Don’t Mess With My Money

I’m generally an easy-going person. It takes a lot to make me really angry, and there are generally few topics that can make me go totally unhinged. Messing with my kids tops the list, of course, but other notable triggers include social injustice, intentionally rude people, and cheating me in some way.

I’m also very protective of our money. Not that we have a lot at the moment, with Aaron unemployed and all, but what we do have I guard over like it’s the lost treasure of Atlantis. Every penny is accounted for.

Which means you can imagine how I flipped when I recently discovered someone was writing forged checks from our checking account. They had somehow stolen our bank account number and printed up new checks with a different name, address and phone number.

At first, I tried to give them then benefit of the doubt. Oh, maybe this guy got new checks and accidentally wrote down the wrong account number, I thought. This will be an easy fix by the bank, we’ll get our money back, and I won’t need to turn into the Incredible Hulk.

But then my theory fell apart. The address and phone number on the check was for a business in Indiana. The name on the check was not associated with the business. And the bank listed on the check was also not the same bank as ours, despite having the same routing number. It was definitely a forgery.

The bank has been very kind in helping us through this, especially considering I must have looked like a crazed woman as I fumed at being told I’d have to shut down my checking account and get a new one. I’ve had that account for over 15 years. The account number was never listed anywhere because I had it memorized – and now I have to learn a new number, as well as change all of my direct deposit and debit information for the bazillion utility bills and loans attached to the account.

I feel completely violated that my checking account number was somehow found and used to steal money from our account. Not as violated as I felt when our house was broken into and robbed, but enough to wish a lot of karmic harm to that individual. It’s a struggle to earn what money we have, and it pisses me off that someone thinks they can earn their living by stealing accounts and using the money from other people.

The stolen money has been given back to us by the bank, thank goodness. But I’m still angry about the incident. When we filed the police report, the office gave us our report number and basically told us no one would be looking into it. I appreciate the honesty, but it frustrates me even more that this guy (or woman – the check was written to a plus-size women’s clothing store) got away with it because it isn’t enough money for them to bother investigating it further.

We have a new checking account now, and once we pick up our new checks and check cards we’ll even have access to it. (Seriously, waiting a week for my check card is like making me live a week without any money at all – who has time to physically go to the bank for cash?)

I know we’re lucky to have caught it right at the first fake check. The check number wasn’t even that far off from our current sequence, so it could have easily slipped past if I wasn’t (obsessively) examining the account daily and looking at every check image that shows up in our account.

The funny part? When I told my mom our account had been compromised, she immediately launched into a lecture about how this will be all the more common now because of how we use plastic cards for everything and it’s so easy to steal credit card numbers electronically. I think she’s convinced the world will someday end because of our reliance on computers, like our computers will suddenly steal our credit card numbers and buy parts to start building Terminators to enslave humanity. I cut her off with, “Yeah, but this wasn’t my check card – it was all paper fraud, mom! Old-school paper checks!” Ha.

I hope you check your accounts online daily. It’s too easy for a scammer to steal a little bit here, a little bit there, and you might not even notice. Don’t let them take money from you, too – keep your account passwords safe, destroy any paper account information and monitor them vigilantly.

And if you ever meet someone who thinks it’s no big deal to use forged checks? Kick him in the balls for me, OK?



No One Said Special Needs & Smart Can’t Go Together

Last Wednesday was Cordy’s first day of school, and while she had a lot of anxiety over it – like she does about anything new – I was feeling just as much anxiety as I stood next to her waiting for her bus. She tried her best to be calm about the whole thing as she tried to hold still while I took a million photos.

My thoughts, though, went something like this: Would she throw a fit about riding the bus? Would she melt down when she got to school and couldn’t go to the room she was in last year? Would kindergarten be too hard for her? Would her new teacher treat her well? Would I be able to stop asking myself questions long enough to notice she’s getting on the bus?

Oh. Well, uh, that was easy.

I went to sleep for the day, expecting to hear the phone ring at some point with some question or complaint about Cordy’s behavior. But there was no call.

When the bus brought her home, she was clearly tired but full of smiles. She said her first day had been great, and when asked if she wanted to go back again the next day, she replied with her usual, “Well, uh, yeah, that would be OK.”

The note from her teacher gave me a lot of hope. The teacher said she had a good day, and she mentioned Cordy seemed to have good reading skills when they were assessing her abilities.

The next day was much the same. The note home was even more promising, stating that Cordy was asked to read a 1st grade level book and had no trouble with it.

Friday was even better. The teacher was both surprised and delighted to report that Cordy read another 1st grade level book and answered the comprehension questions perfectly. She mentioned that Cordy is still whining whenever she’s asked to do something, but other than that she’s adjusting to the new routine with no trouble.

Of course, I have no idea if the teacher is glossing over any actual behavior problems or not. But I don’t doubt that Cordy is impressing her with her reading skills. We’ve suspected she could read for some time now, but when pressed to show off her skills she generally pretended like she couldn’t read. (How modest.) I’m honestly more surprised that the teacher is surprised. Surely she’s read Cordy’s evaluation report and knows that her autism has little influence over her cognitive abilities.

I’m outlandishly happy that Cordy is adjusting so well to kindergarten. Crazy, over-the-moon happy.

More than once I’ve encountered people who assume that just because Cordy has autism, she will somehow never be able to learn anything, will never graduate, and will spend her life dependent on her family. Autism seems to be a death sentence to them, or at least the death of any kind of promising future. When we first got the diagnosis, I remember mourning her potential, too, worried that she would never be able to live a “normal” life. But it’s soooo not true.

Cordy’s autism may affect the way her brain functions, but it doesn’t affect her ability to function. She can still learn, she can understand logic at an age-appropriate level, and while she has some unusual sensitivities and requires some different methods to learn, she can keep up with her peers in classwork.

Even I don’t always understand the way Cordy thinks, but she still manages to figure everything out. She resisted learning to read when we attempted to work with her, instead choosing to teach herself. She doesn’t appear to understand phonetics, and as best I can tell, she reads by memorizing entire words. But she still learns it all, even if it’s not how most people do it.

I like to think of it this way: just because most of us take the interstate to get to the park doesn’t mean that taking the back roads won’t also get you there. It might take a little longer, and your travel experience will certainly be different, but you’ll reach the same destination. 

Cordy’s travels to the park probably involve singing “My Way” with Frank Sinatra as she cruises along the twisting, hilly roads. But once there, you know she’ll have stories of a great adventure along the way.



Ow Ow Ow

So last week I was completely thrilled to be able to run again, along with the cool weather that made running enjoyable.

And then I screwed up my back and all of that came to a grinding halt.

I wish I knew what I did. I remember leaning over to dry my hair after my last run, and feeling my back ache a little. Not a big deal, and it didn’t really bother me that much.

Then the next night, as my back was feeling better, I reached over to turn on the water in my bathtub, and suddenly white hot pain shot through my back. This wasn’t even a long, unusual stretch – I was barely bending over, and barely reaching for the handle.

That night my back was very sore, and the night after that I was in agony. I couldn’t twist, and I could only bend at the hip and knee – my back had to remain in one position. I was in far too much pain to even contemplate going to work, so I took the night off and focused on taking care of myself with medication and ice. Overnight, I woke up and had somehow irritated my back enough that I wanted to scream, but couldn’t because it hurt too much to even take a deep breath.

On Friday I went to visit a friend who is a massage therapist with the hope that he could work some magic and get my spine to lay off the pain. An hour and a half later, every muscle was happily relaxed, but the pain was still there in that one spot. Which means it’s a nerve pain, not a muscle pain.

I tried to take it easy over the weekend, and my back is starting to feel a little better. But I think at this point I might need to look into visiting a chiropractor to get my spine to shape up, or at least hold the proper shape.

What’s really frustrating is that I missed some ideal running time last week when the weather was beautiful and cool. This week, the forecast is in the 90’s every single day, and beyond that I’m not even sure I’m in any shape to attempt running right now.

I’m planning to be extra careful with my calories this week since I may not be exercising. And as soon as my back feels better, I think I’ll start incorporating some yoga into my workout routine to help strengthen my core and hopefully prevent these kinds of random injuries again.

Any recommendations for a good gentle yoga video for beginners?



A New Low

But it’s a good kind of low.

I decided to step on the scale again this morning, and was delighted to see an even lower number displayed: 181 pounds. I’m so close to the 170’s that I’m twitchy with excitement.

Now that the high end of my “acceptable weight range” is slowly coming into view off in the horizon (160 lbs is considered the high end for 5’7″), I’m starting to think about what happens when I reach that moment. Will I stay at 160, or will I try to continue to go lower? I’ve got a larger frame, so I definitely don’t want to be on the low end of the acceptable range for my height (121 lbs – seriously, I’d be a stick!), but I don’t know if I want to be constantly flirting with overweight, either.

At my wedding, I was somewhere around 170 pounds. And I felt pretty good at that weight. It was the lowest I had been for a long time, and even though I still felt overweight, I didn’t feel completely self-conscious as I walked down the aisle in my silver wedding dress. I probably could have lost more weight, but the more weight I lost, the happier I was with my body, and the less motivated I was to continue losing weight. Not exactly the best plan.

I can’t wait to see 170 again, but I don’t want to let myself get too comfortable before reaching my goal weight. Whatever my goal weight is. Hmm…I guess I really should pick a goal weight, shouldn’t I? I’ll officially call my goal weight 160 for the moment, and then when I reach 160 I can re-evaluate and set a new goal if needed.

But for the moment, I’m so, so close to breaking through a mini-goal of saying goodbye to the 180’s and hello to the 170’s. And when I do, I’m posting new photos to show how far I’ve come.



Old and New

In all of the stress I’ve had over Cordy starting kindergarten this year, I’ve barely mentioned that Mira will be starting a whole new class as well. Actually, TWO new classes.

Last spring, Mira went for an evaluation with our school district to see if she should be placed in special needs preschool this year. There’s no chance this kid has autism – as the evaluation clearly proved – but her speech issues persist. She has speech apraxia, meaning that while she can hear and understand everything you say to her perfectly, she can’t say anything back to you perfectly. It comes out garbled with a lot less consonants than words should have. She’s made a lot of improvement, but her articulation has a long way to go.

Mira knows she is hard to understand, and it frustrates the hell out of her. Kids her age are supposed to be speaking in 3-4 word sentences, but this kid wants to speak in full monologues. She has an incredible vocabulary (when you can understand her) and her grasp of grammar and sentence construction is sometimes better than Cordy’s. You just don’t know what she’s saying, requiring her to repeat herself many times and often rephrase her statement using synonyms that are easier to pronounce. She’s got mad language skills, if only she was understood!

It was determined that Mira needed to be in special needs preschool this year so she could receive the speech therapy she needs. We had been taking her to private speech therapy, but after Aaron was laid off in May we had to drop it because we couldn’t afford the $115 per session. (The bill hurt only slightly more than the thought of cutting off such a vital service for Mira, but we decided she would probably rather keep a house to live in rather than speech therapy, so we went with that option.)

The best news was that Mira’s teacher will be the same wonderful teacher we had for Cordy. We’re thrilled, the teacher is thrilled, and Mira is thrilled. Even Cordy is slightly thrilled, as long as we take her to visit Ms. W. now and then.

However, the school district’s special needs team strongly encouraged us to also seek out a traditional preschool for Mira for the other half of the day. They pointed out that with a quick mind like Mira’s, she will need to stay stimulated and she might find special needs preschool a little boring. We took their advice, and so Mira will be spending the first half of her day at her current preschool before going to the public school for afternoon preschool.

On Friday, we were invited to a Meet the Teacher day at Mira’s current preschool. As we walked down the hall to find Mira’s new room, I quickly spotted her room (Fishies FTW!) but then saw who was waiting inside. It was the teacher Cordy had for after-care when she was in summer camp last year. The teacher who clearly didn’t think Cordy belonged in a typical-kid camp. This same teacher is now Mira’s preschool teacher. Eep.

Aaron and I gave each other knowing glances as we introduced Mira to the room. I’m still not sure how I feel about having someone who wanted nothing to do with Cordy teaching Mira, but I’m going to try to suck it up and give her another chance. I can already tell she and Mira will butt heads – they’re both strong personality types. Mira is a child that you have to sweet talk or flatter to get her to do what you want – simply demand for her to do something and she’ll give double the attitude right back to you.

Mira starts class tomorrow for her private preschool, and then starts her other school later this week. I can tell she’s already giddy at the thought of riding a school bus and being in a “real” preschool class. My baby is determined to grow up quickly, and I only wish she’d slow down a little.

I’m going to go cry in a corner now.