Tuesday Morning Panic

I didn’t think Love Bug had his PLAN group this morning. I was pretty sure they took off the day after Memorial Day. But, at 7:55 am, his van honked outside. I rushed him out the door, stopping on the porch to put on his dirty shoes. As I loaded him into the van, I commented to the driver that I didn’t think they had group today. He shrugged and tucked Love Bug into the seat while answering his question about a friend from daycare who no longer attends the group (she graduated from it). I hurried back inside, out of the rain, to grab my stuff for work and to get Chica Marie to school. I took a moment, in the car, to email that group lead teacher advising her I would be picking Love Bug up because he has a doctor’s appointment. She responded by stating they didn’t have group today. But, I put my child on  van just a few minutes ago! I quickly called the transportation department as the rain lashed my windshield. I didn’t want to be on the phone, but I had to get to work and I also needed to know where Love Bug was going. The woman I talked to responded, “If it’s a silver van, it isn’t ours” and proceeded to look up a phone number to another transportation company with the pace of an arthritic sloth. Finally, she started spurting out a number. I pulled over to write it down, then promptly called the transportation operator. The man nonchalantly informed me the van was enroute. “But to where?” I cried. They couldn’t take Love Bug home, no one was there. Were they going to take him to daycare? How confused and scared was he? Did the driver even explain what had happened? Feeling panicked, I called the daycare director and, after explaining what happened, I asked him to text me when Love Bug arrived at the center. I could hardly concentrate on work until, at 8:48 the director informed me, “Love Bug is here.” And I could breathe again.

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First 100 Days

I was finally given the report from the Early Interventionist for the evaluation for Love Bug. It was a long read. It was both eye-opening and unsurprising. While reading most of it, I heard myself protesting, "They haven't given Love Bug a chance." "They don't know how to get him to cooperate." But, I also answered myself, knowing even I wouldn't be able to get him to cooperate if there was something he really didn't want to do. A few times I found myself chuckling. I probably shouldn't have, but they had some quotes from Love Bug and it was just so him, I couldn't help myself. I know, it really isn't funny that my child can't manage to participate in group activities, but it was sort of funny to read in a dry clinical voice. At the end of the evaluation there was a list of resources, one being a document I could download called the First 100 days, meaning the first 100 days after an Autism diagnosis. I read it and one point gave suggestions on how to tell family members. I decided there was no point in not telling my family. We don't have an official diagnosis, but that won't stop the school from placing Love Bug in an autism support classroom. So, while getting a pedicure with my friend from work this afternoon, I text my parents and sister. "Love Bug has been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder. We have more testing to do to help figure out how best to help him. I just wanted to get you up to speed and help to understand some of his behaviors." My mom responded to me privately "Ok." Then, "And I have cancer again!!!" I haven't really been able to process it all. I think mostly I'm terrified that this might really be the end. How many times can one person beat cancer?

Helpful Stranger

Yesterday we had to take our two foster dogs to a vet clinic near our house. The female dog has a home, most likely, and the family is anxious to have her move in, we just needed to check all the vetting boxes. The vet who spayed and neutered the dogs did not test for heartworm and so this is how we ended up at the clinic near our house. We had plans to be in this particular shop because Love Bug won a gold fish at the school carnival and rather than have live fish there, they gave away coupons. So, we bought the fish earlier and returned with the dogs. I wanted to be first in line because we were going to the minor league baseball game with CHOR which started as the same time as the clinic. The kids were a little rammy and I got irritated because my grandmother called me, and she never calls me. Wrangling two kids and two dogs was next to impossible while trying to hold a conversation with my Nana. At one point, the man waiting next in line behind us, commented that Love Bug "couldn't help it" when he stomped on my foot for the third time and I was terse with him. I said, he could stop stomping on my toes and thought the man would back off and leave us alone. I guess I'm too used to judgmental people seeing me and my kids and thinking they could do it better. Anyway, after I ended the brief conversation with my grandmother, the man watched Love Bug stacking the dog food cans as high as he could, then looked at me and asked, " He's autistic isn't he?" I was totally taken aback. I had no idea what he saw that made him think he could guess Love Bug was being evaluated for that very same diagnosis. I signed and hesitantly answered, "He's being evaluated to see if he's on the spectrum." The man nodded sagely and said, "Yes, he is. I can tell because I'm autistic." I was surprised by his admission and softened my defensive walls slightly. As we tried to talk over a rambunctious Love Bug and attention-seeking Chica Marie, the stranger talked to me about getting a neuropsych eval for Love Bug. I confessed his current mental health professional was pushing for him to get on meds and the kindly cat-owner cautioned against meds for autism. He told me medication only worked for 40% of people with ASD. He recommended getting some type of DNA testing done to see what meds might help Love Bug (it had a name, but I can't remember it). He himself uses Prozac and a vitamin that helps him sleep. Our new friend reluctantly shared his phone number with me, so I could ask him via text the name of the things he mentioned to me. He also gave me a business card for a lawyer advocate and the number for a psychologist who could perform a neuropsych eval. We managed to not only get the dogs taken care of, but found invaluable advise for which I am most grateful.

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Quiet But Nice

Yesterday was one of few mother's day that didn't totally suck. It was quiet, but nice. We went to brunch with my parents, sister and brother-in-law. Primero went along without prompting, which was really nice. The weather was crappy with lots of heavy rain, but family time was nice. Love Bug sat between my parents and soaked up my dad's attention. The little guy really digs my dad. He also waited patiently for breakfast, even thought it was busy and took some time. My mom was quiet but she didn't make any comments. Before we left the house, Primero gave me a generous gift from Bath and Body Works and a beautiful, yet funny card. It was very much my style. And, Esperanza broke her months of silence with the following, "Happy Mother's Day! I just want to take a moment and thank you for everything you have done for me. Without you I wouldn't be who I am today. For the couple of years I spent with you, you've taught me a lot. At times it might not of looked like it because I'm hard headed sometimes lol but you did teach me a lot. No your not my real mom but you stepped up when you didn't have to and took me in like one of your own and took care of me. You did things my real mother never done and no I'm not talking about the materialistic things I'm talking about when you ask me if I was ok you talked to me when I needed someone to talk to about things I couldn't talk to nobody about. I always had a shoulder to cry on you were always there even when we had our ups and downs. I appreciate everything you have done for me. I love you and happy mother's day." It made me cry. And miss her like crazy.

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Causing Pain

Last night Primero and I told Chica Marie that her mom was staying with her grandmother and older sister. She took it about as I expected she would. She cried quietly at first. Then, when it was bedtime, she got more agitated and started talking more about it. At first she said she was mad I didn't tell her sooner so (in my words) this hurt could already be over. I explained that I wasn't sure it was something I should be telling her at first and I also didn't want to be the one to hurt her with this information. She then demanded why I cared, why did it matter if her mom lived with Grandma, like who cares? How would I feel if I had to move back in with my mom? She then wanted to know why her mom couldn't just live on her own, in her own place. I explained that her mother was staying in a housing program but she did a good job getting healthy and so she was able to move out and needed a place to stay. Of course this didn't placate Chica Marie. She avoided saying her mom lived with her sister. But, she kept talking about it for a long time. She asked me why I told her, why didn't I just let it be a surprise for the next time they went to visit Grandma. I asked if she would really want to be surprised like that and at first she said yes, but then when I pointed out how upset she was, she said no. She ended the conversation by saying, "Next time we go to Grandma's I'm just staying," I didn't answer her because I know she didn't mean it, she was just upset and hurt. I don't know if I did the right thing telling her, I thought about it so long. But, when I talked to Primero about it and he told me how much he would resent me if he found out and then found out I knew well before he did and never told him. I don't really know if Chica Marie would feel the same way. I'm just glad she is talking to me about how it makes her feel right now.

Hard Times Circle Round

Things are hard with the younger two right now. Thankfully, it seems Primero has moved on from his “adult” temper-tantrum stage and will be graduating next month! Such a huge sigh of relief and I am so proud of him! But, sadly, his success is being drowned out by the increasingly troubling behavior of Chica Marie and the on-going drama with Love Bug’s pending diagnosis and school enrollment.

Chica Marie: Things had been dormant for a bit and she was doing very well at school and at daycare and even at home. But, as the mobile therapist indicated, pretty much everyone is done with her behaviors and disrespect. Last week, she stole candy that Primero and I accidentally left sitting out, then hid it in her backpack to take to school. She got in trouble riding the bus from her school to the after-school bowling program because she as screaming and refused to get in her seat. When she was admonished by the coach about screaming her response was, “well, you never told us the bus rules.” The same day she filched $5 from a teammate at her first baseball game and when we got home from the game her mobile therapist text to let me know she threatened another child at school. This was all after she let the foster dog out of our backyard resulting in us having to notify the rescue, the ARL, the Humane Society, and the police (the dog was picked up and taken to the Animal Rescue League). The week before she was accused of sticking her hand down another girls skirt at daycare. Today she threatened to kill her daycare teacher when the teacher crumpled some paper she had drawn. I don’t know what to do. It doesn’t seem to matter what I saw and no punishment deters the behaviors. The mobile therapist in one breath told me I’m a push-over and in the next advised me to not just take privileges away from Chia Marie because he didn’t think that would work, it would only build resentment. We had stopped doing the play therapy together, but I have reinstituted it in desperation to reach her before things get really, really bad. 

Love Bug: Apparently my head has been in the sand when it comes to my little guy. He irritated the psychologist who evaluates the kids to determine what course of action should be taken and submits this to the insurance for approval. The first time we met, he suggested medication management, but it was at the same time that the Early Intervention therapist suggested Love Bug was autistic and the wishy-washy diagnosis did not seem like a good time to start pumping him full of drugs. Even now, the doctor has not changed his diagnosis (which was ADHD and ODD) but what I have learned (from a CHOR training) is that changing the diagnosis could mean losing us as patients if they are unable to handle the new diagnosis. So, the almighty dollar actually dictates the diagnosis. But, yes drugs. So, the doctor was frustrated that Love Bug would not obey his command to stay on the other side of his desk, instead of trying to escape by the door behind him. I guess all the other children, seeking help for behavioral issues, are better behaved. I left feeling very frustrated myself because it seemed like the doctor didn’t want to hear anything since I didn’t heed his recommendation to dump pills down my child’s throat. I will need to contact Love Bug’s primary care physician because there are no appointments for him with the staff at the mental health facility. We are also being assigned a case manager because they want to send him to some specialized schooling  over the summer, rather than the daycare he has been attending since he’s 18 months old. Meanwhile, the early interventionist, who has a hand in completing the evaluation for Love Bug’s kindergarten enrollment, has suggested, based on his test scores, he is very deficient. I haven’t seen the whole eval yet, but according to the mobile therapist, who just two weeks ago agreed with me that Love Bug could handle the traditional kindergarten with TSS support, believes the autism support classroom is where he needs to be. So, it seems there will be no way around it. I won’t have anyone in my corner. I feel like the early intervention evaluation is biased but how can I prove that? I suppose I am the only one on the planet still perplexed by the ASD diagnosis because of my limited understanding. Love Bug is social, he can make friends, he is affectionate and verbal and so many things that I didn’t think fit on the spectrum. Is higher functioning autism (formerly, Asperger’s) that much different? I don’t know. And no one is explaining anything to me.

Finally, we come to my guilt. The weight of all these behavioral issues sits heavily on my shoulders. What am I doing or not doing that is causing or not helping these behaviors? How am I failing as a mother? Why can't I make it stop? What did I not do when Love Bug was a baby to help him be more prepared for kindergarten? I have so many questions and no answers. It's just hard.

Impasse

My goal has always been for no one to guess Chica Marie has a white mom based on her hair. Her mother, a class I took about the cultural importance of black women's hair, and an online group for white adoptive parents of black children has taught me the importance of keeping her hair well-groomed and healthy. From the beginning of time Chica Marie has fought me. When she was little I didn’t have the expectation that she would keep her hair tidy. As she got older, I began talking to her about her hair and trying to teach her to not take it out. When she was younger she would manipulate an adult to take her hair out. I had words with the daycare staff about not touching her hair, even if she cried about it being too tight. It was a ploy to get her hair free. As she got older, I tried to give her free hair days but they were a disaster. Still, Chica Marie would mess with her hair. She has dumped things like hand sanitizer and hand soap in her hair. She plays with it, pulls it out and does whatever she can to ignore my pleadings and admonishments to simply let her hair alone. When I picked her up from daycare on Friday, she had dumped water on her hair and braided some of the parts that were lose. Things have been rough with her lately and I was just done. I told her she could just do her own hair. I thought she would try and get frustrated and then realize she couldn't do it alone. But, thus far that is not what is happening. She seems to think she's all grown up and can just do her hair. I messaged her teacher, so she wouldn't think I was dead or something because this girls hair is one hot mess. Never has she left the house with her hair so bedraggled looking. Still, she is as happy as a clam, thinking this is great. She's grown. And, so now we are at an impasse. 

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