Mapping the transition

It looks like a mountain range or a roller coaster.

This is Elmer's diagram of his transition.

Clearly, it hasn't been smooth sailing.

The team tells us to expect more of the same, so I'd better batten down the hatches.

This is news? Bullies prey on autistic kids

Survey: Bullies prey on autistic kids

Bad mama

Image by IndyDina with Mr. Wonderful via Flickr

I'm a bad mama. Bad, bad, bad.

And I don't mean bad in any cool, ironic sense.

I made a mistake this morning, which in and of itself, is ok.

But I did not have it in me to make it right. No patience. No grace. Not enough love.

Elmer (I don't even like the name) was having a rough morning. Dad hadn't shown up to cover the morning routine for Mom, who had a 7:30 meeting. Guess what? That threw Mom, too, but Mom was sucking up and dealing, nudging Elmer through his morning routine, when Elmer asked if he'd really be walking to-and-from school, even in winter.
Warning! Red alert! Think before answering, Mom! (Oh hindsight)
"Of course you'll walk, Elmer,unless it's -15 and blizzarding."
..............................................................................
"Mom! That's child abuse! How? How could you?!?! Do you know what I'm dealing with now? Do you? If you did, you wouldn't have said that."
...............................................................................
I get that, now. And I have since apologized.
What I could *not* do was stick around to process and fix it. Could not do it. Told him my day had gotten screwed up, too. That I would drive him today, that we would laugh about this tomorrow. But he was stuck. Asked to go see his therapist, who had no openings today.
I just did not have the patience to be a good auti-mom today. I had things to do, errands to run, and I asked him to come, but he refused. Instead of sticking around, I left. I did my errands. I am now at the library. He will have to work this out on his own.
Because I am a bad mama.

And now for something completely different

One of the gifts of writing this blog is getting to know other auti-mama bloggers. They strengthen and sustain me. Today please read Tanya of Teen Autism.

You know your kid's an aspie, part 3

Image via Wikipedia

"Mom, if we cut out Nutrisoda, switch our Direct TV from Choice to Family Package, take one week's allowance and one month's incentive, we can get Xbox 360 live."

Mom, trust me.

Image via Wikipedia

He's off.

To the new school,
in the dark,
ahead of schedule.

He catapulted.

Just took off on his bike in the dark.

"Mom, for once, trust me."

I do.

Update: Email from New School ASD person to me:

✆

He’s here, walking with a swagger and acting like he’s done this every day of his life!

Lost in transition

We are transitioning. Formally. Because its not as if we've been static since the first day of school. But we've decided on a school placement, a timeline, and Elmer's first visit to the new site is right now. He is there for the afternoon with his beloved teacher.

We (well, I) visited school after school; private, public, charters. The only place that looked a perfect fit was full and Elmer had to move yesterday. So all the grand poo-bahs (a team of 13, including the District Sped Director) gathered round a table, discussed the options, and decided. He is moving to a custom-tailored program at our neighborhood Jr.High. And it will be customized unlike anything they've done before.

As the principal of his Magnet School told the poo-bahs, "There is no ready-made setting that works for Elmer. Even special ed settings must be tailored. Elmer will challenge you. He challenged me. And he made me a better principal."

"Anonymom," said the Sped Director, turning to face me, "What can we do to win back your trust?"

"The proof is in the pudding," I told her, "He needs to succeed."

Elmer, meanwhile, is entirely appropriate. Last night, when I asked if were nervous about the move, he shrugged and said, "I'm happy."

Before he got on the bus this morning he asked me to tell him jokes, which I did. Then he muttered, "I don't want to go to neighborhood jr. high this afternoon."

Then the bus pulled up and off he went.

But I, ladies and gentlemen, am even better than a girl scout. I am an auti-mom, so I am preparing a Plan B.