A La Aspie

Earlier tonight, Ethan missed his orchestra recital. He was SO excited about this recital. He missed it, in the end, because of the band teacher’s failure to follow his 504 plan. I’ve had this post on tap for a few days but I think watching my Aspie kid cry his eyes out the whole way home and then be ok an hour later drove the point a little deeper.

I posted not too long ago about the great success we’ve had in the past few months. That success has continued unbroken for almost two solid months now. Almost long enough to breathe a sigh of relief… but I’m still flinching. I went for a massage this weekend and after the massage, I was talking to a friend about some of the emotional stuff that surfaced and I said “I’m still on the lookout.. I’m still on alert. It could still happen…

Ethan, while having an AS dx, also exhibits possible, by undx, attention deficit problems. Not undx for lack of looking, mind you (he’s been through two psych evals in his short life), but not the paramount issue. I’ve tried a few things that positively affected the AS symptoms but had very little effect on the attention deficit symptoms.

(And just for the record - I did sit in on his class one day during a ’shadow the student’ day - and OMG, tedious and monotonous. I really don’t fault young kids for not being able to sit still through that. It was HORRIBLE! In fact, I question the sanity of a young child who CAN sit still through that and have a brain left that is anything but numb. Maybe I could start a movement to treat overly attentive children.)

While in a client session one day, the client told me that…

Could I just say that I am on the tippy, tippy edge of this thing we call preadolescence and I’m already wishing for a swift blow to the head?

He had sex ed a couple of weeks ago. And apparently the sex ed was very detailed because he got to see a picture of a vagina (insert mysterious oos and ahs here) and he got all of the details about a period and how exactly babies are born. And now? Sex is ALL he thinks about. EVERYTHING now is a sexual innuendo… and I’m his mom. I can’t imagine what it’s like with a bunch of 9 year old boys.

And? The meltdowns are so much worse. He is on the autistic spectrum so we’ve always had meltdowns… but these? These are like nuclear disasters. Re faced screaming and tears over how MEAN mom is and weepy, the sky is falling,…

There are those times when the review goes really, really well. Historically, with this school, it has ONLY gone really, really well. This year was different though.

Usually, the school sets up a 504 plan review meeting at least annually as part of the 504 plan process because it’s their responsibility. I had to request this meeting. Ethan and I went to dinner last night and discussed the items at length and came up with some good action points. I wrote up a structured report and request list.

When everyone showed up, out of 6 people, NO ONE was prepared for a 504 plan review except Ethan and I. There was confusion, no one brought anything, there was no sense of cohesion. Then we start ticking off the items and running down the list. Sitting across from me, Ethan’s teacher says “He’s been completing his classwork just fine.” BUT WE JUST…

Most long time readers will know that my 9 year old some has some issues with impulse control and behavior in school and socially. This is, in large part, due to his Asperger’s Syndrome and in small (but not inconsequentially) part due to a very highly intelligent mind and strong will.

He is consistently disciplined and rewarded at home and I’m very involved in his world but it’s just not sinking in. And where his disability is concerned, only seen and experienced consequences help. Where zero tolerance and potentially legally dangerous acts are concerned, waiting for legal consequences is not an option I want to explore. So I decided to take him to the San Diego Juvenile Hall Open House.

It was absolutely fabulous. There were booths set up outside, first of all, so while you’re waiting in line to go on the tour, you’re passing educational booths about the facilities…

crossposted to my Asperger’s blog on Trusera.com

“Ethan’s mom!”, someone yelled from behind me.
(This is a title I’m quite accustomed to. “Oh, YOU’RE Ethan’s mom?”)
I turned to find one of Ethan’s teachers flagging me down. Yay!
“Hi!” I said, as cheerfully as possible.
Him: “Hi. I wanted to tell you what he did today.”
Me: “Of course! Why else would you flag me down from across the school by yelling, at a dead run?”
Him: “We were talking about planets today. I’m not sure any of the other kids heard or understood but Ethan asked me if there was a planet named after my anus.”

There was a brief pause while I scrambled to decide what to do. Should I laugh because damn, that’s funny or should I nod in serious agreement that it was a horrible thing to say? Could I nod in serious agreement without laughing?

I tried. I failed. I laughed. The teacher laughed to…

What I have noticed in Ethan is that when faced with an action, he often doesn’t realize that it is a series of decisions. But I’m confounded by the possibility that I do realize that it is a series of decisions only after learning to compensate that way - whereas a neurotypical doesn’t see it as a series of decisions… only as an action.

For instance : When I go grocery shopping, I buy what’s on sale and I freeze what we don’t need right then. I’m often pulling things out of the freezer to thaw when we need something. That goes for most meat, pre cooked meals and even bread. I’ve told Ethan a million times ‘when you put the bread in the freezer, lay it flat, not on top of anything and not squished. As long as I tell him that just before he puts it into the…

Crossposted to Trusera

Usually, my son, he just leaves shirts with buttons buttoned at the end of the day. He totally pulls it off over his head so that when he wears it again, he can just pull it back on over his head. And usually, even the shirts without buttons are on backwards and/or inside out. Although, I have to say that it is especially cute when the button-ups are inside out.

Usually, his pants are too big around the waist so that he can pull them down without unbuttoning them. Usually, unless a button is exceptionally easy, he has to have help and usually that is quite embarrassing for a pre-adolescent boy of his intellectual level.

Used to be, his handwriting was absolutely atrocious. He has this kind of awkward way of holding a pencil… reminiscent of a south paw’s over-the-top-of-the-page grip… but with his right hand.

He’s never really…

My son goes to a school in North County San Diego that has been fabulous. We transferred here at the beginning of the 07-08 school year. At first glance, the school looked run down, old, gang infested and just gross. I was about 2 hours from pulling every string possible to not send him there when I found that it was a California Distinguished School. I gave it a shot.

Come to find out, the special ed coordinator is totally well versed with Asperger’s Syndrome. No having to spell it out for her. And this IEP/504 plan process was like second nature to all of them. They had a process and they all came to the meeting knowing what needed to be done and there was no double talk or finagling. The 504 plan team has been wonderful. Compared to the two schools before, heavenly. We have our regular meetings…

Crossposted to Trusera

In line with the kind of aspie, non-social mom I am, my son has been playing with a boy that is moving in across the street for about a week and I’ve never met him. Quite honestly, I’m more afraid for the kids he plays with than for him. He comes home happy, not angry or hurt - and that’s enough for me. I saw the mom across the street the other day. I didn’t approach her. It’s enough that we are in close proximity and I can scope her out from there. She’s a real normal, nice mom.

Today though, bright and early, at 11AM on the first night/day of uninterrupted sleep I’ve had in weeks, there was a knock on the door. And then another one. And then the doorbell. And again. And no puny knock, mind you. It was a firm, “I know what I’m…