Look who is here!

So, as you can see, (if you are still checking here) I am able to post something today. I had to come to town for some things and decided to stop in at the library.

What has been happening? Well, several things actually.

The Boy made it home (finally). We both survived it, but I am thinking just barely! He has been a bit different since he got home. By that I mean that he has picked up an attitude that I have been trying to correct. He has been back-talking and has been acting like he is smarter than the rest of us. That of course does not fly at my house! I don't think he even realizes he is doing it until he is called on it. He has also decided that he can't go to bed unless I am also going to bed. I don't know what that is about! He wants to go with me or with my Crazy Man instead of being by himself. Took him being home about three weeks before he even asked to spend time with my parents and brother. THAT is saying something is not quite right!

So far, Ziggy seems to be doing fine from his recurrence of a UTI. (Now saying that, I will probably go home to find him in distress again!) He lost about a pound while The Boy was gone, but we are trying to get him to gain it back. He really missed his boy! Since coming home, I can pretty much tell where I will find Ziggy....right next to The Boy!

I am looking for a different job, but that is really nothing new I guess. I figure I should always be on the lookout for something new and interesting to see if I can learn other stuff. I guess to see what opportunities present themselves to me. Right now, I am in charge of two different school districts as the nurse. There was another nurse working at the second school a couple days a week, but I was just informed by her late last week that she has decided not to come back this coming school year. (So if there is anyone out there that is an RN who would like to make a tiny bit of extra money by working at a school for two half days a week, let me know!) That is all in a mess at the moment. And, of course, school starts soon.

Matter of fact, I have to report to school on August 10, with the first day of student attendance on August 12. Not sure that either me or The Boy is ready!

My uncle brought my cousin up to visit this past week. He turned 3 on July 18. (The cousin, not the uncle!) We also welcomed his baby brother into the family on July 20. No pictures yet, but when I get any and if the parents agree, I will try to post a couple. My grandma was thrilled since my uncle and cousin stayed with her while they were here. That little boy is a really good kid and just as rotten as we can make him! I am sure his parents loved getting him back! No, really, he is a good kid and we love him to bits.

Anyway, I gotta go. Supposed to be meeting my Crazy Man at the insurance office as soon as he gets back into town, which should be soon. I will post as soon as I am able to do so again.

The Boy's New School

Welcome to the fourth installment of The Boy's story. If you need to catch up, just look at the previous three Friday posts. I will continue the story each Friday until you are caught up to the present. Once his story is complete, maybe I will start a whole new story about my life and how I got where I am today.

Which new school did I choose? I chose the one that I am currently employed with. Actually, that doesn't help you at all since I am actually the lead nurse for two districts! Ok...I chose for him to attend the same school that I attended as a child.

Why? Several reasons. First off was that it had small classroom sizes. (His class currently has 25 kids.) Secondly, choosing this school meant that when he had a day off, I also had a day off. He could either ride the bus or ride with me. I knew all of the teachers and those that would be dealing with him on a daily basis. I could send him home on the bus to my parents' house if I had to be at a meeting or out of town. I would be available should there be a problem. And, he would not have to change schools again once he got into the 9th grade.

Don't get me wrong. There were good reasons for him to go to the other schools too, but for whatever reason, this one made the most sense and that is the one I chose.

He began the fourth grade with an IEP. For those out there who don't know what this means, it means that he had an Individual Educational Plan. This lays out a list of items that would change the way he is taught.

For instance--instead of having the full 20 word spelling list that his classmates had, he only took a test on 10 of them and as time moved on, he would increase the number of words on his list. He would be allowed to leave the room for any and all tests. He would be given extra time to complete tests and assignments. If notes were to be taken, he had to write them, but then a set of notes from the teacher would be photocopied and sent home so that I could read them and help him to study. The teachers were to try to decrease the amount of paper/pencil tasks required of him. Some of his tests/assignments would be read to him. Unless it was a spelling test, spelling would not be counted off. His handwriting would not be held against him. If the teacher could not read something, she was to ask him what it said and take his oral response as the answer to the question.

All of those things were accommodations that were required to be given to him so that he could continue with his education with his classmates.

Everything went fairly well. All things considered of course! I mean, he still was biting himself and banging his head and pushing on his eyes when he was frustrated. He still was having all of the normal difficulties and unfortunately, he began to have problems with some of the kids in his class. Two in particular. They discovered which buttons to push to set him off, and they pushed them every chance they got. Every single night, he would come home with a complaint about one or the both of them.

It was also really hard when he would come home saying that the whole class received a punishment when there were just a few who were causing the problems. How do you explain to a kid that the world was like this??

As time went on, we both adjusted and settled in. Don't get me wrong...this was not easy. We had teachers in the fifth and sixth grades that felt they didn't have to follow his IEP because "he is too smart to have an IEP and if you were a better mother he wouldn't be having any problems at all." (Made me wonder if she had been talking to his father!) We seemed to find ways around all sorts of obstacles.

By the end of sixth grade, he was still considered to be a 'loner', but he was also noted to be exceptionally smart. Matter of fact, he was one of the top two in his class. And it wasn't because of any special treatment he received. He continued to work just as hard as the other kids.

Long before, I had told him that grades did not matter. Maybe not something that I should have said, but oh well! I told him that the actual grade he received was not as big a deal as the effort he put towards receiving that grade. I told him that if he put forth 100% effort and did the very best he could do on any given task and still received an "F", then I didn't care. As long as he tried his hardest, I would be proud of him. I know that it may not work well for all kids, but it definitely has worked well for The Boy.

When he was younger, he would come home upset because in the column under 'handwriting' on his report card, it would be marked as 'unsatisfactory'. I told him that I knew a man that was loved by many and who was terribly smart and exceptionally good at his job who most people had difficulty reading his writing. And that man was a doctor. So having good handwriting does not make a man good or better than anyone else. After that, The Boy became unconcerned when his handwriting consistently received unsatisfactory marks. It isn't that he didn't try to make it better, it is just that it isn't as big of an issue anymore.

During The Boy's fifth grade year, we began seeing a counselor on a weekly basis. She has helped him a great deal in being able to decrease the head banging and the biting. She continues to work with him to this day. He knows that he can tell her anything and everything without me knowing unless he has given permission for me to be told. (Unless of course he is hurting himself or others.)

There have been several times that he has had a major meltdown in her office and she has not been able to calm him. That is where I come in. I am able to calm him at least enough to get him out the door and home where he can curl up in his own bed and then be able to talk about it a couple hours later. There have also been several times in which he will refuse to talk to her. Those times have been getting fewer and fewer. We have discovered that if he has something to keep his hands busy (legos, computer) then he talks more.

When he began the 7th grade, there were nerves all around. Our school has two buildings. An Elementary and a High School. The High School has grades 7-12 and the Elementary is K-6. That meant that he would be going to a new building with all new teachers and expectations. We ended up talking to the counselor (who works in both buildings, just like I do) and coming home with his schedule over the summer. This way we were able to go on different days when the school was empty to each of his classrooms. This let him know where he was going and how long it would take for him to get there.

Before he started his 7th grade year, I went to each of his teachers and talked to them about my son. I told them things that they needed to be on the look-out for that showed that he had hit his stress level. We discussed his IEP and how that would affect the classes those teachers had him for. Every time he has a new teacher, we have to have this type of discussion.

The transition to seventh grade was not too bad. He continued to have some difficulty with a couple of the kids in his class, but overall, it wasn't a bad year.

During his eighth grade year, he had a somewhat easier time. He kept most of the same teachers as the previous year, so they all knew each other. He still had issues with some of the kids in his class, but he made a couple of new friends too. He rarely came home with homework because he was able to get it done in class. Most of the time we had good days. But on the days we had bad days, we had really bad days!

On the last day of eighth grade, there was an awards assembly held. I was called the night before by one of the teachers to attend. I was told that he would be receiving an award, but that he didn't know about it and I was not to tell him. No problem. I show up and he is given the American Legion Award. They choose two kids out of the 6th and 8th grade that show good citizenship and good grades. I was very proud!

Then, near the end of the assembly, his name was called again because he had written an essay for a contest by the Missouri Peace Officers. It was titled 'Why You Should Say No to Alcohol, Tobacco, and Drugs. He won first place in the Eastern part of the state and a check for $300! Talked about proud!! I cried! He couldn't stop grinning. (And that is saying something since he doesn't do that very often!) He put it in a savings account until they come out with the newest version of some type of computer program and he can buy a new laptop. Not bad for someone who struggles with written expression, huh?!

We attempted to get him into a program for those with autism. I filled out all the paperwork and he was taken in for several sit down sessions where they talked about things he liked and didn't like. We went back a few times for him to build a robot while being videotaped. That has been quite a while back and I have yet to hear what they thought of the video. He did have a couple of breakdowns on the video, so they could see that what I described was accurate. Unfortunately, every time I have asked about what we do next, I am told that they are still waiting to analyze the video. I guess we will continue to do this on our own, learning as we go.

The Boy did get braces put on during 7th grade. THAT was an ordeal! He is dealing with them quite well now. I take him to an orthodontist who has a child with autism. That child is in his 20s now, so I kind of figure that the man knows how to deal with my boy. Matter of fact, he was my orthodontist when I was younger! We have also been given one person that works with him everytime he comes in. We sit in the same chair and have Shannon every single time. They know that if we are scheduled and our person is not there, then we will have to reschedule because The Boy will not let anyone else deal with him.

I have taken great pains in hand picking the docs that deal with The Boy. I have had docs be rough or gruff and upset both me and The Boy and I will just not deal with it.

We had an episode of the orthodontist ask me, loudly, in front of other patients and parents, "what is your kid's problem? Did he have a bad experience with a dentist because I am not going to have him crying and carrying on all the time." I looked at him and said "I would think that you of all people would know how to deal with an autistic child's fears and needs. Maybe if people would explain what they are doing and how it is going to be done before they start shoving things in his mouth, we wouldn't have this problem." The man immediately apologized and said that I was right. He then began assigning people to work with him each time we came in.

I have picked an eye doctor who also has a son diagnosed with autism. He works very well with The Boy and we have had no difficulty with him.

His pediatrician is a very calm man who pays attention to what I tell him. He doesn't touch him unnecessarily and explains everything he is going to do to him.

We started to see a new dentist in the past couple of years. The old one refused to allow me to come back with him. When I was called back after the appointment, the man looked at me and said, "I have told him and told him how to brush his teeth. Everytime I see him I tell him. He must be stupid or something because even little kids can figure it out." That, needless to say, was the last time we went back. Of course that was after I gave him a piece of my mind! The new dentist had an assistant that was extremely short on patience and very rough with both me and The Boy. I called the dentist and he called back after hours. I told him that we would not be returning due to the way we were treated. He asked what happened and asked if we would come back at least once more so he could prove he could make it right. We went back and so far, have had no more issues.

This post has caught you up with The Boy's story. He has some friends, (mostly girls!) but would still rather be alone. He still struggles with some simple things like understanding sacasm, understanding teasing, and gets frustrated easily. He has trouble describing emotions and things that are going on around him. But, he is a beautiful boy with love to spare. He has started to hug his grandmas and his greatgrandma. He has to be reminded to take his medicine and brush his teeth, but really, what teenager doesn't?! He is smarter than I will ever be. And he knows things that I can only dream of knowing.

I tell him that he should never let anyone tell him that he is stupid or that he has a disablilty. He has different abilities and if he were just like everyone else, how would he be as special as he is. I tell him that his mind works differently than other peoples and that I don't understand how or why, but I do know that because it works, he is not stupid.

And I wouldn't change one single thing about The Boy.

The Boy Starts School

This is the third post in the story of The Boy. Each of the past two Fridays, I have been telling his story. I plan to continue that pattern until you are caught up. After that, maybe I will tell another story of my life! Guess you will have to stay tuned for those!

The Boy started Kindergarten with no services needed. Great! It was decided by his father and myself that the best place for him to attend school would be a small private Catholic school. A little background here: I am not Catholic. His father and his family are. We were married in the Catholic church. My son was to have been baptized at delivery because of complications, but no paperwork was ever completed. Because I was not Catholic and there was no paperwork confirming the baptism of The Boy, he was not considered to be Catholic either. Because of this, we were both treated differently.

Kindergarten went pretty well. I went to parent/teacher conferences and talked a lot to his teacher about how he was dealing with school. She always told me that he was very polite and very helpful. She said that he didn't have a lot of friends, although he always was "for the underdog." The one friend he did make, just happened to be the biggest kid in the class who was also really shy and didn't have many friends either.

First grade came and problems began to surface. First off, in September, The Boy and I left his father. I woke up one day and decided that I was no longer 'me' and I needed time apart to see if I was still around or if I had been killed off by his father long ago. (May sound stupid, but that is how I felt.) I asked his father to please go stay at his parents' house (just a few blocks away) so that I could continue to raise The Boy in his home until I could figure things out. His father looked at me and said, "I will not leave my home. The two of you may go, but this is my house." Even after explaining that it would be easier on The Boy to stay in his own surroundings, his father told me that he didn't care.

So, I grabbed as much of The Boy's clothes and possessions as I could stuff in my vehicle and I left. I had only a few days worth of items for me, so a couple of family members returned to get my things. I never went back. I knew then that I was still 'in there' somewhere and I couldn't live like that anymore.

Now, back to The Boy! First grade was tough. They started to have 'sight words' that they had to know every week. The first time they did them, the words were written on cut out orange fish. The teacher said that she planned to put them on different shapes and colors every week for the kids to learn. We did fine with these. It was funny though, I could hold the words up to the mirror and he would be able to read them by looking in the mirror! I sometimes had to actually look at the fish in my hand to make sure he was correct!

The second week, she changed the shape and color his words were written on. He couldn't figure them out. We tried everything, but he just couldn't figure them out. Finally, I decided to write them on the back of the previous weeks orange fish. Guess what? He could read and recognize them! Crazy, but true. The teacher couldn't believe it either, but from then on, The Boy's words for the week came home on orange fish!

We also started to notice that his handwriting was not progressing the way the other kids' were. The teacher was having difficulty reading anything he wrote. He continued to only have the one friend, despite all efforts of the teacher to get him to interact with the others. She said that even with the one friend, he still mostly kept to himself.

He didn't like to be touched. He didn't like loud noises. He didn't like people touching his things. Teasing was terrible. The rules were the rules and they were made to be followed, not tested, let alone broken. Everyone should be treated exactly the same and when they weren't, he was not happy. When he became frustrated, he would hit himself in the head and bite himself. He would push on his eyes when frustrated.

Second grade was more of the same. Difficulty with writing. Spelling was extremely difficult for him. Taking tests was an ordeal. He would start to cry when he became frustrated. He wanted nobody to touch anything of his. He wanted nobody to touch him. If you placed a time limit on something, he nearly shut down. He had a hard time if there was a substitute and he didn't know the sub was coming. He had difficulty when his routine was disturbed.

I went to the teacher close to the end of the year and asked if there was not some type of testing that could be done to see if there was a learning disability. She said she would bring it up with the principal. I waited, but nothing was done.

Third grade started. Things were becoming increasingly more difficult. I went to his new teacher and asked about testing. She said that she would talk to the principal. I waited. When nothing was done, I asked his second grade teacher. She told me that she had discussed it with the principal, but was not given an answer. the same thing was told to me by his third grade teacher. By this time, more than half of the school year was complete. The third grade teacher (God Bless her!) had been making dozens of accommodations for him through out the year.

I ended up contacting the woman who was his teacher when he attended ECSE. She asked what was happening and what I had done about it. When I told her, she said that she would take care of it. Within weeks, tests were set up with the closest public school district. I had gotten a new job at this point, and I would take him and drop him off for testing, go to my job, pick him up at lunchtime and return him to regular school. This went on for weeks, until the testing was complete.

By the last week of school, we met to discuss the tests. The verdict was in. He was classified as having a Written Expression delay. They also said that he was very smart, but had social delays also. He had a speech problem on top of it. I was told all the things that I knew, but because I was just a mom, my knowledge didn't count.

They said that there were several things that could be done, but that because he attended a private school, that school did not have to provide the accommodations required. I was told that I could take him to the local public school, and they would help him. Or, I could leave him in the private school (which they thought would be better for him because of the small classroom sizes) and see what happened. They felt that he would continue to fall behind if this option was chosen though.

The tears flowed. I was devastated. It is hard enough to know that there is something not quite right with your child. It is a totally different thing to be told by 'professionals' that you are right. I knew that now that the schools acknowledged the difficulties, they could do things to help. And yet, the best school for him would do nothing.

What to do? His father was of no help. He had decided that I was just being stupid. I decided that the best thing I could do for my son would be to put him into a public school so that he could get the educational help that he so obviously needed.

But which one? I lived in the district in which he had been tested. But that school was quite large and was set just off the interstate. I didn't feel comfortable with either of those things. The new job that I had started just a few months prior was as a nurse for two different public school districts. One of them was K-8th grade and only had about 115 kids altogether. The problem would be then finding a high school for him to attend afterward. The other school was the one in which I had attended during my entire K-12 career. There were about 330 kids total. Both of these schools said that since I worked for them, I could bring The Boy tuition free.

Both schools had their good points and their bad points. I was going to have to really weigh my options. Which should I choose to give my son the best opportunities? What if I chose the wrong one? I had already made so many mistakes.

Short and Sweet

I am still alive, but it feels like just barely. Things around here have become extremely complicated since my last posting. I can't/won't go into details, but suffice it to say that I have not been sleeping much.

Other than that, The Boy is still in Vermont. Still not ready to admit he is ready to come home, but not really doing much either. I am still missing him beyond words, but he should be home in the next week and a half.

Ziggy is doing much better too. His last dose of medicine is this evening. Guess I will set him up an appointment to be rechecked at the vets sometime next week.

School is out for me for this week anyway. I have to go back next week for some training. Not looking forward to that either. Oh well.

Well, short post, but I don't have much time. I have to get home. My Crazy Man should be there soon, and I am going to have to fix something for supper, so I need to get that started.

Again, I will post as soon as I am able to do so while I am out of school.

Bullies

I think I am being bullied. And not by just one person either. I know that there are ways to take care of that sort of thing, but I don't think either of the following fall under those rules/laws. I am so mad and hurt. I don't know if I want to scream, hit something, or just sit down and cry.

First off, today is the last day of summer school. I know, I should be happy. I am happy about that. Paychecks for summer school were handed out today. That is where I am having the difficulty.

I do not receive a paycheck for being at summer school. I am apparently the only person at summer school who does not get paid. I found out yesterday afternoon that the janitor who comes in everyday after summer school to take out trash and clean bathrooms gets a check. But not the nurse. I deal with bloody noses, skinned knees, scraped toes, banged heads and a whole bunch of other things. And I don't get paid. I don't get a 'thank you'. I don't get anything.

What makes it worse is the fact that even the student helpers get something.

When I began working here, I was hired in January. I was asked if I would work during summer school that year since I was hired in late. I agreed. No big deal. Ever since then, I have been expected to show up. For no pay.

In 2007, I called several schools to find out what their school nurses did for summer school. I took that info to the superintendent and was told that if I wanted to be paid like a teacher, then I needed to get my teaching certificate. He told me that I made more than a nurse from another school district and that is why I don't get paid for summer school. He told me that if I did not show up during summer school, then he would hold my June, July and August paychecks and I wouldn't get paid all summer.

What kind of bull is that? I'll tell you what kind. He knows that I am not just working here for the fun of working here. He knows that in order for my family to survive, I have to have those paychecks. So, he knows that he has me where he wants me. A free employee for 4 weeks.

I can't call his bluff. I need the checks. When I was hired, I was asked if I wanted my pay split over the 9 months we were in school, or over 12 months so that I got a check each month. I (of course) chose the 12 checks. I mean, really! Who would want to try to set back money out of those 9 checks that would equal what 3 checks would be to try to make it through the summer?!

Because I made that decision, I am paying for it. Or should I say, not being payed for it.

What to do about it? The way the world is right now, I couldn't find another job like this. I wouldn't want to work for another school because being off when The Boy is off was one of the main purposes for accepting this position.

This man has told me that I am "the lowest person employed here." And, according to who received pay, I guess I am also lower than the students who volunteered to help.

Moving on.....

Talked to The Boy last night. He sounded sad again. Said that he was doing "nothing." I asked if that meant he was just laying on his back looking up at the ceiling and he said, "No, I'm not laying on my back." He told me that he was "bored." Of course, he wouldn't admit that he was ready to come home. But if it continues this way, he is going to start to shut down. When that happens, it is going to be absolutely no fun at all getting him back when he gets home.

That makes it difficult for me also because I allowed him to go. I know in my heart that he should be coming home, but nobody else (read that as his father) is going to pay attention to my heart and my thoughts concerning The Boy. I tried to explain to his father before sending The Boy off that 2 weeks is about his limit on being away from mom and home. He wouldn't listen. I am hoping this situation gets better....soon.

I won't be posting everyday for a while. Because school is out after today, I don't have access to the internet every single day. I do have posts scheduled for the next couple of Fridays. Other than those, I will just have to get to the internet when I am able to do so. This has been really helpful for me to type out what is on my mind. It has really gotten me through the always difficult month of June.

I guess if those who read these posts want to hang with me, I will try to post as often as possible. If you don't want to hang around, I understand. It is hard to follow someone who isn't always there, huh? It is fine. Just know that I appreciate anyone who checks in to see what kind of mess is going on with me. And, I will be back as soon as the internet and I have a way to connect with each other!

The Boy's Early Childhood

This is the second part of my story of The Boy. I don't plan to go into minute by minute detail, but will cover enough that the understanding is there. Again, this post will probably be fairly long, but I know of no other way to shorten and sweeten it.

I knew when I held my son at just a few hours after he was born that there was something different about him. I don't know exactly what clued me in, but I just had this feeling that something was not quite right. Maybe that doesn't sound very nice or even 'mom' like, but it was how I felt.

Now you want to know why I thought this, right? Well, first off, you know how babies like to snuggle in your arms and would rather sleep there than anywhere? Not my baby. He preferred to lay in his bassinet with nobody touching him. He never cried. Occasionally he would cry when he got hungry, but normally, he just started to fuss a tiny bit, never a full out cry.

I know, I know. I sound like a terrible mom thinking something is wrong with her baby just because he was "an easy baby". There are millions of moms out there that are saying how they wish their baby was like that. But there was just something 'not right'. I don't know how to explain it any other way.

So, he continues to grow and become a funny little kid that I loved more than I could explain. He refused to drink any type of juice. He really didn't like any type of fruit except bananas and pears. He rolls, sits, crawls and walks on time.

His first Christmas, he received a Curious George stuffed animal and at 8 months old, picked him up and became extremely attached. Fine. 8 months old and attached to a monkey. No problem. That is normal. George went with us everywhere. My baby's first word was not 'dada' or 'mama' or even 'no'. It was George! Funny but true.

Most parents I know love having the first birthday because they get to have all the cool cake-all-over-the-place pictures. I have none of those. Not because I didn't have a camera. Not because I didn't get him his own little cake. Nope, I have none of those cool pictures because he refused to touch the cake. He refused to eat it. He didn't want any part of it at all.

Everything was great. Until he was about 15 months old. He had several words at this point--'light', 'on', 'up', 'dada', 'George'-- but still no 'mom' or 'mama'. Then he started to lose his words. I mentioned it to his sitter, and she said she would watch and listed to see if she noticed it. She said that he just seemed quieter. When we went to the doctor for shots/checkup I brought this up. I was told "you are just being overprotective. He is fine."

What could I do? I told them they were wrong, but nobody would listen to me. I continued to voice my concerns right up until the day we left Ft. Bragg in March of 1997. Nobody ever took me seriously. By this time, The Boy was not speaking at all. Nothing. No words whatsoever. No attempt to immitate anyone. Nothing.

We came home to our families at that time. One morning, The Boy was sick with a fever. I went to a rural health clinic because no one in this area took the military insurance that I had. The doc there decided that he had an ear infection. This was only the second one he had ever had. He wanted to see us back in a couple of weeks after the antibiotics were finished.

We went back to the doc two weeks later. We went into the exam room and the doc just sat down and watched my son open every drawer and door...and then turn around and close them all again in the order in which they were opened. Not one time did he look up at us and see what we were doing. The doc says "I think your boy is deaf."

I almost fell out of my chair! I mean...that could explain why he didn't respond when anyone called his name. Or why he didn't talk. Or why he didn't act as though he heard any loud noises. Tympanograms were done right then and there and they were both flat. The doc scheduled us with an ENT.

The ENT sent us to have a hearing test done. I felt it was not performed very well, but then what do I know...I'm only a mom! Evidently he passed, because a week after it was done, the ENT called me at home and stated, "your son is fine, there is no cause to be concerned about his hearing. He will start talking when you start to interact with him. You need to talk to him and play with him. You need to start being a mom."

I (being the sarcastic hick that I am) said to her, "oh...you mean that I am supposed to take him out of the closet instead of just opening the door three times a day when I give him his slice of bread and sippy cup of milk?" I then proceeded to call her a not so nice name and tell her that she had no right to call into question my parenting skills when she had no people skills. I went on to tell her that I hope she enjoyed seeing my child because that would be the last time she did so and that I would be sure to pass along my thoughts to friends and family about her doctoring abilities.

When I went back to the rural health clinic, I was put in touch with someone who he felt could help me. And help us they did. We were sent to the local school district who attempted to perform testing on The Boy. I say attempt because he was classified as being 'untestable.' Through observation he was noted to have the language skills of a child less than a year old. Because of his scores (or lack thereof) he was determined to be eligible to be enrolled in a program in which therapies are provided free of charge. We had a play therapist and a speech therapist in our home three times a week.

When he turned 3 he would be allowed to attend 'school' for three days week where he would continue to receive his therapies along with many other things. through the program Early Childhood Special Education. But, he could not go until he was out of diapers.

Let me just tell you....trying to get him to even attempt potty training was a crazy summer! It finally came down to me telling him that we were out of diapers and pull-ups, so he would have to put on the big boy underwear. He cried and screamed and refused to wear them. I told him that he didn't have to wear them, that he could go bear-butt , but that he couldn't potty in the floor. After many many hours, he decided that he would use the toilet and put on the underwear. He was trained from that moment on. And we started school within days of him turning 3! The Boy began attending the ECSE program and did so three days a week until he was ready to begin Kindergarten.

Another big deal with turning 3 was that the day after, he said 'mama' for the first time ever! Wow! We had another party!

When The Boy was four, I was pointed in the direction of a pediatric neurologist. I made the appointment and took him in. I took the films of a cat scan that he had had within the past year (those came from a fall while he was at school and the ER doc was scared that he had a head injury since he wasn't able to talk and was so rebellious). This doc looked at his scan and then watched The Boy. He told me, after watching him and talking to me and asking all kinds of questions that he felt strongly that he was on the autism spectrum. He told me that he refused to give that diagnosis to our insurance though because that could cause problems later. He said that if I needed the diagnosis for his school, to let him know and he would gladly give it to them. He said that I was doing all the right things with him at this point and that we would "just have to wait and see what happens. He may progress, he may regress or he may just stay where he is right now." Wow, that was hard to hear! But, at least we had a real diagnosis.

I took the diagnosis to his school and they were not surprised at all. They tweaked his therapies a little because of the diagnosis, but no major changes were done since they were working with him based on that assumption anyway. With that behind us, he made huge advances and started Kindergarten with no services needed! The Boy was talking and you could understand most of what was said. He was very intelligent according to his teachers and should do just wonderful in school.

Look out Kindergarten, here we come!

Rules

I talked to The Boy last night. He survived being left alone while his grandparents left and did whatever it was they did. That makes me feel better!

Anyway...he told me that they took him to Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream factory yesterday. He got to go on the tour to see how they make the ice cream. He has been once before, but he was pretty young. He does remember going then though.

When he went yesterday, he said that he got to have some vanilla (his favorite) and then he tasted "some that had orange and vanilla mixed together." He told me "they said it was new and that was the sample they were giving out." I asked if he tried it and liked it. I was told "yeah, it was ok." I was surprised! He actually tried it! My mom was surprised when I told her too. He is not big into trying new things. But, he likes orange sherbet and he likes vanilla ice cream, so he would probably have liked it.

Other than that, he told me that he was "just playing my game." I know he likes to play video games, but come on! When he is home, I try to limit the time he plays them. Evidently, there are no rules about that when he is gone from home. This, of course is not new.

That is one of the things that he likes about going to his dad's I think. He has no real rules. He pretty much does what he wants when he wants. That makes it more difficult when he gets home though since he does have rules at my house. Matter of fact, his father has accused me of having too many rules. Sorry, but I don't think it is appropriate for him to sit in front of video games all day. And, I think he should have to help me mow the yard, and empty the litter box, and take out the garbage and burn the trash, and keep his room somewhat neat, and feed the cats and throw his laundry in with the dirty clothes. Maybe those are really rules, but chores. Either way, he has them. And I see no reason he shouldn't be doing them. He also has to go to bed and get up in the morning at a decent hour. I also prefer that he respect everyone and lose the attitude that he sometimes comes up with. I don't recall these things being any different for him than they were for me when I was growing up.

I know his dad would totally disagree with that paragraph. He would tell me that The Boy has rules and chores at his house too. He would also tell me that I am unreasonable with all the things that I want The Boy to help with/do. I have been told that I expect too much from him. For that matter, I expect too much from everyone. Then there are the times that the man tells me that I treat The Boy like a baby and that I am going to have to let him grow up. (I hear that one all the time.)

Maybe I am a bit overprotective. But, he is my only child. Not on purpose, but for reasons beyond my control. He also has issues that most other kids his age do not have. I want to keep him safe.

I want to make sure that he grows up to be a productive member of society. And I want him to be polite and respectful. A lot of kids don't know what that means anymore. I have been told more than once that he is polite and respectful of others. That makes me proud to know that people notice that. I feel like once they notice those things, they are going to also notice just how bright my son is. Then hopefully they will see him for the things he can do, and not the things that he has trouble with.

I have great hopes for The Boy. And I think it all starts with what happens in the home. If that means he has rules and chores, then by golly, he is going to have rules and chores! If that is what makes my son stand out in society, then that is what he is going to have! I love him too much to hold him back by not enforcing those things.

Late

I'm late.

No, not that kind of late! If it were that kind of late, I would be all excited, but then would have to stop and wonder how it happened. You see, I don't have the parts it takes to be that kind of late.

What I am talking about is that I am late with sitting down to type this post. I have been running late all day, so why should this be any different? I got up and moving on time this morning, but then fell further and further behind. I couldn't find anything to bring for my lunch today. Then, when I finally get to work, I had to confer with a friend/teacher who is having a difficult time. Then I had to send a fax. Finally I had to do some checking on items that I needed to get done. And now, I am here. Later than I usually am, but here nonetheless.

The Boy is doing fine I guess. I threatened to go get him yesterday because when I asked what he had been doing, he said "playing my game." When I said back to him "you have been playing your game since you got up this morning?" He said "I don't know." When I asked him if he had eaten supper yet, I got "I don't know." It was at that point that I said I was getting in the car and coming to get him because if he doesn't know the answers to those two simple questions, he must have a head injury.

I was a bit concerned because he was by himself, in the RV, at a campsite....with no adults around. Or at least none that he knew/was related to. One of the things that I was told just before he left was that he would always have an adult around, especially when they were at a campsite. Now look. He was alone. And I don't like it.

The Boy has no fear. Who is to say that he won't get bored just sitting there and decide to go exploring? Or, answer a knock on the door from someone he doesn't know? I'm telling you....he has no fear. He doesn't understand the meaning of going away and not ever coming back. I know that fear. And there are plenty of times that I fear it for him.

When he was younger, he wandered off at a water park. There were thousands of people around, he didn't really speak at that time, and I couldn't find him. We were at a wave pool. He was directly in front of me. A wave came and I got splashed in the face. I wiped my eyes and when I opened them, he was gone. Just poof, gone. Terrified. That is the only word I know that comes even near close to how I felt. It took about 15 minutes for someone to find him climbing down the ladder on the far side of the pool because he wanted to see where the waves were coming from.

Another time, a van pulled up beside my yard and before I could even blink, he was in it. We had never seen these people before. And, I never saw them after that either. He just decided that something looked interesting and off he went.

He has wandered many times since then, but not far away. Now he is many states/miles/hours away from me and there is nobody there to remind him to only go as far as the adult can see him.

I'm telling you. If I live through him being gone for 4 weeks, it will be a miracle.

Ramblings

Summer is here! It has been in the 90s since last week. I hear all sorts of people complaining, but I would rather it be hot than cold. I don't mind the hot. Granted, it is a bit warm when you can just sit outside, in the shade, and sweat... The heat index has been anywhere from 105 to 110 everyday, so there have been heat advisories in effect from light to dark. This morning, it was 85 degrees on my way to work at 7:30.

My Crazy Man and I mowed the yard on Friday and Saturday. Yes, two days! I told you I live in the sticks, remember?! Anyway, we were on riders, so it wasn't too bad. We borrowed my dad's so it wouldn't take us as long working together. I hadn't been able to mow for a couple of weeks because it rained everyday. We mowed from 7:30 pm until 9:30 pm on Saturday night. (When we came in, the thermometer read 90.) Then we got up and mowed from 7:30 am until 9:30 am on Sunday morning. It was hot then too!

We own about 9.25 acres, and my Crazy Man says that we only mow about 2 of it. Sure feels like I mow more than that! It usually takes me and The Boy about 4 hours after school to mow. Of course that is because we do it once a week usually, so the grass isn't as tall as what it was this weekend.

7 down, 7 to go!

Ziggy is getting better. We are on day 7 of his meds. I've only gotten about 10 scratches total. Just over one a day isn't too bad I don't guess. I know he is feeling better though because he has started to fight more. He also runs when he sees the towel come out. Silly cat! He actually lets me wrap him up and doesn't struggle at all (when I catch him). He clamps his teeth together and when I finally get them apart is when he starts to fight. Only 7 days to go!

17 down, 3 to go!

Only 3 days left of summer school. Yay! I am really over this whole summer school thing. I have so many other things that I would rather be doing. Like reading a book, or sleeping late in the morning, or staying up late at night! Matter of fact, I would rather be doing most anything than working at a job that I am not being paid to be working.

9 down, way too many left to go!

The Boy has been gone 9 days now. I miss him terribly. I didn't get to talk to him last night. Either he had turned off the cell phone, or there was no signal. I left him a couple of messages, but he never called me back. I hate this. I really do. I am fighting tears again this morning over it.

Everyone asks me if he is doing ok. I don't know. The last two days that I talked to him, he sounded sad. He told me that he "basically just played my game." He took a gaming system with him and he said that was "pretty much" all he had been doing. We talked to him on Father's Day and my Crazy Man asked him if he had gone anywhere or done anything and the response was "no." I know he likes to play that game, but come on. He could be at home doing the same thing, in his own room, on his own bed, with his own cat and his own mom.

I hate this. I want him home. Now.

Not Me Monday

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

If you have been following along, you know about Ziggy. If you have not been following along, then you should catch up! Most of the things that I didn't do have to do with him. (That is kind of sad and yet kind of good too, huh?!) Anyway....here we go....

I did not cry when I had to leave Ziggy at the vet for two days. I also did not laugh when I had to sign a consent form for them to collect a urine sample (which consisted of them just waiting until he actually peed). I did not go home and attempt to explain to Sinatra why Ziggy was not with me and when he would be coming home. I did not ask the vet to call in the antibiotic to the Wal-Mart pharmacy because it was cheaper. I did not shake my head and wonder why pharmacists make so much money when they couldn't figure out how to fix up my cat's prescription. I did not check my cell phone to find a picture of him when he was just a baby so I could give an approximate date when I was asked for Ziggy's birth date. And I most definitely did not laugh out loud when I read the label on the bottle concerning his name.

When an Army Recruiter who came to the school to get some paperwork asked if he would set off an alarm if he went out a particular door, I did not tell him--"Not a loud one. Just a silent one and we will point the cops in the direction you went." He thought twice about going out the door, but another staff member and I just started laughing, so out the door he went! And, no, there was no alarm, silent or otherwise.

I did not type this post ahead of time so that I could remember all the things that I did not do.

Those things would be silly, wouldn't they? And that is why I did not do them!

Pregnancy of The Boy

No, The Boy isn't pregnant and he does not have a tale about how he was. What I meant was that this is the story of my pregnancy of The Boy. It will probably be a pretty long post, but since this is my blog and I can type what I want to, then I guess it really doesn't matter, huh?! I plan to tell the story of The Boy because it actually is kind of interesting. Of course that may just be in my mind, but again, this is my blog and I can say what I want to say, right?!

With that said, here it goes:

I got married in 1992 to my son's father. That is a whole other story! On my birthday in February 1994, I discovered that I was pregnant. I was absolutely ecstatic. I love kids and always wanted at least 3 or 4 and felt that I was on the way to making my dreams come true.

It was a hard pregnancy, but I loved every second of it. I was sick from the time the sperm knocked on the egg's door! I had odd food cravings...Big Macs, green onions, and anything hot and spicy. The worst one was green beans though. I cried everytime I ate them because I truly do not like the taste of green beans! But, I had to have them.

We left the area after I graduated from college in May. My then husband was a member of the army and had decided to go active duty instead of reserves. We moved 13 hours away to Fayetteville, North Carolina. This was the first time that I had ever been really away from my family...and I did not like it!

I was 16 weeks pregnant when we left, but I was only measuring about 15 1/2. Nobody was overly concerned at that point. When I got pregnant, I was only about 100 pounds and of course I was suffering from all day sickness, so nobody made any comments about my measuring off a little.

As time went on, I started to fall farther behind in my measurements. I don't know about anyone else's experience with Army docs, but mine was not the greatest. They wrote in my chart that at 20 weeks, I had just presented for the first time for medical care, even though I had hand carried my medical records that showed my first appointment back home at 5 weeks. They didn't listen to what I had to tell them and told me that I was not eating, although I was still gaining weight and kept a food diary for them. (I ended up gaining a total of 33 pounds for the pregnancy.)

At 30 weeks pregnant, they finally sent me for an ultrasound. They refused to allow me any pictures to bring home, or to tell me what the sex of my baby was. That didn't matter too much since I 'knew' from day one that I was having a boy. At this ultrasound, they did say that everything looked fine.

When I reached 36 weeks, I was transferred to the care of an amazingly caring man. The first day I met him, he measured me and said that I was only measuring 30 weeks. He asked how long I had been measuring 'off'. When I told him, he couldn't believe that nobody else had any concerns about this. I told him that the rest of the doctors thought I was just refusing to eat and that it was my fault. He disagreed because I was gaining the appropriate amounts of weight. He wanted a "stat ultrasound".

We went to schedule a "stat ultrasound." Being a nurse, I know that stat means now or at the very least extremely soon. They gave me an appointment date of October 26th. My due date was October 25th. They wanted to schedule my stat ultrasound in 4 weeks! Finally, after a bunch of string pulling by the doctor, my stat ultrasound was schedule in one of the civilian hospitals (read that as being civilized, or off post, or a hospital with sense or however you want to look at it...) for two weeks away. What could I do but wait? So, wait I did.

Two weeks later, I went in for my stat ultrasound. The tech was very nice. She started to talk while she looked. And man could she talk! Barely took a breath it seemed! But then, she started to slow down. She just started to talk less and less and finally she completely stopped. She wouldn't look at me. She wouldn't say a word even when I asked her a question. I knew there was a problem. And from the way she acted, I knew it was a major one.

I started to cry when she just got up from her chair and left the room without a word. The next thing I know, there is a doctor beside me and he is cleaning my belly off and telling me that my regular doc would be calling me sometime later in the week to let me know the results. He wouldn't look me in the eye either. I had to be carried out because I was so upset.

I went home to lay down. I happened to have made a friend who worked at that hospital. She knew that I was having an ultrasound that day and printed out the report for me. She brought it by that afternoon when she got off work.

After reading it, I put my shoes on and started for the door. I was asked where I was going and all I could say was "to talk to the doctor, come if you want to."

My report gave a due date of November 26th. It also said that my baby had asymmetrical intrauterine growth retardation. This meant that his head was growing, but the rest of him was not. I had severely low fluid levels surrounding him. They couldn't see all of the parts that they normally looked for, so they didn't know if he had them, let alone if they were working the right way.

When I reached the clinic, I demanded to see the doc. He came out, took me straight into his office and asked how I had gotten a report of the ultrasound. When I told him that the only thing that mattered was the life of my child, he said that he had scheduled me with the high risk clinic the next day.

I went to that high risk appointment. And swore I would never go back. The doctor there did an ultrasound, looked at me and told me, "Your child will not live. IF it makes it to delivery, it won't live very long outside your womb. All you can do is go home, make plans to bury it and plan for the next pregnancy. Your baby doesn't have any kidneys and that is why there is no fluid. By the way, it is a girl. I don't need to see you anymore." She then gets up and walks out.

I was in shock. I was not going to let anyone tell me that this child was a girl and that 'she' was going to die. I went immediately to my regular doctor, told him what had happened and within 24 hours, the high risk doc had been transferred off the post. I don't know where she went, but I apologize to anyone else that ever came into contact with her as a physician.

The final two weeks of my pregnancy, I saw the doc every other day and the days I didn't see him, I was at the hospital for an ultrasound and non stress test. Not one time did they give me a picture. Not one time did anyone give me any type of hope.

The day before I was due, the doc decided that he was done waiting and wanted my baby in the outside world. As he said, "I would rather worry about him (I convinced him it was a boy, no matter what the ultrasound said) where I can see him rather than worry about him where I can't."

I was forced into labor on October 24. I remember that the floor was full with laboring moms. When one mom came in and there was no bed for her, they sent her to a neighboring civilian hospital with a level 3 nicu. She was having no complications with her pregnancy. I was very upset that they didn't send me instead, but they had decided that my baby was going to die anyway, so why send me somewhere else?

When the resident doc broke my water at 10pm, out came a hand and arm...all the way to his little elbow! The doc gasped and shoved that little appendage back where it came from. Wow! That was scary and painful!

Finally, at 8:03am at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, my little BOY came into the world screaming! He was named Kolton and he weighed in at 6lbs 9ozs and was 21 1/2 inches.

He was beautiful. But most importantly, he was healthy.

No Great Title Comes to Mind

Ziggy made it home last night. He was really happy to be home. As a matter of fact, Sinatra and I were happy too! He had to be able to see me or he cried though. Guess he thought I was running away from him again or something.

Went and picked up his medicine at Wal-Mart after I picked him up. That was fun! You would think that they would have it filled and waiting on me since it was 5pm and it had been called in before 9am. Nope. They said they couldn't fill it until I gave them an address, phone number and birthdate. I wanted to ask why they didn't get that from the person calling it in since I would hope that they do that when a prescription is called in for a child. But, they didn't. So, I had to wander around Wal-Mart for half an hour until they got it ready. And, no, Ziggy does not like taking his medicine! As of this morning, I have gotten three doses in him though!

I talked to The Boy last night. He has made it Vermont. Said they were at one of the great uncle's houses. They are close to Lake Champlain from my understanding. I asked him if he had already been swimming. He told me "that water is really cold". He said that it was "probably 50 degrees." So, I don't know how soon he thinks is going to want to swim! If it were as hot there as it was here yesterday, it probably would have felt pretty good. He did tell me that he plans to take the paddle boat out today. I asked him who was going to be going with him and he said that he thought he would probably be by himself. I reminded him that he had to have an adult watching him in case he had problems.

I know it is a really good thing letting him go on this trip. I am still worried about it though. He has never been away from me for a month at a time. He goes to his father's house for two weeks out of the summer, but he is close enough that I can get to him quickly if need be. This time, he is so far away, that if he needed me in a hurry, it would take about 24 hours to reach him.

I guess the main reason I am worried is because he has to have boundaries set and I know that a lot of the time when he is with that side of his family, there aren't many of those. His father and his family tell me that it is my fault that The Boy is the way he is. They say that if it weren't for me "doctor shopping" until I found someone who would give him the diagnosis that I wanted him to have, then there would be no problem. All of this, even though at one point, they were the ones who were complaining about the way he acted and wanted to know "what is wrong with him."

As you may notice, I don't really get along with that side of The Boy's family. It all really started when his father and I decided to get married. I came in with a ring and he made the announcement. His sister (his only sibling and older by 11 months) told us that my ring should have been bigger and not to plan on getting married before her. She said that she was engaged first and therefore would be getting married first. And her parents agreed. Whatever. Didn't make me no never mind. We did end up getting married before her though, due to circumstances beyond my control.

When I found out that I was pregnant with The Boy, his father had decided the week before to get out of the army reserves and go active duty. When we told his mother that we had two announcements, she said ok, tell me. The Boy's father said to her, "well, first I will be going active duty soon and we are expecting a baby in October." His mother looked at me, then looked back at him and asked, "where will you be stationed when you go active duty?" I left the room crying. She never did say anything about the pregnancy. A week later, we told his sister and her husband at supper. She threw down her utensils and said "she can't be pregnant because I want to have the first grandchild." Her mother said, "you do have the first grandchild, hers will be my second." She was referring to my brother in law's child from a previous relationship.

After that, it never got better. I was accused of a lot of things that were not true. The worst though, has been that I am the one who caused my son to be the way he is.

Actually, now that I think about and type it out like that, maybe that is the nicest thing they have ever said about me! After all, The Boy is kind, considerate, polite, smart, getting funnier by the day, handsome and loving. Yep, I'm sure it was the nicest thing they ever said.

Weird Wednesday

It is not even 9am and it already qualifies as a Weird Wednesday.

The vet called this morning and said that Ziggy finally decided to give them a urine sample. Which means that he will get to come home today. I know that I didn't like the fact that he had to stay again last night at the vet's office, and I am sure that he didn't like that fact either. But, he did go and yes he does have "a nasty UTI" according to the vet.

I asked what his prescription would be written as and how much it would cost if I were to get it from her. She told me it would be written as 100mg twice a day for 14 days and would cost me about $20. She then told me that if I were to get it at the Wal-Mart pharmacy, there would be way too much and she didn't know how I would be able to get the liquid amount. I told her that I would call her back.

I called Wal-Mart and was told that he wasn't quite sure how to do that. Now come on. I know I am a nurse and not a high paid pharmacist, but even I know that docs call in all the time for young children with this same type of request. How hard is it to mix up the 250mg per 5ml and have me give him about 2ml at a time?? They do this all the time for infants! Just because I am giving it to a cat doesn't change the way it is dosed!

Anyway, the guy finally figured it out. Of course he had to tell me "you are going to have a bunch left over." Big deal! When he is only going to charge me $4, I don't think I am going to cry over having to dump a portion of it. And, not only that, I may need extra since I am not envisioning this to be a very easy task!

I don't know. Maybe this isn't as weird as I think it is. Then again, maybe it is weirder (is that a word?) than I think.

I talked to The Boy last night. He seems to be doing fine. They still have not arrived in Vermont. When I talked to him, he was eating a snack (which is not surprising) and that he had had steak for supper. I don't think he is quite ready to come home yet. He cracks me up though. He told me that it is a little strange to use the bathroom when you are rolling down the road! I made a joke which he didn't get (not surprising!) and he then proceeded to tell me how the toilet works in an RV. That was not surprising either!

As for me, I am working on being fine with him gone. Some hours it is easier than others. It is easiest while I am at work, since he isn't with me normally those hours anyway. The hardest is when I get home from work and it is just me and the animals. I don't like going to bed at night when I can't see that he is fine. I know I hear his voice, but hearing and seeing are two entirely different things. I am sure that I will notice just how gone he really is when I go to the grocery store! I guess there are good and bad points to his not being at home, huh?

Yes, this is a boring post, but my life is not always glitz and glamour! Actually, it is rarely glitz and glamour! But, again, if others out there want to follow along, then they are more than welcome!

Ziggy

Yesterday, I called the vet about Ziggy and his crouching issues. We agreed that he probably had a UTI. Fine. "Bring him in about 3:30." Fine. "Oh yeah....do you think you could also bring in a urine sample?"

Now, the first irrational thought that went through my mind was "his or mine?" That, luckily, did not come out of my mouth! Before I could even say anything, the girl on the phone was like, "probably not, huh?" I just laughed and said, "yeah, probably not."

After work, I quickly made my way home, brought in a carrier and let him explore it enough that he walked inside on his own. Now, don't think this will ever happen again! He didn't realize just what he was walking into! Poor Ziggy...he hates to ride anywhere, whether it is in a crate or in The Boy's arms. By golly, he is an inside cat and walking out the door does not make for a purring kitty.

After a 30 minute crying (not me, Ziggy) ride, we arrived safely at the vet's office. She takes us back and says that yes,she believes he has a UTI. Says she needs a urine sample, but because he won't pee on cue, he is going to have to spend the night. Or as long as it takes to get that sample. Great. Just what neither of us wants.

I had to sign a consent form for collection of a urine sample. As a nurse, this strikes me as kind of funny. They aren't going to do anything to him other than give him water to drink and sit back and wait for him to empty his bladder. And they need a consent form for that. If I had to have a consent form for everything I do to a child at school, I would have more paperwork than what I do have.

I ask what she plans to give him for the infection. She said that after she gets the sample and then makes positive that is what it is, she will probably want to have him take an antibiotic, like Amoxicillin for two weeks.

Two weeks?! Is she crazy?! Have you ever tried to give a cat medicine with a syringe? It is almost as bad as trying to give a cat a bath. And, I don't have The Boy's help. Good grief!

Then, being the hick that I am, I asked her if she could call that prescription into the Wal-Mart pharmacy! Yep...I did. She looked at me like I was a total loon, but she said "yeah, I think that is on their $4 list."

So, I left the cat, got in my car and after a 30 minute crying (me this time) ride, I arrived safely home. Called my Crazy Man and he laughed at me. Wow....feel the love? Me too.

Now I have to wait to see when I can go pick him up. Sinatra and I both hope that Ziggy will be home tonight.

I talked to The Boy last night before going to bed. He said they were closer to where they were going, but that it would still be probably Wednesday before arriving. I didn't tell him about Ziggy. I don't want him to freak out since there is nothing he can do. I will tell him after the antibiotics are all gone and everything is back to normal.

Guess now all I can do is wait. And imagine the look on the pharmacist's face when the vet calls in a prescription for Ziggy! Wish I could be there when my husband (who happens to be a not so fond lover of cats) stops by Wal-Mart and asks for his 'son' Ziggy's meds!

Life in a Country Song

My kid is gone, his cat is sick, the truck is wrecked and it is raining. I think that could be a country song!

Yes, all the above is true. You know about the truck being wrecked. The Boy left yesterday morning with his father's parents. They are headed to Vermont where that side of the family is from. He will be gone until July 10 unless he requests to come home. If that happens, then his father is supposed to go pick him up. Yeah, you heard right...his father isn't even with him.

This whole thing came about a couple months ago when grammy called to ask if The Boy could go with them. They planned on leaving on June 14 and would bring him home when they left VT on August 2. I didn't say what I wanted to say and instead just said "let me think about it and talk it over with my husband."

We talked to his counselor two different times and I made my point known. Which, of course, was "not happening." Now, don't think that I am such a jerk that I didn't want him to go. It isn't that. I know he needs to go spend time with that side of the family. His father is supposed to get him for two weeks out of the summer. I can't say a thing about what he does during those two weeks, even if I don't like him going. But, I can say something when they want to take him for the entire summer!

Anyway, I was told by his father that I was being selfish and that I needed to compromise and let him go. He told me that "it is all about you." He told me that he was not going to Vermont, but that The Boy "needed" to.

I don't like it, but I allowed him to go. I feel like I did compromise in letting him go for 4 weeks instead of the two I am required to let him go. I don't like the idea for several reasons, but I let him go. But, according to his father, I didn't compromise enough because he didn't get to be gone the entire time. AND not only should he have been gone the whole time, but his father should have gotten his two weeks from June 1 thru June 14. Yeah....right.

Anyway, I am not doing well with this. I cried (oh wait...I did not cry) when I dropped him off with his grandparents yesterday morning at 9 am.

Then, last night when I got home, Ziggy was acting weird. He actually was acting strange on Saturday, but it was worse last night. He was exploring like normal, but every few minutes, he would crouch like he was going to use the bathroom. I caught him once and took him to the litter box. But, he didn't go. He got out, went exploring again, and crouched again. This time, when he moved, there was a drop of liquid, but it was bloody. I think he may have a urinary tract infection. This is something I do not need right now. I am hoping that is all it is and nothing bad happens to him while The Boy is gone. Talk about devastated. I am going to call the vet in a little bit and see if I can get him in this afternoon.

On a good note, I did get The Boy's final grades this morning. He has an "A" or "A-" in everything. I am really proud of him! He works really hard to get those grades. Living with autism is a roller coaster sometimes and I will probably write that post in a day or two.

Until then, I am going back to my country song. And try not to cry.

Not Me Monday

Welcome to Not Me! Monday! This blog carnival was created by MckMama. You can head over to her blog to read what she and everyone else have not been doing this week.

This is the first Not Me Monday I have ever done! Yay me!

Not me is supposed to be about things that I may have done the previous week that could cause embarrassment to me or to others. Or at least that is the way I understand this to be. So, in the great spirit of that, I submit the following.

I did not cry buckets when The Boy left yesterday morning. He will be gone for four weeks...until July 10 at 4pm more precisely. And I sent him off happily enjoying the fact that I will be free of the autistic roller coaster we ride for the next 27 days. Nope, no tears for me.

I did not buy a Christmas present for my mother-in-law on Saturday. Nope, I don't do things early like that.

I did not ride around on Sunday with a giant buzzard in my car having positioned him so that he was looking out the back window. Nope, I would never do something so silly!
And, I would never laugh at the dog for being scared of the giant stuffed bird!

Nope, none of that happened to me. None.

Finally Friday

10 down and 10 to go. Days of summer school that is. Just finished up the second field trip not to long ago. Only two more to go. Went bowling today. Talk about funny! Watching the pre-k kids is downright hilarious sometimes!

Somebody came by to look at the wreck of a truck we now own to decide how much the insurance was going to pay. Seems like it is going to be almost exactly the amount that the bank had said they would need to release the title. Feels a little strange to me, but the hubby says that it is all legit. So, I guess we will be getting a check at some point in the (hopefully) near future.

This weekend is going to really stink. Not going into details at this moment because I don't want to cry yet. Will try to type about it on Monday.

I am actually in the library using one of their computers before I head out to get The Boy and then grab a bite to eat.

This is a really short post, but then again, it doesn't matter, since I am the only one reading it! Gotta run. Been in the library for a while, so maybe someone is missing me!

Weird Wednesday

The title says it all. Yesterday was a weird day.

First off, I had to get up much earlier than what I normally do to get The Boy to his grandparent's house so they could get him to my Big Little Brother's house so he could stay with my Little Little Brother. He has been staying with him since I am at summer school and he didn't want to go.

Then, I get to work and it is just a total breakdown there. Stupid things that people do. That is all I can/will say about that.

Finally left work. Went home where I walked in to the lovely smell of roast cooking that I had put on in the morning. Always nice to come home to a home cooked meal. Would have been better if it had been someone else who was doing the cooking tho!

Made several phone calls trying to get medical things taken care of. The Crazy Man got hurt on the job back in December and ended up getting several stitches in the top of his head. Easy, huh? Workman's comp should take care of it. Yeah...right. Fool people denied that claim, but paid the one to take out the stitches. Have yet to figure that one out. Now, of course, the doctor wants to turn us over to collections because we won't pay the bill. I personally don't think this is my responsibility to be trying to get someone besides me to pay for this, but I guess we have figured out how wrong that thought is. So, still trying to get someone to talk to me and get it taken care of.

My Crazy Man finally got home and we had some really good food. (If I do say so myself!) When he was getting things out to the truck to be ready for the morning, he hollers for me to come out also. I get out there and he says "listen". I hear some screeching in the trees, but don't know what it is. He points out a couple of birds, that he thinks are hawks. I don't really see what he is looking at, but then one of them flys off to another tree. I run inside to get the camera to see if we can zoom in on him so I can tell exactly what kind of bird it is. Mind you it is just about dark, so it is hard to tell what we are looking at. I get the camera, zoom in as close as I can and get a few shots. Still unable to tell exactly what kind of bird it is. So, I use the handy dandy feature on the camera and am able to zoom in on that picture. From the screeching sound it was making, I would have never guessed that the bird we were watching was an owl! Talk about surprised! I called my grandma later and she told me that it was probably a Screech Owl. She says there aren't many of them and they may have a nest near the house.

Then, while she and I were talking, it just opened up and poured. Like water out of a bucket! I had just been outside, and there was not a rain cloud anywhere to be seen, let alone any thunder and lightening that was making an appearance also. Weird weather on a weird Wednesday.

I was also told that my cousin made it home from the hospital on Tuesday night. He is doing ok, but will be missing the class that he was enrolled in at college. He is pretty sore and tired, but is doing much better.

Rest in Pieces

"Remember those scratches on the tailgate of the ranger that were starting to rust? Well, we don't have to worry about taking care of them anymore."

That was the phone call I received by my Crazy Man yesterday around 1pm. His dad had been driving our truck because his had been on the fritz. I thought that maybe he had touched them up or something. Oh no. Silly me. Because his next comment was: "My dad just called to say that he had totaled out the truck."

Holy crap! Evidently he swerved to miss a deer. When he did, he hit the edge of the road, hit a culvert and flipped the truck at least once. He said it landed upside down. I guess his dad took inventory of himself, crawled out of a window, called the highway patrol and then called my Crazy Man. I learned later that he also called his wife and asked that she come pick him up with an empty trunk!

He swore that he was fine, with just a bunch of bumps, bruises and cuts. We insisted that he go to the hospital to be checked out though. Especially since he had one cut that seemed to be bleeding quite a bit. So, he went. Got his arm bandaged and a chest x-ray taken. They sent him home with pain meds and muscle relaxants. Other than that, he is fine.

The truck on the other hand, is not. It is definitely a goner. We had just replaced the back glass not too long ago because I had somehow managed to destroy it. That, of course, was without a scratch. The rest...not so lucky!

Oh well, at least the driver is ok. The truck can be replaced. The man cannot.

Last Few Days

It has been a little chaotic the last few days around here. That is not the reason I haven't posted though. That reason would be because like I said in the first post, I don't have constant access to a computer.

Thursday after school was out, I went to the doc. All things good, come see me again in a year! Yaay for me! Have been seeing him every 6 months for a couple of years and I'm over it!

Then, we gathered The Boy and The Little Little Brother and grabbed a bite to eat before we headed to the Jeff Dunham show. Three and a half hours of non-stop laughter! Of course there was the drama before we even got inside. The Boy decided (don't ask me why...he is a boy) to try to stand on the handrail by the steps near where we parked. He fell backward, landing on his back and scraping his elbow. Neither I nor my Crazy Man saw this as we were busy getting things out of the vehicle. The Little Little Brother said that he tried to catch him, but missed. I think it scared The Boy more than it hurt him. Being the terrible mom that I am, I didn't have anything to clean it when it decided to start bleeding 10 minutes later, so I had to beg a wet wipe from a mom in line in front of us. Once we were able to get inside, we tracked down a security guard who took us in to the bowels of the venue for first aid treatment.

We tried to get the security guy to take us to meet Jeff Dunham, but he told us that he was on the opposite side of the venue. I then told The Boy "Shoot...here I pushed you down for nothing!." Luckily the security guard laughed instead of calling DFS. The Boy didn't think it was nearly as funny!

We stayed after the show to try to get an autograph, but Jeff Dunham didn't bother to come greet anyone.

Earlier in the afternoon, I had gotten a phone call from my grandma. My cousin, who is about 21 I guess, had to have surgery earlier in the day. Grandma called to update me on that. When I answer, the first thing I hear is...."I got some bad news." Now...if someone calls you for the express purpose of reporting how a surgery went, these are not the words you want to hear! For that matter, no matter what they are calling you for, you don't want to hear these words first thing out of someone's mouth!

Anyway, she tells me that while doing a laproscopic procedure, the doc nicked an artery and had to make a fairly decent size incision so he could correct his mistake. Because of the mistake, my cousin was receiving blood and was under anesthesia for a lot longer. Supposedly at the time of the call, he had been taken to the recovery room.

On Friday morning, my mom calls to say that on Thursday night around 9pm, my cousin was taken back into surgery because a vascular surgeon came in and decided that the way the artery was fixed would not hold. He decided that a better repair should be done immediately. All of this ended with him having at least 6 units of blood and two major surgeries in less than 8 hours. As of Saturday, he was being transferred out of the ICU and into his own room where they were hopeful he would go home yesterday evening or early today.

Saturday, we went on a motorcycle ride about an hour or so away to a place called Black Powder Days. They have a couple of fields set up with tents and teepees and folks dressed like they are in the 1800s. They fire off canons inside an old army post and have all sorts of cool things going on. Saw a lot of stuff that nobody should have to see (fat men in loin cloths). Went with a couple of friends and had a pretty good time.

Sunday was a day to buy groceries and rest. So, we did!

Unfortunately, today, I am back at work. Oh well. The things we do to make sure our kids eat, huh?