Summer Moves Along

We are at the end of week two of our ten week summer break. That's one fifth--twenty percent--done. Not that I'm counting. (Side note: anyone know how to get an em dash in Blogger?)

We decided not to send Moe to the extended school year program at his school. I still don't feel comfortable writing publicly about the process we're in, but I will say that we have wrapped up over six hours of IEP meetings and have not yet signed the IEP. Moe hasn't made the progress we believe he is capable of, and so this summer we want to do a more intensive program with him, including 1:1 ABA, speech and OT.

I am both nervous and excited about this. It means many more hours at home. I am having flashbacks to the lonely, scary first year after Moe's diagnosis. But it is what he needs right now, and we are going to make it happen.


ABA hasn't started yet, so I've had a lot of time with Moe. He is doing okay. He is still showing many aggressive behaviors, his sleep is off, and he is having a lot of sensory regulation issues. But this week was better than last, in part because Jelly is back in preschool three days a week. I've realized how much easier it is with Moe when it just the two of us. I can actually take him out of the house. We can play in the backyard. He gets the attention he needs.


Moe and I went grocery store. I dragged him along to a number of errands, which included many times in and out of the car. We can use the iPad without Jelly climbing on me to see. I realized how much attention Jelly requires, and that neither of them are getting enough from me. I am not saying this to be tough on myself, but it is true. If they had each other to play with, things might be different, at least at home.


But it isn't just attention Moe needs. He needs behavioral instruction that I don't know how to provide. Being out and about isn't always as easy as it was the other day. Yesterday we went to pick up Jelly at school and she was on the playground. Moe, of course, wanted to run away, but I couldn't let him. Jelly was on a bike and didn't want to get off. And all I could do was restrain Moe and plead with Jelly. Nothing terrible happened, but these moments are exhausting, no one is happy, and it is time to get some help. Behavioral support for Moe is on the way and I'm looking into getting some babysitting help for Jelly.

Aggression Has Returned Just in Time for Summer!

I am an emotional wreck. For one thing, I have a cold. It started off as something pretty minor, but has only gotten worse, fueled, I'm sure by stress and lack of sleep.

The last day of school was hard, even though this year was really tough. Moe met very few of his goals and even regressed in a number of areas. Despite that, or maybe because of it, it was hard to say goodbye.

Moe has once again become quite aggressive. He fights almost any time we try to interact with him, especially for things like diaper changes, which obviously happen several times a day. It is 8am, and I have already been scratched across the face and had my glasses pulled off. I just updated my contact lens prescription so I don't have to deal with that last part anymore.

His behavior has been gradually getting worse. For the last few months, he's been fighting us at night when we get him ready for bed. This has been incredibly annoying, but I do believe it is functional: he is telling us he doesn't want to go to bed. Unfortunately, when Moe stays up too late, he gets really wild and out of control. We have tried doing calming activities or allowing him to "get his wiggles out" at this time, like taking a walk, playing outside or taking a bath but nothing seems to work. We don't know what to do, so for everyone's safety, and because Moe does so much better when he gets enough sleep, we put him to bed. An hour later, we go in and change his diaper, then he'll usually fall asleep for good somewhere between a half hour and two hours later. This is the routine every single day.

But over the past couple weeks, Moe's aggression has gone beyond bed time. I don't know why. Perhaps he's feeling sick as well, though he doesn't have the same symptoms I do. Perhaps he's picking up on other stresses in the house, as we enter into our round three of our IEP meetings. Perhaps he hasn't been sleeping well and is just tired. Or maybe he just thinks it is fun to hit me.

But I can tell you one thing: I hate this.

I hate always having to position myself between Moe and Jelly because I'm afraid he's going to hurt her. Twice recently, he has grabbed her hair simply because she was the closest thing available.

I hate being constantly on alert, worried that Moe is going to break something or hurt himself or run away. I dream about losing Moe. I see him running away and I can't get to him. (These have replaced the dreams I used to have about my brother. My dreams are not very hard to interpret.) I wake up most mornings with my teeth clenched.

I hate that I can't walk across a parking lot without Moe dropping to the ground ten times.

I hate that I have to spend hours and hours preparing for meetings with the school. That I have to negotiate for my son's education. That we have to hire a psychologist and an educational advocate just to convince the school district that Moe needs a new placement, even though it is clear that the class he has been in for two years isn't working for him.

I hate feeling guilty that I wish this weren't my life. I have so many things to be thankful for but they all seem overshadowed by these challenges. I want to be planning summer vacations and getting Moe ready for kindergarten. I want to be able to bring the kids to visit their grandparents. I want my kids to be able to play with each other. I want to hire a babysitter and go out to dinner and not have anxiety attacks about it.

Acceptance is hard when we're all struggling so much.

I want this sweet little boy who is curled up on the couch playing harmonica to stop making it seem like I'm lying about what a terror he is.

We are making changes. My mom is coming down this week (thanks mom!) to help while I have both kids at home. Jelly goes back to school next week, and Moe's summer program will start. This IEP stuff will be over one way or another. But as Jelly said to me the other day, "I don't want to be sad. I want to be happy."

Jelly Makes Her Mark

Today was Jelly's last day of her first year of preschool. I wanted to make a big deal of it, help her say good bye to her friends and teachers. But I also had to pick her up a little early, in order to make it to a small end of year celebration in Moe's class. As I walked to Jelly's classroom, I noticed a piece of paper sticking out of her folder, the words "Incident Report," peeking over the top.

I wasn't too concerned. I assumed she got hurt, but since they hadn't called during the day, I knew it couldn't have been too bad. I glanced at the page. "Jelly bit another child..." I had to read it again, thinking that couldn't be right; someone else must have bitten her. Nope. Jelly bit another kid in a skirmish over a toy.

Jelly has been very possessive of toys lately, but she has never once tried to bite someone. I was - still am - shocked. Of course I can't help but wonder if it is my fault. She's been battling control over everything lately. Recently Moe, in a moment of frustration at Home Depot, grabbed Jelly's hair, catching his nail on her nose and scratching her so she bled. Has she started imitating Moe's bad behaviors, even though of course we try to stop those? Is this yet another attention getting behavior?

I know this happens with preschoolers. I have been down this road before with Moe, but of course that was a much different situation. I even said to my mom, "she's supposed to be the easy one."

And that is when it hit me. Parenting--all parenting--is hard. Typical or special needs, all kids need guidance and care and time. All kids need to grow and mature and learn lessons. Little Jelly has been so far ahead in terms of language development that I often forget she is just barely three.

Frankly, we've all been off our game lately. We are sleep deprived and fighting colds and possibly seasonal allergies. There is a new and completely stressful drop-off and pick-up procedure at school that requires me to walk both kids across campus among the swarm of kids at the end of the day. I have been preoccupied (since February!) with Moe's IEP, getting him new services and figuring out this summer. And as the year wraps up, and things are still very much in limbo, I've been an emotional wreck, only made worse by Jelly's frequent 3 am wakings and Moe's exhausting relapse into aggressive and unregulated behavior (though also more attempts at some communication). Did I mention our master bathroom is gutted?

And tomorrow is Moe's last day of school.

My Excuse

I have so much to blog about but just have not been able to. Some things, like the details of our latest IEP, I can't write about now. Other things, I would love to write about, but the kids really do require constant attention. Here's a snippet from today.

1. Jelly is momentarily occupied watching TV.
2. I hear a noise from Moe's room. He's on top of his bed, messing with the blinds. He's already broken one of the strings so he really can't be up there. Oh, and he could fall. I get him down.
3. Moe runs from the room. I start to make dinner which will take all of 5 minutes because I'm just reheating leftovers. Moe starts asking (pointing to the gate) to come in the kitchen. I notice he has a dirty diaper.
4. I bring him to his room to change him. He's wild, tired, and hungry and starts grabbing and kicking me. I know he's trying to tell me he wants to be eating, but I'm so flippin' tired of being kicked every time I change a diaper.
5. I get through it, and nearly trip over the dog who insists on being in the way whenever there is any commotion. I make it back to the kitchen.
6. Plate the quiche and and the chips I didn't eat at lunch. (Surely, I will lose at least a pound for that, right?) The chips entice Jelly to come to the table. I go look for Moe.
7. He is once again on top of his bed. I get him down. On the way back to the dinner table, I notice Jelly's shutters are open, and the valance is messed up. I see Moe has somehow gotten the finial off. I suspect he's been working on that for days. I pick it up and put it "someplace safe" for when I can get a step stool or Jeff gets home. It's probably already lost.
8. Safely at dinner, I get exactly 23 seconds before Jelly pushes herself back from the table. She gets down to retrieve her new Dora bathing suit which she has been carrying around all day. She climbed back up and asks to be pushed back in. I get up, and push her in. "Jelly," I tell her, "don't get down again."
9. She pushes herself back from the table. I push her back in. Repeat 1,000 times.
10. "Jelly, no more chips if you push yourself back again." It works!
11. Moe gets down from dinner table. I make him sign "all done." I feel like I've done my job.
12. I hear Moe on top of the bed tent. I trip over the dog. I get Moe down from his bed.
13. He comes back. I slice an apple so we can work on using a picture card to request more.
14. He doesn't want any apple.
15. Jelly starts asking for tape. I tell her no. She asks. I tell her no. She asks. I tell her no. Sheasksitellhernosheasksitellhernosheasksitellherno. She wants tape to cover a staple sized hole in the baby gate. I tell her she can have one piece of tape if she stops asking. She is quiet, but I can tell it is really hard. It is worth it for the 30 seconds of silence.
16. I trip over the dog looking for the tape. I give a piece to Jelly.
17. Moe is spinning wildly in his swing. I decide he needs a bath. I trip over the dog.
18. Jelly hits me while Moe is in the bath and I am writing this. She gets a time out, which involves taking away the Dora bathing suit.
19. I think I hear Jeff pulling into the garage. There is only one question left. Beer or wine?

Jelly's Party

I wanted to throw Jelly a really nice birthday party. I thought she would appreciate having all her friends from preschool and music class together in one place. Maybe go to one of those bounce house places, or do it in the back yard. But in the end, I couldn't get it together. It was just too much to think about.

So I invited just our best friends, the closest thing to family we have in the area. We had pizza and cake. It was a hot day, so we ate and played outside.

The kids entertained themselves with the hose.

Moe entertained himself with cake (and trying to steal everyone else's cake). Though he did get in on the hose action for a bit, and played with the water table - a favorite since we got it for him on his first birthday.

Jelly insisted on a Milli (Team Umizoomi) cake. This is not something you can buy at the grocery store, so I made the cake and ordered a special edible icing topper. Nothing went smoothly with this cake. The chocolate didn't melt fully so it was more like a chocolate chip cake. The icing topper was too big and kind of flopped over the top of the cake.

As it turns out, three year olds (and seven year olds and not-quite-forty year olds) are pretty forgiving about such things.

Jelly spent a lot of the day playing with her new Fisher Price digital camera.

And rocking her new dress up clothes.

Happy birthday baby girl. I hope you had a great day.

Three Years Old

Jelly turned three yesterday. I don't write much about her here, but I should. She is amazing

Jelly was six weeks old when we got Moe's diagnosis. I marvel at the timing. If Moe had been diagnosed before I was pregnant, I don't think we would have had another child. Not just because we might have been afraid to have another child with autism, but because I would have felt that he needed all of me. And he does. He needs all of me.

But I need Jelly. I need her dress-up clothes and pretend play and her early morning stories floating down the hall to wake me. I need her giggles and sass, her funny phrases and "will you play with me?"

I need her amazing command of language, and love of preschool, and though I could do without her refusal to use the potty, I need the way she says "underpants."

I am amazed every day by this little girl who can write - and type - her name, who knows the zip code to our house (and to Umi City), and who is as stubborn as me. I need the way she chases Moe down the hall, and watches TV with intensity and for some reason knows all the words to Madonna's "Hung Up."

Tomorrow, I will write about how we celebrated her birthday. For today, I give you this:

Compare and Contrast

After Moe was diagnosed with autism, I had to learn to stop comparing him to the other kids we knew. It took a while, but eventually I tossed out the milestones books, and replaced phrases like “should be able to” with phrases like “his own path” and “he’ll get there when he’s ready.”

An intensive one on one early intervention program necessitated leaving Moe’s regular play group, so I had fewer opportunities for direct comparison. Moe then moved directly into an autism preschool class, his peers all occupying the elite portion of the spectrum that allows them to be in this class. So most of the kids I see on a daily basis are also autistic.

I do still keep in touch with some people from the mom’s group. Many are friends, and I see their kids occasionally. Last week we all went out for sushi, and it was one of the first times since Moe’s diagnosis that I did not have to fight back tears as I heard the stories of what their kids were doing and how they were preparing for kindergarten.

It helps that I have a typical two year old as well and can finally relate. Actually, she’s what my husband and I call “hyper-typical.” She breezes past milestones with the greatest of ease. She plays with toys exactly as the toy manufacturers suggest. She doesn’t eat the crayons or play-doh. She speaks at the level of some three and four year olds and plays well with others.

I’ve learned to stop comparing Moe to his little sister as well.

I have recently started to become close with some of the moms from Moe’s class. I have many online connections, but these real life connections are building close friendships I haven’t felt since I stopped going to the play group. We chat as we pick up our kids from school, meet for coffee or breakfast, and exchange long emails when our kids have finally gone to bed for the night.

And once again, I find myself comparing. I am filled with such hope when I learn that one kid started talking at age five. Another finally just learned to use the toilet. These things are possible! I read the stories and books, but there’s nothing like hearing from someone you know to make you feel like it is possible.

I also compare the other way. One kid recently showed his mom the word “x-ray” on his iPad after he broke his arm. Another kid is finally speaking in sentences. The list of achievements goes on and on, and I am thrilled for them, but I also think “Moe can’t do that.” And I forget all about what Moe can do, and all that good stuff I learned about getting there when he’s ready.

But Moe has a way of reminding me. A few nights ago, as we were getting ready him ready for bed, Moe started saying “mom” over and over. At first I wasn’t sure. Was he just making random sounds? Was he saying he wanted “more” swinging? And then, as if he knew I doubted him, he looked and pointed right at me.

Moe will point or touch pictures or items to make choices but this was the first time in over two years I can remember him pointing like that. We were so thrilled with this that later that night we asked him to give a kiss to each of us in turn, first Mom, then Dad, then little sister Jelly, which he begrudgingly did, but did nonetheless.

And all of that good stuff that I learned came flooding back. And my heart was filled once again with “on this own path” and “when he’s ready” and lots and lots of hope.

And most importantly, with so much love for my perfect little boy.

Originally posted at Hopeful Parents, where I contribute on the 14th of every month.

You Can Thank Me Later

Things are busy here. Appointments are being made. New therapies are starting. I have spent a lot of time on email and phone coordinating. That doesn't leave a lot of time for writing.

I apologize. So please accept this gift. You can thank me later.

Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween from my little sweeties!

Moe's school has a Halloween parade every year. I got a lot of really cute pictures of Jelly.

She loves this costume so much she cries
every time we take it off of her.

But Moe is much harder to capture on film.

Anybody want a peanut m&m?

And here is Moe marching in his school's Halloween parade! I was so proud of him. Although you'll notice he isn't exactly facing forward. All the special ed teachers had their tie dye on.

And tonight...our first attempt at trick or treating! Wish us luck :)

Our First Target Meltdown

As you know, I have one typical child, as well as one with special needs. Watching Jelly, my typical two year old, gives us interesting insight into what a standard developmental path looks like. Although I do think this firsthand knowledge would have been helpful before Moe came along, because he is so delayed, they are sometimes quite similar, especially in terms of emotional development.

But they are also quite different. So many things come easy to Jelly, especially in terms of her motor development. When she wants her body to do something, for the most part she can just do it. Moe has to work really hard even to make a fist for a fist bump. He's only recently become fairly proficient at taking off his shoes, and can't put them on himself, where Jelly has been able to take shoes off and on for many months.

The biggest difference is their language development. Jelly has always been slightly ahead of the curve verbally, easily speaking in full sentences, and is working on concepts like when to use "ing" (as in Mommy is typing), and prepositions (in, on, behind, etc.). She practices these, speaking in sentences, and adjusting when they don't sound right to her. I'm not teaching her these things; she just picks them up. It's how most of us learn language, and it's fascinating.

You might think that this makes Jelly a much easier child to raise. Certainly her ability to say what she wants is very helpful. But Jelly is only two, so although she can talk, she isn't yet rational. Nor does she have patience. Very small issues or delays can turn into major tears, although she is getting better with concepts like "first, then" (as in, first we change your diaper then you can watch Dora).

I read often about the epic meltdowns of our autistic kids, often in sensory overloaded, and very public, places like Target. I've been lucky (excuse me while I go knock on some wood) that Moe is generally very well behaved when we're out and, as a sensory seeker, usually loves to be in bright, noisy environments. But I was still quite surprised that Jelly was the one who indoctrinated me into the Target meltdown club. My membership card should be arriving any day.

I was with Jeff and Moe, and the trigger was some perceived injustice around a hat that Moe had and Jelly didn't. She whined and complained for a while. When Moe was finally done with the hat, Jelly got to hold it for a bit. But I wasn't planning to buy it, so when we were done paying for the rest of our things, I gave the hat back. That was the last straw, and Jelly lost it. She was riding in the cart, otherwise I'm sure she would have thrown herself on the floor in perfect tantrum form.

It was also just about lunch time, and I'm sure that didn't help, but we couldn't go home because some people were coming to see it. So we decided a quick lunch was in order. We wanted fast, so we stopped at Carl's Jr. on the way home, thinking some fries and smoothies would help. Bad idea. This was the slowest fast food place ever. It took about 20 minutes from the time we ordered for them to bring our food. They weren't busy, nor was the food any better for taking that long. Moe and Jelly whined, cried, and/or screamed the entire time. It sucked.

The only saving grace was that Jeff was there. If I had gotten home and explained how Jelly had this horrible meltdown in Target, he would have sympathetically said "that's too bad" then moved on. At least he got to experience this particular hell right along with me. Lucky guy.

Crazy

Jelly, now just over two years old, has become a little parrot, repeating everything I say. While I'm amazed at her pronunciation, this can be annoying, worrisome (possible echolalia?), entertaining, and a little dangerous. If I ask her a question, and she doesn't know the answer right away, she will simply repeat the question.

"Jelly, where's Moe's monkey?"
"Where's Moe's monkey?"
"I'm asking you. Where did you put the monkey?"
"Where did you put the monkey?"

It's the toddler version of "Who's on First?"

Although neither Jeff nor I are especially big swearers, certain words do come out of our mouths that we'd rather our two year old didn't repeat. While it may be cute to hear Jelly say "Oh my goodness! So messy!" I'm a little less comfortable hearing her say "Berkeley, be quiet!" or "Moe, stop it!" When I got home from BlogHer, I had a temporary tattoo from the Aiming Low party, that said "Internets. Hell Yea!" For some reason I read this out loud, and Jelly immediately repeated it. And while my first thought was "quick, go get the video camera!" the mom in me quickly repeated "Oh yeah!" and successfully changed her tune.

Last weekend, the four of us went to the Hiller Aviation Museum. This is a pretty cool place for kids, and Jelly wanted to explore everything. One of the exhibits is the cockpit of a plane in which an attempted hijacking had been thwarted. I held Jelly up to see in inside and silently read the story.

Jeff was only mildly interested so I gave him the quick summary of what happened. The hijacker was suffering from black lung disease and was mentally ill, but I insensitively just said "he was crazy." Oops. Since then, Jelly has been saying "that's crazy!" I tried changing her to "that's silly" but this time, I was too late.

Fortunately, she didn't realize I was talking about a person, and seemed to think I was describing the airplane. So now, any time she hears or sees an airplane, she immediately shouts "that's crazy!" In this case, I think my choice of words worked out okay. I can't imagine a two year old shouting "that's mentally ill!" every time she sees an airplane.

Where's my juice box? I thought this was first class.

Wordless Wednesday: Our Next Great Blogger?

Off His Axis

Last week's stomach bug and the summer heat seem to have knocked Moe off his axis a little bit. Much to my dismay, Moe's sleep issues have returned, and he hasn't slept through the night since Friday. I hope this is short-lived but whenever I'm sleep deprived, I tend to think the worst. We'll never sleep a full night again!

You may remember that we stopped giving Moe melatonin a few months ago. He had been waking during the night and we wanted to try an experiment. As expected, Moe had more trouble falling asleep, but he was not waking during the night. We were all much more rested. But the last four nights, Moe has woken up in the middle of the night and been up for several hours. Our air conditioning's lackluster performance this summer certainly hasn't helped.

All last week and into this week has been full of ups and downs. Saturday we had a really nice lunch out, then went to Tap Plastics to buy some boxes for the 3D choice board. We are also (once again) rearranging things in the house to better make Moe's toys and books "in sight but out of reach." Moe can open most boxes and can climb really well, so Jeff was interested in trying to make some clear boxes that Moe can't open without help. We bought some cool pieces of acrylic remnants ($1 a piece!). They are still sitting in my car.

Sunday we went to the pool. Moe slept in so we went a little later that we usually do. We were excited because that meant that the mushroom would be on, and we had never played in it before. I thought Moe would love it. He didn't. He seemed a little afraid of it, and was actually quite anxious in the water, clinging tightly to me or Jeff. This is new and unusual behavior, and I'm not sure if it was caused by the sound of the mushroom, which streams quite a lot of water, or just his mood. Water can be overstimulating for him if he's tired or not feeling well. So he tolerated the pool for a while, but we didn't stay long.

Jelly, although also terrified of the mushroom, enjoyed the pool quite a bit and I had her sitting on the edge and jumping to me, as well as holding on to the side and kicking her legs. She's going to be a swimmer in no time!

We thought about going to the Monterey Bay Aquarium on Monday, but Moe, having been up much of the previous night, slept in quite late. We had a mellow day, but I found it a little depressing. I remember so many fun Fourth of July outings when I was growing up, including parties at our own house and block parties with relatives. Jeff reminds me that the kids are still very small, but I see the kinds of things my friends are doing and I know we just aren't there yet. I wish it didn't bother me, but it does.

We had a fantastic fireworks show from our back yard, however, and brought Moe (who wasn't sleeping anyway) out to see them. He seemed to really like them. Jelly, for once, fell asleep early and I was not about to wake her up, especially for something that might have been scary for her.

After we put Moe back to bed, I went into the front yard, where the view was even better. I caught glimpses of at least 3 or 4 fireworks shows from surrounding areas. I have no idea where they all came from. Next year, I think maybe we'll have a party at our house, and invite everyone out to the front lawn for the fireworks display. I'm realizing more and more that if it is too hard to go to things with the kids, we'll just have to have everyone over here.

Of course, next year may be a whole different story. Hope you all had a safe and fun holiday weekend!

A Big Girl Now

When Moe was just an infant, I invented a game that I now play with both kids. Although Moe doesn't get into the game very much anymore, Jelly loves it. It is a silly way to get the kids not to fuss during diaper changes, especially at night when I'm getting them into their overnight diapers and pajamas.

There isn't much to the game. Once Jelly (or Moe) is naked on the changing table, I stop and very seriously say "Uh oh," followed by "I see a naked baby!" Then I tickle her saying "nakednakednakednakednakednakednaked." I'll sometimes embellish the game in a number of ways, usually by making the "uh oh" more serious, or drawing out the "naaaaked baaaaby." It cracks her up and she will often ask for "naked baby" as soon as she is on the changing table.

Our little ones grow up so fast, and with every passing day, it seems Jelly is less and less of a baby. She has an understanding of the world around her that is beyond her age. So the other day, we were playing the naked baby game and I asked Jelly if she was a baby or a big girl. I was so happy when she said "baby."

Jelly has been making big strides toward potty training. I've been introducing her to the potty, talking about it and having her sit on the potty, but otherwise not doing much about it. She's only 26 months old and many friends have told me that their biggest mistake with potty training was starting too early. Yesterday, she asked to "go potty" so I put her on it. She read a couple books, we hung out, but nothing happened. When she said she was "all done potty," we put the diaper back on and went back to playing, though I did notice she had a wet diaper a short time after.

Again today, Jelly asked to "go potty." I put her on the potty, and started reading her a book. Moe came in and we hung out. I wasn't paying much attention, but at one point checked the potty and she had gone! Hooray! We made a big deal of it, and though Jelly seemed to be confused at first why we were so excited, she smiled proudly. And when we made the transfer and flushed the "big potty," she had to follow all the same steps I use, close lid, close baby-proof latch, then flush. Clearly, she's been paying attention.

Today, when we were playing "naked baby" I asked Jelly if she was a baby or a big girl. She said "big girl." I'm not sure I'm ready for this.

Father's Day

We are busy this morning, sleeping in.
Eating waffles with berries and whipped cream.
Hanging out together.

So I'm not writing much of a father's day post. We'll do a wrap-up tomorrow. For now, I give you this:

and this:

Happy father's day to all of the wonderful dads out there!

I is for Interaction

Even though I know Jelly is developing on track, I can't help but scrutinize her every move. I'm in awe of her growth but also waiting for the other shoe to drop. She's highly verbal and smart, she is always matching colors and lining things up, and she is starting to have trouble with transitions, like getting out of the car or ending an activity. She is so clearly not straight-up autism, but maybe she has Asperger's. The truth is, she just has "two-year old" but I can't help but look for signs that something is wrong. I've been burned before.

One of my concerns has been that she hasn't shown a lot of interest in other kids her age. When we go to playdates, she prefers to play alone or with me. Although she's playing completely appropriately, the other two year olds we know have older siblings to play with, and I can see the difference in their behavior. Of course, Jelly has Moe, but he is at school all day and doesn't pay much attention to her when he is at home.

But in the last week or so, something seems to have switched. Jelly started following some of the other kids in music class, imitating what they were doing and sometimes even being the leader. She's making more of an effort to interact with Moe, and will often run down the hall yelling "Moooooe, where aaaare you?" She'll find him and say "Oh. Hi. Good job guys. We did it!" (Those are things either I or Dora say, which of course leads me to wonder if she's using too much scripted language. Ugh.)

Moe doesn't interact with other kids at all (though he does engage with adults), and his social and play skills are, along with language, my biggest concern. Yesterday, we were outside and the kids were spending time in the wading pool (the best $10 I ever spent). Moe was sitting in the water and Jelly was filling her watering can and pouring it into the pool. Moe loves to put his hand under pouring water, so he noticed what Jelly was doing and put his hand in the stream. They repeated this at least five or six times. They weren't quite playing house, but it was interaction, and I was so proud of both of them!

We Walked Together

We walked as a team.

We came with family.



Moe thinks his curls are his best feature.

 And friends.

We were 6,000 strong and raised $400,000.

Some people came to fight.

Some came to learn.

Others came to cheer on sons and daughters, sisters, brothers and friends.

We walked for all of these reasons and more.

But me? I walked for Moe.

Thank you to Ann & David, Bill & Louise, Carolyn & Dave, Charlie, Cynthia & John, Daniel, Dani, Dave, Beth, Francesca & Dave, Gigi, Jen T., Jill, Jim, Joady & Bruce, Jody, Joel, Phil & Joyce, Kerry, Krista, LD, Laya & Rod, Linda, Michael & Jennifer, Michelle & Jon, Grandma Mira & Grandpa Rich, Grandma Linda & Grandpa Dan, Nancy, Phoebe, Rebecca & Marty, and Rickster. The Bush family raised $2370, and our team raised $4427.

Special thanks to Spencer Hardy Music Therapy for forming our team Music Therapy Rocks! And to Kim, Beth B, Beth H, and Karyn & Jim and their beautiful children for walking with us yesterday and everyday.