Category: THE KIDS

askate

skateboarding and autism is perfect fit

We moved to Selah, Washington in late 2007, about a year before Jack was diagnosed with autism.  It was a small town, so I was surprised to see they already had a skatepark – behind the high school near the mainstream sports fields.  Once in awhile I would drive by and think about how in a couple of years Jack would be using it.  I gave more thought to whether or not I would insist he wear a helmet skateboarding than I did to whether or not circumcised him as a baby.

After he was diagnosed my heart would drop when I drove by because he would probably never be able to skate or do any other sport.  Not because he wouldn’t have the physical potential, but because he wouldn’t have the social skills.  At that time I couldn’t even let go of his hand for a minute at the grocery store.  I know my husband has dealt with similar disappointments about things like little league and Boy Scouts.

Jack really struggles with some sensory issues which give him an impulse to bang his head against the wall to the point where he actually breaks sheetrock and has formed a permanent callous on his forehead.  He tends to jump a lot and be generally rambunctious, beyond the normal boy kind.  He also seems to like to move furniture and heavy objects around for no clear reason.  He tried to move the dining room table to the basement once.  The way I understand it he’s seeking out the impact on his joints… or something.  I had wondered if skateboarding would get some of that out his system, and I finally googled “autism + skateboarding” a few weeks ago.

I don’t know about the sensory stuff, but I found out skateboarding is being used therapeutically to help autistic kids socially.  It’s the kind of sport where conformity has no value and they can sort of do their own thing with other people.  It goes to “parallel play”.

The best resource I’ve found is A.skate (<— I think you’ll “like” their Facebook page), and I’ve been driving everyone nuts about it ever since.  It was started by a mom, Crys Worley, after seeing how much skateboarding helped her son.  They travel the country, largely out of pocket, and hold skateboarding clinics for kids with autism to try it out.  They provide all the gear for the clinic, and if a child wants to continue they offer grants to pay for their own gear.  It’s also cool that the funds are given to a local skate shop, as opposed to a discount retailer, like store credit, so they’re supporting the industry.

Just go check out their website.  Watch these videos.  Flip through their flickr.  Keep in mind how awesome it is just to see kids with autism and their families having bonafide fun outside their house.

And check it out, Ben Harper has signed a limited number of these prints to raise money for a.skate.  Ironically, this album played a huge part of getting me through my most recent dark period spent worrying about how autism was affecting both of my kids.

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autismepidemic

LAZINESS AND DENIAL STILL RAMPANT IN AUTISM DISCUSSION

Heads up, April starts tomorrow and April is autism awareness month.  Stick with me, and we’ll get through it together.

Last week the CDC finally released numbers reflecting what most of us have known for years.  Autism is now affecting 1 in 88 children in the U.S.  For boys the numbers are 1 in 54.  1 IN 54!  It is an epidemic.  We need a solution, and handwringing and dismissing the numbers with the absurd notion that these kids just weren’t diagnosed before ain’t it.

They don’t just line up their blocks and keep to themselves.  Chronic gastrointestinal problems (come do a study in my bathroom when someone gives my kid wheat or dairy), life-threatening seizures (yes, Virginia, autism can be fatal), bolting and wandering to their deaths (we have to worry about Lord of the Flies jumping out of his bedroom window) and other self-injurous behaviors are the reality for the families of 1 in 88 children in America now.

We would have noticed if 1 in 88 children were doing that shit 20 years ago.  The better diagnosis explanation is infuriating bullshit.

In the above linked article an “autism expert” claims to tell parents of high-functioning autistic children that 20 years ago their child wouldn’t have been diagnosed.  I agree.  The child wouldn’t have been diagnosed because the child wouldn’t have been autistic.

Instead of finding out what the hell is going on, condescending intellectuals are focused on a mind-blowing 3 point narrative.

We didn’t do it.

We don’t know what did.

Sucks to be you.  (Or worse, that it’s a blessing.)

And for those of us crazy and lucky enough to explore alternative treatments and see improvement, then our kids were never autistic in the first place.

Witty conclusion developing…

 

 

 

 

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Tootsie Wootsie

diary of a bored black woman

Light posting due to the cootie infestation we’ve been dealing with this week.

I just came back from a not awful parent-teacher-school psychologist-school counselor-speech pathologist-conference for my daughter.  She’s had behavioral and socialization problems since she started school.  Part of it’s her personality, but a large part of it we believe came from dealing with the b.s. of having an autistic brother.  There’s the not knowing how to interact with normal kids acting normally, the behaviors she copies from her brother and the justifiable chip on her shoulder from all of it.  Anyway, she’s doing better, so that’s a relief.  It’s weird, her issues almost mind****ed me more than Lord of the Flies’.

Lord of the Flies

Speaking of Lord of the Flies, he’s gotten over his fear of Spongebob Squarepants.  I don’t think I need a lot of words to convey with that sucks.  He’s also change allegiances from Thomas the Train to I-Carly and something called Notorious, which must be some show about a teenage girl named Tori.  Both star pretty teenage girls.  Atta Boy.  I need to cut his hair, but his fashion sensibility right now dictates a t-shirt (when he’s cooperating) and pants tucked into his black rainboots.  What I’m saying is if I cut his hair right now he’ll look like a Neo-Nazi.  Damn blue eyes.

BUY ME! I just need some love and an exorcism.

Still no offer on the damn house.  It sounds like people are having trouble lining up financing.  In the big picture that’s good.  No one is helping you if they loan you money you can’t afford, and a lot of these people had to know they were getting in over their heads.  I’m sick of hearing them described as victims of the mortgage crisis.  I know someone in San Diego who spent the first decade of their marriage saving up a down payment then bought a house within their means.  Now they’re still current, but they’re stuck because of all the morons around them.  All that equity is gone.  They’re the victims of the mortgage crisis.  Anyway, someone should buy my house.  It doesn’t have shiny granite or bamboo floors throughout, but it’s a damn 3,000 sq. ft. house on 2 flat acres 10 minutes from the grocery store priced 30% below comps.  Ugh. !@!@#$$%%^&&!

Eudora Welty

I’m thinking of re-activating my ancestry.com account.  My husband mentioned the other day that he’s related to Eudora Welty.  Actually, I can really see the resemblance in the picture on her wikipedia page.  This means my kids are related to her, which means my uterus is within six degrees of being a Pulitzer prize winning uterus.

My sister’s been doing a lot of genealogy too.  I knew we were Irish , German and Native American and vaguely remember hearing something about being qualified for the DAR, but conveniently forgot the last part.  I took comfort in the idea that we all got here after slavery but before Hitler.  Oh well, sure enough she’s found plantations, which means we owned slaves.  Sorry, everybody.  But she traced us to William Brewster and maybe Thomas Jefferson.  I say if the T.J. connection is legit, then we might be black and everything’ll even out.  One drop y’all.  Hey, I didn’t make the rules.  Halle Barry did.  Some dude from my dad’s side of the family posted something on Facebook about our Bavarian branch being Jewish.  I’ve always wanted to be Jewish.  Plus, my husband’s biological grandfather’s name was Kratzenburg.  I’m gonna keep digging until I discover a new minority group to fit into, preferably one that accounts for my issues and baggage.

I’m bored.  For the love of God, someone buy my house, so I don’t have time for this stuff anymore.

 

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P1000033

TOOTSIE-WOOTSIE ON POLYGAMY

*walking home from school*

TW: “Bye cwossing gawds, bye boy that goes to my school, maybe when we gwow up we can mawwy eachothah!!!!!!”

Me: “What about ****?” (boy from her old school, first of many boys she’s declared her intent to wed)

TW: “Well, I still wanna marry **** too.”

Me: “Maybe you could just have a whole bunch of husbands.”

TW: “Yeah!  Then I won’t be sad when one of them dies.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I made her.

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I’m not fun at parties that suck

I just returned from the kindergarten ice cream social at my daughter’s new school.  The only way this episode of Louie could have been more uncomfortable is if it had been an actual episode of Louie.

For some reason we had to bring my daughter’s school supplies to this thing.  We schlepped everything but the poly side load-whisker cleaner, which I can’t find and refuse to buy, down there.  First we found the class lists to see who her teacher will be.  Then what happened?

Oh, there’s a table with people huddled around it.  That must say what happens next.  Abort!  Abort!  It’s covered in sign up sheets.  I made eye contact and said the only word I would say out loud the entire evening, “No.”  I am empowered.

What the hell, we’re goin’ in.  I theorized that we were now supposed to find her classroom and drop off these damn supplies that I had to make trips to 3 different stores to acquire.  And I’m wandering and I’m muttering and I’m clearly clueless.  You know that PSA that was on after every episode of Celebrity Rehab for awhile where someone’s making a screaming face but no sound is coming out.  They’re internally crying for help if only someone would notice… that was me wandering around a building I’ve never been in before with 200 people I’ve never met (but they all seem to know each other and even think this is a fun experience) looking for the complete stranger whose care I’ll soon be leaving my child in.

We’re in, but it’s just more of the hallway.  Lots of people milling and feigning interest in whatever the hell this is.  WHAT DO I DO WITH THESE DAMN SUPPLIES?  I know finding the designated receptacle for these damn supplies is my ticket outta here.  There are nametags on the table.  Shit, she’s supposed to know how to read her name.  I have no idea if she does.  I’m not a good mother.  Mulligan, Trenton, Cassidy… are these first or last names?  Charlotte!

We drop and run.  We pick up a flyer… another stinkin’ flyer!  This one’s about the next scheduled event.  This is the worst scavenger hunt episode of Louie ever.  I feel bad for not being the kind of mom that can stand this crap and has some clue as to how to behave.  She’s still getting ice cream.  She doesn’t care.

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