What Was God Thinking?

Funny how life has a way of messing up good intentions. Time to move blog posts up the priority list. I’d gladly knock house cleaning off the list - not that it ever gets done either.

A quick story about son #2. Sorry if you’ve heard it before.

I have a good friend who has a son the same age. She use to give me a hard time because I was less than enthusiastic about taking my son to the park. Between my short attention span and his tendency to run and find people to befriend, park time was exhausting. She offered to take both our boys to the park one afternoon. She was certain my concerns were exaggerations and assured me she could handle it.

When she returned she was a tad mortified. Apparently, my little guy made a new friend. With his hands resting on the breasts of his shocked new gal pal, he had a lovely chat. Her? Not so much.

I’m thinking I neglected to mention this particular “personal space” issue in my list of concerns. She never gave me a hard time about the park again….

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What is the best assessment of a relationship between a depression prone ADD mother and an ASD father?

Correct!

Our younger daughter hits the nail on the head once again - and has a title for her first country song!

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“On July 16, the No. 3 syndicated radio talk show host in the country, Michael Savage, made the following statement on autism:

“Now, you want me to tell you my opinion on autism? … A fraud, a racket.”

Savage went on to say:

Now, the illness du jour is autism. You know what autism is? I’ll tell you what autism is. In 99 percent of the cases, it’s a brat who hasn’t been told to cut the act out. That’s what autism is.

What do you mean they scream and they’re silent? They don’t have a father around to tell them, “Don’t act like a moron. You’ll get nowhere in life. Stop acting like a putz. Straighten up. Act like a man. Don’t sit there crying and screaming, idiot.”

Autism — everybody has an illness. If I behaved like a fool, my father called me a fool. And he said to me, “Don’t behave like a fool.” The worst thing he said — “Don’t behave like a fool. Don’t be anybody’s dummy. Don’t sound like an idiot. Don’t act like a girl. Don’t cry.” That’s what I was raised with. That’s what you should raise your children with. Stop with the sensitivity training. You’re turning your son into a girl, and you’re turning your nation into a nation of losers and beaten men. That’s why we have the politicians we have.”

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Eldest child (web name Ronaldo) was a beautiful child. He had a smile that drew people in. Maybe that’s what kept some of his behavior from being seen as creepy.

“Ronaldo” went through a period where he was touching women’s legs.* Not just any women, just the fancy nylon wearing women. He would sit and stroke his grandmother’s legs (the one that dressed up, not the Birkenstock g’ma). Odd? Oh yeah, but nothing like when I caught him hiding under a department store clothes rack, arm outstretched enjoying the leg of a stranger.

Hard to believe, but I didn’t know what to say to her. Seriously, what would you say? I knew it was a texture issue, but how do you explain that in 10 words or less to a woman who is more than a tad creeped out. You don’t. You avoid eye contact and run. It won’t be the last time.

* it was noted that I should mention he was 2 at the time and not 16.

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We had 2 IEP (I Enjoy Paperwork) meetings this month. I’m still exhausted. For the uninitiated, an IEP meeting is a roller coaster ride of a meeting where special ed and, hopefully, regular ed teachers meet with you to discuss your child. You get to hear where said child is both struggling and succeeding and what services and modifications they recommend. You come in with your own ideas as well.

If you’re “lucky”, you also get to discuss what eligibility label your child meets. Such fun. Though, sometimes you do get a heart busting moment of pride: “We have determined that your child no longer meets the eligibility criteria for Emotional Disturbed.” Can I get a “WooHoo”? Do we get a bumpersticker?

No, but you do get what’s behind door #2. PAPERWORK! After over 30 of these meetings, I’m convinced trees cry when we are near. I save all the paperwork. I’m sure the kids will just love reading them when they are older. Imagine the boost to their self esteem when they read, “With prompting, Johnny will respond appropriately 80% of the time to stressful social stimulation“. Translation: “Johnny needs to stop biting when pissed.”

I leave every IEP meeting feeling like @%#! because our kids don’t have the organized parents they need. I just know someday they will add a “Parents should have…” page to IEPs. On that day, they better start having an open bar for IEP meetings!

We have had wonderful people looking out for our kids. Except for one year when a school principal felt his child was more deserving of the limited resources than ours, we never felt we had to fight for anything. I understand how lucky we have been.

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“…she needs to try harder.”

“…she needs to show us she is making an effort.”

“…she has to accept (insert imposed limitation here).”

“…the earth is flat.” OK, I made that one up, but that’s what I feel we’re up against when it comes to child #2 (birth order, not popularity). She (her chosen name for this blog is Medli) is an amazingly compassionate, insightful and intelligent young woman. She is the person who thrives in one of those advanced discussion classes that explore the “what ifs?” and “whys?”. We find that far more valuable than whether she can pass a damn No Child Left Behind justification for federal spending, or, in fairness, more traditional forms of assessment.

Because Medli can’t perform by existing expectations (which, of course, is our fault and not a shortcoming of the system), entry into a 4 year college may not be an option for her.

Like my mother always said, “Life is neither fair nor just“. Though, I was only asking for an advance on my allowance, not the chance to follow my dreams.

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G’pa meeting his great-grandson. April 1988.

Amid the challenging genes we passed on to our kids, a few amazing ones shine through thanks to G’pa Dick. G’pa died yesterday morning at the age of 91. He had been receiving hospice care for the last seven weeks.

G’pa was one of the sweetest men I have ever known. Everyone who met him loved him. He was one of the smartest, if not the smartest person I know. He passed that on to my husband and our kids. He also passed on his gentleness, sense of fairness and humor. I truly don’t think he had a mean bone in his body. I see that in my kids as well and I know it didn’t come from me!

I had hoped this would be an elegant post full of profound thoughts. I’ll have to settle for a cliche. G’pa will be missed tremendously but we will still see him everyday in our children. Pretty cool…..

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Just a few posts in and I see the error of my ways. I don’t think or speak in a linear fashion, why did I think I could write that way?

So…I will still tell our past, present and future story, just not in that order. My husband thanks you in advance for your empathy….

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Side by side bumper stickers on the truck in front of me:

Sticker 1 - “Next time you think you’re perfect, try walking on water.”

Sticker 2 - “Don’t make me open a can o’ whoop-ass on ya!”

And I thought I was messing up my kids…

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