The Fortune Telling Map

What will the future hold?




Let's find out. This is a true story.


The first thing I learned is that I do not know my US geography like I should! You would think that watching endless hours of CNN polling and election results, I should know more. This puzzle boasts that it is for children 3 and up. Whew! I fit in to that category. And the findings are....




A. There will be a loss for the auto industry.
My tot is enjoying putting in the state icon pieces in their correct destinations, such as a palm tree in Florida, the Alamo in Texas, uh oh... seriously, there is NO car for Detroit! Either it didn't come in the box or we lost it. Could it be a sign of our future? Maybe I should call Congress and ask them to send me another one for free.

B. With the help from emerging innovation, there will be new discovery and solutions for the energy crisis.
Here my tot is trying to find new ways for energy. Innovation is the answer. Not long pipes under the ground up to Alaska. "Wind and Sun," spouts my toddler.

C. One pretty step for woman, one leap for humankind
Don't my toes look purty? Even if the bottoms are like Flinstone feet! I haven't given myself a pedi since summertime. I had a dream the other night that my toes were painted a cheerful red so in the morning, I got up and painted them. Self care is important or I wouldn't be able to report on these amazing prophesies readers! Red toes are the secret key to my success! And, there are additional topics to discuss on why and how my toes can look so pretty on the top, but be cracked and calloused on the bottom. Typical of motherhood, eh?

D. What will happen to Florida?
I have had a scar on my index finger since I was seven years old. I got it making Christmas candy. It is in the shape of the United States without Florida. I love Florida. I used to live there. I have vacationed there since my youth. But, I can only report on my findings and here is what I see! Take a look for yourself.




And that's all I can find for now. This is Crazy Jug reporting. And, now, back to you.

There's a Weird Monster in the Pool

I can remember the first time I noticed my daughter being bullied and teased. She was five years old and she had autism, although I didn't know at the time.

We were taking a mini family vacation, staying in a hotel with a pool. Her younger sister was just beginning to walk and I was enjoying being a mom holding my one year old in the water with me playing motor boat with her. The sun was warm and its glare was somewhat blinding. Although not blinding enough for me to see my daughter, Sienna playing monster with the other kids in the shallow end. I was watching like an eagle and wanted to dip down, pick her up and protect her from the mean things the other children were saying to her and about her. I am not sure if she even noticed.

Sienna had blonde curls that perked up from the splashing waters. Her expressive blue eyes, round as saucers could tell a stories without her muttering a word. Strangers would often tell us how beautiful she was when we were out shopping or at the park. That is, when she wasn't throwing a tantrum of course! There she was, enjoying the summer day in the clean hotel pool. She was splashing around all snug in the inter-tube she called "Dragon."

And she was pretending to be a dragon too. She would hiss, growl, show her bare teeth towards all the other kids while they would run away from her, screaming. One little girl ran towards the small group of moms while we were all holding our babies together talking about how well our baby naps and eats. I heard her tell her mom, "That girl is so weird. She is like a monster!"

I couldn't detect if the girl was afraid or disgusted towards my little girl, but one thing was sure, I was in shock. I didn't know what to do, so I froze. I froze and I watched more closely. Sienna would swim towards a kid, put on a a mean monster stare and growl at him. The little boy didn't know if he should laugh or be scared but wanting to play along he let Sienna chase him. And, Sienna would chase him along with all the other kids in the pool. Holding her hands up, claws out as if to attack, she would run around the shallow end acting like a monster.

In attempt to help Sienna play with the other kids, I gave Sienna pool toys, flippers, balls, little sinking things. All ignored. Trying to distract her, I asked Sienna if she met any new friends. She would just growl at me in hopes I would keep playing monster with her. It was hard to get her out of the monster mode. I tried another approach, I tried sharing the toys with the other kids. I asked if anyone wanted to swim under the water and get the sinking pegs. They would. They would try to be competitive with one another. The same little girl who ran to her mommy earlier asked me what was wrong with my daughter.

Not knowing what to say, I said, "She just likes to pretend a lot. Don't you pretend?"

The little girl said, "Yes, but I think she is weird and she scares me."

Angered and saddened, I decided to get out of the pool. I continued to watch Sienna try to play with the other kids. I watched how the other kids would all get together and bond while making fun of Sienna. They would laugh at her and antagonize her just to watch her chase them.

"Time to go Sienna. Let's get out of the pool, honey."

It was a month after the mini vacation when I took her in to her pediatrician. She would be starting Kindergarden soon and she needed updated medical records. The entire time during the visit, she barked and pretended to be like a dog, albeit, a nice, gentle, loving dog. The doctor came in and I am not sure how the conversation got to the point for the doctor to use the "A" word with me but I will never forget her saying, "There is no doubt in my mind that your daughter has autism." That was July 2, 2007.

This post was motivated by a topic from a blog of a friend of mine. Please visit hellokittiemama at autismsucksrocks.com where she has written a post titled, "Hey Bully, You Suck!"

Relax Mom, Let Your Kid Be a Kid!

While driving home from a counseling session and lunch with some girl friends, I was enjoying the fall scenery and listening to the radio all alone, at the volume I wanted! When you have two daughters with sensory disorders, especially auditory processing, most of the time, the van needs to be a quiet place, free from audio stimulation, much to my own chagrin.

Feeling free and alive, my thoughts took me back to a scene from Finding Nemo.

Remember Marlin, the scared yet determined Daddy to Nemo when he is talking to the Daddy Sea Turtle, Crush? In a panic, wide-eyed and frazzled, as he is in almost every scene, he is worried for Crush's son, Squirt who just fell out of the current into an ocean abyss. Here is how the conversation goes:

MARLIN: [gasps] Oh my goodness!

CRUSH: Whoa. Kill the motor, dude. Let us see what Squirt does flying solo.

SQUIRT: Whoa! Whoa! That was so cool! Hey dad, did you see that? Did you see me? Did you see what I did?

CRUSH: You so totally rock, Squirt! So give me some fin..noggin..

CRUSH/SQUIRT: ..dude!

This picture paints the perfect model of my current parenting world. I am Marlin, neurotic, not able to fit in and meeting only friends that aren't quite my type like Dory or the sharks. My daughter, is little Nemo, cute and spunky, with a "Lucky Fin," (a/k/a Autism and ADHD and Mood Disorders) who despite her circumstances is making friends and growing up.

It was like God was speaking to me today on my drive home. He was saying, "Kill the motor."

Remember Nemo's first day of school for Marlin? I still want my little Nemo to go and play in the toddler bouncy area - not travel with the sting ray teacher to the drop off!!! What if she can't swim like the other kids? What if she needs a sensory break?

God is telling me, "Let's see what she does on her own..."

And, so, I will. At least I will try. Good idea God. Thanks for meeting me today and speaking in my language! You rock!

"School" of Thought

I had a quick meeting scheduled yesterday at 3:05 with Sienna's teacher to talk about the tasks I needed to help with on Thursday afternoons when I volunteer in Sienna's class. So what that meant is that I would wait until Sienna rode her bike home and then we would just cross the street together and head over to Mrs. Banna's class.

But, Sienna didn't know we had this meeting scheduled. And she obviously didn't want to go so she tried pulling her retaliating, stubborn, "I'm not going and you can't make me" routine. After trying to negotiate, I did the 1-2-3 and then picked her up and carried her across the street. I put her down, she froze in place. Sarah, obediently walked along with me, we would both take a couple of steps, look behind us and then do the whole negotiate-1-2-3-pick-up to cross the school drop off drive way. I think I had to do the routine one more time before we were on the sidewalk safe haven. 

There were about 20 random kids and adults lingering around the front doors. All eyes were on us. I felt so judged and ridiculous. I was so angry at Sienna. Frankly, if it wasn't Sienna throwing a fit though, it probably would have been Sarah. It is just a little less publicly humiliating carrying a two year old than an almost seven year old. As we approached the front doors, the aid who normally holds the doors open for the kids both before and after school stood there whispering to another aid who has made inappropriate comments, although possibly misunderstood I have now come to realize. I saw them in one another's ears and more rage filled in me although all I could do was squat to keep Sarah's attention focused on just walking in the doors. She is so distracted by so much. It is a full time job getting eye leveled and helping her to move forward, both in day to day activities and development issues. 

I am hoping that Sienna is following us not caring if she stews or not. "Please do not make a scene today please do not make a scene today," the thoughts were telling one another in my mind not realizing that we already had put on the public show and entertainment just a few minutes earlier. Must have been in denial.

Then, one of the aids leans towards me to say something that soothed my soul better than chocolate on a rainy day. It was as if I were entering into the pearly gates and John, Peter, Paul or Gabriel or whoever that guy is who is apparently standing at the gates of heaven leans over to me and says, "We feel so sorry for you. We don't know how you do it!"

WHAT? I thought those aids were the biggest judges of all of the school personnel towards me! They are the reason I detest going to that school. They represent the entire school to me, the same 'school' who doesn't see anything wrong with my child and who claim it is all poor parenting. These words were like music engraved on my heart. I think I might have even flinched and said something like, "Seriously? I thought... well, I didn't think you liked me." Lame, I know. 

And, a tear welled up in my eye. I wanted to hug them and take refuge in that moment. I pulled it together as soon as I saw the vice principal. I didn't want him to see me teary eyed. I had to look like I was in control, somewhat professional.

It was a blessing. Encouragement. It was exactly what I needed, just some support and understanding. I wish I had more encounters like that to report!

Good grief

You ever have an issue that keeps coming up over and over in your mind? It's like you can't have any peace or progress until you realize what it is that is at the heart of the problem, yet you aren't even sure what the problem is exactly.

Here is one of those nagging self talk scripts that I am trying to get my hands on... I think I have it figured out, but it is like that Sudoku puzzle that you know you could solve you just can't find the time, or the right pencil or even the Sudoku puzzle itself.

I've mentioned in previous posts perhaps that I have two daughters on the spectrum. My oldest, Sienna, first grader has been diagnosed with PDD-NOS with probable Asperger's. She also has mood disorder (bi-polar spectrum) and ADHD. I have been on a roller coaster with her since she was about 2 years old, feeling like a failure, like nothing I could do for her was working. She was so 'out-of-sync' and so when I found the book, "Out of Sync Child," by Carol Kranowitz a few years ago, something finally clicked with me. I started the long journey of trying to get services and diagnosis's, let alone just basic acceptance of my concerns from my own husband and family members. Finally, after three years I started getting more understanding from family members. It took a lot of tantrums at family events for people to realize that there was any merit in what I was saying about Sienna. No one wanted to believe that such a bright and blue-eyed blonde little girl had anything wrong with her. All along, my parenting skills and credibility as a mother were weakened through every step during this three year journey.

Then, after Sienna's daycare providers really encouraged me to take the matter more seriously, I finally went privately to get medical diagnoses. In the past 18 months, we have had five professional diagnoses all pretty consistent with one another: Sensory Integration, PDD-NOS, Probable Asperger's, Mood Disorders, Bi-Polar and ADHD. In addition, yet in opposition to these medical opinions, the school's psychologist has observed, assessing Sienna at the school and discovered that Sienna doesn't show any problems at all. In fact, the school professionals claim that she is a bright and cheerful girl that perhaps "her mother is in need of counseling and parenting classes."

And, here we are a year later, and I realize, I do need therapy and parenting classes, ever since the school's assessment in fact!

Every day, I fight with my thoughts and feeling about my daughter being on the spectrum. Is she? Most of the time she is fine. We've learned to adjust. We don't do any thing that will be unpredictable or pressure her socially. So, I can't tell. I am going nuts trying to figure out if something is wrong with my daughter. If so, what exactly. And, once it is determined what, then, how will I help her?

I realize that I am thick in denial. I am also so angry. I have become hardened.

And then, a light bulb went on! It was an ah-ha moment yesterday while we took a day trip by train to Chicago. Sienna was not in her normal element. And, when she isn't in her element, her quirks are more pronounced. She acts strange, says weird things, has odd gestures. She doesn't even walk normal. When she was younger, she would act like a dog as a coping mechanism. Now, she acts like a baby to cope in difficult situations for her. She talks like a baby, wants to ride in the stroller and cuddle, just like a baby. I even made a new age appropriate 'blankie' for her so she could have her blankie in times like these. Frankly, I allow it because when she was a baby, she didn't really sit still in a stroller and didn't cuddle or talk much.

I found myself growing so angry during the train ride. I was so irritable with her. I was so mad at her for acting like this. I was mad that we couldn't do any family fun activities any more. I feel so judged by strangers everywhere we go. Most of all, I was disgusted at myself.

Why do I have to be so superficial? I have been a born again Christian for about 13 years now. I was such a strong follower before having children. I was so close to God, my heart was tender for Him. Now, I am so hardened. I don't even feel comfortable going to church, partly because our children on the spectrum have so many challenges in a church setting, but also because of the condition of my heart. I am starting to cope in unhealthy ways myself. I am drawn to cocktails to relax me and other social subtleties that are not Christian-like.

And I really do want to be that caring, loving Christian woman that I once was. I don't want to be cursing at God for giving me children who are so difficult. Feeling so inadequate for this feat, I let out a yelp of a prayer and I heard God telling me that I was in His Hands. I was just going through the valley of grief. I still am in denial. I am still in the anger phases. It is difficult to have a clear journey of grief with raising children with special needs like what Sienna has because every day is different and I will not know what challenges we will face until we are face to face with each challenge.

I have to trust God even more in the daily crises of raising my kids. More than the typical family would. And, that is a blessing. At least that is how I am seeing it in this light bulb moment!