Duck!

I’m not talking about duck as in a bird. Nor am I telling you to duck. You know what autocorrect does to a certain word? Yeah, that.

I wrote about the kids laughing at Little Man last week.  He’s been reluctant to go back to science class since. I’ve seen the return of all his aversion techniques…going to the nurse’s office, leaving class to go to his quiet space, outbursts, tears, meltdowns. Friday, the nurse called about an hour after school started. He was in her office with a headache that wasn’t getting better. He had fallen and hit his head on the ground at soccer practice Wednesday night, and although he’d had no symptoms since then, she didn’t want to take any chances. I brought him home.  He was fine all weekend, outside of a meltdown Saturday  morning over getting woken up to get ready for his soccer game. It wasn’t pretty, and lasted about twenty minutes, but then he was perfectly fine at his game as well as the rest of the day.  He was great on Sunday – no meltdowns, no outbursts, no physical complaints.

An hour into the school day Monday, the nurse called me again. He was back in her office with another headache, and would I bring him some ibuprofen so we could try to get him through the day. So I took him some ibuprofen. Two hours later, I got another call. He was back again, the headache wasn’t any better, would I come pick him up. Back to school for the third time that day, and I brought him home early.  Yesterday, he made it the entire day (I’d told him that morning I wasn’t coming to get him early at all), but when  I picked him up, he told me he’d “freaked out” at recess, that kids were laughing at him, but he couldn’t tell me what the situation actually entailed, nor what had happened before or when the kids started laughing. He could not talk about it without getting really upset.

I emailed his team last night. Something is going on, and it’s affecting him intensely. His SAI let me know they’re aware something is happening and they’re looking into it.

Today, Little Man called me. I was in the middle of work, and asked him to ride it out for a bit, see if his headache got better. He called twenty minutes later. I took him ibuprofen again, and, as I had to leave town for work, told him he’d have to call Dad if anything else happened. Not to make it sound like I put work ahead of him…..I’d never do that if I believed in that moment he was dreadfully sick or really needed me, and only me, to come get him.

My phone rang while I was driving. It was the school counselor. Little Man had spent much of the day with her, most of that in tears. He’s unable to verbalize to her what’s happening when the kids are laughing at him. And he told her it would be better if he weren’t alive anymore. Dear Lord. My breath caught. I explained we do take him seriously, every time he says this. We can’t not take him seriously, but we also know he learned those words are a ticket out of whatever situation he doesn’t want to be in. It’s a very fine line to walk. I ducking HATE this. I hate it. I hate that he hurts. I hate he can’t tell us why. I hate we can’t just snap our fingers and make it better. I hate the anxiety, the social deficits that make him reach this point. Duck! DUCK! DUCK! DUCK!

I did ask if we could add speech therapy back to his repertoire. I feel he needs help with pragmatics again, as social situations and dynamics have shifted over the last two years. His peers are in an entirely different place, and they are very aware his issues, which are once again much more obvious. And we know how very mature thirteen year olds are. We’re also going to call his old outside therapist and see if he can have some sessions with her. The problem with that is he doesn’t want to talk when he’s supposed to talk. Does that make sense? If it’s on his terms, he *might* talk. If it’s a scheduled thing, he’s more likely to push back and shut down. DUCK!!!

I’m exhausted. I’m fearful for my boy. I’m emotionally tapped. I feel I have to be with him all the time, have to be on my guard all the time, have to utilize everything I have in me on him. Which then leaves the question, what do I have left for Spouse, for his siblings, for my friends, for my job? How is it fair to any of  us, much less Little Man. DUCK!

My heart just ducking hurts.

I can’t even think of a good title

Good Lord but this week really sucks, and it’s only mid-day Tuesday. I’m beginning to think I need a good, old-fashioned, therapeutic crying jag. I’ve felt on the verge of tears over a week now, which only grew worse yesterday morning with news of the Vegas mass-shooting. I’m just so freaking sad…..

I caught my ring on something yesterday when I was unloading the car from a Costco run. I didn’t notice anything right away, so I guess I’m lucky there. But last night, I discovered one of the prongs around my center stone had completely pulled away, and the whole setting was tilted sideways. So now I’m without my ring for at least a week while it’s being repaired, and getting the appraisal (only five years since I lost and had the center stone replaced). Anyways, while driving to the jeweler, my phone rang.  I recognized it as one of the school district numbers, so I took the call.

How do you lose track of where you are in the school year?  And how do you forget you normally get *this* call this time of year, and have for the last six years? The special ed district admin was calling to schedule Little Man’s annual IEP meeting. Punch to the gut. I’ve been trying so hard to just enjoy being in the good place he’s in this year, and avoid thinking about IEP’s and transitioning him to high school. Life is having none of my denial. It’s not like we haven’t begun discussing it. It’s been hovering there in the background all year. But the high school team – at least part of it – will be at his IEP meeting next month to start the transition process. I’m so not ready for this. As before he started middle school, I’m terrified and anxious of what next year will bring for him, not to mention just making the decision where he will go to high school. Every time I think about any of the options, I have a panic attack. I’d homeschool in one capacity or another just to ease my own anxiety, but I know that is totally not the best option for any of us. Actually going to school, being in those social situations, and dealing with the classroom is a form of therapy for him. And it would just plain be counter-productive for both of us for him to be home all day every day. But I digress….I wasn’t ready for the call to schedule his meeting. I’m not ready for his meeting. I’m not ready to make a decision for him on high school. And I’m certainly not ready for whatever fresh form of hell we’re going to deal with while he transitions to wherever he goes for high school.

My freaking TimeHop and Facebook memories have both been full of photos of the Princess dancing or posts about her dancing. She isn’t dancing at all right now. I don’t know if she will ever dance again. I miss watching her dance. I miss that part of her. I am excited for the new adventures she’s having, and the girls on her field hockey team are incredibly supportive of each other. It just still makes me a little sad……I ran into a mom from the studio in the store yesterday. Just seeing her made me tear up. P’s dancing was more than just her dancing….so many of the parents (and grandparents) became my friends. I miss that little community too. My FIL asked for a photo the other day of P – one of her dancing. Just looking through her dance photos was an emotional haul. I sent him two of my favorites, and felt a couple tears roll down my face. I hate change.

I guess I’m just feeling drained and emotionally overwhelmed at the moment. I know it will get better, but for now, those tears are pretty close to the surface. And that just is what it is……

In a year….

In just over a year, Big Man will be eighteen. That’s right – he will be an adult. Holy wow – how did that happen? He just keeps growing up. I knew this in the back of my mind, but then I really started thinking of what it will mean for him to be an adult.

First, he will still be in high school. Dang it – he’ll be able to sign  himself out if he wants. He’s a good kid, so I’m not super worried about this being available, but it’s there. It’s reality. He can sign himself off campus. He will be eighteen most of his senior year. I’m glad about that, and also terrified about that.

He won’t be able to go to his pediatrician anymore. She’s been his provider since he was just under two years old.  She knows him. She  knows his history. She knows his growth curve, his quirks, his diagnosis. I simply can’t fathom her not being his doctor. I can’t imagine having to explain his entire history to a new doctor. More than that, he will be able to go to the doctor on his own. The control freak in me is completely freaking out that. He won’t have to tell me ANYTHING about what the doctor says. I’ve played the primary role in all his medical stuff since day one. That will be near impossible to let go.

He will have to order and pick up his own medications. As an adult, he can refuse to refill them much less take them.

He will be able to enlist in the military. Yeah, that one I can’t even process.

He will have to fill out all his own paperwork. Hah! Good luck, son.

There are so many things he will have to do, be able to do as an adult that I haven’t even thought about. I’m beyond grateful he will still be at home his first year of adulthood. I feel I’ll have an opportunity to train him up before I send  him out into the world.  But it still freaks me out. In just over a year, my teeny, tiny, too-soon baby boy will be an adult.

“Empties”

I started watching the Netflix series, “Atypical” last week. If you haven’t seen it yet, check it out. It’s really good. It’s about a family with two teens, one of whom is high-functioning autistic. Sounds dark, but it gives a great perspective on the reality of life with a high-functioning ASD kid.  It is actually funny, while at the same time, it can be gut-wrenching, particularly as the mom of a high-functioning, ASD teen. It gives me hope for his future as well as makes me aware how long and difficult his struggles will be.

Episode 5 about killed me the other day.  I had to stop it at one point – the neuro-typical daughter was talking about what life was like as the sister to an autistic person. She explained that when she was younger, she would hear her mom talking about her as her “NT” kid (neuro-typical)….She thought her mom was calling her an “Empty” and it made sense to her, because she felt she had to empty herself out in order to make space in their life for her autistic brother, the brother who took up so much space in their family.  I immediately started crying.

Little Man was diagnosed relatively late, at eight years old, but I still feel his diagnosis and subsequent therapies, etc took over our lives to a certain extent. We didn’t stop living, didn’t stop activities for the other two, but Little Man’s autism consumed me, especially emotionally.  One of my biggest fears has been how his autism affects them, what it does to them, how they feel about it.

Big Man and the Princess have not been at the same school with Little Man for years. It’s been five years for Big Man, and four for P since they shared a campus with him. That may change next year, as one of the options on the table for high school for Little Man is their school…..the public, traditional high school just down the street.  We’ve talked extensively about the possibility of him going there…..the worries of him being able to navigate the campus, deal with the number of students, handle the homework load, much less the possibility of being bullied, his differences so obvious. They’ve said they would help him, that they and their friends would look out for him. But what level of that is appropriate to expect of them? At what point do they feel they have to become “empties” so that he might be safe and successful? What is too much to expect?

We may not have to face this issue to the extent I worry about it. Time and his needs may find him at a different school entirely. They are still, however, his siblings. The day-to-day reality of that still weighs heavy on my mind. At what point do they feel they have to become “empties”? I hope I never intentionally lay that expectation on them.

The Year of the Choice

I remember this point three years ago, when Little Man had just started his last year of elementary school. I remember the anxiety I was beginning to feel, knowing we would have to make the decision during that year where he was going to go to middle school. He was in a pretty good place that year, but I was terrified of what was coming, terrified of messing up and making the wrong decision, terrified of the new big bad world he would be facing and its potential for total disaster.

Sixth grade was BRUTAL. We knew it would be, no matter where he ended up. The magnitude of change moving to middle school guaranteed stress, anxiety, meltdown, regression.  I don’t doubt the decision we made as far as where he goes to middle school – it is the perfect place for him. We’ve watched him thrive in the last year, and feel confident he will continue on that path this year. That’s not to say he’s without issues.  He’s been pushing back on doing his work, and on doing his work to his full ability (he’s a brilliant boy).  He’s gotten a little lax, a little lazy.  And, I’m not gonna lie, he sometimes uses his ability to manipulate to get out of things, or delay. So we’ve brought the hammer, because we know we have to prepare him for high school and the expectations that come with that level of education.

I’m trying desperately to stay in this moment, to just relax and enjoy the good place he’s in. But I can’t help the thought from hovering…..we will have to make a choice at some point this year where he will be going for high school. Thinking about any of the options brings a rise in anxiety level for me.  The school the older two go to is huge, and it is traditional….moving classes, big campus, PE for Freshmen, homework loads, etc. I fear the potential for bullying is too big. I get palpitations thinking about him going from class to class, much less making it through every class every day (they block, so Tuesday – Friday, classes are 90-ish minutes long). I panic when I think about him even knowing what his homework is, much less getting it done. And don’t get me started on PE – that’s been the bane of his existence since first grade.

The PBL/math and science high school would be a good fit, but it’s different. He wouldn’t be with his siblings.  And its location requires navigating morning rush-hour traffic in addition to the usual drop-off/pick-up mess. Yes, that one is on me – it’s SUPER inconvenient. Then there are the other options – Classical, Charter, home school (which, quite honestly, isn’t really on the table at all). So. Many. Choices. So much pressure and anxiety.

He goes back and forth between wanting to go to the math & science school, and going to the school down the street with his brother and sister. His class will do high school visits around town in October or November. We have his IEP in November, and a representative from his “home school” will be there.

I feel like I need to meet the special ed teams at each school on the table. I need to know we can work together, that they will have his best interests at heart, that they will protect him, that they will help us get him to the goal of a full diploma with as few disasters along the way as possible.  We  need a school he will keep receiving the services he needs, and that will accommodate him in his particular form of special.

See, this is where I spiral. I’m really trying to focus on the fact he’s in a good place right now, and not stress about what’s coming next year. At the same time, I know how quickly time passes, and that we will need to start these discussions with his teams sooner than later. We basically have about two months to live in the now. Then, we will have to face the year of the choice head-on.

Pretty Sure

I am pretty sure that I completely suck at mothering teenagers. This. Is. Hard. Stuff. I haven’t felt so incapable since I was a brand new momma. My biggest goal right now is to somehow keep them all from hating me the rest of their lives, and to get them through this growing-up process to become not-a-hole adults. But, oh lordy, I fear I’m failing.

I don’t know about you….if you’ve already mom’d teens, or are in it, or are heading towards it, but this phase has brought out all my own teenage insecurities. I know I’m not good enough. I know probably every other mom of teens is way better at this than me. I know I’m second-best. I know, despite my desire for the best for them, I’m failing them in every way possible. I know I suck at this. Every eyeball roll, look of disdain, or angry/impatient response reinforces the idea I am the “Worst Mother Ever”, or at least the dumbest.

Half the time, I don’t know how to respond in the moment, so I shut down, keep my mouth closed. When I’m not sure if what they’re telling me is a “Big Thing,” or just something that seems big but should be chalked up to typical teenage reaction, I go mute. Pretty sure that isn’t helping anything, but I’m flying by the seat of my pants over here. And my kids are good kids. I pray God we don’t have to face real trouble, particularly since I feel I’m incompetent as it is.

The thing is, I had a grasp on this mom thing. I’d figured out their personalities, knew who they were.  Those people are still inside the growing beings inhabiting my house now, but so much is changing, and I’ve felt that grasp slip away.

I don’t want to fail them, but I’m terrified every single day that’s exactly what I’m doing. I guess I’d be worse off if I weren’t afraid of failing them.  However, I am fairly sure I suck at this.

Well that was kind of weird

Today was the first day of school for the Herd. Honestly, it didn’t really feel like we had a real summer. I know everyone says it, but our summer really did fly by. We waited forever for this summer to arrive, and then eight short weeks later, it’s gone.

Today felt weird. Maybe that had something to do with me being gone until Monday. Maybe it was because our summer was abbreviated. But Little Man put my feelings into words when I was taking first day photos of him and Big Man. He said, “It will never be the same again.” Nope, it won’t. The Princess had left an hour before, her first day photo taken inside the house, rather than the traditional courtyard photo, because it was still dark outside when she left for cheer practice. After photos, Big Man drove himself to school. The only thing that was familiar was driving carpool to the middle school. Even that though is a bit different with the addition of some traffic lights due to new neighborhoods going in.

As soon as I had Little Man dropped off, I had to get myself pulled together and go to a work lunch. That threw my game off a bit too. For the last eleven years, I’ve generally spent the first day with my mom friends, or enjoying a quiet day at home after a run or walk. The other weird was not picking any of them up from school.

Things are changing. Big Man has his license. The Princess will have her license in a few months. They’re growing up, and too soon, they will fly off to their adult lives. I’m left feeling a bit off-kilter.

I know by the end of next week, we will have settled into the routine of the school year. I’ll have wrapped my brain around the fact they are back in school. It will be less weird than it feels today.

Not posting a pic of this year’s first day since Little Man was wearing his school shirt, and I’m not tech-savvy enough to blur it out with my photo editing software. But here’s a throwback first day photo for your enjoyment…..

First day of school 2011

The last first day all three were at RC