Everybody Stims

These two. They just blow me away. With their two brains working together they were unstoppable.  Thank you, Annie and Helen. You showed 'em. Helen and Annie When I was 16, I auditioned to be Helen Keller in our high school's production of   The Miracle Worker , a beautiful three-act play by William Gibson based on Keller's autobiography:  The Story of My Life . It literally changed the path of my entire life, thanks to a brilliant teacher and director, LouAnne Durham, who could both 1) Manage to organize the circus of hormones called Teenagers in Drama, and 2) Create something beautiful out of our chaos using a great script, her own skill, extreme patience and sheer tenacity.  She made us do more than just recite lines and learn blocking. She talked to us about the relationships between characters. In preparation even before practice she challenged me to experience life in different ways to get a hint of what Helen may have felt. She had me wear vi...

(this is a post from last winter I forgot to publish  because clearly at the time I was very, very sleep deprived!)  It is the simple things that make me so grateful, so happy, so able to drift off to sleep. Just two words that I now know he can use: "Yes. Ear." Who would have thought they had such meaning? --I'm desperately hoping for sleep tonight. Dan feels much better and his antibiotics SHOULD have kicked in by now to relieve the ear infection that I think is the reason that we've been up at 3, 4 and 5am on and off for the last two weeks. I thought it was time to maybe "go there" with some heavy duty sleep meds, besides the melatonin we use now. However before we went there (to psychiatry for meds) I went to his pediatrician to rule out a possible ear or sinus infection, or --ahem-- a pinworm infection. Because he eats dirt.(But that's another blog post for another day, okay?) She found a goopy, red and infected right eardrum. I have never...

Last January I got this letter from Dan's teacher: "...This morning he came in and checked his schedule. Today was PE. He took the picture off. I told him that he had PE today so we were going to leave it on.  He looked at me and said, 'No.'  I showed him my teacher schedule that said PE for his class.  He said, 'No PE' again and tried to take it off.  I told him I was sorry, but it is what is on our schedule for today.  He got his iPad, and told me "No" again. I asked him what he would rather have instead, and he verbally said, 'Art.'  I talked with Dan about being disappointed that today was not art. I made him a specialist calendar for January and February.  It seemed to appease him and he did well in PE. Later in the day we worked on writing.  Every presidential inauguration year, students can write to the president and the letters will be read to congress.  I asked Dan what he wanted to write about.  And Dan said, '...

Excerpt from Wednesday's Journal Entry from Dan's teacher: ...Dan became frustrated in Art today. They were doing a lot of fine motor. I've included his problem solving form, and apology letter... The problem solving form indicated that the project on "Pentangles" was hard, and he was frustrated, pushed a stool over, hit his assistant and the art teacher, and was generally mad that it was so difficult. His letter basically said: "Dear Mrs. H. (and Ms. J.) I'm sorry I hit you, it's not okay to hit. I will have nice hands in art class. Love, Dan." My Reply: (edited)  "...It's hard when things are frustrating but it's not ok to hit. We talked about it...Can we adapt the art projects so that he doesn't feel so frustrated?...I know he sees the difference between himself and his peers...He tries to draw things at home but ends up handing me the marker because he knows it's not right...we are sorry..." Thursday's...

 I recently read The Reason I Jump,  by Naoki Higashida, which was a great find. Then we went to the beach last weekend, just Dan and I, and spent hours wandering, watching, and running along the surf. It was magic. And ever since I've been thinking of this song... Covered by the great Ella Fitzgerald here:   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WBfuoMpabHY There was a boy, A very strange enchanted boy. They say he wandered very far Very far, over land and sea. A little shy and sad of eye, But very wise was he. And then one day, a magic day He passed my way,  and while we spoke Of many things, fools and kings, This he said to me; "The greatest thing you'll ever learn Is just to love and be loved in return"

 I am told that Golf Season is beginning soon and was reminded to post this previous writing... Tight calf muscles are the norm for this house.  Today is a perfect example of why. The Master’s Golf Tournament is on and the last hole is being played. All three of the men in my life are glued to the screen to watch the final putt. My husband Todd is standing in the middle of the living room, so he can pace and see over my son Dan, who is nose-to-nose with the screen. My son Ethan is bouncing on the couch periodically yelling at Dan to move out of the way. Otherwise they are all transfixed.. Ethan is 10 and has a diagnosis of PDD-NOS, --the sort of hazy diagnosis that says; “Meh, you’re quirky, somewhere on the Spectrum, but we can’t pin it down.”  He is often our mini-professor, lecturing us on Titanic statistics but struggles with subtle jokes and idioms. If you give him a book on a subject he retains it forever in his brain’s file cabinet, but learnin...

Today I saw this article, with a change in numbers: Now we have until nine years, apparently. From an article in Parents.com: "The latest studies show that almost 80 percent of kids with autism now have some speech by age 9, whereas only 50 percent of these kids were talking 20 years ago." --Catherine Lord, Ph.D., director of the Center for Autism and Communication Disorders at the University of Michigan, in Ann Arbor. Just a couple of years ago, I remember reading in several places that basically if he didn't have verbal speech by age six, it was all over with talking.  Move on, the experts said, to augmentative communication, or sign, or whatever. Statistics say verbal is not going to happen, ever. When Dan was five, I felt like a dark door loomed ahead. I dreaded Dan's sixth birthday. It came anyway. While his verbals existed, it was like pulling teeth for one-word, very inarticulate responses. Six came and went, turned into seven. Still, nothing major hap...