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Jan 31, 2010

Make Sure You Walk Away With The Right Kid

January 31, 2010 By

On Friday afternoon I found myself running late after a doctor appointment, rushing home to make sure I didn’t miss Cordy’s bus. She is dropped off at our door, and if we’re not there to get her off the bus, they will only wait so long before driving on to the next stop. In our school district, that means you then have to pick up your child from Children’s Services, which no one wants to do.

I got home right at the time she’s scheduled to get off the bus, which is actually never the time the bus arrives. It has never arrived at that time – it’s usually coming around the curve about five or ten minutes later. I left the front door open to wait for her bus. Five minutes pass. Then ten. At this point I’m starting to wonder if I was too late. But I know her bus driver well enough to know that she’d wait at least five minutes if she happened to get here on time. Where was that bus?

Another ten minutes passed, and just as I was beginning to panic and consider calling the school district to ask where I need to go to get Cordy, I hear the bus coming down the street. And then I see it slowly inching along, pausing at each address, and coming the wrong direction. Ah, it’s a substitute driver today. Now I know why she’s late.

I immediately started to walk out the door toward the bus. I noticed an aide on the bus moving around and doing something, all while Cordy sat in her seat and waved to me from her window. As I crossed in front of the bus to get to the bus door, a taller child in a blue coat suddenly met me around the corner, smiling. This bus carries a lot of children with varying special needs, and this boy didn’t seem to notice or care that this wasn’t his house and I wasn’t his mom.

I peeked up into the bus, looking at the smiling driver and aide. “Have a good afternoon!” the aide yelled to me.

“WAIT!” I yelled back before the door could be closed, “This isn’t my kid.“

The aide and driver looked at each other with an amused look. “What?” they laughed. I guess they thought I was making a joke.

“This isn’t my kid,” I said more insistently. “THAT is my daughter,” I growled, pointing to Cordy who was sitting right behind the driver. Cordy was still smiling, also probably thinking this was all a joke.

The aide immediately looked puzzled and yelled for the boy to get back on the bus, quizzing the boy, “Well, why’d you get off the bus if this wasn’t your stop?”

At this point the driver appeared to have a moment of intelligent thought with the revelation, “Oh, so that’s why she was saying ‘Mommy! Mommy!’ when you were walking to the bus.” Um, yeah, ya think? I suppose that would be why she was saying that. Is the school district that desperate for substitute bus drivers that they’ll hire anyone off the street?

Finally, the aide unbuckled Cordy and helped her down the stairs. I held Cordy in my arms as the aide and driver again tried to laugh about the mix-up. I glared at them and walked away, holding onto MY daughter.

It wasn’t funny. It was dangerous, it was careless, and it shouldn’t happen. Were I not all the way to the bus, they could have let that boy off and drove away before I could object. And who would they have given my daughter to? Cordy likely would have reacted the same way the boy did – she trusts adults, and probably would have willingly stepped off the bus, even knowing it wasn’t the right stop.

The district will be getting a call from me on Monday, urging them to make sure their substitute drivers are more careful about making sure special needs kids get to the right home safely. Some kind of safety procedure needs to be in place so that each child is matched up to the right address. I don’t care if it’s a seating chart or names on the seats or some other plan – a simple list of addresses and names isn’t enough.

I was worried that I had missed her bus. But being given the wrong child really scared me. I want to know my daughter will get home safely each day, and I want to trust that her bus driver will take her to the right address and only let her leave when one of her parents is there to take her hand.

Here’s hoping her regular bus driver will be back this week.

Filed Under: Cordy, rant, school Tagged With:


Jan 20, 2010

I’m Not A Rookie Mom, But Fevers Still Worry Me

January 20, 2010 By

Give me a daughter facing the challenges of autism, and I rise to the challenge. Or give me a daughter with a speech delay, and I fearlessly jump in to start early intervention with complete confidence she’ll triumph.

But give me a kid with a hacking cough and a fever of 103.5 who looks this miserable:

…and I’m a puddle of worry.

I’m often impressed with how Cordy and Mira remain so healthy. Sure, they get colds about as often as any other kid, but they are most often minor colds and rarely slow them down. Fevers are always minor – just a little warm, no need for medication. And we’ve had plenty of stomach bugs, but other than the unpleasantness of cleaning up blow-out diapers, they weren’t too bad.

And then Mira’s cough began on Sunday. By yesterday it was a constant, fierce cough that forced her to catch her breath after a coughing fit, along with a fever. She spent last night coughing and crying in her sleep, and I was unable to do anything to make it easier for her.

This morning she slept in, something she rarely does. And then she refused breakfast, something she never does. She didn’t want to play or watch TV – she only wanted to rest her flushed little face against me. Her temp was 103.5.

So I took her to the pediatrician, where I was given few answers: It’s probably not strep. It’s most likely viral, either a throat infection or the flu. No antibiotics for now. Nothing to do at this point but give her ibuprofen round-the-clock on schedule, keep her hydrated, and wait it out.

Wait it out. Sounds so simple, and yet…

Today she didn’t fight her nap for once, and she didn’t pick fights with her sister. She spent a lot of time on me instead of playing with her trains. She’s not herself, and I don’t like that.

Many parents have kids that run fevers like this all the time, and are probably so used to it they would laugh at my hand-wringing and worry. I’ve advised several parents on how much ibuprofen to give and signs/symptoms to watch for, however it’s always different when it’s your kid. This is mostly new to me, and feeling the nape of my smallest child’s neck on fire, even with ibuprofen and Tylenol in her, leaves me feeling helpless.

I’m hoping she’ll wake up tomorrow a little less warm, a little more energetic, and a little closer to putting this behind us. If not, I’ll be right here to provide ibuprofen, refill juice cups, and provide a comfortable lap to cuddle on. I’m thankful to have a job with sick time so I can be home with her when she needs me the most. Because it’s not my nursing skills that are being used here –  it’s being her mommy that magically helps her feel better.

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Also, I’m proud to announce I’m one of several talented writer for the new Ohio Moms Blog! (Part of the amazing SV Moms Group.) Stop by for a visit, and be sure to check out my first post there, where I am once again performing amazing feats of hand-wringing.

Filed Under: being a mom, love, Mira Tagged With:


Jan 12, 2010

2010: Now This Is More Like It

January 12, 2010 By

I wanted 2010 to be the year of everything awesome. And so far, it’s not too bad. In fact, today kind of feels as far from 2009 as it could possibly be.

After a year and a half of unemployment (aside from a four-month contract job), Aaron started a new job today. It’s only a three-month contract for now, but the plan is to hire him on as a full employee at the end of the contract. Basically, the contract is his trial period. His first day went well: the job is creative and challenging and his coworkers are friendly and welcoming. I’m hoping it works out and he’ll be happy with his work.

As a result of his new job, we had to juggle our childcare situation. Aaron will be working traditional office hours, and while I work nights, we still need someone to cover on the days when I’ve worked and need to sleep. Cordy’s in school full-time, but Mira had only been in preschool two half-days a week.

So today Mira went back to her school, but into a new classroom. She’s attending three full days a week now, giving me a chance to sleep more, and giving Mira what she wants – the chance to spend more time at school. (The other days will be covered by a friend and family.) At two-and-a-half, Cordy hated being outside of the house, and would have fought going to preschool each day. But Mira, our little socialite, loves school and would complain when we picked her up each day.

I worried that a full day schedule might be too much, even for Mira, but when I picked her up at 5:15pm, she responded to seeing me with, “I don’t wanna go home.” Apparently she had a fantastic day, and is thrilled to go back again tomorrow. All is well with the changes in her schedule.

OK, nothing much has changed for Cordy. Other than she will now be sent home with homework starting this week. Homework? In pre-K? School has changed a lot since I was a kid.

As for myself, I’ve got a few days off right now and I’m finding myself happy to be more involved in directly caring for my girls again. Since starting work, I’ve been on the periphery at home, with Aaron taking on the bulk of childcare while I have waffled back and forth between being a day walker and a child of the night. Adjusting my schedule back and forth is terribly hard, leaving me feeling like a shell of myself at home with my family.

But with Aaron working now, I have to step up and force myself to be more involved again – and I like it. I like being the one preparing lunch, doing the school drop-off routine, reading with Cordy, playing games with both girls, etc. I missed doing all of that. Well, maybe not all of it, but a lot of it. We’ll see how things go once I’m back to work later this week. I hope I’ll be able to find some inner strength to be everything to everyone without cracking.

Even our house got a little update today. Thanks to an awesome Black Friday deal, we got a new microwave. Our current one is on a little stand taking up way too much room, and I wanted something above-the-range so I could replace that little stand with a pantry. Today, part one of that plan was accomplished:

Before:

Um, yeah, ignore the mess around the range.

After:

Shiny! Pretty!

So yeah, let’s keep 2010 moving right along on this positive wave, OK?

Filed Under: Aaron, being a mom, daily life, family time, Mira, the J-O-B Tagged With:


Jan 6, 2010

Guinea Pig, Part Two: For Reals This Time!

January 6, 2010 By

Just before Christmas, Cordy finished the first ten week segment of the clinical research trial I took a gamble on earlier in the fall. The study offered us the chance at parent training in behavior modification and/or a medication that can help attention-deficit symptoms in children with autism. In our case, we were randomly selected for the medication-only group, not knowing if we had the actual medication or a placebo.

At the end of ten weeks, the results were less than encouraging. Cordy’s behavior was practically unchanged. Still unfocused. Still unstoppable energy. Still struggling to finish a task without becoming distracted. But there were a few small changes that showed a glimmer of hope. In that ten week period, she stopped hitting herself, and although she switched to verbally abusing herself instead, it was still an improvement. We also noticed a slight decrease in the amount of “flapping” she does, too.

So did we have the medication? If we had the medication, I felt it was a big, fat failure. I mean, I wasn’t expecting miracles in a pill. I knew it could help calm Cordy and help her focus so she could accomplish more, but I knew it wouldn’t turn her into a typical kid. But I was expecting a little more than a couple of stray behavior changes.

At our last meeting, the doctors in the study looked through all of the data and determined Cordy was a non-responder. As a result, the seal was broken to find out the truth: it was the placebo.

I was a little disappointed that I forced Cordy to go to weekly visits, endure two blood draws (not fun for anyone involved) and take a lot of pills for no benefit. But honestly, it wasn’t that bad. Cordy quickly loved going to “the office” as she called it. She loved “her work” and the student assistants who work there became her willing slaves. All of the staff have been incredibly kind to her. While at each meeting, she was given an unlimited supply of organic fruit snacks, animal crackers, juice, toys, markers and adoring fans. Hell, I kinda wish I got all that stuff instead of a big stack of papers to fill out each week.

But it doesn’t end there. That was just part one of the study. Knowing that she was on the placebo, we are now entering the open-label phase of the study, allowing her to start all over with the actual medication this time. (Those who were on the medication in phase one are allowed to continue on the medication for phase-two.) The dose will be increased ever-so-slowly and we’ll watch her closely for any improvements as well as any side-effects.

I’m back to being excited at the possibilities and yet again a little nervous about medicating my daughter. Only this time I know for certain it’s the real thing. We’ll see what happens.

To end on a cute note: I was told by Cordy’s teachers today that all of the boys in her class are in love with her. Not just love her – are actively IN LOVE with her. They’ve been back from winter break for just two days now, and apparently the boys pester Cordy all day with, “Do you still like me, Cordy?” She’s the queen of the classroom, with five little boys willing to do anything for her. I love that about her – despite her social difficulties, she has an aura that attracts people to her, even without trying or encouraging them in any way. It’s an amazing gift to have.

Filed Under: Autism, Cordy, love


Dec 31, 2009

Buh-Bye 2009 & A Look Ahead

December 31, 2009 By

Another year, another decade, gone. Seems a lot of people are really glad to see 2009 on its last few hours. Me? Eh, I could take it or leave it. No matter how I look at it, it didn’t suck as much as 2008 did.

Sure, Aaron was still mostly unemployed for all of 2009. And the first half of the year was quite a struggle for us financially. Cordy had a roller-coaster of a summer with camp, and then broke a tooth and had to endure general anesthesia to fix it.

But there were several good things that happened this year, too.

I graduated from nursing school. I got a job. And health insurance for the family again. Our cars continued to function. (Knocking on wood furiously at this point.) Cordy started full-day pre-K and is making a lot of progress. I ran/walked my first 5K and lost 20 lb. with the Shredheads. I got to travel to Blissdom and BlogHer and roomed with some fabulous women. And right before Christmas, Aaron was offered a job that we hope will be an amazing opportunity for him.

Yeah, 2009 wasn’t too bad. But I’d like to think it was a transition year between the suck of 2008 and my wish for a lot of good in 2010.

Resolutions generally aren’t my thing, but if I had to pick one for next year, it would be to find more happiness and balance in my life. While I’m glad that I found a job after graduation and have been able to keep our finances afloat as a result, I’m finding that going back to work hasn’t given me all of the satisfaction I was hoping for. I mean, I like what I do, but my work/life balance is utterly screwed up right now.

I miss my girls fiercely, wanting to be more directly involved in their care like I used to be, yet too tired to be a fully-functioning parent. I’m a zombie on my days off, going through the motions despite my best attempts to wake up. Cordy could use more assistance reinforcing her therapy from school, and Mira needs more help from me with her speech. I used to do those things. I hate not being the mom that my two daughters deserve.

I also want to be better to myself, too. I’m doing far less of the stuff I like, and more of the stuff I have to do. Now, I know that no one can escape the boring responsibilities of adult life, but it shouldn’t completely take over my life, either. I haven’t been blogging as much, I haven’t kept in touch with friends as well as I should, I haven’t given Aaron as much attention as he deserves, and I rarely get to enjoy hobbies I used to love. I’m a shell of my former self.

So 2010 is my journey back to balance. I want to reach the end of 2010 and find myself satisfied with where I am at that point in my life. I have no idea how I’ll get there – whether it be a mental adjustment or more drastic actions – but I will find balance again and find my way back to happy. I’ll have more quality time with my family, I’ll do more I enjoy, my family will be happy as well, and strangely enough, it all turns out well.

How?

I don’t know. It’s a mystery.

Here’s to a fabulous 2010 that will put all previous years to shame for prosperity, joy and greatness.

Filed Under: holidays, me me me