Say, say, oh, Playmate

Danny had his first play date Wednesday. And he actually played! Our sitter said he pretty much interacted like any normal child. I wish I'd been there. I've never really seen him play with anyone but Ben before.

It was a full day. They had ice cream.

They climbed on a tree stump. Danny heard his new friend jump to the ground... and he jumped too. Amazing.


Danny also took his friend to visit his favorite climbing tree.

They may just be the future terrors of 2nd Street.

Ballgame or Bust

I believe D may be heading into yet another obsession. He still has yet to give up his fascination with pretending to be in a vehicle (car, bus, truck or motorcycle) with his seatbelt on (any belt or length of cord will do) driving to the DMV or, most recently, a baseball game. However, he has insisted on listening to baseball games in the car for 2 weeks in a row and has demanded we watch the baseball video I made of B's team over and over again.

He has to listen to the video before he goes to bed each night - that's 5 nights running now. And yesterday he watched/listened to it at least 8 or 9 times in a row. It is a 17 minute video. I can't do that kind of math on the weekends but I know it was a lot of minutes of my life I will never get back again. I suspect I'll lose a lot more before it's over, too. It's a nice video if I do say so myself. Even if none of the team could make it work in their DVD players or their computers. Stupid software. Why it works in both of ours I'll never know. There is a soundtrack and everything: Take Me Out To The Ballgame, Centerfield, etc. It's pretty cool. I'm sick of it.

A good thing did come of it though. I did catch D singing this really great song this morning.



His ability to remember all the words to most any song after hearing it a few times always astounds me. I guess most kids do this but B never did. I'm still not sure he knows any songs all the way through. He was just never very musical that way (but he does wail on the harmonica). So it's not like I think D's a child prodigy or anything... he just amazes me. And, well, I guess that's what it's really all about.

If I read my kid right, he will be all about baseball 24/7 within the next week or so and taking the couch or chair to the DMV will be a thing of the past. I might actually miss this one. It was pretty easy to just bring a belt with me anywhere I went. What am I going to do once baseball season ends? Hmmm. Perhaps I should make use of my TiVo while the gettin's good.

An interesting little addendum to the video story... After he finished singing I started to replay the video for him. What kid doesn't love to hear his own voice? Holy Guacamole! He lost his sh!t! Completely freaked out! He started sobbing and yelling "No, no. I don't want that." But he seemed genuinely distressed. Makes me wonder what he's thinking. Like someone stole his voice or something. Evil video elves, maybe. Huh.

Of wounded animals

Today I'm having a hard time holding my heart in one piece. It is feeling fragile where my youngest is concerned. I've shared with you our feelings that he may be mildly autistic. Unfortunately, this revelation came to us at the same time as his third birthday and the time that we began to fall under the benevolence of the local school district for special education services.

The blogosphere is chock full of horror stories of IEPs gone wrong and advice on how to take control of a system which takes those kids least able to fit their rectangular selves into the typical round holes - and puts them into square ones instead. I can't say our experience has really been any different in the whole 2 months we've been at this.

Exactly one week after D's 3rd birthday I requested an autism assessment and explained why. Later that week our Case Manager let me know that we would probably discuss it in June at our next IEP. Now, I work for the government so you'd think I would be used to how painfully slow the wheels can turn at times... but this is my kid, not some random supplies we're talking about. So I let her know in no uncertain terms that discussing it in June meant no action until the fall - and that was NOT acceptable to me.

Small scrap with wonder sitter. Little League. Work. Next thing you know, I'm reminding them that, hey, aren't we supposed to be having another IEP before the school year ends, like, next week? Hello???

So, no assessment. And I only reluctantly got them to agree to one at the IEP. In the fall.

He's just too high functioning for his own good. Just because he's not rocking in a corner doesn't mean he doesn't have his issues or need coping skills and intervention. Take today for instance.

D woke up at 8:45. I had pictures scheduled at 10:00. I played in bed with him a little & made his breakfast. Then told him we were going to go bye-bye.

Freak out #1. "No. I NOT going bye-bye. I staying home in my truck!" Not a real truck, mind you, but a chair or couch or even a step and a belt (seatbelt) and a plastic Hawaiian lei (shoulder harness) which has been his "truck" or "car" virtually every waking hour for the last 2 months. Coincidentally, the truck/car play began just about the time the vacuum / mower /blower noises-from-hell ended. In short, it's his latest perseverating behavior. He kicked, screamed and wailed for his truck half-way to town.

For the pictures, which he hates, I bribed him with swings at the playground for as long as he liked if he smiled and was happy. Ok. So it partially worked.

At least until Freak out #2. He and B were hanging out in this nice climbing tree getting their mugs snapped in fine fashion (sans sandals for easier climbing). When I brought him out of the tree he insisted on being set down before I could put his shoes back on. Now our grass at home, which I lovingly refer to as "old lady grass" because of the old lady that lived there before we did, is quite fine bladed. I've also been known to call it guinea pig grass because when it gets too long it lays down in all different directions like a guinea pig's hair. But I digress... My point here is that our home turf is quite soft on the tootsies, yet D still can hardly tolerate it. Shoes are a must if he's playing in the yard. One look at the sturdy industrial-strength grass we were standing on and I knew he was going to wig. He did not disappoint.

Little bits of my heart began chipping and breaking away as I listened to D wail plaintively as soon as his bare feet touched the coarse grass. "I don't liiiiiike it," he cried. And he couldn't possibly have gotten any farther up on his tippy-toes if he'd tried. "I don't waaaaaaant it. Shoes. Shoes. Shoes! SHOOOOES!"

And he can't even see where the grass isn't so he can go there and end the torture. All I could do was pick him back up as quick as I could and try to calm him. It wasn't quick and it wasn't easy.

There were a few other minor freaks: backing out of the parking spot when he DID NOT want to go backwards and later pulling away at a green light when he wanted a red light instead. Nothing too traumatic, however, until later this evening.

He and I were having a great time reading our favorite books, Mr. Brown Can Moo. Can You?, by Dr. Seuss and Giggle, Giggle, Quack, by Doreen Cronin when he decided he wanted to play his piano. Suddenly this became the most heart-wrenching thing I've watched him try to do. Welcome to major Freak out #3. Instead of pushing the keys and synthesizer buttons like he usually does, he became instantly agitated. He just kept repeating, "That's not it! That's not the one. That's not the right one!" And he'd scream in frustration, bang on the piano, bite his arm and cry. Over and over.

I tried calming him down and asking him what, exactly it was he was looking for. Turns out it was a car sound. I should have realized. Every so often he would lay both hands on eight keys at once (four each at opposite ends of the keyboard) like an angry driver laying on a horn, and say "there it is..." Then just as quickly as he'd found it he would lose it again. And the biting, slamming and screaming would begin again. Along with his begging "Car. Car! Car! CAR! CAAAR!"

I finally just had to pick him up and take him outside. I talked to him in that soft whisper-mom voice like I used when he was a tiny, red-faced infant. The voice one uses for wounded animals.

My heart broke for the level of frustration I watched him go through. Frustration over something only he could understand. And I so badly wanted his Case Manager and the school district psychologist that will be evaluating him to be there.

"A rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

It's been growing clearer lately that D is showing more and more signs of being autistic. He has Norrie's Disease. Autism is known to be fairly prevalent (roughly a third) in Norrie's boys. For the last 6 months or more I've gone back & forth every few weeks or so on his symptoms, first convinced he is clearly autistic then doubting the evidence before me. When we've approached his Vision Instructor about his behaviors and our concerns she always dismisses them by saying how similar blindisms and autisms are...

Well, about a month ago D obtained a new therapist of sorts. There is a graduate student getting her Masters in Behavioral Special Ed (?) who also aides at the county special ed preschool. D is in her Master's study. Through her observations at his mainstream preschool (i.e. he never interacts with his peers) we set some social goals at his first IEP and she did a video taped play date with my girlfriend (who is an OT) and her daughter to discuss with her professor.

I rarely see D with other kids his age. We just don't know any. But at that play date I saw behavior I have never seen before. There was hand flapping. A lot of hand flapping. And I heard a word used many times that I had also never heard before.

Perseverate.

That would be the mower / blower / vacuum / weed eater noises that he joyously makes for sometimes hours on end. Sometimes up to 9 hours. Sometimes so long that I want to put an ice pick in my ear. But it makes him so blasted happy to do it that we let him and we smile because he is adorable doing it too.

D turns 3 on Sunday. On Monday he falls under the School District's jurisdiction for therapy & special education. We will contact them to pursue an evaluation/diagnosis on the autism issue. Nothing like hitting the ground running. I think they are going to hate me. We are hoping to take him to the Autism Diagnostic Center in Fresno. Everyone agrees that he is "very high functioning" even if they won't actually say they think he is autistic. However, the Drs around here have been known to give an autism diagnosis because that is what you want. I would like something a bit more reliable and specific than that, thank you very much.

Our day to day world of laughter and frustration with the Light Of Our Lives won't change one way or another because of an "autistic" label. But an accurate diagnosis will give us access to a few more tools for his life-skills tool belt. Us too. And I'll take all the help I can get.

I do have a question or two for those of you who's kids are also autistic. Once their autism became obvious, was there degeneration or progression of skills and behaviors? Or is this as individual as the children themselves?

Socialization has long been D's weakest area but he seems to be making great strides there. On the other hand, he reverts to the mower/blower noises far more frequently and asks repetitive questions continually and becomes quite upset if he doesn't get the expected/desired answer. I can't help wondering if the pressure of socializing is causing the other "comfort" behaviors...