Bike Like Excitement

The weather is mild and James wants to ride his new bike. I keep catching him trying to ride it in the house ever couple of days. It's good for us both to get out.

So one day this week after school I brought his bike to school so he could ride it home. It is a cool bike. On the way to the pickup area, one boy skidded to a halt and asked "Woah - is that James' bike?" When I said yes he replied "Wow!" before tearing off again. I have no idea who he was.

Picking up James is normally a great event. He starts to run toward me as soon as he spots me, crying out "Mommy!!!" in tones of delight before trying to leap in my arms and hug me. He's 60 pounds now, so it's a trick to get him airbourne.

He checked in mid run this afternoon and headed instead to his bike, eyes wide and grinning from ear to ear. He even showed it off enthusiastically to his aide. He could not wait to get on it, snap on his helmet and go for a ride on the playground.

He was so proud and happy! He and another boy rode in big vector loops. We rode over to his preschool teacher to show her. He showed off for the preschool aide, pedaling down a ramp and banking a turn.

He took the bike offroad on his usual shortcut path and did not fall off. He mostly rode home, just walking it for a little bit before climbing on again and finishing our trip back home.

And if I needed any more confirmation that his new Christmas bike is one of his most favourite things ever, look what I found in the kitchen, the room he asks most to go to:

Special Exposure / Wordless Weds: Stop, In the Name Of Love

James has a new "thing" -- giving love to stop signs. They have long fascinated him because they are red, spell "go" (little joke, he never gets tired of that one), and just plain speak to him on some mystical sign level.

It's just this month that he's started wanting to hug them. He'll look up and say "Hi, Stop Sign! I give you a hug, 'kay?" before proceeding with a most sincere embrace and finishing up with a "Mmmmmmmm-ah!" kiss that touches only the air. Then he laughs, and I go all mooshy and smile.

PS: There are four stop signs on our route. Yes, he loves them all.

For more great images or to join in the fun, Visit Special Exposure Wednesday at 5 Minutes for Special Needs.


and ... Wordless Wednesday

It All Went To Pieces

I was excited about yesterday. I had boldly planned to go out with a friend after the kids' dinner, booking respite care. My first at a brief night outing. I should have known it could not be so easy.

First, the regular person could not make the evening time. Then they found a new person. I explained that (1) I don't like leaving the kids alone with someone we've all never met before and (2) I've found it's a much better experience for everyone if a new respite care person comes over and visits for the fist shift, getting an orientation and both of us kind of feeling out if this will work out.

I asked if this new person could possibly come by the house for an hour some time the preceding weekend so we could do this, otherwise, please cancel the request. The care coordinator said he'd check and then get back to me. He never did. I know I should have called to follow up, but frankly, I'm tired of that. So I just assumed it was a no-go. I called my friend to see if getting together at my house would work, with the kids playing in another room and some refreshment here. Sure, she said. Cool, I thought.

Flash forward to yesterday afternoon: I moved up homework in anticipation of a slightly moved-up dinner and set up for the kids' activity. I cleaned the hall bathroom. I was on fire. My friend called. Her child was sick, she was sorry, but had to stay home that night. I was bummed, but hey, we could all relax, and I had a nice red wine. That's always nice to sip. Wait ... who's that at the door?

Oh yes, the respite care person. Evidently the coordinator never called her back to explain about coming by on the weekend or not coming tonight. It gets better. They didn't even brief her that she'd be caring for a child. Never once mentioned autism. We both looked at each other, refraining from rolling our eyes at the ceiling and yanking at our hair in frustration.

Then I invited her inside and asked if she wouldn't mind staying a slightly shorter amount of time and doing a kind of orientation. She was fine with that. She asked some good questions, was calm and friendly with the kids, and took the snafu well.

I am calming down still before calling the respite care coordinator back. Good God, Almighty, how hard is it to give proper info before sending someone out on a job?! I temped for almost 15 years, across a variety of jobs (although not in the health care realm). I do know a bit about being sent out on an assignment.

I am also drafting up a list that I will be hand-walking to these people, so they can staple it on the folder of my son's file. I think I'll put it on screaming yellow paper to boot:

When contacting a new worker to provide respite care for my son, you need to communicate the following:
(1) My son is a child.
(2) He is on the autism spectrum.
(3) While he has challenges communicating verbally, he understands what you tell him, even if it doesn't always look like it.
(4) Because of the above, I need to have a 30-60 minute pre-visit with new respite care provider to give them an overview of how to care for James and to see if the new person is a good fit with the assignment (& vice versa).

So while things mostly worked out, the original plans and evening fell completely to pieces. And I missed out on some good red wine to boot. Okay, now I'm pouting.

Magic Marker Monday: Drawing Numbers

James' urges to play with coloured markers on a large pad of paper have cooled. His new interest is something he called Doing Homework. I know! Go figure.

I am not complaining. It's great that's he's so engaged in doing his classwork. His aide says she uses it both as an incentive to complete tasks while in class and as a focussing activity for the times that he's bouncing around (literally).

What makes me think of Magic Marker Monday is the care James puts into his work. In fact, he calls it Drawing My Numbers. His pencil grip and fine motor coordination have improved immensely since school began.

Visit 5 Minutes for Special Needs for more Magic Marker Monday.


  

Sunshine

Hugging James is like Hugging sunshine.

Special Exposure / Wordless Weds: New Perspectives

A day off from school turned into a foggy outing at the Discovery Museum in Sausalitio. We've been here several times, but this was the first trip that I saw James play with the other kids, and be so confident in exploring all the play spaces and structures. Just when I thought they might be getting too old and jaded for this great place, the kids showed me there was still plenty of wonder and play to experience there.

For more great images or to join in the fun, Visit Special Exposure Wednesday at 5 Minutes for Special Needs.


and ... Wordless Wednesday

Little Moments of Duality

It may be January, but we're in the middle of a Spring Preview. The daytime temps have risen from in the 40s to the high 60s. You can smell the promise of growing things. We can see the sun set, throwing outrageous displays of colour in the sky and a few high clouds, each day lasting a little longer than the one before. It's quiet in a peaceful way, but you know it's not going to last once the season changes over.

The kids and I seem to be pushing out and growing in a random direction, then pulling in and going out again in a far-off position. We are excited and hopeful, but we know we're not yet back to truly longer days and warmer weather.

James has been verbally pushing to engage with others, inviting play, yet becoming almost fiercly protective when it comes to turn taking. He's asking me to play specific songs on the CD player in the van, but still can't tell me how his day went. He gets extremely frustrated trying to master the Leapster 2 game cartridges, and I've seen him trying to figure out chess by himself on an old clamshell iMac. To say nothing of the toilet training progress and regressions.

This afternoon he went from trying to ride his bike inside the house to crying "NOOOOO!" and hiding under his blanket 20 minutes later when I tried to get him outside to cruise the neighbourhood with his sister on her bike.

He was a little punky, clapping his hands over his ears and doing headstands in the sofa when I tried to get him to clean up his toys. Then a few minutes later he was on my lap, giving me a huge hug and telling me that I was his favourite animal.

I go from a chance to make dinner or read, with the kids playing in a bedroom with the door shut, to the phone ringing while James is calling "Mommyyyyyyyy!" and his sister exclaiming "James, NO!!" After dinner, I juggle cleaning the kitchen, sorting laundry, making sure James is well on his way to sleep, while responding to requests to help my daughter with her homework.

I did get a glorious hour of work in the garden, and within 20 minutes of coming inside I had a morning meeting booked and also made a promise to bring sour cream to a PTA event on Friday. At the end of the day, I watched my daughter pour out her bedtime glass of water. She's still wearing princess jammies, but she is tall and starting to look so grown up. I am trying to write this all down, so I can remember the blurring rush as it happens, and the calm moments when I try to savour them all.