Henry update

This is quite a long video of Henry reading the concluding pages of The Lion King. The sound isn't great and of course we're still working on his pronunciation and enunciation, but I hope you'll catch the flavor of his story-telling ability. You may recognize the dramatic final battle between Simba and Scar/the hyenas. I did not prompt him to do this. I headed upstairs to have some homework time, and found him reading aloud to himself, with great flair.

Christine was correct in her recent comment- I have been kind of quiet lately. For one thing, I kind of lose perspective sometimes on what I want my blog to be. I want it to be more than just a “log” of what I did each weekend, for example. Or a big bitch session about things that are bugging me (like today our shower curtain rod broke. At least it was after my shower.) Add to that the fact that some things are not to be written in a public forum, and mix in a little of January-is-a-generally-gloomy-month, and you get, well, nothing written here.

One thing that I had wanted to blog about seems to have (knock on wood) resolved itself.

Henry's teacher (Mrs. C) and I had a phone conference two weeks ago (on the18th). At that point his behavior had badly deteriorated, and she was searching for what to try next. He was refusing to do any independent work at all, arguing with the teachers and, when they tried to ignore him, following them around shouting at them and/or randomly pushing or scratching other children in the class.

He was wasting so much time trying to argue about not hanging up his coat or doing his "independent work" (which is always an easy worksheet) that he was missing out on all his mainstream time with the other 2nd graders.
I also discovered that the time he had been spending with the regular class had not been as successful as we thought. Mrs. C had recently found out that the aide working with Henry had allowed him to just flip through the science book, for example, instead of following along with the science class that was being conducted. She was not challenging him at all.

Mrs. C wasn't wanting to be discouraging, but I think was more just trying to brainstorm with everyone involved to come up with a new strategy. I asked if she thought this was just transition trouble after the Christmas break. She dismissed that idea promptly: school had been back in session for 2 weeks. (But I know that Henry often starts back to school ok but then burns out after the first week or so.)

We were heading into the long MLK weekend- my kids were going to spend some time with Grandma and Grandpa and Henry's teacher was taking a little trip herself. She said she had some new books to read and was hoping to come up with some new ideas for working with Henry.
I felt pretty down after this conversation. I worried that his behavior would alienate him from the other children and prevent him from learning. I felt terrible knowing that my child was hurting other children. And I didn't know how I could help, aside from trying new medications or maybe taking Henry to a psychiatrist.
(After our parent-teacher conference in November, we began giving Henry a medication that our pediatrician had suggested. It has not helped at all, and we are weaning him off of it.)
I was pondering a lot of big questions, like what are my goals for my child? To be mainstreamed? To be able to work independently? To be challenged? To learn? To treat people with respect? All of these are potential goals, but some seemed to be mutually exclusive. It did not appear that he could be challenged to work independently and still behave productively at school.

For the past week, Henry has brought home glowing reports in his notebook. Mrs. C told me that she gave some thought to what I had told her about swimming lessons.

You see, Henry never argues with his swim instructor. He works so hard for her and never asks for help like he does in most other situations. I think this is because she is so no-nonsense. She is definitely not warm and fuzzy. But when she tells him to swim from one end of the pool to the other and then pull himself out with his scrawny little arms? He does it.

Mrs. C said she thought about that and realized that the swim instructor has created an environment where there is no room for negotiation. So when Mrs. C came back to school after that long weekend, she just told Henry here's how it's gonna be: you're going to do your work right now, and if you don't do it now I'm going to do it with you, hand-over-hand (which he hates). And after that, he was "the old Henry": smiling and happy and cooperative.

Some mornings he arrives at school and has maybe forgotten "the deal". So they sit down at "teacher table" and go over it again- you won't backtalk, you won't argue, you'll do the work. And then he's fine.

I know this sounds kind of hard-ass and cold-hearted. But Henry really seems to respond to it. Right now at least. We are all keeping our fingers crossed. It just seems to prove the old adage that kids need boundaries. And maybe the same way a good boss can't usually be your best friend, maybe a good teacher can't be the kids' best friend?

Mrs. C and I talked about having a reward system at home that corresponds to how his day is reported in the notebook. I proposed that he earns a star every time he has a good day, and then a certain # of stars earn him a new DVD or something. She suggested something even better- he can earn money according to how his day went, which will help reinforce the money concepts they are learning. She will report on his day using a 5-star grading system, and I will come up with the financial equivalent. That way, even if he has a rough day, he can still earn a small bit of money for his 2-star day.

Yesterday, the first day of the new system, was a 5-star day! Way to go Henry!
A certain 3-year-old someone has a birthday in February, and so does his daddy, so I should have some fun things to post about in the coming weeks.

ruminations on bumper stickers and finding a passion

I was raised to hate bumper stickers. Or at least to disapprove of them. My father never hid his contempt for bumper stickers. (Or his contempt for mini vans. Or maybe it was more contempt for the drivers of mini vans.) I don't know, you just sort of absorb and interpret these things as a child, and maybe I've actually got it all wrong. I just know that I grew up thinking bumper stickers were kind of tacky and rude: the driver is assuming that we all really give a s*%t about his opinion; those of us who just happen to be stuck behind him in traffic.

I was thinking about this today as I merged into morning rush-hour traffic behind a minivan. Our state offers an "autism awareness" license plate. My car carries one and so did the vehicle in front of me. I smiled. Then I noticed this van had one of those black and white oval stickers in its rear window that read AUT. I spent some time (I was behind it for quite awhile, and listening to the High School Musical 2 soundtrack, the soon-to-be-4-year-old's current favorite) trying to decipher what was playing on the minivan's DVD player.*

I recognized Elmo, and smiled again. I wondered about the child in the minivan, and the parent. I felt a friendliness toward them without ever catching sight of their faces. And I wondered about a disorder that can create a relationship where there would never have been one otherwise.
I was amused by the thought that a bumper sticker could bring people together, and thought "well this is about something more important than your average bumper sticker."

But maybe that's the thing- as passionate as I feel about my son and the autism community- maybe that's how passionate some people feel about their football team, or their membership in the NRA, or their belief that the president is a dumba$$.
If I didn't have my Henry, what would help me feel a connection to a stranger? I'm glad I'll never have to find out.

*Is anyone else afraid they're going to get in an accident one day, trying to watch what is showing in another car on the highway? I find other cars' DVD players highly distracting.

empty-handed

Today I intended to write about how my sons are gone visiting grandma and grandpa for the long weekend. I wanted to write about how I miss them when they are gone: how I listen for their voices and footsteps and cringe when I make a loud noise out of fear I will wake them; how I miss their snuggly little bodies and stinky morning breath.

But I also wanted to write about how I enjoyed my leisurely evening and morning as mom to only a teenager: how Kate and I had a nice time shopping together and spent too much money at the Gap outlet; how Bill and I watched at least 4 episodes of The Office on DVD last night; how I stopped at Starbucks for a venti half-caff skinny caramel latte and still got to work on time for once.

I wanted to share one of my favorite quotes, from Octoberbabies (sorry, no link-she doesn't have a public blog anymore): Today you were wearing an aqua colored tank top and a white and aqua striped skirt and pigtails and you insisted on sitting on my lap for the greater part of the ride to school. I felt your weight on my lap and smelled the conditioner in your hair. I put one hand on your leg and one on your tummy and thought to myself, “what did I do with these hands before my babies were born?”

That last line has always spoken to me, and it comes to mind at rare times like this, when my children are not with me. And I came up with my clever title for the post: "empty-handed".
And then I started checking all my blogs. And started reading about this story.

And thinking about this family.

And the title of my post took on a new meaning.

Rest in peace Katie.

belated new year report

I've been having a bit of blogger's block.

A few good things that I want to report are kind of dwarfed by some crappy stuff going on right now that is not really fit for public consumption.

Some of you know what I'm talking about. Those who don't, I don't mean to be all mysterious... There's just good and bad in every family at any time and it really stinks at the times that the bad stuff is a big elephant in the room. You are all trying to pretend it's not there and at the same time avoid being stepped on by it. Or pooped on by it. Gosh, I could just go on with this metaphor (or is it a simile?) all day...

But I won't.

Instead I'll share some photos from New Year's Eve. Let me say up front that the boys stayed home with their dad that day, while I went to work, and remained in their pajamas all day. Also, they have both gotten haircuts since these photos were taken.

Tommy got his own Leapster for Christmas, I'm not sure why he was just watching Henry play with his...

We made our own pizzas that night:

And fruit salad:

The "fruit salad" was such a huge hit. They ate more fruit than pizza. Too bad many of us lose that natural love for fresh fruit and replace it with ice cream! (We had ice cream that night too, of course.)

I dozed with the boys and on the couch from about 10 - 11:50 pm, waking up to see the ball drop. Not a craaazy New Year's Eve, but a pretty nice one.

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Last weekend I took Henry and Thomas to the zoo. I know I write about that all the time, but it is what I like to do when I feel like we need to get out of the house. Henry doesn't last long at the playground, so the zoo is an outdoor activity that involves some movement and some interaction and some fresh air and doesn't cost too much money. It also requires some decision-making and compromising, which are important for all of us to practice. And, we all just like to see the animals.

Henry likes to shout "hello" to each animal, and hop around, flapping and humming, as he watches them. Of some of the animals he commands/requests certain activities: "jump in the water penguin! Jump in! C'mon little penguin, don't you want to swim?"

This time each boy got one of those souvenir pennies- they each picked the wolf pattern.
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Henry's teacher contacted me last week about making a change in his schedule. He had been joining the second grade class for language arts, but she was proposing that he join them for science and social studies instead. These subjects involve more discussion and participation, and less "pencil and paper" work (his least-favorite thing).

Their monthly "community trip" this time was to the bowling alley and Frisch's restaurant for lunch. Henry loved the bowling, but didn't eat any of his lunch. He ordered mac & cheese, which was undoubtedly different from his mother's very special Kraft mac & cheese. Next time I will have to preview the menu and suggest what I think he should order.

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This morning Thomas cried on his way to L's house. He said he didn't want to go there- something to do with D, this other boy she watches. "Me and D always boss each other" he sobbed.
"Well, you don't have to play with D," I offered.
"But I like to play with him!" He cried even harder.
"Just try your best to be a good friend and to play nicely with him."
"I do try my hardest but it just gets worser!"
"And if you have an argument and get put in timeout, just try again after your timeout. We just keep trying, right?"
"I know that but I just can't remember it because I'm not four!"

Oh my gosh. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. The whole discussion was sweet and a little funny. But he was so so truly sad and worried about this- worried that he would "boss" his friend, or his friend would "boss" him. My heart ached. Sometimes life must seem so overwhelming when you're not four.

I'm sure Tommy was over the whole thing by the time I got to work. But I was emotionally spent before the workday had even started. Sometimes my life feels quite overwhelming. Do you think it's because I'm not 39 yet?