't pay too much attention. As long as he has his cartoons and snacks, he is a happy boy. But today.. today was different. Instead of the usual variety of shows, Oscar for some unknown reason chose to watch "Barney". You know, the giant purple dinosaur who is always so damn happy. Not only is HE happy, he is surrounded by strange hyper animated children who are happy as well. It is a surreal world where they sing about the alphabet, going to the doctor, or being a fireman. Think "Village of the damned" set to music with costumes.

  Normally, I would be able to ignore Barney and his fiends friends..The problem with this is...Oscar kept rewinding it..so over and over I am hearing THAT song..you know the one.."I love you..you love me..we're a great big family.." He did it so many times that I had no choice but to run- escape into that special place in my head..(if you are a stay at home parent, you know what I'm talking about) It was either that, or lose it completely...standing in front of the television...tears streaming down my face...shaking my fists, gnashing my teeth..yelling shrilly "You don't love me!! You don't even know who I am!!" And then collapsing in a quivering heap.

  It's not like I have anything against costumed characters. Really I don't! I myself made a living being one. Once as a giant turkey for a Thanksgiving promotion at a mall, and another time as a giant rose. The giant rose was my favorite. I was promoting a flower shop on Sixth Avenue in Manhattan. I would run up and down the block handing out fliers while dressed in a green spandex unitard with a GIGANTIC rose head piece. Oh, I had so much fun....I would follow people into their buildings..down the street..Sometimes I would pose in the window of the store...not moving..letting people come and stare...and then BOO! I would jump out at them...or I would subtly wink at someone...make them question whether or not I was real or if they were imagining things. Alright..maybe the last part wasn't so nice. But hey-I never once sang that I loved anyone..nor did I gather a posse of strange children to sing along with me. I loved it. It was the perfect job for a hyperactive girl.

  Oscar is much better and back in school this week. He also seems to be over his fascination with Barney. He is a funny boy my Oscar. He loves words and phrases..loves to repeat certain things...and asks me to repeat them as well. We have our old favorites like "farmers nipples", "Binga Binga has grass on his hands", "grey stuffed animals nose"and oh so many more. I never quite know what word or phrase is going to catch his attention or even why some of them do. Thankfully,(really thankfully) he didn't care to repeat any of what Barney said..well except for "I love you" but he's always said that...and that one is straight from Oscar.

Can Will Does..

"Veni, Vidi, Vici"

Julius Caesar



I didn't know just how determined he was. I should have suspected something seeing as how he was fully dressed when I came downstairs this morning. Sammy is a slow starter in the morning-a really slow starter. Frozen molasses runs faster than he does. So I should have noticed that he was up, dressed and ready to go...or at least commented on it. But, I had things to do. Sammy had a basketball game, and getting everyone dressed, fed, and out the door takes monumental effort-and at least two cups of coffee. Sometimes more..o.k. actually most times more.


Sammy plays on one of his school basketball teams. It is actually a nice set up. There are about six co-ed teams of third through fifth graders. The focus is primarily on teaching the game rather than on competition. They practice once a week and every Saturday there is a game. Today was the last game of the season. So I was pretty happy...alright, I admit it..I was thrilled. Monday through Friday I rush every morning to get them out the door and onto the bus. Do they have hats, jackets, snow pants, lunch, backpacks, clean faces... sigh..it's always rush rush rush...So the idea of getting back one of the mornings where I don't have to do anything.. well...it's thrilling.

This is Sammy's third year of playing for a team. Sadly, it will probably be his last. Next year, in sixth grade they hold try-outs...and I don't think he'll make a team. He has some large motor skills issues. Although he is a speed demon on his bicycle..running and dribbling a ball is very challenging to him. He doesn't life his feet off the ground when he runs..add a basketball and the results are..well, he struggles. Don't get me wrong-he has improved immensely since third grade. The first year he played, if he saw one of is friends on the opposing team, he would stop to hug them. The second year, anytime he got the ball, he would break down laughing in the middle of the court. This year though... this year he was different. He was focused. He concentrated on defending his basket, and in passing the ball. In fact the minute he got the ball, he would pass it- immediately. My Sammy is tough, but he isn't aggressive. For him, I think it was more about just playing and being part of a team, rather than scoring. Until today that is.



Today he was driven..like a dog with a bone. Come hell or high water, he was going to score. And nothing was going to get in his way. First quarter-Sammy gets the ball..there is no room to move..he is so focused, so set on shooting..he bounces the ball with both hands and walks three feet to the basket..and shoots! and misses..He looks at me-I give him a thumbs up. Second quarter, he gets the ball..he shoots! he misses..it rebounds off the backboard, he grabs the ball he shoots! he misses..He looks at me, I give him a thumbs up. Third quarter..he's fouled, goes to the line..he shoots! he misses...he gets fouled again he shoots! he misses..he gets passed the ball..he shoots! he misses..he gets passed the ball again..he shoots! he misses..My boy must have attempted to score at least twenty times..and every time, he looks at me, and every time I give him a thumbs up...by now everyone has noticed..and is rooting for him...his team mates..the opposite team..the audience..everyone wants him to score. His determination is contagious..The tension was palpable..(I was a wreck) I don't think that there was a person there that wasn't captivated. They can see how badly he wants this. How hard he is trying.. it is no longer about watching the game....or about disability...or the fact that my boy is autistic..it is about Sammy. It is about my boy wanting to make a basket. In the fourth quarter, with thirty seconds left in the game...his team mate gets the ball..he could have scored easily..gotten the glory..instead.. he passes it to Sammy..I hear him say in a matter of fact way.."You CAN do this Sammy"...as if it is no big deal...as if it is just a common every day thing..as if he expects no less. Sammy takes the ball..and shoots..in what felt like slow motion .. it goes up..up..and then ...Swish...nothing but net. Everyone cheers in excitement...and relief! My boy looks at me..he is shining.. I give him a thumbs up-(even though I wanted to rush down and grab him and hug him.-but a mother doesn't do that to an eleven year old boy, especially in public) he runs to finish the game with the rest of his team.


The cynical and jaded part of me could say "oh, how nice..yet another "autistic kid makes a basket..the crowd erupts" story. But that wasn't it at all. Sammy has been at this school since he was seven years old. He is an accepted part of his class. Those kids didn't pass him the ball because of his disabilities..but because he was part of the team. Sigh... Sometimes, I need to remove my sarcastic self from the picture. Because sometimes a game is just a game..and a kid is just a kid. Today my kid was determined. He came, he saw, he conquered because he can..he will and he does. How's that for awareness?

At least we're dressed....kind of..

"Laundry is the only thing that should be separated by colour"

author unknown (to me)

I used to love doing the laundry. Fresh towels, clean underwear...your favorite pair of jeans all clean and folded. It was my once a week ritual..The washing, the drying-even putting it away. It was my quiet oasis in my otherwise very busy life. It gave me a sense of personal accomplishment. It was a joy to behold! Until I had children.

I don't know how it happens. How one small body can produce so much laundry. Yes, I have four kids, and it is understandable that they would add to the laundry pile. I think it is the sheer amount that they add that overwhelms me. Especially as some of them prefer not wearing clothes at all. My children, much of the time and especially when it is warm, prefer being naked. Or as naked as possible. I'll happen to glance in to the computer room, and there will be Oscar sitting at the desk, stark naked playing a game. "Uhh..Oscar?...Where are your clothes?" "Off." "Well I can see that they are off..Why are they off?" "I was hot." "Oscar! We don't play computer games naked!" (there was a time I would never have imagined saying such a thing) "Why not?" "Because it isn't polite." "Why isn't it polite?" "I don't know..it just isn't..please at least put pants on!!" "O.K. Mama." Sigh...it is starting to get a little weird. The other night, they were at the table eating dinner. I went to the kitchen to get something, and when I came back-they were all naked...well Sammy had shoes on..but otherwise, they weren't wearing anything. What's really strange was that I seem to be the only one who noticed. They continued eating as if nothing unusual had occurred. "Hey guys?....what's going on?" They all just look at me as if to say "What? Huh?..What do you mean?" So I did what I thought best "If anyone wants dessert, they need to put their pajama's on" Ha! Two can play at that game.

I understand why they don't always like clothes. Tags, scratchy materials even the feeling of something on their skin can sometimes be too much for them. So I try not to stress too much on them being naked. I do however draw the line at public nudity. This is something that Zoe has the biggest problem with. To her, being dressed can mean wearing a full outfit or just shoes. I can't tell you the amount of times I've called "Come on guys, we're going to the store" in will run Zoe...braids flying, pocket book and necklace on...wearing just one sock. She's learning..albeit slowly. Hey, at least she doesn't take her pants off outside anymore. She'll get there on her own schedule. Look at Sammy. There was a time he refused to wear shoes. Now he never takes them off-even at night. Although I did get him to switch to slippers for bed time. I take total responsibility for this. He was eighteen months old and he wanted to walk in the snow. He was furious that I was insisting he put boots on. He did not see the point. He put up such a fuss, that in my frustration...I let him. I allowed him to walk in the snow with bare feet. (I still burn with shame over this one) It took him less then a minute to realize that maybe boots wouldn't be such a bad idea. I haven't seen his feet in years...sigh..

April second is autism awareness day. I'm not sure what I think about that. Am I supposed to be "extra" aware? Or am I supposed to make others aware? I am all for discussing autism, enlightening and educating people. I will do most anything to promote acceptance and inclusion. I will do that ANY day. That is part of my job-of being a mom to these four wonderful kids. It has been suggested that we wear either blue or multi-colored shirts on that day as well. I'm sorry, but that is where I have to draw the line. I guarantee that as a family we will do our best to promote awareness, acceptance, inclusion and change. sigh...I can't guarantee that all of us will be fully clothed. Not yet at least...

In which a mother chooses a mote instead of a pen..

"And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam [is] in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye."

Matthew 7:3-5

Oh we've all been there. Your out shopping when all of a sudden you hear it. It is a sound like no other. If you are a parent,you recognize it in an instant. Your head goes up..you look around..if your kids are with you...you look at them. There it is again...in the distance ..a very loud and perceivable "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" followed by crying and perhaps some screaming. A child is having a tantrum. And for one glorious moment you think to yourself - "I am so glad it is not mine." You're glad because you have been there, you have done that, you know what it can be like. If I happen to walk by this tantrum in progress, and I catch the parents eye, I always try to give a look of support, a knowing smile. I try to let them know that I have been there and I know what it is like...that it is o.k. A little kindness can go a long way.

I remember being in that same position so many times over the years. And although we have grown out of public displays of unhappiness..I remember too well what it was like being in the middle of one. To have one of your kids lying on the floor screaming and kicking in the middle of the store..you feel helpless...vulnerable. I remember once, my boy had reached maximum capacity, he had hit sensory overload..there was nothing for him to do but break down utterly and completely. Unfortunately, this happened to be in the doorway of our local supermarket. I was eight months pregnant at the time and way too big to carry him, so the most I could do was slide him over to the side(so people could get in and out), sit down next to him and wait it out. To this day, I will never forget the kindness of absolute strangers. The knowing smiles, the kind nods. Letting me know that they too had been there in my same position..they understood and it was o.k. Of course there were other looks as well. The "My children would never behave that way" and "what kind of parent are you" attitudes. I admit that there was an evil part of me that thought "wait until you have kids of your own and then come talk to me.."

It isn't easy parenting children. The level of difficulty in doing things like going to the market or the library very much depends on a variety things.(do I have enough snacks with me?) I generally have four kids in tow. Most of the time things go smoothly. Sometimes they don't. We are a work in progress. A trip to the store is an opportunity to work on things like manners, patience (mine), getting along (with each other) and social interaction. I never much thought of how we look to strangers-I'm too busy focusing on the kids. Now I know that we might "appear" different. Some of us flap, some of us hop and some of us don't. It is who we are, and that is good enough for us.

A friend of mine (http://www.storkdoc-nos.blogspot.com/) brought something to my attention . It seems that a mother wrote a blogpost yesterday about her experience at the library. I would give you the link, but the post has been deleted. It WAS titled " In which Smockity considers jabbing a ball point pen in her eye". It seems our heroine Smockity, needed to kill some time, so she took a few of her children to the library. While waiting, they could look at books, use the computers and she could catch up on her bible reading. In walks our protagonist "grandma" and her young granddaughter. Smockity thought that she was about four years old. The little four year old ran to the computers, but they were all in use. Smockity describes the young charge as "flapping her hands", hopping..and GASP! perseverating. The young girl eager to use the computer, repeatedly told her Grandmother that she was doing a good job being patient. The Grandmother, used endearments and praise, telling her young charge that "yes, she was doing a good job." This ANNOYED our heroine. Why didn't grandma just distract her with a book? Why was Grandma using so many endearments? This girl's perseverating wasn't endearing! And why did Grandma keep looking over and smiling at our innocent bible bearing heroine? Was it to try and get her to remove one of her own children from the computers? No sir! If that was what Grandma was aiming for-she was just going to ignore her and continue reading her bible. In fact our heroine had a mantra going through her head.."not my child-not my business" Our saintly heroine was mighty pleased with herself...although she was worried that one of her own sterling examples of perfect reproduction might comment and say "But she is not being patient!" Then what would she have done??-because her little angels would have been right!! No, it was best she just keep her mantra going and her eyes on her bible. As frustrating as it was, (she did consider putting a pen in her eye) she would blog about it later. And blog she did-much to the dismay of many parents. I do not think that this was the response she had expected. To her mind she was relating an anecdote, an experience..she was taking the opportunity to express her disgust with what she perceived had happened.

Some commenter's thought that the little girl might be autistic (because of the description of her behaviors) I don't think that it matters. This isn't a mother who blogs on disability. She might not recognize autism. I can not hold that against her. What bothered me was the self justified arrogance of her post. The "I wouldn't let my kids behave that way" attitude. She could have of reached out to the Grandmother, offered her a smile, some reassurance. It could have made a huge difference, and been a learning experience for her children. Instead, she chose to deliberately ignore her-which is a great way to teach intolerance.

I don't know the reason why she pulled her post. It could be because of the many negative comments, it could be because she felt bad. But after reading this http://www.smockityfrocks.com/2010/03/1846.html I don't think so. It just makes me want to change the world even more. sigh...way to go Smokity. Good luck with that mote, although I have to say, your pen would have been easier.

Update-thanks to Corina, I have the original post-http://74.125.93.132/search?q=cache:uDLs8yAqM8sJ:www.smockityfrocks.com/2010/02/in-which-smockity-considers-jabbing-a-ball-point-pen-into-her-eye.html+smockityfrocks+autism&cd=6&hl=en&ct=clnk&gl=us&client=firefox-a

Ride of the Valkyrie Mother..

"The hand that rocks the cradle
is the hand that rules the world"
W.R. Wallace



You know, I'm not much of a yeller. I don't believe that shouting and arguing are very effective ways to change anything. I think they just make you "feel" like you are doing something. I'd rather use humor. The problem with this is that people don't always take you seriously. Or, as I found during last weeks parent teacher conferences, they think it means you are weak, easily placated...gullible. Au contraire!!..Big mistake! Oh ye of little faith..or in the words of Mr. T.."I pity the fool.."

I have to say, for the most part, my kids have been blessed with wonderful teachers. People who have been more than willing to make simple accommodation's so that my kids were comfortable. I in turn have always made myself accessible to them..offering anything in the way of support, information and guidance. I think it is important to have open communication with your kid's teachers. I look at it as teamwork. Unfortunately, this year Sammy's teacher is not a team player. I was warned at the beginning of the year to watch out for her. I was told that she didn't always follow the rules..didn't always do what was best for the kids..had more interest in spending time with her husband (the other fifth grade teacher) than in actual teaching. I was told to make my presence known-in a big way. I thought that I had. I thought wrong.

Last week, I had a conference with Sammy's teacher..Mrs. Dragon Lady. I call her that because of her ginormous (at least 4 inch) press on artificial talons uhh.. I mean nails, and the fact that she uses said nails to point out various things i.e. charts and diagrams, and she clicks them either together or on the table while she talks. It is disconcerting to say the least.

Mrs. Dragon Lady-I'm glad you came in..I have concerns about Sammy. (click click)

Me-Concerns? What about?

Mrs. DL-well, he seems happy enough..click click...but he is failing math..

Me-What do you mean failing math?! Isn't he getting the help he needs in the resource room?!

Mrs. DL-Yes.. Finally...I've been trying for months to get him help...(click click.)..I THINK HE'S REGRESSING. click click click..

Me-Excuse me??..I came to see you in October. YOU stated that Sammy was doing well. Furthermore, I said that if there were a problem, you were to call me immediately and that I would do my best to help fix it.

Mrs. DL-(click click click)..I can't go against I.E.P. protocol..

Me-(at this point my face is burning,my blood pressure is through the roof) What do you mean?
I came to see you in OCTOBER. I told you to CALL me if there were problems. In December we decided to get him help in the resource room..and now you tell me that you've been trying to get him help for months?? Which months??

Mrs. DL-well I (click click) have to follow protocol..

Me-WHAT in the hell are you talking about??? Please don't talk about I.E.P. protocol to me...I have been doing I.E.P.'s for over eight years..I am well aware of what the rules are..You are really starting to piss me off. (yes, sigh., I said that)Why didn't you call me? What do you mean by regressing?

Mrs. DL-oh uh well..yes he is in the resource room but he has to have his work modified (click click click) He is going backwards..he doesn't seem to be able to grasp what is being taught in the classroom..

Me- perhaps if you didn't combine both yours and your husbands classes together, putting over fifty children in one tiny room..perhaps he would not be so distracted..In college even most of my lectures had less students..and I was an adult. Sammy has auditory processing issues...too many people distract him.

Mrs. Dl-(click click) yes the room IS small..uhh..(click click) I told them that we need another fifth grade teacher (rapid clicking) another room..but they don't listen,,uhh well, yes, Sammy loves science and history..he's doing well..uhh..yes, I'm glad we straightened that out..

Me-I am going to call a team meeting.

Mrs. Dl made small talk..totally ignoring the idea of a team meeting. Telling me how great Sammy is..and creative..just a lovely boy etc.etc..I bantered with her..told a funny story about him..it calmed the situation..it didn't however change it..

Mrs. DL- Thanks for coming in...sorry for the misunderstanding..(click click click)

I left there on a positive note. My boy does have to spend seven hours a day with her (and her husband...and her talons) . Besides, you do catch more flies with honey than with vinegar. What Mrs. Dl does not realize is that I am far from finished. By nine thirty this morning, I had already arranged for a team meeting, spoke with the principle, and arranged to speak with his caseworker and his classroom aid. I have every single one of his I.E.P.'s in triplicate. I have his speech and o.t. evaluations. I am waiting to hear from his counselor. I am gathering every piece of information that I can. I will go into that meeting armed to the teeth. Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyrie" playing in my head. They will not know what has hit them. Oh I might be the "nice" mother, easy going, quick to make a joke. But we are talking about my boy here-my son. And you just don't mess with a mother. At least not this one. Regression my ass! I'm thinking I may even bring a nail clipper .

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNl1ykMm1X0 Here is a nice version of the Wagner piece.

Euphem-isn'ts..STIMulating perspectives...

"We don't see things as they are, we see them as we are"

Anais Nin

"It's not what you're looking at that matters, it's what you see"

Henry David Thoreau

I got a call from Oscar's occupational therapist last week. During the course of our conversation she said "I wanted to let you know, that in all my years of doing this, I never had a student as confident as he is." My Oscar-confident. How incredible is that? This boy of mine who stims and shakes and eeeeeee's is confident in who he is. It's true though. Watching Oscar walk down the halls of school, or in the store..he radiates such self esteem. The entire school knows him. He is the boy who addresses everyone by name, notices new shoes, new haircuts..outfits..and he always has something to say about it. He is also the boy who has trouble with pragmatic language. His conversation is limited. He is more inclined to repeat funny words and phrases instead of answering questions.

"Hi Oscar, how was school?" "..good..MAMA! say-grey stuffed animals nose!" "Did you do anything special today?" "Say it Mama! Grey stuffed animals nose.."

"sigh...grey stuffed animals nose..did you have library today?" "HAHAHAHAHAHAH! grey stuffed animals nose! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" "Oscar! Did you have library today??!" "It's funny Mama." "I know it's funny, but I'm trying to ask you a question...did you have library?"

"(whispered) grey stuffed animals...Yes! I had library!...nose nose nose..." Off he goes to find more things to laugh at via youtube..(the source of said grey stuffed animal and nose)

His stimming and lack of conversational skills don't stop him from having friends, being invited to birthday parties, or even asked to play. It is his confidence and joyfulness that draw people to him. He is a terrific kid, and people see that. Right now, we live in a very small community and he is insulated from much of the worlds prejudices. I get that. I know that his behaviors aren't always going to be so easily dismissed, so readily accepted. We are working on them at his own pace, not mine. He knows that public stimming, shaking and eeing are not always going to be acceptable. That people will look and that is all that they will see-not bothering to acknowledge the person behind them. He gets that. He really does, and he is working very hard to find ways to cope in public. At home-all bets are off. It is stim central, and that is just fine. Home should be that way. Home is where the "eeee" is.

The idea behind this post today was to talk about perspective. When I got the call last week from Oscar's o.t. it was great. I love hearing good things about my kids. The o.t. had even gone on to say "Oscars confidence and self esteem are a testament to your parenting" Normally, I shy away from parenting compliments. They make me uncomfortable. I make far too many mistakes on a daily basis to bask in the glow of praise. Parenting is parenting. I don't deserve any more credit than any other parent-special needs kids or not. In other words...I'm just doing my job. Today though, I am going to take that compliment and wear it like a mantle.

I was over at AoA (because Kim Wombles made me go look) and I read a piece called "A mother's perspective: What is Autism." In it the mother describes her experience with autism as being-an empty suitcase, an empty guidebook, guilt, endless, a crisis,a war, loneliness, isolation, and a thief. http://www.ageofautism.com/2010/03/a-mothers-perspective-what-is-autism.html#more I would not have been surprised if she had included locusts and plagues.

Look, I'm not dismissing that she has had a hard time. I am not dismissing that her son struggles. Some of her descriptions of his behavior very much remind me of Oscar's first four years of life. Parenting isn't easy. But to call your son a saint and portray yourself as some kind of warrior is a huge mistake, and a disservice to all parents, and to all people with autism. He is your son, your child, a person-and you are his mother. There are no stronger descriptive needed. There is a big difference between looking at what you have as opposed to what you don't. Oscar is MY proof of that.

So today, when I ask him how school was and he says "slinky feet" or "stuffed animals nose"..or our old favorite "Farmers nipples!" I'm going to laugh right along with him. He'll let me know about school when he's ready to, and in his own time. I have absolute confidence that he will. Right now, I have only this one moment in time, and I am not going to waste it thinking about what could have been. It really is all in how you look at it. Oscar is here right now-and he is wonderful, and I am blessed. Carpe farmers nipples!