Is It Monday Yet?

It’s Cordy’s spring break this week. And I’m amazed we’ve all survived this long.

I never thought I’d look forward to a Monday as much as I do right now.

Thank goodness the sun is shining today. After three days of rain, I was nearly ready to suit the kids up in raincoats and send them out into the cold rain and mud just for a minute or two of peace. Muddy footprints in the carpet and caked on mud in clothing would be a small price to pay for sanity.

With Cordy’s routine being so off at the moment, we’re dealing with a lot of attitude, shrieking, and inappropriate behavior. Our only solution so far is to give her more chores to do. She thinks putting cans into the recycling bin and sweeping the floor are exciting, and it gives her a repetitive activity that calms her down and forces more order into her day.

I think today we’ll have her “pick flowers” in the backyard. Those dandelions are a pain to me, but she’ll think she’s making a bouquet.



She Doesn’t Seem Like She Has Autism

While some may see Cordy at her worst – in a full-out, thrashing, crying meltdown – most now see her in her friendly, happy state: a hyper, smiling four year old, bounding around as if the world was hers alone. A year and a half of therapies have done an amazing job at calming her sensory sensitivities, helping her with coping skills, and teaching her proper social interaction.

And for those who only see her at her best, I often hear the same refrain: “She doesn’t seem like she has autism.”

I understand that it is often said as a compliment. They are trying to say that in the five or ten minutes they’ve observed her, they haven’t seen any signs of a child with any kind of developmental issues. I agree – Cordy has worked so hard to recognize other kids, even asking them to play sometimes.

But now and then, some people go a little too far in their praise. It generally goes something like this: “How did you find out she has autism? Did you actually get a diagnosis? Are you sure?”

Like I’m making this up or something?

Or this: “Autism is such an over-diagnosed condition. Look at her – she’s fine. What kid doesn’t have tantrums or irrational fears? And some 4 year olds aren’t potty trained yet. Just because she’s not a genius doesn’t mean she has autism.”

Ouch.

The truth is, Cordy doesn’t have a medical diagnosis yet, only an educational “classification”. The difference really doesn’t matter at this age. However, any funding for her therapy ends at 6 years old unless she has a medical diagnosis, and so her case worker has set up an appointment with a group of experts to evaluate Cordy in early May.

Because of what people have said to me, I’ve started to wonder if she will even be given a diagnosis. I mean, I’d love to hear that my child is perfectly typical in every way – forget genius, I’d be thrilled to hear average at this point – even if it meant I looked silly for thinking she had some condition that she doesn’t.

But while people may think Cordy acts “normal” (whatever normal may be), they aren’t around her for more than an hour. They don’t notice that over half of what she says is a phrase she’s heard from TV or other people, and that her responses don’t always match what was said to her. They don’t see our behind-the-scenes work. We do a lot of prep before we leave the house, making sure she knows what to expect ahead of time to prevent any surprises and avoid sensory triggers that could lead to a meltdown. And they don’t see how hard she works in her classroom to retrain her entire thought process.

I asked her teacher if I should expect the evaluation to end without a diagnosis. After all, Cordy is the only kid with developmental issues that I’ve ever had, so maybe I’m seeing something that isn’t there. She is certain Cordy will still be diagnosed on the spectrum. Her case worker agrees.

It does feel ridiculous to actually hope for a diagnosis so that her therapy can continue into her school years. But I want her to have every tool possible for a successful future.

I fully expected to have an oddball child when I became a mom. After all, I was the oddball when I was little – smart and teased mercilessly for it. Gifted I was prepared for. Special-needs I was not prepared for. I was prepared for a battle of wits at every turn. I was not prepared for the patience I’d need to talk with a child who can’t read facial expressions, emotions or social cues.

Earlier today I found an excellent post, Ten Things Every Child With Autism Wishes You Knew, and as I read it, my eyes filled with tears. It reminded me to be patient and not expect perfection from Cordy, because no child fits all of the expectations of parents. Just because she’s different doesn’t mean she can’t shine using the strengths she possesses. And the post is an excellent resource for those who may be a little uncertain or even afraid about finding out their child has autism.

When I am once again told “She doesn’t act like she has autism” (because it will be said again), I’ll be able to smile and reply that autism is only one part of who she is, and her strengths outshine her limitations.



Beetle-Mania

You’d think we time-warped back to the 1960s in my house.

Cordy’s newest obsession is the Beatles. This happens every few months. She’ll find something new to fixate on, and it will become her go-to conversation starter, or excuse, or comfort phrase when she’s over-stimulated.

And while an obsession with John, Paul, Ringo and George wouldn’t be so bad, the truth is they aren’t the Beatles that have infested her imagination.

It’s these:

This obsession was triggered over one friggin’ commercial. She happened to see a commercial for The Wonder Pets Save the Beetles while watching Noggin, and suddenly her world revolved around four bugs with bowl cuts.

Do you think the beetles will come to my house?

Will I see the beetles soon?

Mommy, the beetles are trapped!

Are the beetles stuck in a cave?

Don’t forget lunch for the beetles, too!

After days of this, I searched to find when the damn show would be on and Tivo’d it, thinking that she would watch it and then lose interest.

Nope.

They’ve now gone beyond the show to their own world. She has names for them, she draws them, she creates wild stories about them. They appear in her dreams, they keep her safe, they apparently like PB&J sandwiches and they get trapped in caves a lot. I hear something about the beetles at least once every half hour.

But some variation of When will I see the beetles? is now her verbal filler. She uses it whenever she has nothing else to say, or doesn’t know how to respond in a conversation. And Aaron and I have reached our point of frustration most days. You can only take so many questions about the beetles until you want to throw yourself into a pit of flesh-eating beetles just to end the auditory assault. I’m not kidding – it’s worse than the preschooler Why? question.

So until this obsession ends, we tell her she’ll see the beetles in her dreams and we let her watch Wonder Pets Save the Beetles every other day. I’m hoping her love for the beetles will fade like boy-bands from the 90s and I’ll gladly delete the show from Tivo.

Although the past two days, I think I’m seeing a hint of the next obsession coming soon:

Mommy, how does the TV work?

I think I’m going to call up Time Warner and let them explain that one. For what I pay for cable, their customer support from India can satisfy my four year old’s curiosity over and over again.



What Are The Odds of Two Children Looking Towards The Camera At The Same Time?

Answer: pretty slim. (WHY? Why will they never look in the same direction at the same time?)

Which is why I give you two carousel photos today instead of one.



These were taken before the carousel started. What you don’t see are the photos of Mira attempting to strangle me as she tried to get off the horse while it was moving. I’d like to state for the record that it was her idea to ride.



St. Patrick’s Day Parade, in Photos

Cordy Irish girl t-shirtIt’s true, everyone does love an Irish girl

St. PatrickSt. Patrick

The girls love the St. Patrick's Day paradeMira amazed, Cordy patiently waiting for someone to throw candy from a float

Pipe & Drum band(that’s our friend Mike playing the snare drum)

Happy sisters watching the parade

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