Family Archives - Page 35 of 113

Oct 6, 2011

Moments in Time

October 6, 2011 By Christina

I generally have mixed feelings about school picture day. We usually have to order the photos in advance, before the photographer even snaps the picture, leaving me wondering if my expensive gamble will result in a kid with one eye half closed or a frown on her face or if I might luck out with a good shot of her. Committing to two 8×10’s, 4 5×7’s, 2 3×5’s and 2 sheets of wallets without seeing the photo first is hard to stomach.

No matter her look, the backgrounds are dull, the “enhancements” are usually worse and every kid has the same head and shoulders pose that has been used since my grandmother was in school.

But.

School photos also serve as an annual snapshot of where my kids are at the moment. You can see so much personality in their eyes, see how much they’ve developed and changed from the year before, and get an idea of what’s going on in those little heads.

Cordy’s first school photo was when she was three and had just started special needs preschool. She had just received an educational diagnosis of autism, and I think the photo says it all.

All of the struggle against her senses, the confusion, and the uncertainty with the world around her was captured in that photo.

And then there’s her first grade photo.

I could write eloquent (or not so eloquent) sentences about the transformation she’s made, but words would only be repetitive. The two photos speak volumes about what has changed without any added explanation from me.

Right now, I’m incredibly grateful to have these school photos to remind me of where she is in this moment.

—
Pssst…have you voted for Cordy in the Columbus Parent cover contest? I’ve been watching the competition, and there are some other kids getting a LOT of votes at the moment. Do they really have families that big?

C’mon, we can do better than that, right? If you haven’t done it yet, please leave a vote for Cordy!

Filed Under: Cordy, growing up, memories, school

Oct 3, 2011

I Usually Don’t Ask For Much…

October 3, 2011 By Christina

I try not to ask a lot of everyone who comes by this blog. I’m happy to share stories and photos and have discussions about deep topics like special needs education and which eighties cartoon to have my daughters watch next.

But today I’m asking for a small favor. Columbus Parent magazine is having a cover photo contest, and the winning child will get to be the cover model for one of the monthly issues. I normally try to avoid anything that involves voting – popularity contests just bring back nightmares of coming in last as a child, and I often feel that those with the most resources generate the most wins. (Although I actually have a pretty stellar resource with this blog and the Internet.)

However, I decided to enter this contest for a few reasons. First, I’ve got a couple of good-looking kids who would both make excellent cover models.

More importantly, this would be an excellent chance to feature a child with autism on the cover of Columbus Parent. Cordy is not only beautiful, but she’s smart and charming and has an incredible story. At three years old we didn’t know what the future would hold for her when the autism label was applied. Would she be able to go to college? Would she even be able to attend a regular classroom?

Everyone who visits here regularly has followed along through her transformation. Today, at seven years old, she spends 90% of her day in a mainstream classroom and about 90% of the time she’s a cheery ball of sunshine as well. She’s reading well beyond her first grade level and has just started working on double-digit addition and subtraction. The school wants to test her for the gifted education program. The latest report from her teachers is that she now runs with packs of other kids on the playground at recess instead of playing by herself, and possibly even has a friend or two.

Cordy’s a success story, and she is a positive example of a child with autism living well beyond her label. She has her difficulties and still struggles with a lot of social issues, but she’s thriving in her environment.

Photo courtesy of Heather Durdil

So…this all leads up to the favor I’m asking of you. Will you please vote for Cordy in the Columbus Parent contest? You don’t have to be a Columbus resident to vote. All you have to do is leave a comment under her photo with the word VOTE in it somewhere. Or just the word “vote” would do, too, if you’re in a rush.

You do have to register for the site to vote. (I’m sorry – I wish they didn’t have that restriction. Check your spam folder if you do register, as the confirmation email seems to go there for many people.)

The voting round is open until October 17, 2011 at noon ET. I can already tell there are some kids in this contest with large families, so we’ll need all the help we can get! The top 5 kids with the highest votes will go on to the finalist round where the magazine will select the winner.

What’s in it for you, you ask? I don’t really know what to offer in return. The privilege of knowing you helped the Amazon warrior princess get the cover of a magazine? A hand written thank you note from her? (Warning: her thank you notes are very short.) A promise from me to post more often?

Anyway, if you have a moment, please leave a vote for Cordy! And share it with your friends, too!

(And now I swear I won’t ask any more from you for at least another few months.)

Filed Under: Autism, Cordy, shameless promotion Tagged With: ain't too proud to beg

Sep 21, 2011

Seven

September 21, 2011 By Christina

Seven years ago, on this day, I was introduced to my beautiful daughter, Cordelia, and to motherhood.

OK, she was a little grumpy, too…

She was determined to destroy any pre-planned ideas of how I wanted motherhood to go. I wanted to have a natural labor – she remained in a difficult breech position that required a c-section. I planned to breastfeed – she refused to cooperate and fought me to the bitter end. I dreamed of quiet moments gazing into her little blue eyes or napping together in the afternoons. Instead I was given a colicky baby who cried day and night and forced us to bow to her whims of being in constant motion.

And yet she still charmed me and forced me to fall madly in love with her.

When she was a year old, I thought the worst was behind us. The unhappy baby had been replaced by a smiling, giggly, curious toddler with enormous sapphire blue eyes and the beginnings of golden curls.

And a talent for stacking Diet Coke cans…

Never did I imagine the struggle we’d endure together two years later through a diagnosis of autism and the uncertainty of what the future would hold for our Amazon Warrior Princess.

Which brings us to today. Seven years old.

When did she grow up & why didn’t I notice?

Cordy is now in first grade and for the first time she’s spending 95% of her school day in a mainstream class. Her teacher tells us she’s adjusting beautifully and is held to the same behavior standards as the rest of the class. She complains that her spelling list each week is too easy and has already befriended the school librarian. We can’t keep her away from books – she has books in her bed, in her backpack, and even at the dining room table.

It’s been a year of big “firsts” for Cordy, too. First attempt at sports. First roller coaster. First real haircut (that wasn’t done by me when she wasn’t paying attention). She even let me paint her fingernails for the first time last week!

Conquering her fears of the unknown at Cedar Point

I don’t think any of the experts that evaluated Cordy at three years old would have imagined that she’d be doing so well now. She has friends, she plays with other kids on the playground at school, and while she is still rigid, demanding, and quirky, she’s learning that she can often get what she wants if she plays along with the social scripts society demands of her, no matter how silly they seem to her.

But seven years old is also scary to me. She’s reaching an age where I can no longer protect her all the time. Kids are going to be mean. The social demands of her peer group will get exponentially harder and social missteps will be judged with more severity. Cordy also wants more freedom, but I’m afraid she’s not ready for that freedom and will only put herself in the path of danger. She’s too trusting and too unaware of her own surroundings to stay safe.

Those same traits that scare me are also some of the best parts of her. Cordy’s innocence and sweetness are unending. She still has that ability to charm everyone just as she did as a baby.

And just like when she was that not-so-tiny eight-pound infant, screaming in my arms, she’s still proving that I have little control over the direction motherhood will take me. I’ll continue to love and protect her the best I can, while she will continue to grow and amaze me in ways I never thought possible.

Happy birthday, Cordy. And thank you for letting us sing happy birthday to you this year, even if you still covered your ears.

Filed Under: Cordy, growing up, love

Sep 14, 2011

First Grade Homework Is Killing Me

September 14, 2011 By Christina

I knew that with the start of first grade, homework wasn’t far behind. I’ve seen other parents on Facebook and Twitter talking about how young they start kids with homework now, so I was prepared. When the homework folder arrived in Cordy’s backpack for the first time, I turned off the TV and sat at the table with Cordy to help her complete her homework. It took about 20 minutes for her to do all of the worksheets, which seemed like a lot of time to devote to homework each night for a six year old.

And then I found out that was her homework for the entire week. Oops. Ah well, at least she had several days off from doing homework, right?

This week, though, one of her worksheets stumped me. I knew that someday she’d ask for help with homework and I’d be unable to help because I would have forgotten advanced algebra or the process of photosynthesis because they just aren’t practical in my everyday life and my brain cells needed room for more important things, like the bajillion passwords I have to remember for every online account or the lyrics of Katy Perry’s Last Friday Night. I never thought I’d be unable to answer a question about first grade grammar.

The worksheet had several sentences on it, with the instruction, “Write the naming part of the sentence below each sentence.”

Wait – the “naming part” of a sentence? WTF?

“Uh, Cordy, I’m not exactly sure what you’re supposed to do for this worksheet,” I explained. “Do you know what the naming part of a sentence is?”

“No, mommy. I don’t know.”

Well…great.

I turned to Twitter, where I was mostly met with silence and the one suggestion that maybe it was the noun in the sentence. Apparently most of Twitter has forgotten their first grade grammar as well, which made me feel a little better. Unity in cluelessness.

I then turned to the all-knowing Google, where 90% of the links agreed that the “naming part” of the sentence is its subject.

Obvious response: so why not call it the SUBJECT then?

Dear textbook editors: I understand that writing new versions of the same, dry material can be boring. But syntax naming is not an area for you to flex your creative muscle in order to freshen up the lesson. You’re confusing the hell out of us parents and making us look like we couldn’t pass a basic elementary school standardized test. Also? What’s wrong with “subject?” The “naming part” just sounds babyish. Stop dumbing down my kid’s lessons!

I’m sure this won’t be the last I see of these changes, but I really hope I’ll be able to translate her homework in the future. Next thing you know she’ll have to find the “doing-stuff part” of the sentence.

(OMG, please don’t let that be on next week’s homework or I swear I’ll homeschool her with my 1980’s curriculum, when we actually had to know the real names of the parts of a sentence. And use non-safety scissors to cut things. And walk uphill in the snow to school. Both ways.)

Filed Under: being a mom, Cordy, pop culture, school

Sep 6, 2011

Dealing With A Hairy Situation

September 6, 2011 By Christina

Cordy has beautiful hair.

She has hair that movie stars would kill to have. Shimmery, fine golden strands, and a mighty-thick head of them. It’s nearly impossible to find her scalp under all of that hair. Some hairs curl, some are straight, but all of them work together to create a lot of body.

And a lot of knots. As in, her hair can be perfectly combed and all she has to do is turn her head to the side to look at something and suddenly it’s tangled again. Laying down at night leads to matted hair, and even putting it in a braid overnight still results in knots. It seems to have an affinity to tangle itself without the slightest provocation.

After trying to get a wide-tooth comb through Cordy’s hair while she screamed, cried and fought me last week (a regular occurrence around our house), I decided that the time had come: we were paying a visit to a hair salon.

At nearly seven years old, Cordy has yet to visit any professional to have her hair cut. When she was younger she wouldn’t let anyone touch her gorgeous curls without a lot of screaming. It took nearly a year for her preschool teacher to let her put her hair in a ponytail. I combed her hair after a bath only by first putting on a favorite TV show to distract her, and even then she’d still cry and fight me. When I tried to cut it, she screamed that cutting her hair was hurting her. (And with her sensory issues, it probably was.)

We got by with me providing the occasional sneaky trim until last week, when I couldn’t take it anymore. Cordy’s hair is thick and needs the hands of a professional. It needs to be shorter and with layers in it to lighten the weight. This isn’t an issue of finding the right comb or the right conditioner or detangling spray – we’ve tried many and nothing works well. Until she’s able to comb her own hair or let me comb it without crying at the slightest tug, it has to be shorter and easier to manage.

So I made an appointment for Cordy on Saturday at a local salon focused on kids. I was worried that she’d have a meltdown or lash out at the stylist, but hoped she could hold it together enough to let them get a basic cut in. We washed and combed her hair right before we went in the hopes that it would have few(er) tangles in it when the stylist started combing it.

(And of course, Mira asked to have her hair cut, too. She wasn’t about to miss out on a little pampering.)

Here they were before going inside:

Cordy’s face is slowly being swallowed by her hair.

Cordy was up first, and asked to sit on Clifford instead of in a big-kid chair. Hey, if it helps her cope she can sit on whatever she wants, right? I warned the stylist about her sensitive head, although she still was a little more rough than Cordy liked. I stood next to Cordy and held her hand, soothing her when she started to get worked up. She spent most of her time watching Backyardigans, but occasionally the hair tugging would get to be too much and she’d get upset and beg to leave. I’d calm her down, and then she’d get upset again – repeat X too many times to count.

Trying to hold it together

Honestly? It was exhausting for me, but needed to be done. And Cordy did better than I expected. For all of the whining and begging and occasional tears, she still remained in her seat for most of it and followed most of the directions the stylist asked of her.

Mira? Oh, she did fine. The worst part for her was that she wasn’t able to watch herself in the mirror while getting her hair cut. Vain little creature.

she’s sneaking a glance in the mirror to the side

Finally they were both done. Mira had a cute curly bob that evened out the area where she tried to cut her own hair last year. And Cordy had a shorter, layered cut that will (hopefully) result in fewer tangles and feel a little cooler on her head.

Cordy is smiling because the torture is over – and because she was promised a balloon

We could have gone shorter, but I don’t know if Cordy would have tolerated another minute of it. So it’s good for now, and we’ll re-evaluate in the months ahead if we’ll attempt this again anytime soon.

Or maybe I’ll just improve my hair-cutting skills.

Filed Under: Autism, Cordy, daily life, growing up, Mira