Hope

I am happy to report that The Fabulous Mrs. G. is living up to her name - no big surprise there, but reassuring nonetheless.

After the incident at The Princess's spring music program, The Hubbs and I decided to keep The Princess home from school until we reached a resolution.  The Fabulous Mrs. G. called me Monday morning, and I learned a lot in the space of about twenty minutes.  It seems that The Princess and Z have been paired together for most activities in school recently, and the initial solution involves pairing them off with other classmates to separate them from one another.

Starting on Tuesday, each of the girls has a new partner for each of her activities, and the classroom staff will be keeping a closer eye out for this type of behavior.  The girls are also in the same ESY (summer school) class each year, and that staff will be notified of the need to keep the girls apart as well.

Long story short: I am so grateful for The Princess's support team at school.  They obviously care about the kids they work with, and it shows in everything they do.  I've always thought of The Fabulous Mrs. G. as a guardian angel to our family, and my conversation with her on Monday only solidified that notion.

Last week, my heart was breaking.  Today, I have hope.  Hope that this solution will work.  Hope that Z will get the help she needs to pinpoint the cause for her aggression and help her and her parents deal with it.  Hope that, someday, I can be somebody else's Fabulous Mrs. G.

Physical Aggression in the Classroom

This is the note I had to type and send off to The Princess's teacher this evening.  It breaks my heart.

***

Hi Mrs. G.,

I saw videos from the music program today, and I'm completely blown away by how far The Princess has come since the last program.  I wish I could have been there, but I'm in San Francisco for work until next Friday...so it was really nice to get the videos that The Hubbs's mom took during the program.

That being said, I am extremely concerned for The Princess's safety.  The Hubbs and his mom both saw Z hit The Princess - hard - twice today.  Z seems to wait until you and the other staff members are otherwise occupied and then she hits The Princess.  The first time was so hard my mother-in-law was absolutely shocked.  You turned to talk to her and The Hubbs , and Z punched The Princess very hard in the chest.  It happened again when everyone was getting ready to leave.  You were occupied with something else, and Z hit The Princess again, this time with an open palm on The Princess's leg.  The Hubbs and my mother-in-law didn't want to cause a scene during the program, but I can't leave this unaddressed.

One of the most concerning aspects of this, to me, is that The Princess didn't react at all.  This tells me that it happens often enough that The Princess is used to it and doesn't see it as being wrong.  This is not okay in any sense of the word.

Being the parent of a nonverbal child like The Princess, The Hubbs and I are extremely vigilant about keeping our eyes on her.  She can't tell us if something hurts or if someone did something to her, and we rely on you and the other classroom staff to be our eyes and ears during the school day. 

We do absolutely everything in our power to keep her out of harm's way at home, but I feel like there's a gap in this vigilance at school.  This academic year alone, The Princess has come home with deep scratches to her face (which have since left scars - the original incident was in October), multiple bruises, bumps, cuts and scrapes.  Each time she comes home with an injury, we seem to receive a similar cryptic note regarding an incident with another student.

After today's events, I have no doubt that the other student has been Z, which I suspected all along.  I have nothing but respect and gratitude for you and your staff, and I know you do the best you can, but I have to insist that The Princess and Z be separated immediately.  I simply cannot stand by and allow this treatment/behavior to continue. 

The Princess has made amazing progress in the three years since she started in your program, and I think we would both agree that this is largely due to the fact that we - her parents - and you - her support team - have always been on the same page.  It's taken four and a half years, but she is now completely potty-trained.  Things take a long time for her to learn, but once they're ingrained, she has a memory like a steel trap.  I'm afraid that Z's behavior is teaching The Princess that volatility and violence are acceptable, and this is the exact opposite of what we are teaching and enforcing at home.

We've all worked too hard to get The Princess where she is today to see any regression or bad habits come out of inconsistency at school.  Like I said, I'm concerned for her safety at this point.  I cannot allow her to continue to be in the same classroom with a child who is physically abusive toward her.

Please let me know what can be done to solve this issue.  The Hubbs and I are prepared to keep The Princess home in the interim if needed, and I'll be happy to talk to whoever I need to talk to at the special education district or the local school district.  I just can't have my baby bullied. I hope you understand.

Thanks for your time,
Amy

Loved to Hate It

Every week since she turned three, The Princess has brought home a potty chart in her backpack.  This evil little scrap of paper loves to mock all of our efforts, and I love to hate it.

I suppose I should really say, "I loved to hate it."

Why, you may ask?  See for yourself.

That's right.  A perfect record.  It only took two and a half years at school, and - damn it - it was worth every single second of the wait.

Potty Training, Picture Day and the Death of a Dishwasher

Buckle up, folks...this post is gonna be a rambler.  ;)

Since we talked last week, a lot has happened.  We've continued our daily trips to the local state parks, and The Princess continues to love it.

Don't believe me?  Here's your proof:

Go ahead...just try to tell me that's not a happy kid.

She is still a major fan of the stroller rides, and I'm so unbelievably proud of her.  Are you sitting down?  No?  Grab a seat.  I'll wait.

Not only is our girl rockin' the big girl panties every day, but she's decided to take things up a notch.  She now stops what she is doing, gets up, runs to her potty, goes, pulls up her drawers, removes the pee bucket from the pink froggy, and attempts to empty it into the toilet herself.  Without being prompted.  I mean, like, all by herself.

I know.  I almost plotzed the first time it happened.  And the second.  And the third.  I think I'm finally starting to get used to it.

Just shy of five and a half years of wearing diapers every single day...and it was so totally worth the wait.  Sure, it took years of grueling potty training, but when this girl gets something, she gets it.  There are no words for the pride I feel.

***

Thursday was Fall Picture Day at school.  I have a hard time saying that without a snarky little whine creeping into my voice.  Autism + Picture Day = Hell On Wheels for everyone involved.  At least, that's been my experience over the last couple of years.

Unbelievably, this year seems to have been different.  I'll have to reserve my final judgment for after we hear back from her teachers, but it doesn't seem to have thrown her at all.

Five minutes before our alarm was set to go off on Thursday morning, The Princess woke up and started singing.  As we walked into our room, I noticed that her hair looked amazing.  Yes, my girl, the one whose bedhead is epic and can last for days, woke up with not one single hair out of place.

We cruised through our morning routine with no hiccups, The Princess cooperating every step of the way.  She even chose her own outfit for her school picture.

After putting her on the bus with her backpack and an in-case-of-emergency change of pants, The Hubbs and I returned to work.

No phone calls.  No emails.  No panicked correspondence of any kind.  For Picture Day, it was eerily silent.

And then her bus arrived at the end of our driveway.  She greeted us with a smile and a song, still wearing the outfit she had chosen that morning and giving no indication that anything remotely out of the ordinary had happened.

We were warned in advance that this year's pictures would be taken in the gym, and that this can often be unbearable for at least some of the kids in the autism program.  No kidding.  We live with one.  Big, cavernous space + lots of antsy kids + waiting in line and being expected to do specific things = the mother of all meltdowns just waiting to happen.

But there was nothing.  She was happy.  No notes from teachers, aides, therapists.  No worried calls from school nurses.

Nothing at all.

I can't wait to see this picture, y'all.

***

And in totally non-Princess-related news, we've been fighting with our dishwasher for some time now.  We received it as a hand-me-down about six years ago. and I couldn't have been more thankful.  There was no way we could have afforded one at the time, and, hey...it was free. 

Over the last five or so years, I've torn that machine apart more times than I can count.  My momma didn't raise me to be a needy little girly-girl, so I dive head-first into repairs in my own home the way she always has with hers.  Probably a month and a half to two months ago, the dishwasher started acting up again, and I just didn't feel like I had time to check it out.  Fast-forward to September, and The Hubbs and I were just totally O-V-E-R the idea of hand-washing everything.  All meals in our little yellow house are made from scratch, and we do a lot of crock-potting and baking. 

Something needed to be done.

I ripped apart the dishwasher yet again, pulled diagnostic codes from its onboard computer, flipped it on its back, removed and tested all of the electrical components and came to a decision.  The capacitor and pressure switch alone would cost over $100 (plus shipping), and I didn't even know if that would fix the problem or not.  My first attempt - replacing the heating element - didn't do it, so my usually sunny outlook was gaining more than a little cloud cover.  With so many things testing in the bad-to-dead range, I was afraid there was a short somewhere in the machine.

Never one to give up, I called every store in the area that carries dishwashers.  I found one for $224 - brand new - and borrowed Momma's truck.  A few hours later, our new dishwasher was running the first load of dishes, and it does a great job.  In fact, I'm listening to it now.

And, can I just say that I'm feelin' pretty good about myself here?  I'm no helpless girly-girl, for sure, but this is the first time I've done this type of project from start to finish completely on my own.  Between the mechanical, electrical and plumbing aspects of the job, this has inflated my ego just a smidge.

***

All in all, I'd say it was a good week in our little yellow house.  But I can seriously do without any additional appliance weirdness for a while.  Here's hopin' the next week is on the quiet side, and we can have lots of uninterrupted family time.

Photoblog: State Park

Okay, so you may have figured out by now - smarties that you are - that I'm only posting once a week to this blog.  Between work, mommahood and the launch of Sam the Dragon, I think this is probably the most realistic goal I can set for myself at the moment.  This means I'll be posting no more than once per day between all of my various blogs.

***

Saturday, September 8, we awoke to the first chilly morning we've had since the beginning of the summer.  It was 53 degrees outside our little yellow house, and the sky was a crisp, clear blue: perfect weather for walking around our local state park.

The Princess is now five years old, and she still absolutely adores riding in a stroller.  Earlier this year, we scrimped and saved until we could afford a three-wheeled all-terrain jogging stroller with a higher weight limit to accommodate her.  She is in lub with this thing.  We take family walks every day, and she seems to get the same calming effect from the stroller that she used to get from the horses at hippotherapy.  Something about the movement helps her find her center, and that, my friends, is a beautiful thing.  Priceless, really.

Along our walk at the state park, we spent a good deal of time with a pair of sandhill cranes, and we even met a little froggy friend on a lily pad by the lake.

After our long walk, we drove through the rest of the park and came across a wonderful, blessedly deserted playground, where we swung, climbed, slid and hung from monkey bars.  It was a sensory and texture wonderland and the perfect topper to a spectacular morning with my loves.

Photoblog: The Great Lake

As you all know, our regularly scheduled summer activities have come to a grinding halt.  Our little private lake has been closed due to a bloom of blue-green algae that can be harmful to humans and pets, and it's not looking as though we'll be able to get back in before the fall cool-off commences.

Our Labor Day weekend was interesting, due to the fact that this all happened on the Friday beforehand.  But you already know all about that.

The Tuesday after Labor Day, Grumma made a suggestion.  While The Princess was at school, Grumma called me to ask what I thought of an after-work field trip (I work from home, so these are totally possible) to our nearest Great Lake.  She and Grumpa had ventured over to one of our favorite beaches there the day before, and she told me the water was perfect.

Well, I had to admit that this sounded like a fabulous idea, and it would be another first for The Princess: she'd never been to the Great Lake before.  The Hubbs and I packed up all we'd need while our girl was still at school, and shortly after she got home, she and I took off to Grumma's house.  Da's entitled to a little peace and quiet every once in a while, ya know.  :)

I had my reservations about switching cars and then driving nearly another hour before arriving at our destination.  Fortunately, we had thought ahead and not breathed a word of our plans to The Princess, so she wasn't all worked up at the prospect of swimming, only to be let down by a long car ride to get there.  All I told her ahead of time was that we were going to Grumma's house, and that she was going to take us someplace special. 

I should really hit my knees here and thank the good Lord that my girl is as adaptable as she is.  I realize how much of a challenge this can be for many non-verbal individuals, not to mention those on the spectrum; sometimes, the smallest variation on a routine can cause utter chaos...even with my girl, but on a much smaller scale than many.  Every day, this little girl blows me away with what she is willing, ready, and able to take on.  Oh, to be this fearless and free.

It turns out I needn't have worried.  After pulling into our parking spot, she still hadn't glimpsed the water.  I fished her ruffle-bottom bathing suit out of the laundry basket I'd brought along with all of our stuff, and she began to flap and strip at the same time (not an easy feat).

Once she saw that suit, she knew something was up.  Changed and gooped to the max with sunscreen, we headed down to the water's edge.

I don't think either Grumma or I could have imagined a better outcome.  It was a complete and utter success: a smash hit.

And I think there's just a slight possibility that we may be doing this again...and again...and again...

The Princess and the Pee

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named The Princess.  She was super-sweet and unbelievably adorable, and she was diagnosed with autism at a very young age.

By the age of five, she was nonverbal and still wearing Pull-Ups.  Her momma and da knew it would be hard, but they were beginning to burn out on this whole potty training business after starting it when The Princess was about two years old.

And then one day, something clicked.  Momma put a pair of panties on under The Princess's Pull-Up, and she finally started to get it.  She still had accidents, but not nearly as many as before, and she seemed to be getting better and better as time went on.

This made her momma and da very happy.

Kindergarten started - The Princess's third year in school, if you can believe it - and she kept improving.  The Fabulous Mrs. G. didn't send home any wet pants or notes regarding misbehavior in the first two weeks.  In fact, the only note that she did send said that The Princess had taken herself to the bathroom twice during the school day, without any modeling, prompting or coaching from any of the staff members in the room.

Things were looking up.

Then, twice in one week, The Princess pooped in her little pink froggy potty.

And everyone lived happily ever after.  The end.

It Gets Easier

Two and a half years ago, I put my three-year-old girl on a bus for the first time.  The first step came up past her armpits.  This was not one of my better days as a momma.  I remember crying as the bus pulled away and wandering around the house with her blankie the whole time she was gone.

It seemed far too early.  I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that my toddler was going to be away from home for hours every day.  I didn't know what to do.

It's gotten easier every day since then.  The Princess absolutely adores The Fabulous Mrs. G., and she does a happy dance every time the bus arrives at the end of our driveway.

By now, she's an old pro.  The bus is no longer scary, and there are no nerves whatsoever (for any of us).

Even on the first day of kindergarten.

As I sent my girl off to school this morning, I was struck by how easy it has become.  We've been blessed with an amazing staff of folks working with our girl through the special education district, and I wouldn't trade any one of them for all the tea in China.

I was also struck by the idea that many of my friends and family will be sending their little ones off on buses for the first time very soon.  I'm here to tell you that it gets easier.

And I'm here if you want to talk.  I've been there, y'all.  Forcing myself to stay home instead of following the bus all the way to school, blubbering on the couch that first morning, ecstatic to get a phone call from Mrs. G. telling me that The Princess was okay, I went through every emotion in the book.  I get it.  I do.  And I'm thinking of you and your little ones as you embark on this journey.

Who's Counting?

5 years, 3 months, 27 days: this is the current running count of how long we've been using diapers of some sort in this house.

1: this is the number of children in this house.

10: this is about the average number of diaper-type contraptions she's gone through on a daily basis for the last 5 years, 3 months, 27 days.

Some days, it gets so frustrating I could just scream.  There are those days when it seems like every time I turn around, she's wet.  No matter how many times she sits on her pink froggy potty (with this cute little face that mocks me relentlessly), she just can't seem to make it happen.

And then there are other days.  It's like a switch; we're going to have a good day or a bad day.  There is no in between.  Typically, the stellar days are followed immediately by the rip-your-hair-out fests that leave us all exhausted by dinner time.

We have a budget for Pull-Ups, which we routinely break, but somehow I just can't bring myself to raise that number.

44: the number of generic potty training pants in a package that should last us two weeks in between paychecks.

13: the number of generic potty training pants remaining after less than one full week.

These were the numbers running through my head as The Hubbs and I discussed where the extra "dipe money" was going to come from last week (for those of you who are interested, we raided our gas fund).

Something has got to give.  The Fabulous Mrs. G insisted at the end of last school year that our girl had no need for Pull-Ups at school anymore.  We didn't understand how.  Home has always been different somehow.  Home is the land of regression and slipping effortlessly into old habits.

We've tried everything at one point or another.  Everything. 

Somehow, it seems like we consistently try things too early, and if we have the presence of mind to revisit them at a later date, we're nearly always pleasantly surprised.

And that's the phase I'm in right now: pleasantly surprised.

4: the number of days our girl has been wearing panties (under her generic potty pants)

3: the average number of soiled panties/dipes per day since we started this time

3: the number of dry nights in a row, including last night

I'm aware of the fact that these things ebb and flow (pardon the pun), and that I just need to roll with it.  I'm aware of the fact that The Princess is not any of the other kids I know who were potty-trained at lightning speed during any part of almost four years we've been working on this skill in our little yellow house.  I'm aware of the possibility that typing this all out loud could very well invite a hair-pulling bad day back in where things have been going so well.

I'm aware of all these things, but I just had to share this with you.  Why?  Because I really think you'll understand.  Because, even though things are going well, sometimes it's easy to dwell on the negative. 

Because, without sitting down and putting this into words, I wouldn't be able to see the biggest number clearly.

5 years, 3 months, 27 days: this is the running count of how long I've been a momma, the running count of time since my world changed forever.  This is the running count of my new life, of time elapsed at the most important and fulfilling job I'll ever have.

But who's counting?

Five

My dear, sweet Princess,

It was five years ago today that you arrived and immediately started ruling my world.  As of 4:42 PM on April 11, 2007, everything about my life changed.  All of a sudden, nothing else mattered.

You, my dear, are my purpose in life.

You are my greatest accomplishment.

I look at you this morning and marvel at the leaps and bounds you've made, at the things you've learned. 

At the things I've learned.

Little girl, you've already taught me so much more than I could ever hope to teach you.

This doesn't happen often, but I'm at a loss for words.  Just remember I'm here for you.  In your darkest hours, in your most weightless fits of joy, and in every time between: I'm here for you.

I love you.

Happy, happy fifth birthday, my sweet.

Love,
Momma

Proud

Family picture: Easter 2012

The Princess absolutely loves Nana and Grampy's hill.

Don't believe what I said above?  Here's more proof.  :)

You should have seen her, y'all.  My girl, the one who would scarcely make more than a second's eye contact a mere eighteen months ago, flaunted her advancing social skills all over the place on Sunday.

She ran and played with her cousin.

She ran and played with her daddy.

She ran and played with me.

She approached her great aunt and numerous other grown-up family members without prompting, made eye contact, and engaged them in interactions too numerous to count.

She showered us all in smiles and giggles.  The audio from one of the video clips just kills me.  She cackles, sings and squeaks.  She and her cousin scream together in glee as they fly down the hill with Auntie G.

Sure, she spent a good amount of time in her quiet room, but - dammit - The Princess gets better and better at being around our huge, rowdy family every time we get together.

I can't begin to tell you how proud I am of her.

IEP Fun

Yesterday was our annual IEP meeting, which fell at the perfect time for a much-needed day off from work.  The Hubbs and I sent The Princess off to school and busied ourselves getting ready for our 10:00 meeting with her team.

Now, I have to say that we are extremely fortunate.  I know I don't say it enough, but our girl has been blessed with a team of professionals who genuinely care for and about her, and everyone in that room is 100% on her side during every one of these meetings.  So many times when I read or hear about an IEP, the parents are fraught with worry and concerns for the wellbeing of their children.  I am so very thankful for The Fabulous Mrs. G. and the team of professionals that work with the kids in The Princess's class.

As expected, this meeting went very smoothly.  Our girl has met or exceeded four of her six goals from our last evaluation.  She is showing gigantic amounts of progress in many areas, including her ability to follow directions.  The team is very impressed - as are we - with The Princess's ability to retain multiple melodies, and we're all going to work on adding to her repertoire of songs as well as general imitation.

Since The Princess is turning five next month, she'll be entering kindergarten when the next school year starts.  This was one of my concerns going into the meeting; I wasn't sure if she'd be with her same team, or even in the same school.  Since everything is done through the county's special education district, the programs are spread around the area.  The program she's currently enrolled in is called Pre-K Pals, so I was a bit worried about what would happen when kindergarten started.

I needn't have worried.  We've been assured that she will remain in Mrs. G.'s class at least through kindergarten.  After that, she may move across the hall into Miss A.'s class with some of the older members of the autism program.  The bonus to this is that Miss A. is her summer school teacher, so we're not looking at a complete upheaval of The Princess's routine or team anytime soon.

So, I'd like to take this time to send up a quick prayer of thanks.  It's nice to know that The Princess is looked out for, and I wouldn't trade any one of these guardian angels for all the chocolate in Fannie Mae.

Kind of a Long Day

Sitting alone on the couch, watching "Pretty in Pink," my eyes are starting to slam shut.

It's been kind of a long day.  Good, but long.

And it occurs to me that I haven't heard a peep from The Princess in quite some time.

The poor kid just couldn't even bring herself to get into bed.  She fell asleep in a pile of Pillow Pets, and it actually took me a minute to locate her when I went in her room to see how she was doing.

I'm happy to report that The Princess has been relocated to her pink hippo tent, along with her Pillow Pet brigade and blankies.  They are all resting comfortably, and I don't think I'm far behind them.

Rambling

Wow.  It's been a while, I know.  Grab yourself a cup of tea - don't worry about me; I've already got one - and let's sit down and chat.

How've you been?  Sorry for being MIA for so long.  A lot has happened around here, and I'm not really sure where to even begin. 

(Buckle your seat belts, folks...here comes a rambling post in which I'll try to catch y'all up on everything at once, and we all know how well that usually works out!)

The Grumps went a little nutso for Christmas and spent too much money on The Princess.  Big surprise, I know.  This year, her present from them involved a trip to the Stride Rite store for new shoes.  Her previous pair of Stride Rites had lasted what seemed like forever, and the Velcro was wearing out, so we had to bite the bullet and get a new pair.  Which she wore a hole in - I'm talking through the rubber and the underlying leather - in just under two months.  Yep.  That's my girl!  This resulted in a funny letter home from The Fabulous Mrs. G., followed by an evening trip to WalMart for a new pair of $10 Garanimals sneakers.  If she's causing blowouts in her shoes that quickly, I'd rather chew on shards of broken glass than continue to pay Stride Rite's prices.

Grumpa.  Oy.  Grumpa.  For those of you who come here to read all about The Princess and nothing but The Princess, you may not be aware of the fact that my pop had a pretty major heart attack eight years ago, at the ripe-old age of forty-seven.  On February 2, he went in for an angiogram and ended up being admitted to the hospital where I work.  On February 3, he had triple bypass surgery.  He was in the hospital for a grand total of nine days before being released into Gumma's care at home.  This past Thursday, he had his first follow-up doctor visit, and everything looks good.

This past week, I got a promotion at work...yippee!  I'm still lovin' the concierge gig, and I sincerely hope it lasts a good, long time.

On January 22, my beautiful, sweet, hilarious sister-in-law (affectionately referred to as Jello in our little yellow house) gave birth to an amazing little girl.  JAKE (Jello's whole family...their acronym is way better than ours - if you put all our initials together, the best you come up with is SCABS) came in to visit from Ohio this weekend, and The Hubbs and I were really, really looking forward to meeting little E and hanging out with our beloved K-Bear.  Unfortunately, The Princess is a bit under the weather, so we were unable to see them after all.  On the bright side, it sounds like they will be back in about a month for E's baptism and Jello's and my combined birthday party.  If anyone is sick that weekend, we're throwing them in a bubble and calling it a day.

On January 31, my ex-work-hubby and his beautiful wife welcomed their first child, a beautiful baby boy.  This is the dude who kept me sane at the end of my tenure at my previous job, when things got hairy.  We don't see each other much (in fact, the last time we all got together in real life was in June of last year), but these people are family.  R, D, and Junior, The Hubbo Family couldn't be more excited for you.

And now, the subject you've all been waiting for...I just know it: The Princess.  Our girl is still the most amazing little person I've ever had the pleasure of meeting.  Not an hour goes by that doesn't involve her doing something that astonishes me.  Case in point: the hour-long snuggle earlier today.  My little introvert is coming out of her shell.  Sure, she still spends an inordinate amount of time in her room, but she now makes a point of coming out into the living room every so often, initiating eye contact with either me or The Hubbs, and climbing into one of our laps. 

There are so many other things I want to tell you about our girl, about the progress she is making and about the ways she warms my heart, but my teacup is woefully empty.  And this can only mean one thing: time for bed.

Before we part ways, dear friends, I promise you I'll start trying to post more regularly.  Please note the operative word in that promise: try.

In the mean time, say hello to your families for me...and don't forget to turn off your computers and cell phones every once in a while to spend some precious time together.

Today is the Day...and I Done

Graduation is tonight!

*

A few nights ago, The Princess came into the living room holding an unidentifiable object. When I asked to see what she had, she brought it to me and immediately handed it over.

Upon closer inspection, the object revealed itself as a completely harmless piece of paper. As soon as I realized this, I returned it to The Princess.

She took it for a split second, smiled, and handed it back while looking me in the eye.

And then she said, "I done."

And she walked away as though this is nothing out of the ordinary.

Me? I'm still trying to catch my breath.

1...and Story Time

One more day until graduation.

*

The Princess is four and a half years old.  She does not speak.  She will stim all day if you let her.  She rarely (if ever, depending upon who you are) responds to verbal requests, though this particular point is getting better on a daily basis for those closest to her.  She has sensory issues.  The littlest thing can set her off.  Try as I might, I can rarely figure out what triggers her meltdowns.  All I can do is hold her and soothe her the best I can.

All of the autism stuff aside, this has got to be the most generally happy kid I've ever had the pleasure of knowing, and I consider myself lucky as hell that God chose me to be her momma.  I feel blessed every day for what I have with her, her daddy, and our splendiferous pooches.

But my heart breaks a little every day, too.  Other moms of four-and-a-half-year-olds are taking them to see Santa at the mall, having their pictures taken with their smiling faces reflected perfectly in the camera lens.  These other little ones are writing their names and holding amazing conversations.  They sit quietly in their rooms and read, because they want to.

The Princess couldn't possibly understand an abstract concept like Santa Claus.  She can't tell anyone what she wants for Christmas, because she doesn't speak.  She also has no interest in television or most other things that are marketed for kids her age, so it's a moot point, anyway.  Taking a picture with a stranger in a loud, hot, crowded mall?  Forget about it.  Writing?  Not yet.  We're still in the I'd-rather-eat-crayons-than-draw-on-the-paper stage.  Conversations?  I'd be happy with the ability to say yes and no.  Hell, I don't even care if it's verbal.  Shaking or nodding her head would be the coolest thing in the history of the world.  Reading?  More like tearing the pages out of books and stimming to her heart's content with the scraps.

Our girl has received many books, as most little ones do.  The difference between her and these other kids is that she doesn't seem to understand what books are all about.  After a few misguided attempts to let her figure them out, the surviving volumes have been moved to a safer place, out of her reach and - largely - out of our minds.

The Hubbs and I love to read.  I know a lot of people say this, but we mean it.  When given the option to watch TV or read a book, we'll almost always choose the latter.  Throw on a little bit of classical music and we're good to go for the entire evening.  In case you're interested, we've been playing the heck out of Pandora's Mannheim Steamroller Christmas station lately. 

Sunday evening, The Princess climbed up on the loveseat with me while I was reading, and she snuggled up next to me in the sweetest little hug.  After drinking in her affection for a few minutes, I slipped to the basement where her books are, and I grabbed two choices: the original Winnie the Pooh treasury and Wet Albert. 

I brought both books upstairs and gave her a choice.  She chose Pooh Bear, so I put Wet Albert away for the time being and The Princess, Pooh, and I went into her bedroom.

I read her the entire first short story, one about Piglet and a Heffalump, before bed.  Did she sit still?  No.  Did she hang on every word?  No.  But she paid attention in her way.  She spent those 20 or so minutes in constant contact with me, climbing all over me as I read her the story.  From time to time, I asked what she thought, and she mumbled back at me.  Not in English, but hey...I'll take what I can get.  I stopped a couple of times to either rearrange myself or take a breath, and she went forehead-to-forehead with me until I started again.

She loved it.

I loved it.

Finally.  She's four and a half, and I can finally have story time with my daughter.

2...and Spaghetti-O's

Two days until graduation.  Eee!

*

Remember when I told you about the pistachio pudding?  Well, apparently Spaghetti-O's are right up there.

This weekend, The Princess carefully spooned four bowls (in a row...my little bottomless pit!) into her mouth.  Sitting at her little white table (topless...I'm no fool), she shoveled that stuff in like it was goin' out of style.  Looks like we're entering yet another growth spurt for our little bean pole.

We've also noticed recently that she really seems to favor her right hand.  Seems like we might have a little righty living in the room next door.  :)

3...and the Potty

Three days until graduation.

*

So many things happened this weekend, I don't really even know where to start.  I guess I'll just start at the beginning and split into separate posts for each accomplishment.

Really.  They're all that big.

Well, here goes.

After work on Friday, I looked at The Princess and asked her if she had to go potty.  I wasn't expecting any more of a reaction than simple eye contact.  I'm not new here.  I know how this goes.

Not only did I receive the expected eye contact, but she also smiled, walked across the room, pulled her pants down, sat on her pink froggy potty, and went.

For those of you who may be missing the magnitude of this event, let me spell it out a little more clearly for you.

My girl followed a verbal request.  My girl.  Verbal.  No coaxing.  No leading.  No modeling.  I asked her something, she immediately understood, and she did it.

Now, going on past experience, I'm well aware of the fact that these breakthroughs can sometimes be a shot in the dark.  Some people call them "Elvis sightings," a term with which I am in love.  It's the perfect explanation.  You never know when or where they're going to happen, but when they do, it's amazing.  And you never know if they'll happen again.  Like, ever.

Let me just reassure you here: this was no Elvis sighting.  By Sunday, she was pulling her pants down and walking to the potty herself when she had to go.  Okay, so the sequence is something we have to work on.  We don't want her letting the cat out in public to show she has to go potty, but, hey...this is progress.

Baby steps, y'all.  Gigantic, wonderful baby steps.

29

Yesterday, I left our little yellow house at 6:20 am to go to work. The Princess was still in bed, snoozing soundly.

I worked the day like normal, heading directly for school when my shift was over.

When I arrived at school, I hightailed it for the testing center, where I spent an hour and a half taking my exit exams.

The moment I finished my exams, I had to drive across campus to my Spanish class, where I had to give an oral presentation for which I was extremely ill-prepared.

There should have been a meal somewhere between work and Spanish, but there just wasn't time.

Finally, something like fourteen hours after I left the house, I pulled into the garage. I couldn't get my stuff out of the car fast enough.

As soon as I walked into the kitchen, the stress of the day melted away. I was home, and my girl catapulted herself into my arms as soon as our eyes met.

The one saving grace of that long, hectic day was my family. I couldn't be happier than when I'm with them. This really is what it's all about.

Twenty-nine days from now, I'm going to walk the walk with a bunch of 20-year-olds and be done with this degree.

And thirty days from now, things are going to slow down considerably. I'm having a hard time remembering what it was like to have a full-time job without the full-time school schedule. Somehow, though, I have a feeling I'll adjust.

Escape

It never ceases to amaze me, this range of totally unveiled emotion. Of course, there's a bit of it in every child, but I can't help feeling as though with my girl it's somehow...I don't know...more.

In the span of five minutes, The Princess goes from happy to sad, angry, bored, frustrated, independent, needy, and everything in between. Absolute, unbridled joy is often followed immediately by inconsolable, blubbering, alligator-tear-streaked misery.

Her eyes give her away every time.

One look at that beautiful face, contorted in reaction to some invisible force, eyes pleading for help even though she has no words, is enough to break my heart.

I turn my head for a second, pleading with God to help me help her. When I look back, she's grinning with tear-streaked cheeks, pulling me in for a hug, eyes twinkling as though nothing ever happened to disrupt her.

And just as quickly, she's in her own world, focused completely on some seemingly mundane thing like a scrap of paper, as if it's the only thing in the entire world and deserves no less than her undivided attention.

I know from experience that this piece of paper can be the center of her universe for an hour or more if I let it. I also know that I've been told it's best to try to redirect her energy to something constructive when she starts to stim.

But somehow, I just can't bring myself to do it. At times, it seems like stimming is the only thing that allows her the opportunity to escape the constant barrage of input that sends her senses reeling so many times each day.

And so it is, from time to time, that I sit here and quietly observe. I refrain from offering an alternative, and I drink in the calm on my baby's face.

Everyone deserves an escape.