Time to Post

Haven't done that yet this week. Hmm. Guess I've been "busy" or something.

This week, Harrison and I have checked out a couple of preschools for next fall. This is something good mothers who are top of things did in February. Oh well. It's better that Harrison finds out sooner rather than later that his Mommy is a Slacker. I signed him up for a good "safety school" and have him on the wait list at the school I liked best so far. If nothing else, the safety school has a nice playground. Tomorrow we visit another school, and then I'll decide if the third school is worth paying another $50 or so to be waitlisted for.

This morning Hutton had his ABA meeting at the UW, instead of regular time of Friday morning. Wednesday morning was twice as sucktastic, as I had to get his lunch and school snack packed this morning as we were going to go straight to school after ABA. So, as I scrambled around getting lunch ready, and tried to remember to bring insurance forms to be signed, the notebook I always forget, etc., time was slipping away. Got in the car five minutes late. Listened to the story of a broken water main by the UW on the radio. Cursing under my breath that this would mean worse traffic on the other end of the lake. Of course, traffic was bad on the homeside as well. Finally got to the UW, just five minutes late, and see the horrific sign, "S1 Parking is FULL." I literally screamed. S1 Parking is the lot that is closest to the ABA clinic. I had no idea where to park. There was a sign redirecting me, and I pulled into a garage that was for faculty only. Reverse, search for more parking signs. After driving three blocks away from the ABA clinic, I saw a sign for hospital parking. Great. Ten minutes later we're in the hospital, trying to figure the best way to get on the south side where the ABA clinic is. Fortunately the guy at the front desk gave us easy directions and we managed the long walk through the hospital, down lots of steps through the "Garden Haven" and across the S1 parking lot (DAMN YOU!) in not too much time. We arrived in our meeting room a mere thirty minutes late, and by then the steam has managed to escape through my ears in several sharp bursts of anger, in which I would follow my howls with, "Hutton, I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at the SITUATION." I did lots of mumbling to myself about how much I hate the UW, hate paying $11 for parking when the lot isn't full, hate having to walk through the smurfing hospital, hate having to go to the UW every smurfing week for ABA or "Social Group" (yeah, we get to go to the UW again on Friday. Yippee! Can't wait to see if S1 parking is full!), hate, hate, hate.

After the meeting, my "shortcut" through the hospital added another five minutes or so to our already too short time to get Hutton to school. We were only ten minutes late for that, though. I got a tardy slip in the office (glad I don't need one of those for everything else I'm late for!) and apologized to his teacher in person for Hutton's peeing in the playground sandbox yesterday. She was actually nice and made a joke about her own boys getting in trouble for peeing outside at a neighbor's house. Guess being male and having the ability to pee anywhere isn't always an advantage in the socially acceptable realm of life. (But it helps if you're a trucker, I hear.)

So, now I'm home and using the magical PBS Kids to entertain Harrison while I get paper work sorted and try to figure out whether $700 to clean the roof is worth it. What's the worse that can happen? Our roof rots, leaks, falls apart and everything in the house is ruined? Hmm, probably need to get the roof cleaned. Ahh, I love being a housewife!

Returning to Normal

As normal as things get around here, that is. After spending most of Thursday in a huge funk over the email bomb from Hutton's teacher, telling me he wasn't fit for her kindergarten class, I spent the evening swollen-eyed and achy-headed and went to bed at the unheard of time of 9:30. The next morning, the boys woke me up at 7:15, an hour earlier than they got up on Thursday, because they have a system: On the two days we have to leave the house by 8:30 a.m., they are both nestled cozily in bed at 8 a.m., and are quite difficult to wake up and get going. On the other 5 days of the week, they're up and at 'em by 7:30, making the noises mothers can't ignore -- slamming doors, opening the fridge (yes, I have very good ears for this sound, as it usually means they're getting into food they don't need to, or are attempting to pour themselves drinks, or that the fridge will still be open an hour later, defrosting and wet-handled, if I don't get my ass up NOW and go deal with them), etc.

So, Friday morning I got up and stumbled downstairs, and soon got into a bitchy mood because Hutton refused to take his supplements. Half of his supplements go into his juice/probiotic smoothie combo, and the chewable supplements (his multivitamin, enzymes, and zinc) I give him to eat, since they're chewable, and I think they taste just fine, so he should, too. He wasn't going for it, though, and of course, I was still in the deepest depths of the "I have a child with Autism and he's never going to get better" funk. In mere moments, Hutton's refusal to eat his chewable supplements had me sobbing and snotty, telling him he HAD to work with me on this, because if not, I'd end up in a loony bin, and he'd end up in a bad group home. Hutton could not have cared less. He did not want to eat his supplements, even if the yummy cod liver oil supplement could be his if he did. (No, really. The Coromega "orange with a hint of chocolate" cod liver oil supplement is REALLY GOOD!) Hubby came downstairs during my crazy tirade about the supplements, and told me to go upstairs. Looking crazed, my hair standing up from sleeping on it, no makeup, swollen, puffy eyes and snotty-nosed, I refused. "I have to eat breakfast, so I can go get a shower and take Hutton to his ABA!" "I'll take him to ABA." "No, I'm fine." "Well, go eat your breakfast upstairs in the bathroom. You're acting crazy, and Hutton doesn't need to hear this." "I don't want to eat breakfast in the bathroom! I want to eat it here!" "OK, then we'll go upstairs." And so Hubby went upstairs with Hutton, I slowly stopped sobbing, finished my cereal, then showered and put on make-up to make myself look less like a crazy woman.

We headed to the UW for ABA, and I managed to not sob all over myself when I told his ABA consultant what had happened with his teacher. I had called the teacher Thursday afternoon. She told me that Hutton wasn't doing well in the class, but a one-on-one aide for him wasn't an option, as the school wouldn't pay for it, and that the contained class wouldn't be challenging enough for him. OK, lady, you're not giving me much to work with here. She then said she'd never had a child sent back to preschool, but there's a first time for everything. I really don't think the preschool will accept a 5 year old, but if it's possible, I'll do it. We agreed that next week we'll try to give or take away certain benefits at home, based on Hutton's behavior at school. For instance, if he receives a 0 for behavior at school, meaning he was horrible, he'll get 0 computer or TV time at home. If he gets a 3, for super behavior, he can get 30 minutes of computer or TV time. Of course, computer and TV time is the only way I manage to unwind in the afternoon and get dinner made. "Curious George" on PBS saves me before dinner, and "Wallace and Gromit" on Xbox saves me after dinner. But, I'm willing to sacrifice if it makes a difference. His ABA consultant made the point that this may not work if Hutton isn't able to connect his behavior at school with having things taken away at home. We'll see. Fortunately, or unfortunately, Hutton showed us some of his bad behavior at ABA therapy Friday - throwing some wooden signs around, narrowly missing Harrison, me and his therapist. His consultant quickly stopped the behavior, by holding Hutton's arms and leading him through putting the signs back into the box where they belonged, while asking him what each sign was, then quickly moving on to another activity. It was really amazing how easily re-focused Hutton was, and it made me think his teacher just needs to learn some of the techniques his ABA consultant uses. I mean, Hutton is probably doing his best to get away with whatever he can at school, because he can. He doesn't act up at home, speech therapy, or ABA (well, he hadn't been until Friday...) because he knows he won't get away with it.

So, his ABA consultant told me she'd go sit in on a class to see how Hutton is at school, and to come up with solutions for our big problem. And his ABA therapist (the one who comes to our home) told me she'd be happy to help Hutton at school. Well, that's nice and all, and I guess an extra $100 a week isn't that much to spend if she helps Hutton behave in class. All the same, I think there should be some way to get this solved without me having to pay someone to sit with Hutton in school and make sure he doesn't throw blocks or clear off his desk when he doesn't want to do his work. Sigh.

After we ate lunch, we were driving home across the 520 bridge over Lake Washington, and I started singing along to R.E.M.'s "Shiny, Happy People" on the radio. I thought if I sang, Hutton might listen to the words and think it was a fun song. I kept looking at him in the rearview mirror, and soon he and Harrison were both asleep, and I started to cry as I was singing. You wouldn't think it possible to cry while singing the words, "Happy! Happy!" but it is.

Friday night Hubby and I watched lots of good, funny TV (caught up on "The Daily Show" and "The Colbert Report" from earlier in the week) and I felt better.

Today was good. Hubby got up with the boys, I managed to go the gym, and we had just a few bad moments from Hutton, right before lunch, but after he ate he was fine. After lunch, we walked down to the creek at the end of our street to see if there were any salmon left. There were a few stragglers swimming upstream, but most of the fish had already spawned and died. There were about 20 fish in various states of decay, but it was actually very calming to see them, if a bit smelly. The whole "circle of life" feeling going on, though I didn't break into song. We walked up the trail for a while until Harrison got tired, then walked back home.
Looking for salmon "Cheese!"
Hutton chilling My boys

Then I went to the grocery store by myself, which is also very calming when done solo (though my almost-least-favorite chore, second only to cleaning up vomit or poop, when done with children) and made dinner using leftovers I remade into an Indian curry dish. We had grilled shish-kabobs last night, and I used the leftover meat and veggies, added some chickpeas, curry sauce and yogurt, and some Amy's frozen samosas and rice on the side. Hubby and I both liked it, so I felt very proud of myself for managing to make an easy dinner that actually tasted good. Hutton didn't eat much, and Harrison was falling asleep at the table, but two out of four ain't bad, right?

I'm now back in my previous state of calm. I think I have to have an Autism-fueled breakdown every once in a while. It's like a wake-up call/reality check-in, to make sure I know raising Hutton won't be all fun and games, easy-peasy. I was feeling pretty good for a while there! Thanks Reality, I know I was coasting. But I'm still staying positive, and looking forward to meeting Hutton's new doctor next week. I don't want to have to add "becoming more of a crazy bitch every day" as my sub heading just yet, but check in and see. Maybe it will be there for November.

Just When I'm Starting to Feel Good...

...Riding on an Elmo porn high, well-caffeinated, etc., I get knocked back down by the everyday crap.

Yesterday, we received a letter from the University of Washington, where Hutton goes for his ABA therapy. (The link includes a good overview of what ABA is. It's basically the treatment most widely accepted as being helpful for Autism. The fact that it is expensive and not covered by most insurance plans is just an added challenge for parents of kids with Autism.) However, our insurance plan does cover ABA therapy. Or 80% of it. Still, a lot better than paying everything out of pocket. That is, our insurance is supposed to cover it, but I keep having issues with our provider. The woman in charge of getting our ABA covered keeps finding problems. The letter we received from the UW told us that we'd be "private pay" for the rest of the year because we are over our allotment. Our allotment of 60 case management visits. That would be at least one visit a week for an entire year. We've averaged about 1 visit A MONTH with our old case manager, which is one of the reasons we switched to the UW. So, 1 visit a month from January to July, followed by weekly visits from mid-August till today, equals less than 60, when I add them. Of course, as you know math isn't my strong suit. But still. Even if I fudge the math a bit, it's still nowhere near 60. There's NO WAY IN HELL we've used 60 case manager visits for 2006. So, I've been trying to get in touch with someone at our insurance company for the past day, and have gotten nowhere. The main woman, who alerted the UW to our "red flag" status, is on vacation this week. Her assistant doesn't appear to be in her office in the afternoons. Oh, and did I mention we had the same exact thing happen in June, and they realized there was a mistake, and we all went on our merry way? Well, I guess they just lost the file, and rediscovered it, and forgot about the whole, "Oh, wait, that's wrong, you still have lots of case manager visits left for the year" discussion we had a few months ago.

OK, still, not that big of a problem. It will be resolved. I was fine with having that to tackle today. Until I got an email from Hutton's teacher. Hutton's behavior has become "increasingly inappropriate" for kindergarten and "he does not seem ready for the demands of kindergarten." Great. I cried. I stopped crying for a few minutes as I tried to contact the parent liason from Hutton's preschool to talk me down. She wasn't there, and the woman I spoke with at the local school with a contained learning program told me she'd try to find someone who knew something to call me back. I'm still crying. My child is being kicked out of Kindergarten. My life is not going so well today.