IFSP meeting, today, May 31 @ 3:30pm

Today, I have The Peanut's IFSP meeting (for those who don't speak special ed. IFSP= Individualized Family Service Plan). We're going to set her goals for social, speech, and academics for the upcoming year. I hope everything goes well. It probably will, but you never know.

See, last year, January 2006 to be specific, The Peanut qualified for Early Intervention (EI) Special Education Services based on the labels they gave her (at the time speech delay and low cognition), and at that meeting I turned into a total wimp.

Completely out of character for me. I'm, um, anything but a shy wall-flower.

I had had a sinking suspicion that she had something else different about her, but I didn't know what. At her developmental and intake screenings the ESD people has made comments about certain behaviors of hers sounding Autistic. (when they said Autism/Autistic, I blanched) Yet, at the meetings when I requested Peanut be screened for Autism they said
"No, not now. I think we should wait a while."

Wait a while? WTF????

Despite my background in Education, I turned into a jelly-brained nincompoop. I just dumbly let them (the IFSP team) set Peanut's goals, and what her program would encompass. I must have greatly resembled one of those dashboard bobble-head dolls.

Yes. Yes. Yes. No. Yes. No. No. Okay.

As I left the building that day I felt so hollow. Here I was thrilled my little girl was going to get some much needed help to 'catch -up' and at the same time I felt like I'd lost. I had heard the 'A' word: Autism. The 'A' word mentioned in the same sentence as that of my Peanut's name.

It was like going to the doctor and having the doctor say: "Well, based on my observations you might have cancer. I don't know if you do or you don't. But, we're just going to wait a while. We'll do the testing to see if you have cancer or not next year. Have a nice afternoon. Buh-bye."

I now know that as a parent, I DID have the right to request an Autism screening (or as they say, evaluation) and they did NOT have the right to refuse me that screening.

If you are a parent with a child in Special Education know this: You are an equal member of your child's IEP/IFSP team. If EVERYONE on the team does not agree, things are not settled. If you want something and they're telling you 'no', go to the person in charge of the meeting's supervisor. If need be, go up a level from that. You have the right to have reasonable requests met. If push comes to shove, request a due process hearing. YOU HAVE THE RIGHT TO GET HELP!

So, today, at 3:30pm I am going to Peanut's meeting. I have already a set of ideas I'd like to see put into practice for her goals. I know her preschool teacher wants to see her in a 'community preschool' setting, rather than the specialized preschool, but I don't believe I'm ready for Peanut to go there. Currently, she loves going to preschool. She has a lot of successes in the specialized classroom. In a community preschool (where most of the people who work there have a high-school diploma, or if you're lucky an Associates degree) I'm afraid there won't be adequate support for my Peanut to be successful, happy, and continue to develop a love of learning and school. If she has a bad experience now, at 4 years old, she's going to have a bad taste in her mouth for the remainder of her academic career.

I do not want her to begin hating school at this young of an age.

I'm anxious for this meeting. It will be myself, the speech therapist, her preschool teacher, and the Autism specialist. I am probably making a bigger deal out of it than I need to, but I don't want to turn into the jelly brained idiot at this meeting and miss out on any opportunities that Peanut could take advantage of. I also don't want to get what I call 'nice bullied'. I worry about being the bobble-head at the meeting but at the same time I don't want to roll in there and have to turn into the cast-iron bitch. These people are there with good intentions and they want to help Peanut, but at the same time they're there to protect the interests (and FUNDING!!) of the ESD.

Basically, they're there to keep from shelling out any more cash to pay for Peanut's education than they, at a bare-bones minimum, have to. That isn't right. ALL children should get what they need and deserve. Including the Peanut.

I've got about an hour and 45 minutes until the meeting starts. I'm as ready as I'll ever be.

Parents with typically developing children really don't realize (I think) how lucky they are. It would be just so much easier to worry about what clothes I'm going to send my girl to school in, and worry about whether or not she had hot lunch or sack lunch. Some days I feel tired. Tired of advocating. Tired of worrying. Tired of being that strong foundation that holds everything up and the glue that sticks it all together.

Today is one of those days. But, moms don't get sick days or personal leave days. So, I'm off to do battle in the name of my sweet Peanut. Like a Knight of old, with his lady's favor tied on tight, with my faithful steed, Gold Honda Odyssey, to deliver me to my joust.

Je suis pret.

Short-term memory

This weekend we had a great time. We visited a favorite resort get-a-way in the Cascade Mountains and soaked up all the good weather. It was fantastic.

Overall, the kidlets, B.J., and I stayed outside more than we were inside. We logged a few miles (not nearly as many as I would have liked) on the bike trails and played at the park.

The kids had a lot of fun too. Peanut rode her little pink bike all over the place. Chub-chub, not to be outdone, decided he was much too much of a big boy to ride in his stroller and insisted on walking a lot-- not necessarily a convenient thing when both daddy and momma have a 34" and 32" inseam and El Chub-o has about a 9" inseam.

So, we had to remedy our problem.

After a quick trip to Target (pronounced the 'French' way, Tar-SHay) and a cool new tricycle/stroller later we were in business.

For a tricycle, it is so dang cool. If he wants to pedal (he's not quite there-- after all, he may be the size of a 3 year-old, but he's still just 21 mos., and not quite that coordinated) he can, and if he puts his feet up on the pedals mommy can push/steer him and he's ridin' in style. It even came with a little kid-adapted 'ding-ding' (bell).

So, for a mere $40 we were back on the 'road' walking and biking at a good pace.

So, you may ask, why the title "Short-term memory"? Well, that's because my brain has gone blip, yet again. The kiddos said so many funny things this weekend, and I can't remember what they were. I know they were hilarious, I remember laughing out loud. I just don't remember why.

Sigh.

Memorial Day Weekend

Well, here we are. Another Memorial Day weekend.

I recently stopped to research what Memorial Day is all about. I knew it is to celebrate our fallen war heroes and those who died in service to our beautiful nation. However, I didn't really know any more about it than that. I wasn't satisfied so I decided to find out more. I guess that is the curse of being a certifiable nerd (I've even got the glasses to show for it, too!).

As I read and talked with people around me I became a bit peeved. Nobody else seemed to know or care what the holiday was all about, and as a result I've been working with my students this week on the meaning of Memorial Day. We've been doing a great 'Internet treasure hunt' and learning a lot. I think most adults could benefit from learning a bit about our country and why we celebrate what we do.

We should respect the freedoms that we have and the luxuries that we take for granted every day. By nothing but sheer Grace have most of us been so blessed to live where we do.

It isn't popular to show patriotism.

It isn't 'PC' to have love of your nation and to put it above all others. Most of those people who impose the 'PC' norms we live with have never lived in another country, much less even visited another country, or even less than that: a third world country.

I have. Been there done that; to all three.

We are so truly blessed to be where we are. If I weren't so blessed to have been born a female in this country, but rather a female in, for example, Afghanistan, I wouldn't have the liberty to decide whether I went outside of my house or not. Forget blogging, shopping on the Internet, driving a car. Forget being educated. Forget anything but what my government or the male head of household said or believed. I would have no choice but theirs.

We are so lucky.

So, this weekend, after you're done griping about the exorbitant cost of gasoline, and you sit down to enjoy a good ol' fashioned All-American Bar-b-q--with hamburgers, hot dogs, salads, and a cold beer, think on all the freedoms you enjoy to celebrate such a weekend. Even if you don't support the war (I certainly do NOT) be grateful to the men and women who are not home to celebrate with their freedom, those individuals who have given their lives to serve our country, and those who are far from friends and loved ones. Buy a poppy from the guy standing outside of Bi-mart, support the American Veterans. If it weren't for those who have served for you and I, there would be things far more sinister in our lives to complain about than $3.50 per gallon of gasoline.

Do you know what Memorial Day is all about? Do you care?

Bliss on a pink two-wheeler

I sparkled. Yes. I absolutely sparkled in my joy of watching the Peanut's accomplishments.

Yesterday afternoon, after we had our highly-nutritious dinner (fresh from Costco's deli) of chicken and penne Alfredo, I took Peanut outside to burn off some energy and enjoy the day. It was a perfectly beautiful day: clear blue sky, cool gentle breeze blowing, and lots of golden vitamin-D rich sunshine, all in a package 70 degree deal.

In a word: perfect.

After a long winter of steel gray days and endless drizzle (a.k.a. Northwest sunshine) that has enough humidity to chill you to the bone, a day like yesterday is a gift from Above. We must (or rather I have to...) cherish such days--we need squirrel away the acorns of memory to pull out and nibble on during our dreary, gray winters. Sometimes, it is all that sustains us when the weather report has been "cloudy, with ongoing showers, followed by more overcast days and a possible low front and more rain....".

Anyhow, I decided to take full advantage of our day and I made the executive decision that Peanut needed to practice riding her new pink bicycle.

Yikes.

The last two times we'd taken her out on her bicycle went like this: get to the end of the driveway, park the bike on the sidewalk, plop the Peanut on her seat and....she becomes belligerent, whiny, and cries and has a fit until we finally let her quit (after having put on a great show for the neighbors of cajoling, wheedling, pleading with her to "Just try it sweetie, it is so much fun. You'll love it!" to have her blood-curdling reply of "NOOO!!!!! I DON'T WANT TO!!!!!!!!!!" Very fun, you know, working toward that 'worst-parent-in-the-world award.).

Well, I had decided that we would muster all of our 'little-engine-that-could' energy and 'whip' the riding the bike thing. Ha.

Ha.

Ha.

Ha.

Actually, much to my delight that is exactly what we did. Peanut climbed on her bicycle (by herself) and pedaled slowly down the sidewalk with me sauntering behind. As we got to the street corner I asked her "Do you want to go to the park?"

"Sure. I go fast!" she cheerfully informed me.

So off to the park (about 2 blocks from our house, on our same street) we go. Once we get there, as usual there's multiple little league games going on, surrounded by parents cheering on their little sluggers, and younger ( sometimes older) siblings playing on the grass, entertaining themselves.

And "BIG" kids riding bikes.

Peanut wants to be a "BIG" kid. And ride a bike like a "BIG" kid. This is good for us, because it spurs her on to emulate her peers.

As we get to the track the surrounds the fields, Peanut's confidence begins to build. It is the most magical thing to observe-- confidence building, that is. She begins to pedal a little faster, and gain a little more distance. She's now pedaling 5-10 feet ahead of me. This is fantastic. Especially, because the last time, once we got past the screaming-Mimi fit, she pedaled so slow that even at my slowest gait, she trailed me by about 15 feet. Let's put it this way: If I had sat down every 20 steps I could have enjoyed a tea by the time she caught up with me.

I'm beginning to have to walk a bit faster. Perhaps, you could even describe it as walking briskly. (A bonus: I get a little much needed exercise.)

Peanut is gaining even more speed and confidence as she goes along. I periodically call out to her "Don't crash into people! Say 'Excuse me'. Go around them..." all the while mentally panicking: What if she falls down? She'll never get back on her bike. She'll lose her confidence. Oh jeez, don't hit that little kid...Oh, please, dear Lord, don't let her fall down.

She's cruising along at a good beginner speed--at about 50 feet ahead of me! If I decided to hoof it at a jog, I doubt I could have kept pace with her. I am completely in awe at this point. Less than 24 hours earlier she pitched such a fit I thought for sure Child Protective Services would be called, and now, here she was, doing it. Actually doing it, and enjoying herself.

Then it happens: she falls down.

While trying to go around a couple with a baby in a stroller, she loses her balance, over compensates and crashes. (insert bomb exploding noise: here) I do run to her at this point--boobs swinging embarrassingly, like to give myself a black-eye--and scoop her into my arms. My poor baby is sobbing and has received a trophy of some 'road-rash' on her knee. Luckily, the fall didn't really even break the skin, just 'skinned' her knee a bit. I cuddle my girl on my shoulder and assure her she's o.k. Talking to her about how proud of her I am that she tried to go around the people and not crash into them. Talking to her about how she's a big girl. That she is four. And that because she is four, she's a big girl and will be all right.

That does the trick. She calms down, climbs back onto her bicycle and tentatively pedals forward. "Mommy, hold me." She commands.

"No, sweetie. I can't. I'm right her for you. You're safe." I reply. Again, it works. I don't want her to quit now, and forever associate falling down with her bicycle--if she does, she'll never get back on it. That is just the way the Peanut works. And, if I hold her as she rides, she'll never feel safe if I let go. What do I do? I swallow the lump of pain, grief, fear, and anxiety in my throat and say to her what I did. And, it worked. She pedaled slowly (very, very, slowly) and her confidence sprouted up again and began to grow. Then, she saw another little girl, about 7 years-old going 'fast' and off Peanut went. Lickety-split, she's going again. Pedaling quickly, sitting up straight and proud. And riding her pink bicycle.

Watching my beautiful little peanut ride her little pink two-wheeler was one of the most beautiful sights I've seen. I thought to myself: here is my beautiful little girl, 4 years old, riding a bicycle. And, this is the same beautiful little girl who I used to have to drive 45 minutes to a bigger metropolitan area to do physical therapy. The same little girl who did not roll over, sit up, push up, crawl, walk...without direct and intense pediatric physical therapy.

The same beautiful little girl.

It took my breath away and brought tears to my eyes. My beautiful little girl had just passed another huge childhood milestone: riding a bicycle.

We, who are naturally disposed to do things, often take for granted those things we do without effort. There are so many different neurological 'hurdles' that take place to do the most basic physical things. Most of us do them without trying; Peanut does them with great effort. I marvel when I think of the gross motor skills needed to pedal a bicycle, the synaptic relays that happen in a fraction of a second in order for all the muscles, bones, and nerves to 'fire' correctly and produce the desired result. It is truly amazing. The Great Engineer knew what he was doing.

Somewhere, someone said that the human body is the greatest engineering feat ever completed. After watching my Peanut ride her little pink two-wheeled bicycle I'm inclined to think whomever said it was right.

I am so proud of my little girl. Verbose as I am, words fail to capture the emotion I feel toward Peanut and her accomplishment. She's the most amazing little being and never ceases to surprise me with all that she CAN do.

Happy Mother's Day

This was sent to me by a friend (all in good humor, of course):

(Comic strip inserted by me)

I was out walking with my 4 year old son. He picked up
something off the
ground and started to put it in his mouth. I took the item
away from him and
I asked him not to do that. "Why?" my son asked. "Because it's
been on the
ground, you don't know where it's been, it's dirty and probably has
germs" I
replied. At this point, my son looked at me with total admiration and
asked,
"Mommy, how do you know all this stuff? You are so smart." I was thinking
quickly. "All moms know this stuff. It's on the Mommy Test. You have to know
it,
or they don't let you be a Mommy." we walked along in silence for 2 or 3
minutes, but he was evidently pondering this new information. "OH...I get
it!"
he beamed, "So if you don't pass the test you have to be the daddy."
"Exactly" I
replied back with a big smile on my face.

To be fair, though, my hubby (and kids) did great this Mother's Day. I was given the gift of sleeping in, then I got up to a quiet (and clean, Hallelujah!) house, and followed my nose to a pot of rich black French roast cafecito. That was followed up by a beautifully hand-written card (in my special spiral-bound holiday/memory book) from B.J. and a brand new pair of Ugg boot shearling slippers.

I am so lucky. And spoiled.

Today, it is good to be a mommy, and it is good to be me.

Thank you to my beautiful family, though I may gripe and complain (and its rumored I've had tantrums from time to time, too), you are the best. I'd not trade you for all the fame, fortune, or luxury in the world. I have been truly blessed.

Random quote of the day:

While making breakfast on the counter-top griddle I overheard B.J. mutter with disgust:

"Watched bacon never boils."

I've lost my Chub-chub

Chub-chub is gone. I've lost him.

I can't really say exactly what day or time of day it happened, but he's gone. I miss him so much, I'll likely never get over it.

You see, we went to Winco this afternoon to do the requisite grocery shopping (yag) and I had Peanut and the Chub-chub with me. When I went in I did my 'pre-trip check': kids: check, money: check, shopping cart: check, grocery list: check. All things set to rock and roll, and get my least favorite chore (after cleaning the floors) taken care of.

It was an uneventful trip. I managed 8 grocery bags worth of meat, fresh produce, spices, and various canned/frozen goods for a mere $87. I was feeling pretty good.

Then it happened: I realized I lost my little Chubber. Somewhere between putting the groceries in the back of the van and depositing my cart in the shopping cart corral my baby was no more.

You see, I had my boy wrapped in my arms, his silky little blond head resting heavily on my shoulder, hair tickling my cheek, with his strong little body melding itself bonelessly to me, his brown leather shoes banging into my legs just above my knees. When did this happen? When did my baby turn into this cuddly and beautiful sleepy little boy? He really is turning into a little boy. He's most certainly a toddler who will be 2 years old this August.

Looking at him in the rear view mirror on the way home I watched as the lids of his sparkly cerulean blue eyes became too heavy to hold up, and the dust the sandman had sprinkled upon him took him to the land of nod. I wondered: how much longer will he be even this little? I have so completely enjoyed his babyhood. I, for once, am not guilty of 'wishing away' his little years. Quite the contrary, I've wished I could keep him little for just a while longer. I'll never forget the first seconds I saw him when he came to see me in this world; I'll never forget the bliss I felt as I nursed him at my breast or breathing in his sweet milky breath as I rocked him before bed.

My mother and dad always told me that as you get older that time starts to go by faster; they never told me that when I had my own babies that if you so much as blink that a season goes by. And, that no matter what, they don't stay small: 'babies don't keep' is what a picture frame I have says. I have never heard such an understatement.

I will cherish all the time I have with my boy (and my girl) while they are small. The time is so fleeting, and only the Good Lord knows how much longer they'll want to snuggle down into my neck and wrap sticky fingers 'round the tendrils of my hair. How many more little wet kisses have I been granted? I'll never know until they're gone.

For now, I'll hold tight to my little ones while they're small and while I still can.

Overheard Conversation

Last night my daughter, Peanut, had a horrible time sleeping. ASD kids often do. It's just a part of their M.O. We helped her the best we could last night with a bad dream (as we're assuming it was, she wasn't able to actually communicate why she was so upset and crying hysterically). B.J. and I took turns trying to soothe her and comfort her, eventually winding up with her sleeping on a palette on the floor in our bedroom (hoping to sleep a smidgen ourselves). This is one conversation I overheard:

B.J.: "Honey, do you have to go pee-pee?"

Peanut: "Yea..."

B. "O.k., let's go pee-pee."

P: "NO!!!!"

B: "Do you have to go?"

P: "Noooo. I don't wanna go."

Lee: "B. Just go pick her up and take her pee. She just doesn't want to actually get up. Whenever she says 'Yes,' then immediately tells you 'No' it means she really has to go and doesn't want to get up--it's a part of O.D.D."

B. walks over to P. and gently scoops her up and says "OK. Here we go."

P: "I DON'T wanna go pee." (begins to weakly do a boo-hoo)

B: "Oh, for goodness sake! It's just a toilet!"

(I'm trying not to laugh out loud at this point, because B.J. has been so sweet, patient, and gentle while Peanut has been gruff, rude, and pretty belligerent in her tone of voice and body language).

P: (sheer volume of noise as though the Colorado river had been unleashed in the small, white, porcelain bowl.)

Unbridled avarice

Peanutzilla NOW: age 4

(Look at the glee in her eyes as she models her new My Little Pony "Lily Lights" and "Lulabell" Ponies)

Lani LOVES the ponies on the carousel.

(Look! There I am trying to look joyful, when I wanted to puke my guts out from the kiddie ride: The carousel goes around, and around, and around, and around........)

Shredding with unbridled avarice.

Blowing out the candles & wishing.......

(it was a very low calorie, high fiber, all organic Cold Stone Creamery Ice Cream cake. Very healthy. Met USDA guidelines for 4-year-old children to get the RDA of vitamins, mineral, and whole grains, .....)

Post-it / Rant-it

The Peanut celebrated her 4th Birthday on the 28th of April. I cannot believe that she's already 4--that I have been in charge of the growth, development, love, and nurturing of another human being for 4 years. I. Have. Been. A. Parent. For. Four. Years.

Wow.

In a nutshell, her birthday party was great. She had a blast. [I'll post pictures. Later.] I can't ask for more than that.

Other than I was a schmuck and forgot to mail one (if not more than one) invitation and left someone special feeling left out. I feel crappy about it. It also made me annoyed at B.J. He has done absolutely 0 beyond the barest minimum to help me out with her party/health issues/etc. lately.

It is annoying.

Like I can reasonably organize:
The Chub-chub; the house (cleaning, shopping, groceries, laundry.....); my job, the three separate Grant proposals that I've been working on at the same time; Peanut's doctor appointments, her therapist, the research study she involved with, her medications(S!!! as in plural); a marriage; planning a party; and maintain sanity without help!?

Yeah. Right.

It could be worse. At least Peanut had a great B'day.