Short Prayer

Today is one of those paradoxical days in the life of a family: school picture day.

The Princess, I'm sure, can't stand having to sit still until they get a useable shot.  Thank goodness for instantaneous digital displays; otherwise, I'd dread this day, too.

I can't wait to see what the final shot looks like.  She is going to school today in an adorable one-of-a-kind outfit made especially for her by her Gumma. 

That being said, I'm sending up this short prayer:

Thank you, Lord, for The Princess: everything she is and everything she isn't, everything she does and everything she doesn't.  Thank you for her teachers, aides and therapists.  Bless them, keep them, make your light shine down upon them...for they are the poor souls who will need to entertain her and keep her from melting down today.  Oh, and if you could keep The Princess from getting any grass stains or rips in her white tights until after pictures today, that'd be great.

Amen.

Half An Hour

Half an hour, at the very least, is how long I spent on the phone to The Fabulous Mrs. G. on Friday afternoon. 

Half an hour of two-sided conversation.

Half an hour of listening to one another.

Half an hour of working together to figure out what's going on with my girl.

Half an hour of the biggest reassurances a momma could get when she's feeling so very helpless.

Half an hour of reaffirmation that we are doing right by The Princess.

Half an hour of everything I so sorely needed.

Half an hour after I left for work this morning, The Princess ran - grinning - to meet her bus at the end of our driveway.

Together

Once I got over my meltdown, I was able to see a little more clearly.  It sure helped to have T there to listen to me rant, though.  (Girlie, I have no idea what I would do without you.)

So I spent the better part of the late afternoon/early evening yesterday drafting the following message.  I didn't want to sound like I was accusing anyone of anything, because that was certainly not the point.  I did want to call attention to the fact that The Hubbs and I are concerned about The Princess.

***

Hi Mrs. G.,

I'm concerned about The Princess.  The diarrhea issue you've been describing is by far at its most prominent when she is at school, and it's often only through your notes that I even know it's happening.  Most days, we don't see any indication of this at home, even if it happened all morning at school.

**Of course, while I was at work today, The Hubbs called to let me know that she had an explosive BM early this afternoon.  We didn't experience anything like this at all during her week at home, so this is new to us!

Because of this, I'm convinced that the cause is not 100% PICA (as suggested by you and Nurse S.) or stomach bug (as suggested by her pediatrician)...I think it might be a combination of the two along with anxiety or nerves about something unfamiliar or unpleasant to her. 

I'd love to talk about this with you when we both have the time, but I don't want to blind-side you with a phone call out of the blue.  :)

Here's a short list of questions I have about what's been happening at school:

What time of day are these BMs happening - before lunch?  After lunch? 
How often?
Are there any new people in the classroom?
Are there any new objects or activities?
Does she seem more agitated than normal?
Does she seem more tired than normal?

At home, she's seemed completely normal - no fever, good temperament, all that jazz.  She has not been eating anything outside, and we've been keeping a very close eye on her since this issue started a couple of weeks ago, so I don't think it's anything she's eating.

Her pediatrician told us that there's a tummy bug going around that involves diarrhea, which can last from 2-14 days.  She also said that it's something that has to run its course, and that kids and adults who've already had it can catch it again.

Thanks for listening...I just want to make sure I'm doing everything I can do for my little girl.  Please let me know when you've got some time so we can talk about this.


Thanks!
One Mom

***

And, as I should have known, I received a wonderfully receptive message back within an hour or two...long after The Fabulous Mrs. G.'s work day had ended.  She and I will be talking in the next day or so to see if we can figure this out together.

Together: such a beautiful word, don't you think?

Meltdown

One solid week home from school, and her little tummy seems to have evened out.  The pediatrician gave me a note stating that it was okay for her to return to school, that this tummy bug that's going around seems to be done with my girl's system.

The whole house breathes a collective sigh of relief as we prepare The Princess for her triumphant return to school.

Until we receive another note home - after her very first day back - complaining that she has had the same issue that kept her home in the first place, that is.  The issue that, for some reason, happens at school and not at home.  The issue that I, her momma, have been saying since the beginning must be caused by anxiety or nerves of some kind.  The issue that her doctor attributes to a stomach bug.  The issue that her school nurse wants to attribute to her PICA.  The issue that comes back when she is at school and mysteriously disappears when she's not there, proving that it can't possibly be 100% attributed to either of these things.

The issue that has been discussed so many times in the past two weeks - without ever really discussing anything at all - that I want to pound my head against the wall.  We can all spout our theories until we're blue in the face, but unless each of the involved parties is willing to shut up and listen, even just for a second, not a single effing thing will change.  Why am I the only one who can see this?

My sweet little Princess is home from school again today, and will remain so indefinitely.  Until and unless someone agrees to get off their high horse and listen - for Pete's sake, listen - to me and to each other, I just can't send her back there.

And why the hell do I have to take every note home as some sort of critical attack on The Hubbs and me as parents?  I know I'm stressed with school right now, but I swear if I wasn't thirty freakin' years old, I'd be convinced I was going through menopause.  I can see that I need a major attitude adjustment here, but there's nothing I can seem to do about it at the moment.

With every fiber of my being, I wish I wasn't in school right now.  I wish I wasn't working 40+ hours a week.  I wish with all my might I was home with her, because even though I know things wouldn't be any different, at least I'd feel like I was doing all I could.  Helpless, hopeless, angry, exhausted, embarrassed: these are just a few of the things I'm feeling at the moment.  Logic flew out the window a few miles back...it no longer has a place here.  I wish I could change the way I feel, but I'll be damned if I can figure out where to start.

Who says meltdowns are reserved only for the person in the house who has autism?

Growth Spurts, GI Issues, and an Impromptu Vacation from School

The Princess has been a hot mess at school recently: random tantrums and fits of crying, major GI issues, and general crankiness - all of which are well outside her normal repertoire - have all been causes of concern on the part of her school staff and us at home.

You may remember hearing about the poop situation.  It got so bad at school that The Fabulous Mrs. G. made a concerned phone call and we discussed the oddity of the situation.  She seemed to have non-stop diarrhea at school, but at home it was not very prominent at all.

Well.

She's been home from school since Monday of last week, and we're seeing it now.  It's still not as...um, present...as it was for her at school, but it's there.  Time for a visit to the pediatrician, methinks.

The crankiness and random fits of crying, I think I can explain.  The Hubbs looked at The Princess this weekend and marveled at how tall she is.  All of a sudden, every pair of pants she owns is once again too short.  Lovely.  Just as we're moving into fall, of course.  Sigh.

So she's had a growth spurt again.  I almost wonder if this isn't to blame for most of what's been going on that is out of character for her.  Every growth spurt affects her differently, but they all affect her in some big way or another.  There have been spurts during which she couldn't keep her eyes open, spurts during which she was in a constant manic state, spurts that made her cranky, and spurts that seemed to upset her little tummy.

Could it be that she's in the middle of the granddaddy of all spurts?

Maybe.  But this poop thing has been going on long enough that we need to check it out.  The pediatrician can tell us what he thinks...even if he agrees that all is well in our Princess-dom, at least we'll know.  And, if not, at least we'll have a plan of action.

But, for now, The Princess shall remain on her impromptu vacation.

A Little Help?

Note: This post is all about one of everyone's favorite subjects...poop.  Not interested?  Maybe you should skip this one.  Just sayin'.

I know that GI issues are prominent among people on the autism spectrum.  I've heard this a million times, and it's gone in one ear and out the other.  Only in the last week or so has it begun to cross my mind that The Princess may be one of these people on the spectrum who is experiencing such difficulties. 

Before you write me off as a bad mom, let me explain myself.  She has had periodic tummy issues throughout her life, including constipation, diarrhea, what seems to be major gas pains...but not often enough that I ever thought to attribute it to anything before.

But lately she's been having an issue.  The diarrhea is almost non-stop at school, but nearly nonexistent at home.  On Monday, The Fabulous Mrs. G. called me to let me know that The Princess had been pooping her little brains out all day at school.  This had been escalating for days.

At school, she has major diarrhea.  She's not running a fever.  She doesn't seem to have any other symptoms.  At home, her poops are normal about 95% of the time.  On the days when it is at its worst, her diet doesn't seem to be significantly different.  I haven't gone so far as to evaluate the activities of each day yet.

Could it be some sort of nervous reaction, possibly brought on by anxiety over something?  Do I need to be really concerned?  Anyone else dealing with this, or dealt with it in the past who can help to steer me in the right direction?

Scatterbrained

I had thought it was odd when The Princess's teacher left that pathetically uncomfortable message on my phone last week.  For a fleeting moment, I even thought, "I wonder if she has the right kid."

In her notebook after school yesterday, we received an adorable note from Mrs. G., who apologized all over herself.  The Princess was not the kid whose parents she had meant to call.  It just so happened that our girl ran out of Pull-Ups that day as well, which explains the highlighted note from the day of the call.

It's nice to know I'm not the only one who gets scatterbrained from time to time.

Stronger

There are times in every gal's life that make her wish she was just a little bit stronger. Here are a few of mine:

I'm four years old. My big brother, who is infinitely cool in my eyes at the ripe old age of five (yes, we're only a year apart...built-in best friends for life), has just swung himself up into one of the gigantic maples in our back yard. I can barely reach the lowest branch, and I wish with all my might for my arms to be strong enough to hoist my little body up there so I can follow him.

I'm nine years old. Big Bro and I are riding our bikes, and he pulls off a massive wheelie. Try as I might, I just can't get the front wheel of my pink Schwinn Fairlady off the ground.

I'm thirteen years old. We're at the roller rink, and I'm racing the boys again. The girls aren't fast enough to present any kind of challenge anymore. In the last twenty feet or so of the race, Chad whips past me and cackles. I shouldn't have been so cocky.

I'm seventeen years old. I've been in a relationship with a boy who is no good for me since I was fifteen. We've been through hell and back already, and things are hard. I don't have the strength to leave. But I will one day.

I'm twenty-two years old. My best friend and I stand in her daddy's hospital room. She holds his hand, I hug her tight, and he takes his last breath.

Still twenty-two. It's two o'clock in the morning, and I wake with a start. Pop is sitting on the bathroom floor in the throes of a violent heart attack. A couple of intense hours later, I walk into the cardiac care unit and freeze. One of the nurses recognizes me and has him moved immediately from the room where my best friend's dad recently passed away. I don't know that nurse's name, but I will be eternally grateful to her. I spend every waking moment in that hospital with him for weeks, leaving reluctantly for work and returning immediately when my shifts are over.

I'm twenty-four years old. I've just returned home from our rehearsal dinner to get some rest for the big day tomorrow, and all of a sudden I am sobbing uncontrollably. I miss my maternal grandparents with a ferocity I never thought possible. They've never met my fiance, and they won't be sitting with my family at the wedding. Feeling foolish, I call my mom and she comes right over. We wrap one of Gran's holy medals into my bouquet and stay up late, telling stories, laughing, crying.

I'm twenty-eight years old. The Hubbs and I are sitting in an observation room in the Big Bad City. A team of doctors, therapists and social workers has been observing our sweet little Princess for the last hour. A nondescript pediatrician comes in with a war-and-peace stack of forms and tells us in an offhand manner that our daughter is mentally retarded. His words. Not mine. She has just been formally diagnosed with autism.

I'm thirty years old. I think I'm okay with everything, and I'm pretty happy with my lot in life. My girl is thriving compared to where she was last year. The Hubbs and I are fabulous. I love my job.

So why the hell does it hurt so much when I hear about the progress other "typical" kids are making? Don't get me wrong: I am happy for these kiddos and their parents, and I truly want to know these things. But there's a part of me that just wants to scream, "IT'S NOT FAIR" when I hear about kids who are younger than The Princess doing things that she can't do. That she may never be able to do.

I wish I was just a little bit stronger.

Change in Perspective

Last night when I came home from school, I found myself writing a long note to The Princess's teacher and classroom staff.

You see, I had received a rather uncomfortable voicemail telling me that she was out of Pull-Ups at school, and that they had been borrowing them from the other kids for a few days now.  Mrs. G., the poor thing, went so far as to ask in this message if we were having financial difficulty in purchasing training pants, offering to try to find help for us if necessary.

The thing is, well, no one ever actually told us that we needed more Pull-Ups until this voicemail.  There we were, me and The Hubbs, toodling along thinking everything was hunky dory, when - BAM!  It turns out there's been a silly miscommunication that turned into The Princess's teacher having to call and leave this message on my cell while I was at work.

So, between my psychology test and my Spanish class, I ran out and purchased Pull-Ups to send to school.  After Spanish, I drove home and looked at The Princess's notebook (which had no previous notes about training pants...) and the papers in her folder.  The daily report sheet had Pull-Ups circled and highlighted with a note in all caps saying "NONE LEFT."  And it was underlined.

I had to giggle.

There I sat, cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table, writing an apology for the Great Pull-Up Shortage of 2011.  After the apology, I included a note stating that The Hubbs and I would be attending the potty training seminar that is being presented at The Princess's school next Friday.  I have the day off, and I'm actually excited about it.

Funny how our perspective changes over time, ain't it?

Rambly Randomness

I'm feeling a bit scatterbrained these days, so here's a bit of rambly randomness to start your morning off right:

The Princess is in her fourth week of school.  She's going until 2:00 now, which gives The Hubbs oodles of extra time during the day...every second of which is well-deserved.

I am in my third week of my final semester before graduating with my AS degree.  I'm back to going 240 with my hair on fire, and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up.  It used to be so easy to answer that question: a mom.  But now I know that I need to expand upon that, and I'm really not sure how to do so.

Putting off telecourses until the very end is probably not such a good idea.

I really want some chicken pad thai.  Yes, I know it's 5:00 in the morning.  Try telling my stomach that.

Ooh, Gumma and I are going to see The Help this weekend.  I read the book and loved it, so I'm very excited for the movie.

The Hubbs and I have all these great ideas for stuff we want to write, make, somehow get on the market, but it turns out it ain't so easy to get started.  Where's that fairy godmother when ya need her, anyway?

Someone up there flipped a switch, and as of Labor Day weekend, it really feels like autumn around here.  I love this weather, and I find myself wishing I was camping, like, on a daily basis.  Perhaps it's time to do something about that.

But now, it's time to get my butt moving and off to work, so I guess any further musings will just have to wait.  ;)

Couldn't Be Higher

I knew I was asking for it by sharing so much good stuff with you about Red House.  Murphy's Law ain't got nothin' on The Princess.

Ours is a world of highs and lows, and we don't do anything half-way around here.  Unfortunately, this Labor Day weekend wasn't just long, it was looong, if you know what I mean.

On Friday, we ventured out for our second-ever trip to the movies with The Princess.  Arriving at the drive-in directly behind The Grumps, it seemed like it might be smooth sailing.  Heh.  Not so much.  It was too hot for The Princess to sit still, and she squirmed and cranked her way through the first movie.  She even dozed off a time or two, but it was too darn hot in the car for her to stay comfortably asleep, and she woke up each time with her bangs plastered to her forehead and alligator tears running down her cheeks.

We left at intermission.

On Saturday, The Princess just wan't having any luck.  All she wanted to do was go outside, and she just couldn't understand why we wouldn't let her.  The rain was her enemy, and the alligator tears made yet another appearance.  As a last-ditch effort to save the day, I called The Grumps to see what they were up to.  Joy of joys...they were home with no particular plans.  This might seem mundane to some, but to me it was something to do with my poor, sad little Princess.  I loaded her in the car and we headed on over for a couple hours' distraction from the overall grumpiness of the day.

Sunday was T's party, which I was really looking forward to.  T can cook, and she does so for an army.  Her mom is in town, and it's been something like five years since I last saw her in Arizona.  Have I mentioned the fact that The Princess is head-over-heels in love with Auntie T and Auntie C, and that she absolutely adores visiting their house?

It was like a godsend.  Not only were we visiting her two favorite aunties; she was also allowed to play in their outside room.  They have a second-floor balcony that she thinks is just the coolest thing ever.  On top of that, there were apples, grapes, tomatoes, carrots, and tons of other food to chow on.  Though we couldn't stay terribly long, I'm so glad we went. 

Yesterday, well, yesterday was fabulous.  The "No Reason Happies" made a show-stopping appearance, and she was snuggly and sweet.  She happily went to a different grocery store from our normal one, and didn't even fuss when we put back her "store toys" that we can't afford.  Easygoing and sweet, the untrained eye would never have recognized her as the poor, miserable kid we spent the beginning of our weekend with.

Sure, the lows may be low, but the highs couldn't be higher.  Oh, and that saying, the one about "the little things?"  So true.

Red House: Part Eleven

Read Part One
Read Part Two
Read Part Three
Read Part Four
Read Part Five
Read Part Six
Read Part Seven
Read Part Eight
Read Part Nine
Read Part Ten

Note: There are so many little victories that took place during our trip to Red House this July that I could probably write a novel about those five days.  Not today, though.  Today, you'll get a recap of the awesomeness that was our long weekend.

*

The rest of our trip is spent swimming, swimming, and swimming.  Oh, and I get to go fishing with my Pop a couple of times while The Princess and Gumma hang at the pool.

The Princess, who is famous for her paradoxical love of water and hate of water on her head, learns to dunk herself underwater to retrieve a toy.

At one point, she actually holds my hand and we jump together off the swimming dock.  Cackling her little head off, she hugs me tight when I break the surface and come face to face with her.

And then there's the potty.

I can hardly even believe this two months later, but it's true.  Not once during her waking hours on this trip do we have to change a Pull Up.  Not.  Once.  She sits on the little pink froggy potty like a champ, and even poops there.  Twice.

Huge.  Er, uh, not the poops, but you know what I mean.

The whole ten hour ride home, The Princess is an absolute angel.  She naps and plays, even dances to some more Zac Brown Band.  At every stop, she goes potty for me, and she doesn't have one wet Pull Up the whole way.

To say I'm proud of my little girl would be the understatement of the century.

Red House: Part Ten

Read Part One
Read Part Two
Read Part Three
Read Part Four
Read Part Five
Read Part Six
Read Part Seven
Read Part Eight
Read Part Nine

After our boat ride, the four of us - well, five, if you count Jessie - head back up to the cabin for some dinner.  It's been a heck of a long day, and we are hungry.  Good thing we've learned (from experience, of course) that the grocery shopping should be done before we even arrive at Red House.

Umpa is grilling turkey burgers while Gumma and I try to figure out what to get for The Princess.  Her eating habits are unpredictable at best...she's picky as all get-out, but there's no telling what will be accepted at any given moment.  One thing we know for sure: she's not a meat eater.  Nope, my girl is an herbivore all the way, always has been.

You see where this is going already, don't you? 

On the table, there is fruit galore.  In between the bowls of fruit, there's cereal, crackers, applesauce, you name it.  If she's ever deigned to eat it in her life, it's laid out in front of her just ready for the chowing.

My girl, though, doesn't seem interested.  She's acting hungry, but nothing seems to be hitting the spot.

She brings me a bag of beef jerky, of all things.  Snickering and thinking I already know the outcome, I open it and hand her a piece.  Which she devours in mere seconds, immediately returning for more.

When all is said and done, The Princess has polished off half a bag of jerky and two turkey burgers...and she looks like she's about to start trolling for more.

Huh.  Shows how much I know.

Stay tuned for Part Eleven.