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Jun 16, 2009

Unwanted on 1st Day of Camp – A New Record!

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I was hoping for a first day of summer camp that would end with reports of “she did great!” and in some ways it did. But that statement was also followed with “until…”

Cordy’s camp ends at 1:30pm each day, and we arranged it so she stays in after-camp until 3:30 three days a week. She’ll be in all-day Pre-K in the fall, and she needs to start getting used to a longer day. I figured this was a good place to start. This morning I met her after-camp teacher, and after warning her that Cordy would likely be having a rough day today, her response? “Oh, I’ve cared for lots of kids and I’ve seen everything! There’s no kid I can’t handle!”

Today, at 1:45pm, I got the call from Aaron’s aunt. (The preschool director.) At the end of camp, they took Cordy to the front along with the other kids who were leaving at 1:30. She got to watch them leave while she was told she had to remain behind. Today she was the only kid in after-care. Naturally, she had a big meltdown. They were calling to ask me for advice on getting her out of her meltdown. I gave a few tips and hung up, my stomach in knots as I wondered if I’d get another call soon.

Half an hour went by, and I called back to see if she had calmed down. Aaron’s aunt said Cordy and her teacher took a walk to calm her down. I decided at this point to get her early, since it was her first day. When I arrived, they sent someone to find Cordy and her teacher. As they came around the corner, Cordy had a big grin on her face and didn’t seem distressed at the moment.

I hugged Cordy and asked her how her day was. It was then her after-care teacher said, “She is very tired and worn out. Camp is hard on her.” Cordy seemed a little tired, but nothing out of the ordinary to me.

And then the gut punch: “I really think you should pick her up right after camp each day.”

*blink* *blink*

“Well, I can’t do that,” I stammered, “I’ve already paid for her after-care, and I need the time while she’s gone to get things done.”

The teacher was unimpressed. “The camp day is too hard on her. She can’t handle a full day. And she has no other kids to play with.”

I’d like to pause in this conversation to remind everyone: FIRST DAY, PEOPLE!!!

I explained to the teacher that Cordy doesn’t know the routine at the moment, and that once she gets the hang of it she’ll handle transitions better. I also told her Cordy will be in Pre-K in the fall and needs to start transitioning to a full-day program. And I had been told right before they came around the corner that another child would be in after-camp next week.

“Well, we’ll see what happens on Wednesday…” And with that ending, she left.

We’ll see? Or what, she’ll be kicked out of after-camp? Holy hell, it’s only been one day! ONE DAY. Un dia.

Surely other kids act up on the first day of a new program. A child need not be on the spectrum to have a bad day, right? You can’t judge kids by their first day in camp.

I’m completely floored by this teacher’s response to Cordy. Especially since she was the teacher who declared herself some kind of child whisperer that can handle anything. I can’t decide if my mistake was in not telling her enough about what to expect from Cordy, or telling her anything at all and somehow biasing her against Cordy. Was I wrong to mention autism? I feel like we’re being scolded for thinking we could mainstream her. She doesn’t act like a perfect robot child, and so clearly she doesn’t belong here. Send her back to the land of misfit children where she belongs.

And strangely enough, when I spoke with her camp teacher, the report was the complete opposite. Her camp teacher loved her, and said that Cordy had a really good day. She didn’t like circle time singing, preferring to stand away from the group, and she clung to her swim instructor like a barnacle in the pool, but otherwise she had a lot of fun and followed directions. Her teacher was impressed at how she coped with her new schedule.

And that whole talk about being too tired? Cordy did look a little worn out, but she wasn’t sleepy. She didn’t nap the entire day, and was a bundle of energy when we got home.

We’ll see what happens on Wednesday, but I’ll be pissed if I again hear that Cordy should not be in after-camp care. I know my daughter is pretty amazing, and I know she’ll go on to earn many honors, but having the title of “Fastest ejection from a daycare” is an honor I’d rather she not have. Because I then might have to earn the title of “Loudest mother” for shouting HAVE A LITTLE FREAKIN’ PATIENCE! at her teacher. Which is still better than “Mother drinking herself into oblivion” from the stress of it all.

Filed Under: Autism, big issues, Cordy, daily life · Tagged:


Jun 15, 2009

Do They Have A Mommy Relaxation Camp?

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‘Cause if they do, I could use one right now.

Today was Cordy’s first day of summer camp. “Typical” kid summer camp. Keep up with the pace summer camp. Do self-care stuff on your own summer camp. And I’m nervous as hell.

Two years ago, right after Mira was born, we put Cordy in a summer camp that was both a help and a disaster. I needed the time without Cordy, but she didn’t handle camp well. She didn’t follow the group. She didn’t participate in activities. She had massive meltdowns in group assembly. She had to be fed because she wouldn’t feed herself. And she wouldn’t drink from a cup, so she often was extremely thirsty at the end of the day. That was when we first heard the words, “It might be a good idea to get her evaluated.”

One year ago, after a year of special needs preschool, we enrolled her in a special needs summer camp program through the school district. That? Also a disaster. Many of the kids in that program had more severe disabilities, and Cordy spent all summer backsliding.

But today she’s being mainstreamed again. I know it is best for her. She needs the challenge. She’s made incredible progress and is ready for this, but I feel like I’m still trying to convince myself of that statement.

I worry the other kids won’t accept her. I know she’ll be hard to deal with during the first week or two – until she learns the routine – and I worry her teachers won’t wait for her to blossom into the happy child and instead write her off as worth their time early on. And what if she doesn’t know to ask to go to the bathroom? Will she have an accident?

I’m overprotective -there’s no hiding that fact. I do try to shield her from some of the ugly in life. I step in when she encounters mean kids probably sooner than I should. Oh, and I gave her teachers a speech about Cordy’s sensitivities and quirks that was so long they probably quit listening after the first few sentences and just nodded and smiled to keep me happy.

We pick her up this afternoon, and I’m hoping for a glowing report. Or at least a “it wasn’t too bad” report. Until then, I’m all nerves.

(And Mira starts summer camp tomorrow, too. Strangely enough, I’m not at all worried about her.)

And if you’re bored and like looking at photos of people in dressing rooms under bad fluorescent lighting, come check out my little fashion show and help me choose clothing for BlogHer!

Filed Under: Autism, being a mom, Cordy ·


Jun 9, 2009

Last Day of School

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Today was Cordy’s last day of preschool.

After typing that last sentence, it took me 15 minutes to continue this post. I just kept staring at that sentence and thinking about all it means.

Cordy began preschool right after she turned three years old. After traumatizing evaluations, she was determined to be “special-needs” and placed in a special needs preschool class right away. I remember first meeting her teacher and thinking she seemed very nice, but I worried that there was no way she could control my wild Amazon. Her teacher took one look at her and said, “Oh, she’ll love me. I guarantee it.”

And school did not start well. Cordy hated going. Each day I would take her to her classroom, and they would have to pull her off of me so I could leave. Her screams echoed down the hall as I left, and I tried not to cry, reminding myself this was what was best for her. At that time, she didn’t engage her classmates, she paid no attention to what was going on in the room, and she refused to let anyone touch her. Asking her to do something she was afraid of resulted in a meltdown. She was still in diapers, too.

Her first school photo was a success only after her teacher spent an hour trying to coax her into the room, and even then she looked scared to death. But ever so slowly, changes appeared. She didn’t cry and scream when I dropped her off in the morning. She had better progress reports from school (even if the physical therapist still wasn’t happy with her) and her teacher told me that she was starting to fingerpaint! Like, with real paint on her fingers! And without collapsing into a puddle of tantrum on the floor!

Near the end of the first year, Cordy came home one day with her hair in a ponytail. Aaron and I were stunned. Cordy never let anyone touch her hair, yet now she was sporting a ponytail. I didn’t see any blood under her nails, so I assumed she let her teacher play with her hair.

Summer break was difficult. Cordy missed her teacher and she didn’t like the summer school program for special needs children. Much of the progress of the school year faded away during the summer. But she was going back to her same teacher and classroom in the fall, so I had something to look forward to.

This school year has been amazing. On her first day, she was excited to go back to school, unlike her first day a year before. After a few months, she started talking about her friends at school – friends!! My heart nearly burst at the thought of her finally interacting with other kids! Her teacher reported that she was starting to go with her classmates to the bathroom now, although she still wouldn’t use the potty. That wouldn’t happen until February.

We noticed that she came home many days with ponytails. Sometimes pigtails. By spring break she occasionally came home with her hair french braided. Her school photo? While it still took some coaxing, she looked more relaxed this year.

In two years of preschool, Cordy has become a new person. She’s spun that cocoon and broken out to reveal the beautiful butterfly that she is meant to be. That confused, angry, sensitive child that started in 2007 has been taught how to deal with the crushing sensory experiences life throws at her. She’s learned that she doesn’t need to always react to new situations with fear. Other children are in her line of sight now, all possible new friends to her.

Don’t get me wrong – she still has a long way to go, too. Cordy has little ability to focus on a task for more than a minute. Even with learning to cope, the world is still scary to her and her senses are easily overwhelmed. She may see other kids now, but she has a lot of trouble trying to hold a conversation.

And like her teacher predicted in 2007, Cordy adores her. When we dropped some gifts off for her teacher today, Cordy gave her a big hug and told her, “I love you, Miss W!” Tears were shed over the end of the year, and phone numbers were exchanged so we could be in touch this summer.

Because with the end of this school year, a big change is looming ahead of us. She’s too old to return to preschool and her beloved teacher. She’s eligible for kindergarten, but Aaron and I, along with Cordy’s teacher and therapists, all agree that she’s not ready for kindergarten yet. At this point she’d be eaten alive by the other kids, and after she was bullied at the mall earlier this year, I don’t think I can endure that yet.

Instead, her teacher pulled some strings to get her placed at one of the best special needs Pre-K programs in the school district next year. It’s an all-day program, unlike her preschool class, and the teacher is one that Cordy’s current teacher highly respects and recommends. There will be a strong emphasis on academics as well as the social skills she’ll need to survive kindergarten.

But we’ll miss her teacher. Miss W is a part of Cordy’s success, and I wish we could take her with us.

Filed Under: Cordy, growing up, school ·


Jun 2, 2009

In the Dark

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Last night, as I was coming home from a night out with friends, I was treated to an amazing light show in the sky. Great, I thought, storms. Those who know me in person know how anxious I get in thunderstorms. I’ve never been able to relax and enjoy the power of nature. No, I’m too focused on the massive destruction, tornadoes, fires, and electrocution that nature can cause to enjoy some pretty lights in the sky.

I made it home right before the rain started. Settling down in my chair with my computer, I distracted myself with a quick e-mail check and some Twitter, hoping the storm would pass quickly.

And then the lights dimmed, came back, dimmed again, and then went out. No big crack of thunder accompanied it, so we didn’t know why the power decided to take time off.

Aaron found the flashlights while I looked outside and confirmed that everyone was in the dark. After our initial WTF? we lit some candles and relaxed. The rain was steady, the lightening was already calming down – so where was our electricity?

We waited. And waited. And waited. I called my mom and she asked “Did you call the electric company yet?”

“Um, no, but considering most of our side of town is dark, I’m guessing they already know.”

My only worry at this point was Cordy. If she woke up during this power outage, she would freak out. Cordy is afraid of the dark, and usually sleeps with her light on all night. A night light doesn’t cut it, and if I turn off her overhead light after she’s asleep, she’ll get up and turn it back on later in the night, along with her lamp. (And keep the nightlight on too, of course.) Thank goodness for CFL bulbs or environmentalists would have her on their 10 Most Wanted list.

Eventually we gave up and went to bed. Well, I went to bed, Aaron slept on the couch so he could turn everything off when the power came back on.

Sure enough, at 11:45pm, just as I was drifting off to sleep, I was startled awake by a scream from Cordy’s room. “I can’t get the lights on! I can’t see! I can’t see!” I fell out of bed in my frantic scurry to get to her room, trying to open and turn on my Nintendo DSi to provide light for her. When I opened her door, she was completely disoriented and terrified, shaking and reaching out for the light source while babbling about lights not working and make them work again and it’s dark and scary!

Aaron made it to the top of the stairs about the same time that I opened her door, and we guided her into our bedroom. I told her she could sleep in our bed tonight, and Aaron brought in her Sammy. (Somehow the giant Miffy that she named Sammy has become her nighttime protector and must be present so she can sleep.) With a child and giant stuffed rabbit in the bed, Aaron knew there was no room for him and went back to the couch.

At that point, all I wanted was to go back to sleep. I tried to close the DSi, but Cordy was again scared, even though I was right there with her. So I left it on, placing it on the bedside table. Then I remembered that I hadn’t charged it lately. Hmmm…once that light ran out, she’d be a mess again. I got out of bed to gather more light-producing equipment, and came up with a Nintendo DS and a book light. Well, it was better than nothing.

Thankfully, the lights came on 10 minutes after that. But Cordy refused to go back to her room. “What if the lights stop working again?” she asked over and over. I assured her that I would come and get her if they went off again, but she wouldn’t budge. As long as there was the statistical probability of the lights not working again, she was not moving.

Cordy hasn’t slept in our bed in a long, long time, and she’s not the best bed-mate. She talks half the night, kicks, fidgets, tosses and turns, and does her best to make sure no one else is sleeping. And is then up at 6am on her knees with open arms proclaiming, “Good morning, sun!” to the light coming in the window.

So if any locals happen to see me today, please buy me a coffee. And hope that she returns to her bed tonight.

Filed Under: being a mom, Cordy, daily life ·


Jun 1, 2009

Birthday Weekend

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I’ve learned that I love birthday parties, but I hate getting ready for them. Each year I swear we’re going to do the next kid birthday party at a location other than our house, and then each year something comes up to make the costs too prohibitive, or we run out of time to book the location, or I worry that an outdoor location will pretty much guarantee rain and tornadoes that day.

The one upside of hosting the party at our house is it forces us to do a thorough cleaning of the house twice a year. (Three times if you count Christmas.) We spent part of last week and all morning Saturday clearing out piles of paper, choosing which of Cordy’s art projects to keep and which to toss, performing the semi-annual culling of the toy herd, and wiping down/dusting/scrubbing every surface in sight.

And then? The weather was so nice we forced everyone to come to the back gate so no one saw inside the house. Good thing we cleaned, eh?

Mira had a lovely birthday party. I love this age – she doesn’t care what the theme is, and we don’t have to have elaborate crafts or games or anything like that. In fact, the best part of her party, as far as she was concerned? Was this:


Who needs fancy decorations, performers, or lots of gifts? Give a two year old a bunch of balloons and you’ve got a happy kid. She dragged those balloons around for most of the day. Thank goodness they were tied to a sandbag, or she would have quickly become a very unhappy two year old.

She also received several nice gifts, including some beautiful clothes that she looked at, shouted “No!” and then promptly threw on the ground. Not sure if she was expecting toys or had issues with the style. (Personally, I liked the clothing. Our friends and family have good taste.)

Cordy did pretty well with the small crowd of people invading her personal space. She got a little wild at times, and ate way too much cake and ice cream, resulting in a severe tummy ache and GI distress the remainder of the evening. Poor thing – she kept asking me, “can you turn my tummy off, mommy?”

I think the party went well, even if it was small and disorganized. And I hope I’ve once again learned not to hold birthday parties at our house. Maybe I’ll remember that for Cordy’s party in September.

(And I wish I had more birthday pictures, but I was so busy keeping things running I didn’t take any. Now I’m at the mercy of my relatives sharing their photos with me.)

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Filed Under: Cordy, holidays, love, Mira ·