The Battle Begins: Trust The Parent?


The first Monday morning of summer school I went to the school early to talk with the computer teacher, Mr. L. I informed him that my two boys had autism and IEPs (Individual Educational Plans– big name for the educational goals that teachers and parents set for the child). The teacher said that he would get everything from the computer. I offered my cell phone, and he replied that was on the computer too.

The first week of summer school passed. Nick was very frustrated. He had a D+. If anyone knows Nick, he or she would know something was terribly wrong. This is the child that is the perfectionist. Back in March he had one A+, three As, and one A-. He was NOT happy because he did not have straight As. The A- was not good enough. The next report card showed five As. Nick was happy.
So this D+ was not good.
Ryan had a B. Ryan is the one who can wait til the Earth fades before pulling out a book to study.
I tried to figure this out. I asked the boys several questions. I received some conflicting answers, but what was clear was that the special accommodations that were listed on the IEPs were not being implemented. Nick and Ryan are suppose to get extended time on assignments and tests. That was not happening. Nick needed that time.
The following Monday morning my husband and I showed up with copies of the accommodation pages from the boys’ IEPs. Mr. L refused to accept the pages. He said that, since these papers did not come from the administrative office, he could not accept them. There were legalities involved.
I was stunned. NEVER in my life had a teacher refused these papers. In fact, teachers usually expressed gratitude, “Thanks. It usually takes the office days or weeks to get these to us.”
Mr. L asked me if I understood. The Mama Bear in me challenged him, “No.” I took a breath. “No, I don’t. I’ve never had a teacher question my integrity before.” I had to restrain myself…
My husband and I walked to the administration office, and we talked with the principal. She said, “You need to understand that we have 1300 students here. It’s going to take time.” I bit my tongue.
The next day I made an appointment with the vice principal and the teacher. The vice principal, Mr. Z, was a teacher that knew from Nick’s junior high. When we arrived at the classroom, Mr. L was busy at the computer. We sat down. Mr. Z asked if I brought copies of the boys’ IEP so he could read them. I laughed. Here is an administrator asking ME, the untrustworthy parent, if I had copies. He couldn’t get copies from the computer in the administration office? He was going to TRUST ME, the parent? How daring!
The meeting was successful, but I couldn’t get over the irony of the teacher vs the vice principal. One refusing the IEP from me, and the other wanting a copy from me.
Just another day in the life of being an advocate for my kids in the school system!
photo credit:TI CC-40 (Set: 30)

Summer School Adventure


For the last two weeks my teens with autism have been in summer school. It’s a four hour course, four days a week, for four weeks. It’s the equivalent of a semester of school. I asked Ryan and Nick if they wanted to try this class. My hope is that their regular school year will be less stressful by taking a required class over the summer. They will be able to focus on one class, which is much easier for kids with autism to do.

I also have an ulterior motive. Ryan and Nick are very different, and I hope that their skills will benefit each other. For example, Nick is a perfectionist. He will study until he knows it, even if he fills himself with anxiety. No breaks. This sounds like a mother’s dream; he has an incredible work ethic. However, he gets chest pains, shortness of breath, and headaches. Not good.
On the other hand, Ryan is laid back when it comes to studying. There is always tomorrow, even if that final is tomorrow. Ryan has little concept of time. If there is a worksheet to complete, he can do that. There is a definitive beginning and end. However, studying? NOT going to happen unless he is prompted by me.
Another idea is that Nick, who is very social, will enable or inspire Ryan to talk. Nick has a difficult time talking, but he’s not afraid to try. Ryan can talk quite well, but he prefers to not engage in conversation. Nick will self-advocate; Ryan will not.
We’ll see how the two compliment or compete with each other.


A Guilt-Free Mother: Fantasy or Science Fiction?

I just read a book. That in itself is an accomplishment because finding time to sit and read really does not exist with a family of teenage boys. Seriously, with all that has been happening in my life, I thought it was time to read this book that a friend gave to me years ago.

The book, Guilt-Free Motherhood by Joni Hilton, is an easy read, and it offers typical, common-sense advice. However, I found that other moms simply laughed when they saw the title of the book. I have to agree. Is any mom ever guilt-free?

One friend quietly queried me, “What genre is it, fantasy or science fiction?” At first, I didn’t know what she was talking about because she asked so softly. She glanced at the book. AHHH! I replied, “Both.” We laughed. After a few minutes, I corrected myself. “It’s a comedy.” She thought that was a better description. My conclusion is that trying to be a guilt-free mother is actually all three: fantasy, science fiction, and comedy.
What other job requires relentless imagination to solve problems? What career demands unlimited patience to overcome obstacles? What profession necessitates an endless sense of humor to relinquish perfection? Motherhood entails this and so much more!
One comment in the book is worth mentioning. The author advises to let kids know that I enjoy what I do for them. Basically, if I resent giving my time and effort, it isn’t a gift of love. I took this further, that this gift can also be rejected. Sometimes my kids don’t want what I’ve done for them. That is a hard pill to swallow, especially when I’ve sacrificed to accomplish that task. However, that is love–a willing sacrifice for another. It’s also a choice for the other person to accept it or not.
I also think that guilt is not all bad. Guilt can keep us moms on our toes. Just like I try to teach my boys that they can learn from their mistakes, so can I. Then move on. Don’t dwell, but do learn.
It helps to have some room for fantasy, science fiction, and comedy in motherhood!

I Am A Frog?


Another mom of a special needs kid recently compared me to a frog. Really. She said that there is this anecdote of a frog in a pot, and I’m the frog. ?? I’m embarrassed that I had to look it up. Here is the story:

A live frog is put in a pot of cold water. The fire is turned up. Unless the frog jumps out, the frog is unknowingly cooked.

So I am the frog. I have been experiencing some heat from the fire of life, and I am aware the fire has been on. I can’t jump out of the pot, as that would mean leaving my family which is not option. How do I survive this boiling pot of water?

The only conclusion is to get a heat-resistant lily pad! Now I have the challenge to figure out what that lily pad is in reality.

photo credit:jronaldlee

Angels or Hellions?


I gave birth to the sweetest, cutest kids on the Earth. They were angels, or so I thought.

They are growing up. Not so cute and sweet anymore. Hellions? They back talk. They decide when to obey and when not to. Or do they?
One of my sons who will not be named decided to try the above scenario. It did not work. My son got angry. Unfortunately, I did too.
After we both took time away, I sat my son down. We talked it out. We both apologized. Then I explained why the Good Lord put the fourth and fifth commandments so close together. When children forget about the fourth commandment, which is honor your father and mother, parents can’t kill their offspring, as the fifth commandment states–you shall not kill, even though the parents might be tempted.
My son got a laugh, but he understood. Parents are human too. We can make mistakes, just like kids. The point is to keep trying our best, and learn from our mistakes. Keep going. Keep loving!
photo credit:treasureofthesea

Consoled By A Little Fat

A mom must remain optimistic. A sense of humor doesn’t hurt either. Sometimes kids, even with autism, unknowingly provide opportunities to laugh.

Case Study:
Over the last six, stressful months, I have put on a few pounds. These pounds are definitely not needed nor wanted. I voiced that thought. My son, Ryan, heard me. He tried to console me, “Mom, you are not REALLY fat. You’re just A LITTLE fat.” I was not sure how to react. He was sincere. He spoke the truth as he saw it. I ended up laughing.

Here is an autistic teen trying to make me feel better. Of course, I would have preferred no mention of “fat”. I had to laugh and go with it. I also noted that Matt is developing empathy in a relationship; that is not typical of many kids with autism. So I applaud Ryan.

Mixed-Sorted Laundry

Nick surprised me by doing the laundry yesterday. I expressed my gratitude, and I had to suppress a giggle. I hope I hid my shock. Why would I have gratitude, giggles, and shock? Well, Nick did the laundry!

Last April I worked a seasonal job, and I asked for someone to take the responsibility of washing clothes. Nick volunteered to do the laundry. I taught him how to sort by colors, which temperature to use, and what each cycle meant. I showed him how much detergent to use. He did quite well after several practice runs. While I worked, he did fine.
Well, several months have lapsed.
Yesterday, he sorted the clothes by dark colors, whites, and towels. I watched him do the first load. He picked the towels. He tossed them in the washing machine. He put in the correct amount of detergent on the correct cycle. YEA. He remembers! All my concern faded quickly, and I left.
About an hour later, Nick announced that he had switched the loads. Everything was going smoothly. I smiled. I could focus on other items demanding my attention.
Another hour lapsed, and I walked by the laundry room when Nick was switching the current load from the washer to the dryer. I noticed a mix of white and dark clothes coming out of the washing machine. ??? I saw him sort the clothing. What had happened?
Nick explained that he put in the white clothes, but there wasn’t enough to fill the washer. He knew that he could only run the washer on a full load, per my instructions. Consequently, he put in the dark load to fill the machine. The whites remained on the bottom, and the dark clothes were on the top. They were still separated. Really?!
From his perspective, yes.
He had sorted the clothes. He followed Mom’s instructions to not run the washer unless it was full. He did as directed. Literally. Nick was proud of himself!
Yes, Mom could scream, laugh, or frown. I chose the laugh.
I did explain that the reason for sorting is to NOT mix them in the machine. I showed Nick how to change the water level in case this ever happened again. I had to rephrase the instructions of the “full washer”. TRY to run the machine as full as possible. If it isn’t full, either wait until there are more clothes, or switch the water level.
Only time will tell if this lesson is learned.
Life with teenagers who have autism. It keeps me on my toes. Definitely need to keep a sense of humor and optimism.
photo credit:Average Jane

Do Not Worry–Easier Said Than Done

Matthew 6:33-34

33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

This is my favorite passage out of the bible. It answers all worry and strife.
First, seek God. He made us. I just wish He gave us a roadmap in plain English, especially when it comes to raising our children–with and without special needs. I guess that would be too easy, and that would not make us seek Him out.
Side note: If it’s any consolation, a line in a movie made me feel much better about raising kids. Paraphrased, in all the history of mankind, not one child has been raised right. (Mrs. C. please help with the name of that movie, starring Jimmy Stewart.)
Second, God will provide us what we need. We may disagree with the timing and with the things required, but He will provide. I think this is the hardest to accept.
Third, it says, …”do not worry…” How much effort and time are wasted worrying, and does it solve anything? No. I think moms are wired to worry, but we’d be more effective if we overcame it. Sleepless nights spent thinking about something that we can’t change only produces black circles under the eyes and crabby attitudes. Of course, that is easier said than done.
Here is more of the passage:

Matthew 6:28-34

28 “And why do you worry about clothes? See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.29 Yet I tell you that not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these. 30 If that is how God clothes the grass of the field, which is here today and tomorrow is thrown into the fire, will he not much more clothe you—you of little faith? 31 So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ 32 For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them. 33 But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.

Footprints with a Twist-Part II

There is no doubt that the imagery and faith conveyed in the poem, “Footprints in the Sand”, are beautiful, personal revelations by the author. I am positive that many people have found consolation and hope via this poem. In fact, I have found inspiration by reading this poem in times of difficulty.


So why do I say my experience has been different from the warm and fuzzy ending? When I have spoken with people about this, I usually get a laugh and a comment, “That’s twisted.” So be warned.

When I have been carried, I have not necessarily gone quietly. I was probably carried in a fireman’s hold because I was kicking and screaming. I could have been carried, well, dragged which would have left a stream of lines and footprints, indicating I was trying to run away. I was carried like a rebellious child throwing a tantrum because I didn’t like what was ahead of me. I didn’t want to face it. I didn’t want to deal with it.

It? What is “it”?

I certainly didn’t volunteer to be a mother of two autistic teens, let alone of four kids with disabilities at one point. I didn’t want to mourn a child lost in a miscarriage. I could list a myriad of issues and problems. Alas, everyone has things to handle, and everyone’s ability to do so varies. So who’s to judge what is a hard life or who’s problems are bigger?

I like happy endings. I root for the underdog. I like things simply stated. I acknowledge what is left unsaid. Some things just can’t be expressed through words. Both love and pain make us grow, whether we want to or not. The only solution I see is trust in the Good Lord, whichever way he carries us. It’s an act of faith that gives me hope.

Footprints with a Twist-Part I


Most people are familiar with the poem of “Footprints”, and the usual reaction is a favorable one, “I really like that.”

I disagree.
The end of the poem says that the Good Lord was present, actually carrying the individual at the lowest part of his/her life. That is the warm fuzzy-ending that makes everyone happy. Note that I am not disputing it. I have been carried many times, probably more than I know.
One thing is missing: how is the individual carried?
I suspect most people would envision a warm envelopment between a loving parent and child. I can easily see a father’s hug shielding his child from the world. He carries his child effortlessly. He comforts his child, assuring that his child is protected. No harm will come. No hurt. His child is loved. His child needs to know nothing more, but His love.
My experience is radically different.
photo credit: almostsummersky