Parental.....Fail?

In the beginning of March I bought Angelus 3 new pairs of jeans (a size 10 Regular), 2 warm up pants and some other clothing.  He was outgrowing the jeans I had just got him back in December.  Around the end of March he comes out of his room all dressed for school, saying he can't wear ANY of his blue jeans.  They're too small.  I thought "you have got to be kidding me!"  He continues to show me just how they're hurting him terribly, and sure enough there is a painful looking indention on his right side.  He had one on his left side to a lesser degree. 

I did the only thing I knew to do, went to the store and bought him two more pairs of jeans.  I knew he wasn't nearly tall enough to go up to a 12R, but couldn't hardly believe my boy was gonna be a size 10Husky.  I only say that because I know the size of his parents and the size we were when we were 9ish.  I was a pint-sized person...couldn't have been more than 3ft. 8in or so and weighed on the lower end of what a 3ft. 8in person should. While Tommy apparently didn't top out at more than 40 or 50ish pounds in 3rd grade (I really think he told me once that he weighed 40pounds for a huge chunk of his elementary school career).  Although, Angelus is bigger than what Tommy or I either one were at his age.  I've generally thought he seemed to be smack average size.  Occasionally he's a tad shorter than his classmates, but for the most part he's an average sized boy.

Anyway, I buy him two pairs of 10Husky and bring them home for him to try on.  They are insanely too big for him.  Even after cinching up the sides as much as I possibly could.  Come to find out, his 10R (and even a pair of 10slim) fit him just fine.  He just grabbed the closest pair of underpants he came across and they were a size 4.  Ouch!  After discovering this, I knew what I had to do. Clean out ALL of his drawers and closets of anything too small because if not he would just assume it fit and cram himself uncomfortable into it all day.

A Kindergarten Graduation!

Faith graduated from Kindergarten last week and pretty much every time I think

She kept her gown on, but apparently the cap had to go.

about it, I get a little teary eyed.  She walked down the walk way most of the ways by herself.  The kids in Pre-K and Kindergarten got how big of a deal it was and cheered her on.  It was awesome!  Pretty sure it got the biggest reaction of anything that day. I really wish I had a video of it (and if I do get one, I'll put it up here for others to see what great kids she's got on her side).

A boy and his Poppa or Paw-paw (grandpa) played the fiddle....and the kids sang to the song they were playing (which was also the tune to Victory in Jesus, but that wasn't the "catchy" kids song the little ones were singing.  I couldn't quite figure out what it was as Victory in Jesus was all I was hearing in my head).

A boy and his grandpa fiddle playing.

After the teachers awarded the kids with their diplomas the kids each one went up to a little microphone and stated what they wanted to be when they grow up.  Two little girls in Faith's class got on either side of her, grabbed her hand and walked up to the microphone with her.  One of them said...."When Faith grows up, um.....we *think* she wants to be a princess."

Faith is the one with her back to us. The other little girls letting us know what they think Faith may want to be when she grows up.

Perceptions

Or is that sometimes a nice way of saying "judgments"?   I don't know for sure, but I'm positive I've been guilty of "misperceptions" and "judgments" even if I never intended to be or wanted to be. I know others have thought if they were in my shoes, they could've and would have done it different/better...but they didn't or haven't seen all we do at home to make sure our child can cope with going outside around others.  They don't see the endless piggy-back rides, swinging, spinning, turning televisions off, radios off just so she can handle the noises of the outside world. OR the hours of car rides at all crazy times of day or night. The screaming and jumping up and down at us for hours because something is out of whack and she is trying her best to tell us, but we're still not getting it.

The past few weeks I've noticed more parents I know who have children on the spectrum escaped their little bubble and posted about wonderful (and sometimes things that make 'em want to bang their head on the wall) stuff about their children. They commented that it's hard to put that stuff out there for others, and it is.  I've noticed that sometimes getting the support they need is often not quite there, and often it appears that those inside of the autism community can be the cruelest and least supportive.  I don't think they mean to be (at least not usually).  Some have just been doing this longer than others and have had success with various things....while others have had no success with all they've tried.

Someone may think if only the parents would follow this special diet for their child (not knowing they spent a year very diligently on this diet and nothing happened except they couldn't eat hardly anything, but behaviors stayed the exact same).  If they only offered their kid this or that to eat eventually the kid would get hungry enough to try it.  I'm here to tell you that is wrong.  Not for all kids, but some.

Then the whole vaccine debate....if you give your kid vaccines, they're gonna be screwed up.  If you don't give your kid vaccines you're gonna be guilty of them having a whole host of sicknesses and most likely giving them to someone else.  Seriously.  Everything on either side scares the pooh outta me.  Why cant someone just give you transparent information (instead of accusing you of being the worst parent on the planet because you're choosing one or the other....and what you're choosing is generally because it's what you believe is best for your child---which makes you a good parent).

Others think if I just *made* my daughter speak, she would.  Going as far as to say she probably doesn't even understand the importance of speech.  I'm sure when she was so sick for those almost two weeks she would've loved to be able to tell me how to help her so she wouldn't have been in as much pain for as long as she was.  If I just took her to the bathroom every 30min. she would've been totally potty-trained by now (or ya know even kind of).  No one wants their child to be an adult still in diapers, so we try.  That's all we can do, is just try.

So, anyway...I've been trying to put out the good and the bad about what goes on with our girl because, frankly, others need to know it's okay to talk about it and that they are doing a good job being a parent to their little ones (and even big ones). We may be all doing it a little or even a lot different, but doesn't mean it's wrong.  It's just different.  I think as long as you're doing it from the perspective that you're doing what you think is best for your child and you have their best interest at heart....you're being a fantastic parent.  

Depressed vs. Depression

When I was ten my mom had some kind of a mental break down.  I'm not exactly sure of all the details.  My parents probably told me back then (but as a 10yr old I'm sure it didn't all sink in).  She had been sad and angry quite a lot.  I wasn't sure why.  I remember having a talk with myself (inside of my ten year old head) on the exact day it all came crashing down around her.  I told myself..."okay, you gotta be super nice to mom today 'cause she's been really sad or mad and I'm tired of making her feel that way."  Roughly, that was my self talk on this particular day.  I was sitting in the living room, as my mom opened the screen door to the house.  I remember very vividly saying "hello!" and trying to give her the biggest, best genuine smile I could.  She looked at me and just started crying her eyes out.  I tried to apologize.  I must've said that wrong, or looked at her a way I didn't mean to.  After several minutes of her just crying and me trying to apologize for something.....

She looked at me and said; "oh Amy, it's not you.  Not your fault I'm crying. Really, I don't even know why I'm crying."  Later that evening she was in the ICU at the hospital.  We went to go see her. I was confused that crying could get anyone admitted to a hospital, let alone the ICU area.  Anyway, she had beautiful flowers surrounding her bed and a man that drove our church van was there visiting as well (he told 'em he was her uncle so he could see her....she was grateful as we had all grown quite close to him and his wife over the few years of attending this particular church).  They told us she had a mental break-down.  For years after that I believed a mental break down landed someone in the hospital.

When I was 17 my mom needed to go on some medication for a chemical imbalance.  She had also suffered from un-diagnosed severe depression for (roughly 20)years, and her behaviors were screaming that she needed some help. Her and my dad had gone from counselor to counselor (probably around 8 of 'em) to try to figure out to do to best help her.  Every time they got to a certain point in their journey with the counselors, mom would get uncomfortable and say "they don't help anyway" or "they're just mean people".  The 8ish one they saw, mom tried to do that again and I guess dad decided that maybe, just maybe if we encouraged her enough and helped her push through the tough stuff with the counselors she'd get to a more healing place.  He was right.  I remember him telling me..."don't give up on your momma, and give her lots of hugs.  She needs lots of hugs right now.  Even if she thinks she doesn't, give 'em to her anyway."  After mom was given medication she was almost a new person.  I mean, she was still her...her and dad continued the counseling for another year or so and she was better equipped to work through some of the struggles life had sent her way.  I've had Tommy promise me on several occasions that if he sees me going this direction to talk to me about it.  Make me get to a counselor, get on medication before it gets to the point it got with my mom before she was able to get help.  I don't want 17years of my children's lives to go by before getting some kind of help.  Also one reason I'm not -totally- against medicine. I do think sometimes we tend to over-medicate the population, but sometimes it's exactly what's needed for an individual person.

Some people struggle with depression their whole lives. I can't even imagine what that's like for some one.  I've been depressed before.  When a close friend or relative passed away or the ending of a relationship that I thought would somehow last. Those kind of things would make me depressed.  To be sad for days and days without really knowing why or what to do to fix it, hasn't ever happened.  For me, anyway, if I don't realize that someone near me is going through something similar to this it makes me feel like I've done something incredibly wrong and I go back to that ten year old girl feeling like I'm "walking on egg shells" around them.  I mean, I feel that anyway, but if I *see* what it is I realize it's more of a battle within themselves. That gives me more patience and better perception of what's going on.  It's tricky and complicated and exhausting not knowing if you're gonna get the happy/sad/mad person and how to relate to them in that moment.  Even going from having a great conversation to within minutes you can almost visibly see them going "down".  No idea what caused it, but are concerned that you unintentionally said something that triggered that response.

Depression vs. Depressed has been on my mind lately.  So, here's some of my rambley thoughts on it.

Helpers

Autism Awareness (or apparently acceptance is sometimes the more P.C. thing to say) month is over.  I had several posts I was going to put up in the month of April ( about 7ish of 'em).  Good thing I wrote down my ideas/thoughts somewhere.

The school year is coming to an end. We've had a great and trying year all wrapped up into one.  Faith going through 3 different aid's, Angelus having great difficulty with school...to the point we moved him to Faith's school, which has been almost "life transforming" here at the house for us.  It's been such an incredibly positive experience that I'm kinda kicking myself in the rear for not doing it sooner.  If I knew he'd have SO much less anxiety, be less "in your face", be all around just a calmer more leveled kid. I would've done it so much sooner.

Faith transitioning from the different aid's wasn't as "smooth" of a process as I'm sure we would've liked it to be, but with all of the challenges she faces daily (I'm sure there's even more than I'm aware of) she did very well.  She took to all of the different ladies.  Some quicker than others.  As a parent, I always get concerned how that's going to go.  An exchange or two a couple of weeks ago, made me think about some of the things the aides face.  They're primarily there for the kids.  They need to be good to the kids, that's all that should really matter.  But it's not.  It's the most important thing that matters, though.  They have to figure out how to have a good working relationship with the teacher whose room they're in the most and how to best help the child(ren) she's there for without it interfering with the other students learning. They need to have a working relationship with all of the other teachers and school faculty, be able to communicate effectively with different therapists.  Sometimes that's Speech, Occupational, and Physical Therapist (and sometimes even more), work well with the Special Education teacher, parent(s), and children.  I want to communicate well enough with them that they could essentially be "my voice" if I'm not there.  They are sometimes expected to be the "voice" of the parents, child, and school...and sometimes all of those voices are different. Now imagine an aide who has more than one child that they work with.  Maybe two?  Three?  A classroom full?  Often, they're not paid very well and their benefits are generally minimal.  All three of the aide's this year have been very different.  Different ages, different demeanor, personalities, ways they relate to her and to me...but they all had one very important thing in common.  I always knew they cared about my child and wanted to do what was best for her.  They may have all done it differently, but they certainly cared.  A lot.

I was so concerned about us adjusting to them, I had to get comfortable with them and my child needed to be comfortable with them as well that I'd never considered all of the different areas they need to seamlessly navigate.