CSI Elementary: The Case of the Missing Underwear

The time: Last Thursday. The place: school campus. The call: More clean underwear mom, STAT.

I delivered the goods in a manilla envelope, clearly labeled, for delicacy's sake. The front desk took them. The aide confirms receipt. Since then: poof. They have disappeared. About half the underwear in his wardrobe is now gone. We have confirmed they are not hiding out at home. Hoping the name on the envelope helps locate it at school.

Otherwise, I need to go shopping. Maybe these will keep this from happening again?

They are even Hanes, his favourite brand.

Epilogue: The perps were nabbed at a relative's house.  Case closed! 

                *cue the electronic gavel sound*

Can't Make This Up

Full disclosure: stress and ickiness ahead.



Monday mornings are rough on us all. However, this past Monday morning, I think I hit a triple play: while waiting on hold (and being repeatedly cut off) to speak with an FMLA rep to make sure we've covered everything we need to do to file for benefits & job protection because he's suddenly on medical LOA, daughter comes to me and says:

 "There was a spider on my face ... or I think maybe it was a tick." So now I am in another (dim) room,  looking frantically on the blue nubby carpet with a flashlight while on hold, and see a tick, bold as brass and crawling around in search of its next meal.

Remember, I am on hold with a national government bureaucracy! My call will be answer in the order received.

I send my daughter to get me some tape - STAT. I keep the flashlight trained on the rug, phone glued to my ear. Daughter comes up panting, and drops roll of tape into m hand. Seriously, this is the best way to pick up and dispose of those buggers -- they are really hard to squash (as I found out the day James brushed one off his head during a picnic lunch in the park).

Not today, not ever again!

Just then, husband comes in the front door with James, and wants to know WTH is going on. Um, on hold, tick disposal in process and no, I *don't* know how our daughter picked one up while in our bedroom.

Carp! The line goes dead yet again.

James pipes up "Whatchya doin', Mommy?"

Cue yelling and hijinx.

We recovered.

And hey, did I tell you about the butterflies yet?

I tell you, I can't make this stuff up.

Pulled Apart

Autism has long been linked to puzzle pieces. What causes it is one of it's biggest puzzles.

However, lately I've been feeling that puzzle paradigm in a new way:

Jame's lovely Mothers' Day portrait, going to pieces.

This is me, being pulled apart by in pieces:

• end-of school parties
• input meetings for teachers next year (because it's been me trying to get this done and things not working out for almost a month now)
• follow-up to get organized for summer school (because that's all on me)
• prepping for a trip that's perfect timing for the one person who's not traveling
• all the cleaning and organizing for the trip, plus --
•  -- catching up from when my daughter was sick for a week (still)
• dealing with the cherry tree bounty & messes
• end-of-year cards for teachers& support staff for James (5 of them)
• trying to work with a new respite aide because --
• -- our wonderful aide of 3+ years is moving
• prepping kids for a new aide
• dealing with a respite care agency that's been turned on it's head and has gone from not calling me to wanting a piece of my time once or twice weekly to do things that never got done or are new state requirements; shot me
• absentee voting for while I am out of the area on our trip
• trying to get haircuts for us all (that also got knocked out by daughter's illness)
• grocery shopping
• yard work
• doing everything a week ahead of time so bills and weekly chores don't get skipped while we are out of town
• trying to finalize trip itinerary
• still trying to get payment on  invoices for work done and billed last year
• and: dealing with the fact that I now have an all-electric car and no charging stations in our town; this one's a long story, and responsible for large parts of my right hand falling prey to excema.

And I know I am forgetting stuff.

Gah!

SOOC Sunday: Playing With Dad

Playing with James can be a challenge. He loves people and playing, but it seems like he has real difficulties in processing the language spoken around him. He can be a roving, wriggling bundle of energy. Exhibit A:

James loves his Daddy, even if a large amount of play time is spent playing tickle and run away.

We've kind of had a tough Father's Day this year. James is demanding a lot of attention to keep him out of mischief (electrical sockets, plugs, and putting toys in his mouth, etc.). His sister, for some reason, kept having melt downs. A little after lunch, I declared it a Jonah Day. There were some moments where I held my breath and counted 10. Even on difficult days, though, love is there.

Having read Melody's post over at Slurping Life, I don't feel so alone.

Visit Melody and check out SOOC Saturday/Sunday entries past & present. No cropping or fixing -- it's life, straight out of the camera.

Educational Cuts Protest (A Love Rant)

So today there were many protests in California over more proposed budget cuts to public education in California.

As a mom of a child on the autism spectrum who is in the public school system, I have seen services whacked for my son from both sides. Rules were changed as to how respite care funds can be used, and the pool of available funds keeps dwindling each year. If James needed in-home health care or I needed someone to help me lift and care for him, I'd be looking at the threat of a whole lotta nothing in the area of home health services. Our classrooms have lost their aids and class sizes are increasing.

Class sizes; yeah. Regular class sizes go up because teachers are let go. Special needs classes are going up because the official stats are now 1 in 90 children are being diagnosed with autism. That has been reinterpreted as a new diagnosis of autism every 20 minutes.

The teachers have seen budgets and programs slashed and colleagues' jobs axed. There are fewer people to help them do their jobs. There are fewer or no funds for school maintenance or capital improvements. Books are lacking. Parents pool what shrinking money they have and buy tissue and pencils for the classrooms. Scholastic book fairs are now a lifesaver that enable parents help provide books for learning modules in their child's classroom.

Here are some pictures from the pink slip row in the parking lot at my daughter's school this morning:







And the problem does not go away for higher education. UC students are being hit with a 32% tuition increase, which is insane in this economy. As a 1986 alumni of UCSC, I am outraged at the grossly exorbitant wages being paid to these men who look after themselves and their buddies more than for the UC educational system.

To me it's exactly the same as the banking & corporate industries rewarding themselves for bad management. We hear the same excuses of needing to pay what everyone else is paying in terms of compensation. Mister, you are looking in the wrong salary pond. Take a good look at the second-rate tier and the Loser categories, because that's the level at which you are actually performing. Take a good freakin' look at MY salary (or lack thereof) and let's compare what's "reasonable cost." I am telling you now I can't afford your luxuries. Not won't support -- I. Can't. Afford. Them.

Here's a thought: earn your keep. Do the job right and then let's discuss pay incentives. That goes triple for our state and federal elected representatives. Reward the heroes in the trenches for a change.

I've volunteered in all my childrens' classrooms and the dedication and hard work these people put into their jobs and my kids just blows me away. THEY are the people who deserve to be rewarded in the budget wars. Because then my kids win too. Our future is brighter. We support each other, instead the egos and bank accounts of a few.

Irony, a New Definition

Irony is, missing the presentation on the cool Kindergarten program that we feel our son could benefit from, given all his wonderful progress this year, because ... we are still wresting with the BM portion of potty training.

The latest edition did us all in before the presentation started, by which time my son was passed out in bed, having passed a ginormous ... payload (thank goodness his sister had slapped a diaper on him after our last try to use the toilet). He never even twitched an eyebrow as I cleaned him up and tucked him away for bed.

I have called the Regional Center and asked for a Behavioural Consultant for help. When life stops because of this issue, then it becomes Not Okay.

Good News/Bad News

Bad news: Our second round in one month of James refusing to pass a bowel movement for several days.

Good news: The pediatric laxative suppository worked. He fought it to the bitter end though, before coughing up the payload, 15 minutes after the conservative time estimate.

I am hoping this is a two steps back before we have one giant step forward in BM potty training. It's a phase; it's a phase; it's a phase ... I hope!

Fall Change

Fall is in the air and the kids have been back in school for a few weeks now. When did going back to school get so crazy, BTW? So many forms to fill out, things to buy, and schedules to scramble, organize, and rearrange.

It probably does not help that James is attending two different preschools this year, in addition to his regular paperwork and program intricacies.

Between the school bus, whose schedule has varied wildly, and adjusting to the new afternoon program 3 days a week, and dealing with sudden fierce blasts of 100*+ heat, I've been on my toes to cover all the bases and keep the troops running. I am also back at school and doing some contract work, so life is very interesting indeed.

So when I arrived with James at his new preschool this morning and found a new SHAPE assistant there to greet us, totally out-of-the-blue, I was kerflumoxed. Deeply.

Luckily, James was not. I am hoping he stays happy and able to roll with the punches. Heaven knows I find them frustrating!

Nap Time Is *Really* For Me

James welcomed today at 5:30am. That means that I had to do the same. A very bleary, slow-moving welcome.

I got a major pick up during my weekly run to Peets. It got me through the Farmers' Market with the kids and lunchtime. Now I am praying James goes down for his nap. He is cranky and fighting everyone & everything. And he yawned. So far, he is stalling. But at least he is in bed. I think.

His older sister is having a play date. Two older girls, having a tea party and painting their nails. The coffee is wearing off, and I wish I could have the nap!