tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-158597262024-03-14T00:04:38.890-06:00Soapy WaterA blog about mothering a child who didn't come out of the cookie cutter.molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.comBlogger246125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-44545435914870439742010-04-22T22:34:00.001-06:002010-05-09T11:08:05.597-06:00...Just like riding a bikeI've had this growing urge to write on this blog again for the last few weeks. I lost the urge, about two years ago. I just didn't need to share anymore.<br /><br />But my dear friend Mr. Lady, who writes <a href="http://www.whiskeyinmysippycup.com">Whiskey in my Sippy Cup</a>, sends readers over here from time to time, and they send me the sweetest emails, and it gives me the occassional feeling that I'm doing something good just by having this blog out here.<br /><br />And then there's this: my own post traumatic stress from school drama raising up inside after an email from the school district... It made me feel all the things I felt back in 2006, and as a response, I wanted to write like I did in 2006.<br /><br />Long story short, the crisis is averted and now that I have no drama with the school district, I'm having so little angst to write about that the urge went back down... Like how you can talk yourself out of driving thru a taco bell... Although blogging is nowhere as bad for me as taco bell. It's actually good for me and I need to get back on to expressing myself this way.<br /><br />So, this post kind of sucks but I'm going to go ahead and publish anyway, because I need to just start again. Blogging is awesome for its complete lack of editing necessary. <br /><br />More soon, as I get used to being up on this bike again. I promise.molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-28308753156696769792009-06-01T06:56:00.004-06:002009-06-01T07:04:48.805-06:00Bedtime StoryOur first video blog. Aw.<br /><br />I interview The Kid, kinda, about Star Wars.<br /><br /><object width="400" height="300"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=4938388&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" /><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=4938388&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="300"></embed></object><p><a href="http://vimeo.com/4938388">The Kid, Star Wars Expert.</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user1272075">Molly G</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.</p><br /><br />By far, the highlight is the appearance of "the fuzz" at around 00:55.molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com13tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-46351697935897235562009-05-22T20:03:00.002-06:002009-05-22T20:23:32.754-06:00Out of practiceI've let the blog go to seed a bit. I need to moderate some comments for viagra out of the posts from 2006, and when I went to type "blogger.com" into my web browser, I wrote "globber.com." I'm totally out of sync with the me that used to write this thing. I'm a mess, generally. I need to get my writer self back, I don't even know what voice to use any more.<br /><br />So, like, my life changed pretty significantly last year. I moved to take care of my mother, and my jamming personal space was totally disrupted, so the ambiance I like to write in is all but gone. I also changed jobs, same company and all, but totally different job, where I'm now essentially a technical writer. I write all effing day, and I don't have the creative juices to write for myself anymore. It's totally soul crushing, this technical, sterile writing. I spend all day cracking my brain for new and interesting ways to describe benefit shortfalls nowadays, I just don't have the energy to talk about myself for more than a second.<br /><br />But that's brought me to another reason for this drought: the fucking fact that I am writing a blog. Who writes blogs? Am I one of those people? I completely lack the skill of many mom-bloggers who can write about just about anything that happens to them and manage to make it sound interesting... Many bloggers have lives that sound enviable, in some way, or at least their online personas make it so. Urban, social, experimental, I dunno. Just enviable. No one envies me... I'm pitiable by most, a fact I resent more than any other, including the fact that our country tortured prisoners of war, or some kind of horrible truth you don't want to look at, like how fat you've gotten since high school, or that your favorite tee shirt is now see-through, or whatever.<br /><br />But I hate, more than so many, many other more important things, bloggers who whine for a living. Not just bloggers, people. I'm totally not a whiner, by definition. So, that is not my blog.<br /><br />And I can't make this blog a series of "how my son was injured by mental health professionals," no matter how badly my psyche wants me to take up that subject, again and again and again, because nothing's going to make my feelings on that subject better but time, maybe therapy (if only I could find a therapist I thought was smart enough for the discussion), and some serious congressional smackdown of the fuck-holes who invented pediatric bipolar while concurrently getting paid by the pharma industry to sell their products.<br /><br />The Kid is his own story, and I am my own. I've been telling his through my own eyes for so long, I don't have a story of my own any more. Oh fuck, when did I become like one of those lazy bitches who'd show up crying on Oprah? Ick. I repulse myself.<br /><br />Anyway, I really want to figure it all out. And I'm just enough a member of this generation that's not quite Gen X and not quite Gen Y, that I'm all for trying to figure it out on the internet, where I get input from random strangers, and dear friends, who know my address.<br /><br />Bear with me. The next few posts are going to be rough til I figure out what I sound like again.molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-45264792650792611122009-03-11T21:49:00.003-06:002009-03-11T21:53:32.995-06:00<div>Over the years I've developed quite the ritual to prepare for big school meetings. I always read everything I can in the days before, favorite chapters of my favorite books about The Kid's various issues; I lose sleep, I toss and turn; I get really stressed for a good 24 hours; I drink some beer; I listen to loud hard rock music in the car on my drive over to the school. All of this has served me pretty well, I suppose over the years, but now, I have a new secret weapon. It's a talisman, of sorts.<br /><br />My friend Karen makes jewelry. That's not entirely accurate. She is a purveyor of gorgeous beads and charms who can combine them into the most sublime combinations with personalized touches and gorgeous details. She is also a mom of two fabulous young men. The older of the two is smart as a whip, an outgoing and funny little guy. The younger of them is a happy, gentle kiddo who loves words and letters, and has autism.<br /><br />Karen has started two new endeavors recently, two etsy shops: one selling <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=6768872">charms</a>, the other <a href="http://www.etsy.com/shop.php?user_id=6311899">jewelry</a>. Karen made me a bracelet, a private power source for my every day life... She personalized mine, with beautiful colored crystals in the colors of Autism Awareness, The Kid's initials, a bead that says "HOPE" and a charm with the sign for Ohm, for my quest to approach each person in my life with the true, deep acknowledgement of their light and goodness (a wordy way of saying I try to say "namaste" to everyone I meet, even in IEP meetings), and for The Kid's abiding interest in Chakra Symbols.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SbiGpz73t0I/AAAAAAAAAPM/H7H4JQScWy0/s1600-h/il_430xN_57879025.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312143813357582146" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 398px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SbiGpz73t0I/AAAAAAAAAPM/H7H4JQScWy0/s400/il_430xN_57879025.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SbiGp12uIrI/AAAAAAAAAPE/k6Er_ieOWg0/s1600-h/il_430xN_57879208.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312143813872853682" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SbiGp12uIrI/AAAAAAAAAPE/k6Er_ieOWg0/s400/il_430xN_57879208.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SbiGp4TY94I/AAAAAAAAAO8/I2WjZZZRf7g/s1600-h/il_430xN_57879054.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312143814529972098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SbiGp4TY94I/AAAAAAAAAO8/I2WjZZZRf7g/s400/il_430xN_57879054.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SbiGppfFM4I/AAAAAAAAAO0/AfjNNvakT9Y/s1600-h/il_430xN_57879099.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5312143810552476546" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SbiGppfFM4I/AAAAAAAAAO0/AfjNNvakT9Y/s400/il_430xN_57879099.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />This bracelet is definitely one of the things I would reach for if I had to flee my house in the dead of night. Not only is it beautiful, but symbolic, a talisman. It gives me power. It reminds me I have support in my friends, I look down at The Kid's initials and am reminded of why I do it all.<br /><br />Take a click over to her site. Her stuff is beautiful. </div><div> </div><div>(cross posted from <a href="http://www.hopefulparents.org/">www.hopefulparents.org</a>)</div></div></div></div>molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-2280838327638008652009-02-14T09:24:00.002-07:002009-02-14T09:26:07.479-07:00Pharma HumorThis took me a while to finally post, but this has had me laughing for weeks now. <br /><br /><embed src="http://www.theonion.com/content/themes/common/assets/videoplayer2/flvplayer.swf" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowScriptAccess="always" wmode="transparent" width="400" height="355" flashvars="file=http://www.theonion.com/content/xml/93207/video&autostart=false&image=http://www.theonion.com/content/files/images/DEPRESSANT_DRUG_article.jpg &bufferlength=3&embedded=true&title=FDA%20Approves%20Depressant%20Drug%20For%20The%20Annoyingly%20Cheerful"></embed><br /><br />It's absolutely right on.molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-20650278344365391202009-02-11T20:45:00.002-07:002009-02-11T20:49:13.645-07:00It's not you, it's me.I have to come clean. Promise to hear me out first. Please. Okay? Don't get mad before you've heard everything I have to say. Are you alright? You, um, might want to sit down for this.<br /><br />I've been posting elsewhere. <br /><br />I know, I know. It's shocking that I can even get my fingers to the keyboard at all, let alone to a second blog. I just get something about this other blog. I'm drawn to it. I can't explain it.<br /><br />Please don't be jealous. I love you. I really do.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.hopefulparents.org/blog/2009/2/12/least-restrictive-environment-anxiety-attack.html">http://www.hopefulparents.org/blog/2009/2/12/least-restrictive-environment-anxiety-attack.html</a>molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-1864632962411208612009-02-08T00:47:00.003-07:002009-02-08T01:04:15.541-07:00Happy Birthday, Baby Who Is Not A BabySometimes words just can't get it right. Perhaps a <em>very</em> amateur picture slideshow can attempt to tell you how blown away with how big my boy is.<br /><br /><object width="400" height="300"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true" /><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always" /><param name="movie" value="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=3127265&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" /><embed src="http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=3127265&server=vimeo.com&show_title=1&show_byline=1&show_portrait=0&color=&fullscreen=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" width="400" height="300"></embed></object><br /><a href="http://vimeo.com/3127265">The Kid's first 9 years</a> from <a href="http://vimeo.com/user1272075">Molly G</a> on <a href="http://vimeo.com">Vimeo</a>.molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-78773890486639043782009-01-28T22:41:00.003-07:002009-01-28T22:45:44.145-07:00Why I will be rooting for the Steelers this weekend...In all fairness, I would have been anyway, but a Pittsburgian friend of mind told me <a href="http://www.avs.net/terribletowel.cfm">this</a> story today:<br /><br /><blockquote>In 1975, The Terrible Towel® was created by the late Steelers broadcaster Myron<br />Cope to inspire fan involvement in a playoff game against the then-Baltimore<br />Colts. Thirty-three years later, The Terrible Towel® remains a Steelers<br />fan essential. And for the past 12 years, the sale of any The Terrible<br />Towel® product benefits the children and adults with intellectual/developmental<br />disabilities who are served by Allegheny Valley School. The funds that<br />Allegheny Valley School receives from The Terrible Towel® are used to cover<br />costs such as equipment, program expansions and renovations to our facilities.</blockquote><br /><br /><a href="http://www.avs.net/whoweare.cfm?navState=whoweare">The Allegheny Valley School</a> is school and community care provider for people with intellectual and developmental disabilities.<br /><br />How awesome is that?molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-26611499313928564752009-01-20T22:35:00.003-07:002009-01-20T22:47:47.954-07:00Disability is my life.And I'm completely finding myself in disbelief that this is what it's come to.<br /><br />My child is disabled. My mom is disabled. I care for them. I worry about them both, 24/7.<br /><br />My professional career, which began, years ago, as a temp job, has become completely and totally about disability. [and before you go there, it's totally about insuring against disability, not actually helping those with disabilities, unless you consider those who have become disabled after already having been insured, AND you are rich. It's not noble work.]molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-59132194643976121422008-12-23T20:21:00.002-07:002008-12-23T21:01:42.561-07:00How Not To Write a Christmas LetterThis time of year, mailboxes everywhere are filling up with letters from our friends and relatives recapping their years. To a parent of a kid with special needs, or any child struggling, or any family struggling, these letters can be as painful and annoying as sciatica. Maybe I should speak only for myself. I find them to occassionally be as painful and annoying as not just sciatica, but as heartburn, canker sores, and blisters.<br /><br />I should stop here, or at least pause, to say I do share in the victories of my friends and their kids. I guess I have a hard time with the comparison. Were I to write a Christmas letter, this or any year, it comes out sad and tragic and just not right. Perhaps it's just my writing style, or my intense need to be honest (should anyone ever ask me about it later, I need consistency), but I'm just not one of those people who can paint things in a light that is more cheery than things really appear.<br /><br />My Christmas Letter, had I actually written one this year, would read thusly:<br /><br />To my dear friends and family,<br /><br />Here's hoping 2008 really is coming to an end soon, and let's hope and pray for a fabulous 2009. I hope that the celebrations of Christ's birth in your home and community are filled with peace and love, and if you don't believe in Jesus, I hope you have abundant peace and love too.<br /><br />We've had quite the life changing year this year! The year began and only 5 days in, my mom's eye went out. As you may know, she has been blind in her right eye for the last 7 years, due to a series of retinal detachments. On January 5, her left retina detached and the surgery to repair it ended up permanently damaging the back of her eye, rendering her almost completely blind. I had essentially moved in the day she had surgery, to help her recoup, but then made it permanent somewhere around March, when we knew that her vision would never recover. The rest of the year for her has been spent relearning how to negotiate the world, and with the help of my awesome sisters and my mom's generous friends, she is doing very well. I tell everyone who asks about her, she's exactly the same, her health is still fine, she just can't see you if you sneak into a room.<br /><br />So, I moved back in to my childhood home. It's a nice home, I have no complaints. My cat certainly likes it more than she liked our old place, there are more windows and hiding places. I've always loved my bedroom, with its south and east facing windows.<br /><br />The Kid had a comeback this year that would put Shatner to shame. He started the year in the throes of antipsychotic withdrawals, which lasted until the better part of April or May. I got sick of his weight gain, drooling, bedwetting and continued erratic behavior and told his psychiatrist he was going off of the meds. The Kid dropped from 15 mgs of Abilify to none in 9 months, dropped tenex and depakote without much down-titration (and without ill effects really, it's the abilify that was the bitch for him to lick). While going off of the meds, I tried to engage the help of the psychiatric community, but they all told me to put him back on the meds. I went completely against medical advice, and was right. After he had the meds leave his body, he dropped approximately 50 pounds, his violent and aggressive behavior generally stopped, his motor skills improved, he slept through the night, he engaged at home more willingly, he began to participate in academics more fully, he became capable of participating in group activities at school, he could make it through a day, then a week, then a month without aggression, without outward difficult behavior. We fought hard to add occupational therapy and assistive technology to his IEP, and won.<br /><br />To anyone who has ever poo-pooed mother's intuition: Go suck it, I was right on every single point. Vindication is the word of my year. That, and eyeball.<br /><br />So, The Kid was officially rediagnosed with Asperger's in April, bringing on the official autism spectrum disorder diagnosis I'd inexplicably put off for several years. With it comes a new slew of therapies that are on the slate for 2009, most notably occupational and vision therapy. He is getting more one on one work at school on social thinking processes, and my approach to helping him has grown in innumerable ways.<br /><br />This fall he went back to school and has been an absolute success over last year. His problematic behaviors gone, we've been able to concentrate on a number of core issues and challenges, most notably sensory integration, handwriting, reading, and understanding other's social intent. He's making some progress, and our hope is that before the end of the school year, he will move into a less restrictive classroom environment inside of a general educational setting, so that maybe he can meet some kids who live nearby, and maybe he can begin to make some friends. It's exciting, and terrifying.<br /><br />I spent a great deal of the year in career limbo. My boss quit his job, leaving me alone for a full 9 months before my company realized I was sitting there day after day with little to nothing to do. I've been reassigned and I'm busy and hassled and annoyed again, and with the economy the way it is, I've never been more grateful to say I have a job, even if it annoys the ever-living crap out of me 90% of the time.<br /><br />Personally I've been in a deep dark hole and for the most part I've been inside my own head so much I barely recognize the outside world. I wouldn't say I was depressed, because I know people who get depressed and I just think I'm chemically incapable of being depressed. God knows I would have refused psychiatric medications anyway. I am held up by my family, my amazing and loving inspriration of a child, my sisters who are my best friends, my best friends who are like sisters (and brothers), and I guess, I world of hope and a deep-seeded belief that I'm at this for one reason or other, which will only be elucidated after a long life. I'm doing okay. You move back into your mom's house at 32 and tell me you would be all, "MY LIFE FUCKING ROCKS! I'M AWESOME!" you know?<br /><br />Anyway, hope you get some good loot for the holidays, but more importantly, you get the opportunity to tell someone that you love them, and that you have the luck to be told that you are loved back.<br /><br />Much love,<br />Mollamolly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-43670355737827208642008-12-12T19:03:00.003-07:002008-12-12T19:52:49.931-07:00Actual Music I Have Listened To......in preparation for IEP meetings.<br /><br />I have to psych myself up for school meetings like athletes get ready for the big game. I need to get myself ready with the three basics of IEP preparation: 1. Don't Cry. 2. Kick Ass. 3. Take Names. Oh, and of course, be nice, don't burn bridges, but mostly 1, 2 and 3.<br /><br />Here's the top five songs I've used to prepare:<br /><br />1. Army of Me.<br />"If you complain, one more time, you'll meet an army of me." Simple enough.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/LyEJxzQM24Q&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/LyEJxzQM24Q&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />2. Lacrymosa.<br />Get the tears out privately. I nominate this song for the saddest song ever, in latin. <br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/JE2muDZksP4&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/JE2muDZksP4&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />3. Hooker with a Penis<br />Um, I had to look up this title, and I had no idea this was the name of this song. I know it as the 'Fuck You, Buddy' song, and it's fairly hard for me to believe that the actual name of the song is well, worse than that. Actually it totally changes my concept of the song, and I must state here that this has been my go-to angry song for the last, um 12 years, and I never ever listened to the words, tried to conceive that tool had stories to tell in their songs. But, it totally also totally makes sense. "If I'm the man then your a fucking man as well." Um. That just makes me feel stupid that I never figured that out. I include it, because it's a rocking, ANGRY song. Now, however, I know it's a song about some dude's angry reaction to finding out the painted lady he hired is no lady at all. Ah well. <br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/32FVi7SpQDk&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/32FVi7SpQDk&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />4. Lessons Learned.<br />Cheeseball, I need inspiration song. No nominee for best ever anything, unless you count lyrics that speak to me, personally. It is also very hard to find good you tube videos of this song, just so you know. <br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/olt3yaa1L3I&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/olt3yaa1L3I&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />5. Me Jane.<br />Dude. This post is making me feel old. This has been my she-power song for 15 years. I swear I do have new songs that I like. I swear! I'm still, um, six months behind being hip! I just can't put any of those songs as my go-to psych up songs yet*.I used to listen to this song to get ready for dates (this may explain why I'm not married). Now I listen to it on my way to talk about my son's special education interventions in the school. I'm also nuts.<br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/wqFB5Ab7ozA&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/wqFB5Ab7ozA&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br />*Honorable Mention: Hot Soft Light<br />Didn't mention this song because it's totally about partying and making out and being stupid and young, so it's not particularly inspiring me for IEP meetings, persay. More of an 'on the way to work' song, for sure. Apparently, I need to rethink my criteria, because I clearly am inspired to talk education by songs about dudes who are really pissed off that their hookers are dudes.<br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vYFOdsOkzkU&hl=en&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vYFOdsOkzkU&hl=en&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-53449285663101576522008-12-06T17:33:00.006-07:002008-12-06T20:20:40.503-07:00Books About Aspergers and Corresponding DisordersIn response to my last post, <a href="http://wrongshoes.com/">Wrong Shoes </a>asked respectfully for a list of the books I've been reading to get up to speed on The Kid's fairly new diagnosis of Aspergers. So, here's a list of resources, some new to me, some long-ago dogeared, that I find to be helpful in teaching me all that I can learn about how perhaps I can tap in to The Kid's brain, and more effectively build a home and school program to help him succeed...<br /><br /><br /><br /><ul><br /><li><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Complete-Guide-Aspergers-Syndrome/dp/1843106698/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1228616597&sr=8-1">The Complete Guide to Asperger's Syndrome by Tony Attwood</a>. This book is the textbook on textbook Aspergers. Lots of info, lots of what to look for, not so much, in my opinion, on what to do. Finding WHAT TO DO is the hardest thing, I think.</li><li><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Kids-Syndrome-Aspergers-Tourettes-Bipolar/dp/1843108119/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1228616735&sr=1-1">Kids in the Syndrome Mix by Kutscher, Wolff and Attwood</a>. Hits it right on, that there is this type of kid that bounces from ADHD to Bipolar to Tourettes to LD to Aspergers. The Kid is definitely 'in the mix.' Unfortunately, once you've read Attwood's Asperger's tome, the <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Bipolar-Child-Definitive-Reassuring-Misunderstood/dp/0767928601/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1228617050&sr=1-1">Papolos's Bipolar "bible</a>", and then <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Taking-Charge-ADHD-Complete-Authoritative/dp/1572305606/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1228616922&sr=1-1">Russell Barkley's ADHD books</a> like I have, you've essentially already read this book. I suggest this book for TEACHERS, and for parents new to a diagnosis, or have a child entering school and special ed without a diagnosis, but with a strong sense that their child will be diagnosed with ADHD and the like.</li><li><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Seeing-Through-New-Eyes-Developmental/dp/1843108003/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1228617150&sr=1-1">Seeing Through New Eyes by Melvin Kaplan</a>. I keep putting this book down before I can get very far. It is about <a href="http://www.pathwaystobettervision.com/">Behavioral Optometry</a>, which is a method of helping The Kid that I am very seriously considering. He was evaluated by a Behavioral OD this fall, and it was clear that The Kid had difficulty tracking an object with his eyes across a field of vision (his eyes jumped, intermittently, rather than smoothly following the object, something which developmentally he should be able to do by 8 years old), and cannot discern depth perception with great accuracy. The conceit of this kind of therapy is that if you repair the ability to see, you will clear up a number of the sensory and attentional difficulties that manifest from problems created by these vision impairments. These are not vision impairments normally caught by your everyday eye doctor, and of course the therapy and the exams are not covered by insurance. I am not a fan of this particular book, although I'm interested in following this course of therapy, because it promises a complete cure to autism, aspergers, ADHD, learning disabilities, etc. That annoys me. I don't get my hopes up anymore.</li><li><a href="http://www.out-of-sync-child.com/">The Out of Sync Child and The Out of Sync Child Has Fun by Carol Kranowitz</a>. The basics on Sensory Integration Dysfunction. The Kid has numerous sensory issues, which I've written about before. Clothes have to be just so, with no tags or fabrics that he might find disturbing. Jeans are out, as are any pants with buttons. Loud, open, cacophonous rooms or venues make him either explode outward or escape inward, either way, unreachable. I could go on and on. I didn't find the former especially helpful for a plan of action, but the latter has lots of fun, sensory-friendly activities and games. We are, and have been, on the waitlist for weekly occupational therapy for months now, and now that we're at this stage, I find it hard to believe that I've waited this long to take this plunge into intensive OT. To any trained eye, it should have been the first thing we did when he was in preschool. Bygones.</li><li>Saving the best for last, of course. <a href="http://www.socialthinking.com/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=124&category_id=14&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=102">Thinking About Me, Thinking About You by Michelle Garcia Winner</a>. Big fan. I'm a BIG fan of <a href="http://www.socialthinking.com/">Ms. Winner</a>. Her methods don't work for all kids on the Autism Spectrum, but her brand of teaching social convention is right up my kiddo's alley. I have been pleading for his school to use the <a href="http://www.socialthinking.com/index.php?page=shop.product_details&flypage=flypage.tpl&product_id=129&category_id=9&option=com_virtuemart&Itemid=102">Superflex</a> program with him in his 1:1 therapy time, but they haven't done so even though they own the program, mostly in favor of allowing him to perseverate on paper airplanes and the like. Grrr. At any rate, the basic tennet of the Social Thinking programs is that social convention, like everything else we aim to teach children with ASD's, can be broken down and taught. You can be taught that other people are thinking about you as you are acting. You can be taught that other people think differently than you and may or may not expect you to act in certain ways at certain times. You can be taught that there are appropriate situations for certain behaviors, and situations where certain behaviors are never appropriate. Big fan. Huge.</li></ul><p>So, to this I add two items, fiction or memoir. </p><ul><li><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Love-You-Pieces-Creative-Writers/dp/0807000302/ref=sr_1_7?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1228619499&sr=8-7">I Love You To Pieces</a>. A totally heartbreakingly wonderful book of short stories written by parents of special needs children, organized along a timeline of birth to adulthood, representing the various concerns that come along with each milestone and age in both the lives of the children and parents. Some of the authors' children have autism, some cerebral palsy, some more rare disabilities I'd never heard of before. If you are a parent of a child with special needs, this is inspiring, touching, real. If you have a friend who has a child with special needs and you want to know what the spectrum of emotion they may go through, this book will give you a fairly good idea. </li><li><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Hurry-Down-Sunshine-Michael-Greenberg/dp/1590511913/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1228619543&sr=1-1">Hurry Down Sunshine</a>. I'm not done yet, and technically this book is about schizophrenia, but it's also about a dad and his daughter. I have promised the publisher I'd write a full post about the book once I get it done, so expect that sometime next week.</li></ul><p>Now, I know I'm missing many many books here. Most notably, I want to read more books from the perspective of adult aspies, like <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Look-Me-Eye-Life-Aspergers/dp/0307396185/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1228619631&sr=1-1">Look Me in the Eye</a> and some of <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Short-Bus-Journey-Beyond-Normal/dp/0805074279/ref=sr_1_3?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1228619712&sr=1-3">Jonathan Mooney's</a> books. Any other suggestions?</p>molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-28007384614292905532008-12-02T22:29:00.003-07:002008-12-02T22:50:23.979-07:00Internal Debate<span style="color:#336666;">Me: I think I'm going to kill Soapy Water.</span><br /><br />Me: But you love Soapy Water. You at least have to keep the archives!<br /><br /><span style="color:#336666;">Me: But the archives make me want to cringe. All that bloviating about the "idiots" at The Kid's schools, all the "thank God for psychiatric medications..." It's just a big emblem of the wrong path, the lost years...</span><br /><br />Me: And yet, that's what got you and The Kid <em>here</em>.<br /><br /><span style="color:#336666;">Me: But where are we? Who wants to read about it?</span><br /><br />Me: You know people will read it, the people who love you will.<br /><br /><span style="color:#336666;">Me: Yeah, we can't all be as famous as <a href="http://www.whiskeyinmysippycup.com/">Mr. Lady</a>. But the posts aren't coming out any more. I'm too self aware. I've lost that voice, I've certainly lost all semblance of hip-mom that seems to be prerequisite for mom-blogging.</span><br /><br />Me: Dude, you were never "hip."<br /><br /><span style="color:#336666;">Me: True. But I thought I was. I have lost something. I can't describe it. And I'm suddenly gunshy. I can't be as opinionated as I once was, ever since every assertion I made about The Kid being bipolar turned out to be The Kid reacting poorly to the meds he was on, not at all bipolar.</span><br /><br />Me: Yeah, and then the Asperger's Diagnosis.<br /><br /><span style="color:#336666;">Me: Autism Spectrum. I'm a newbie. I'm at a loss. I don't know anything, I'm fumbling around in the dark with what to do.</span> <span style="color:#336666;">And then there's the fear that just because the Asperger's fits today, it all makes some sense, I know in my heart of hearts I made bipolar fit, like a world view to help me fight. What if I'm wrong about this one too?</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#000000;">Me: But you read the books and you see those similarities. Your friends, all their stories. The years where he didn't sleep, even without meds screwing up his circadian rythyms, the hard times with haircuts and dentists, the vocal self-stimulatory behavior, the narrow interests, the hyper-focus, the social stuff, the sensory stuff. And don't forget the approach.</span><br /><br /><span style="color:#336666;">Me: The approach to Asperger's is the thing that makes me confident in his <em>treatment</em>, that's for sure. If the child is acting out, or seeking sensory stimuli, to what aim? <strong>What is the root cause of the behavior?</strong> Isn't that the best question ever?</span><br /><br />Me: It's my favorite. After years and years of "if he's acting out, let's increase his dosage another .5 miligrams." I think you need to leave the old behind and start a new chapter. Part II of sorts, without moving the actual website, or so I <a href="http://www.busydadblog.com/entries/all-these-things-that-ive-done.html">hear</a>...<br /><br /><span style="color:#336666;">Me: Part II. I guess it's worth a try. I can't promise anything.</span>molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-55897658281388799342008-11-01T19:42:00.002-06:002008-11-01T19:47:02.698-06:00His Name is Speaks No Evil<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SQ0GZQ6qpSI/AAAAAAAAAK8/YEdrrtqhgSo/s1600-h/The+Kid.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5263870570573505826" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 400px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SQ0GZQ6qpSI/AAAAAAAAAK8/YEdrrtqhgSo/s400/The+Kid.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div><br /><br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SQ0FrQkR2HI/AAAAAAAAAKs/xlZKl9u_Jus/s1600-h/PA010069.JPG"></a><br /><br /><br /><div></div></div></div>molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-67814525200959085602008-10-25T12:32:00.002-06:002008-10-25T12:35:01.687-06:00Nasty.So, this is one for the story books.<br /><br />The Kid is all shifty eyed and anxious last night. I ask him what he's up to. He flails and avoids me for about an hour. He comes up to me at about 6:30 and says, I can't even tell you what I did. Just go to my room and look in my toybox.<br /><br />What am I going to find? A severed head? A hideous stain on his nice pants? Something dear to me cut up to pieces? Who knows, but I know one thing. This ain't good, my friends.<br /><br />I go down and open the toybox. A hideous stench hits me, and there is nothing in the toybox but one of my bigger pyrex bowls, filled with a nasty yellowish water. You know that part in The Shining when he goes into that bathroom and finds the scary dead body in the bathtub? That comes screaming to mind and I freak out and run out of the room and go get him.<br /><br />WHAT IS THAT? I ask.. He says, look on the bottom. We go back to the toybox, I pick up the bowl gingerly, so as to spill none of this who-knows-what on, well, anything, and lift it up to look at the bottom of the bowl. There is nastiness on the bottom of the bowl, but I still don't know what the frak it is.<br /><br />WHAT IS THIS, KID? I say with restrained rage, wondering if I now need to worry about him being a sociopath or something. The Kid replies, "You know in Spongebob the movie how they come back to life with water?"<br /><br />It instantly comes to me. My mom has a propensity towards tchochkes. I HATE them, but there is shit all over this house, loads of nativity scenes (we are sooo catholic), little pottery pieces and vases, bowls with rocks in them, and then there's this one pretty little round glass vase, filled with shells, sand dollars and yes, a starfish. Or rather, there used to be a starfish in that little round vase. The Kid was trying to revive my mom's dried starfish. A dried starfish I have a feeling she picked up decades ago during a family vacation before I was even born. I made him dump the water out and clean the bowl. Nasty nasty nasty. It smelled like, oh, ancient saltwater and rancid liver mixed together or something. We both wretched about 12 times. It was by far, the most disgusting thing I've encountered as a parent, and you have to remember, I'm the mom of the kid who puked almost daily for four years. I'd clean buckets full of vomit before I ever, ever have to encounter re-wetted ancient dried starfish, ever again. Oy.<br /><br />Oh, and for the record? I have no idea when he performed this operation. I have NO IDEA how long the starfish was in that bowl, in his toybox, in his room. Ew.molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-53437388067256418342008-09-02T22:26:00.002-06:002008-09-02T22:31:08.333-06:00Three year blog-aversaryI just passed it last Weds. Remember when I used to be a blogger? As my friend Shannon would say, Bygones.<br /><br />I can't right now look back on the last three years. It's kind of a painful exercise. We took a wild detour and are just now on the right course again. I wish I could travel back in time and tell my three-years-ago self to check out the things I know now, but that simply can't happen. Let's focus on the here and now.<br /><br />Um, tomorrow. Tomorrow, I promise. I need to go to bed tonight, and I've promised myself to write again.<br /><br />Babysteps, people.molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-5308893455700821572008-07-15T08:39:00.004-06:002008-07-15T17:45:45.563-06:00Check it.New masthead! So soapy!<br /><br />Brought to you by my marvelously talented friend Julie, who has an Etsy site, and I'm anxiously awaiting a link. As soon as I get it, I will share. You want this woman to design your Christmas Cards.<br /><br />Other blog news, my dear friend Mr. Lady somehow bribed Guy, who runs <a href="http://alltop.com/">Alltop</a>, to add me to his <a href="http://autism.alltop.com/">autism blogroll</a>. Yeah, we're kind of a big deal.<br /><br />Edited to add:<br />Julie's etsy site: <a href="http://www.mammakins.etsy.com/">http://www.mammakins.etsy.com/</a><br />Also, I hope she doesn't mind me saying, she is one of the most inspirational mama's I've ever known. She is full time working mom, a student, a graphic designer, advocate and mama to one of the sweetest little dudes I've ever laid eyes on, who has a gentle loving heart and autism.molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-10178658833516469532008-06-27T22:13:00.004-06:002008-06-27T22:40:29.783-06:00I think she might be trying to tell me something...<div>This is my cat, Daisy.</div><br /><div></div><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SGW_oqXp1nI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/dPh05x5YAyI/s1600-h/P6180001.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216786448667760242" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SGW_oqXp1nI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/dPh05x5YAyI/s400/P6180001.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><div>I really love her. She's soft and cute and she meows and purrs when she comes to tell me to feed her.</div><div></div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SGW_o6iStlI/AAAAAAAAAIY/xBBVk3HjoaU/s1600-h/daisy.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216786453007349330" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SGW_o6iStlI/AAAAAAAAAIY/xBBVk3HjoaU/s400/daisy.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><div>However, I'm pretty sure she hates me. She's been trying to leave me hints about her disdain for me for a while now. She never lets me pet her soft fur, she wakes me up before the sun rises by crawling up under my covers and attacking my feet. In fact, she takes her early morning waking duty so seriously, she cut out the competition by chewing through the power cord of my alarm clock. She attacks my feet every time I walk by. She really hates me. I mean look at that picture there. She's thinking about how if she ate my foot I might leave her alone. </div><br /><div></div><div>And yet, I continue to try. I play with her, I coo at her, I still try to pick her up to revel in her softness.<br /></div><div>She clearly decided that subtle hints were no longer working. She's taken to attacking my arms, and I realized today, that perhaps she's trying to carve me a little skin message:<br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SGW_pIWzhMI/AAAAAAAAAIg/jWC4x4YcGUk/s1600-h/P6270038.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216786456717264066" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/SGW_pIWzhMI/AAAAAAAAAIg/jWC4x4YcGUk/s400/P6270038.JPG" border="0" /></a><br />How much do you want to bet the next letter is "U"?</div>molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-33032722756638462272008-06-22T09:53:00.002-06:002008-06-22T11:05:02.755-06:00Changing the BylineI've been wrestling with a decision in regards to this blog. This post has been germinating since April, when The Kid was re-diagnosed: the bipolar diagnosis was dropped, Aspergers was added, and the ADHD, prominent as ever, remained. I've dreamed that this blog is a signpost for some mother, out there in the middle of the night, googling for answers to her questions about her little kid, who can't function in school, who has temper tantrums way beyond what she'd ever expect of a child before she experienced them, and had been given an indication that these troubles with her child were not from shitty parenting, but from something psychiatric, neurological, brain-based. I could never truly be a guide or an expert, but I've hoped to provide a comforting beacon, You aren't alone.<br /><br />I don't want that beacon to stop shining, but I want so badly to erase The Kid's history of being considered bipolar from the face of the earth. He was so wronged by being given that diagnosis, and the medications that go with it. I want to irradicate the notion that my child was unrecoverable, as conventional wisdom considers bipolar a life-long struggle, one that is viewed by many as only treatable by medication. I took the advice, and gave him the meds, and we started a spiral of violent behavior and school struggle and weight gain, until the pictures I took of The Kid, his face swolen and heavy, his moody depression and way-too-early-cynicism rendered him almost unrecognizable. I couldn't believe this was it, that my boy was this person, was going to remain this person, and was going to grow into the teen and the adult that would constantly bring me trouble: spending too much, drinking or doing drugs, police reports: when I looked to the future, it was bleak.<br /><br />I finally cocked my guns and went into the psychiatrist and told her I was done with medications. I wanted to see him off of them. It took so long to recover, it got worse before it got better, and if there is one thing I want my beacon to say to the late night googlers: Anti-psychotics cause withdrawals that make the withdraw-er psychotic. Bipolar. It takes months for the effects to go away. So next time you hear of someone crazy who's gone off of their meds recently, keep in mind that this is not necessarily proof that the person really is crazy and needs the medication, but proof that the drug is leaving the body. For us, it took about 45 ugly days from his last dose to see my baby again.<br /><br />It sounds strange, but the official autism spectrum disorder diagnosis, the Asperger's, was greeted as good news to me. Autism, while horribly disabling and lifelong, comes with strategies we'd not tried before. There is recovery, and recovery that isn't entirely dependent upon medications. I know so many moms of kids with Autism that would think I'm nuts for saying that, but after being where we've been Asperger's is like a big glass of ice water on a hot day: not like we'd never be thirsty again, but refreshing for now.<br /><br />And so, the byline to this blog is changing. The Kid is not Bipolar. He still hasn't come out of the cookie cutter, but now when I look into the future, it's just as foggy, and I still have concern, but it isn't as bleak.molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com16tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-6849756568966227492008-04-29T11:32:00.003-06:002008-04-29T20:40:10.951-06:00Atypical Nation: Soapy Water VersionI kind of feel like someone’s dropped by and I have curlers in my hair and my kitchen is a mess. All I’ve had up on this blog for the last month is a quickly written musing about The Kid's lovely nose-picking…<br /><br />Today, Philip Dawdy of <a href="http://www.furiousseasons.com/archives/2008/04/mom_saves_her_child_with_adhd_from_antipsychotics.html">Furious Seasons</a> has linked over to me. Philip is a journalist and mental health advocate who was instrumental in planting the seeds of skepticism in some of the advice I’d been receiving on how to help The Kid with his difficulties in school, primarily in the realm of the medications he was being prescribed, primarily the atypical anti-psychotics.<br /><br />The Kid took his last dose of Abilify in January. Philip has shared our recent success, and my strong belief that The Kid’s so-called bipolar diagnosis was an effect of medication side effects and bad diagnostics more than actual baseline functioning by him; and a rush to react to his behavior (in school, mostly) rather than find the underlying causes.<br /><br />The Kid has been doing really well. It took about two months to really lift the fog of rage and aggression at school. At this time I can confidently state that I do not see so-called “mood” issues, and neither does the school.<br /><br />I am pissed about the damage that has been done to my son over the past two years, the atypical years, and the slew of bad advice that I’ve received since I first went to his pediatrician to tell them about my concerns about his development, his hypersensitivity to sound, environment and food. I am pissed that I am complicit. I am pissed that these years have engendered bad habits in my son, I’m pissed that even though we’ve ironed out this ‘bipolar’ thing that he remains challenged, disabled.<br /><br />That’s the problem. And I’m scared of being linked to by Philip because many of his readers have grown so skeptical of psychiatry and psychology in general that they find it impossible to believe that any child can be disabled, have developmental delays, have a mental illness. I do not need that wrath right now.<br /><br />If someone were to spend an afternoon with my son and I, they would see a really extraordinary child, but one who does not fit within anyone’s definition of a typically developed kid. Perhaps we will see further improvement over time as the atypicals slowly leave his fat cells (the last place that I understand they cling to… Which is ironic, because one main side effects of the atypical antipsychotic class of medication is severe weight gain… Talk about poisoning over poisoning, and then making it even harder to get off of these medications), his motor skills might improve, maybe we’ll see his social skills improve too. Only time will tell.<br /><br />The Kid’s just gone through a new set of assessments, to cement his diagnosis of ADHD, and to further explore where he fits on the Autism spectrum. These things do exist, my son will need special education and constant support for the foreseeable future. I just think there are a lot of very careless practitioners out there, and parents, who are not entirely careless, but instead are overly trusting of these practitioners. I also think doctors would do well to spend more time to listen, truly listen, TRULY LISTEN to parents. I also wish schools didn’t suck so very much, but that’s a post for another day.<br /><br />Anyway, thanks Philip. Your support has meant a lot to me.molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-84972443810201707822008-04-08T21:14:00.002-06:002008-04-08T21:18:42.707-06:00Booger QuestionAt what age to children normally figure out how to blow their noses? Seriously, I thought The Kid would have this down by 8. Then again, he still hasn't figured out how to fall asleep.<br /><br />Currently, tissues are used as fluffy, papery finger condoms, all the better for picking the more dastardly boogers from those hard to reach nose crevasses.molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-15384290763876799762008-03-20T22:30:00.003-06:002008-03-20T22:49:25.165-06:00ha ha hehSo, annually, I try to match my <a href="http://www.whiskeyinmysippycup.com/">bff</a> in birthday posts as her birthday falls just four days after mine. She's much better than I. She could write a birthday post for Pol Pot: she'd tell you about how he actually loved puppies and could make a mean curry and you'd want him to come over for dinner tomorrow, and babysit your kids, and you would so sincerely wish that you had your own friend like Mr. Lady's friend Pol Pot.<br /><br />I can tell you that I think about Mr. Lady all the time, especially now that she's living so far away from me, and I miss her so sincerely it hurts. Driving to work this morning, I was thinking out the most beautiful post, where I would write about the random ways that I think about Mr. Lady every day, the things I wish I could tell her that would crack her up (and <a href="http://ehmeh.wordpress.com/2008/03/20/fred-rogers-spike-lee-and/">Mas Younon</a> is so right, it's all about her laugh), the ways that she has touched my life and made my life better, well, you'd be sitting in a puddle of your own tears. You would be moved beyond words, the beauty of our friendship would blow you into heaven, you'd reach enlightenment, touch the sublime.<br /><br />In regards to my literate, touching post, you would ask me,<br /><br />"Be you an angel?"<br />And I'd Say, "Nay. I am but woman."<br /><br />But, this is just a tribute. This is not the greatest birthday post in the world.<br /><br />Just a matter of opinion.<br /><br />I love you dude. Happy birthday. Thanks for sticking with me for these years, thanks for holding me up. I can only hope that I return the favor, because I only know the enormous difference you've made in my life.molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-50646510554315023812008-03-17T21:31:00.004-06:002008-03-17T21:43:50.146-06:00Happy National "Make a Real Effort To Listen To The Pogues Day"<p><br /><object height="355" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OCbuRA_D3KU&hl=en"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OCbuRA_D3KU&hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"></embed></object><br /><br />Happy St. Patrick's Day! Is it cheesy to say that I hold this day, personally, in high regard?</p><br /><p>I mean, how many people have an actually holiday to point to, that is annually a "I will be nostalgic for college today" day? </p><br /><p>I'm not so much nostalgic for the life of college, anymore, but I do miss those great people I met over there. I found this the other day:</p><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/R986M6OPdCI/AAAAAAAAAIE/TaLYv4sl07o/s1600-h/001.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178922089961190434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/R986M6OPdCI/AAAAAAAAAIE/TaLYv4sl07o/s400/001.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><p>My friend Dan, me, and Matt, another good friend, outside the Guinness Brewery in Dublin, April of about 1996. Great guys, I've essentially lost touch with both of them, and well, I hope they are doing well. We had good times. Cheers to them, cheers to nostalgia, cheers to Ireland.</p><br /><p></p>molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-24032176333839122562008-03-16T23:28:00.006-06:002008-03-16T23:42:28.598-06:00To create a little flower is the labour of ages...<div>In order to add to the continuing series, "things I've found in my mom's house," I came across this little calendar my sister Peggy made me almost 15 years ago. It was one of those things, made by hand, hitting my tastes right on the nose, loving my quirks and feeding my interests, that only the people who know you inside out can do for you... Well, here are a few pages:</div><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/R94Cx6OPdAI/AAAAAAAAAH0/RABT7JVCL1I/s1600-h/Hell.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178579677988484098" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/R94Cx6OPdAI/AAAAAAAAAH0/RABT7JVCL1I/s400/Hell.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div></div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/R94C5aOPdBI/AAAAAAAAAH8/eqKyX-f7MJs/s1600-h/Eternity.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5178579806837502994" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/R94C5aOPdBI/AAAAAAAAAH8/eqKyX-f7MJs/s400/Eternity.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Very few people know me so inside out. And apart from this being a sweet book of William Blake quotes, I have are hard time articulating why I think this truly is the best gift I've ever been given. Finding this again really made me smile. I'm so lucky to have a sister who has given me not only this gift, but the gift of encouragement in following what interests me, above all else. She's always encouraged me, and I think that's the key. </div><div> </div><div>It's just love. Love and love and love. I love that I kept this to find, on my birthday, almost 15 years later.<br /><div></div></div>molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15859726.post-15432608802170827422008-03-12T23:01:00.005-06:002008-03-13T07:49:02.500-06:00Total MysteriesBrought to you by site meter: Why is it that five people, in different places around the US, happened to google "<a href="http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&q=something%20in%20the%20way%20he%20moves%20me">Something in the way he moves me</a>" between 6:42 and 6:53 this evening, bringing them to this site?<br /><br /><br /><br />Brought to you by AquaNet: Did I actually turn around and play some soccer after taking this picture? Nice hair.<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/R9i2YKOPc_I/AAAAAAAAAHs/BoZIcmb2fmM/s1600-h/RedHots.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5177088297839588338" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_ozArlpmFFh4/R9i2YKOPc_I/AAAAAAAAAHs/BoZIcmb2fmM/s400/RedHots.jpg" border="0" /></a> EDIT: Never mind, at least about mystery number one. American Idol, Catherine McPhee, which explains the change in gender in the song. I get it.<br /><br /><div></div>molly_ghttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01837471795809687511noreply@blogger.com5