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So I've been laying low a bit .. I'm a little melancholy, a little overwhelmed and a little just kind of blah.

The melancholy is a little bit post-divorce, but more just the emotional drain of parenting; especially parenting the Bean. That's where the overwhelmed comes in, too. Neurology and neuropsychology appointments and assesments; biweekly OT; behavior challenges at home and at school; hearing 'autism', 'pervasive developmental disorder', 'adhd', 'behavioral issues', 'mood disorder'...

These aren't diagnoses, they're rule-outs. But they're mentioned because initial assesments indicate they're possible, that my kid exhibits traits and behaviors associated with these disorders. That's not something anyone wants to hear or think about. Having a kid who is such magic in so many ways, but so obviously off of center too is just an emotional rollercoaster. And if I'm feeling a little moody anyways ... well, it's easy to get sucked into just blah.

So I don't end on a woe-is-me note: next time you see Miss O, ask her what dinsoaurs eat. Don't be shocked if she says "carrots". But she says it with that little, subtle Miss O smirk that lets you know that she may be small, and she may only be two, but she has a big sense of humor.
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I've had a lot of people talking at me the last few days ...

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What a week.

We started off with both of the girls' 'schools' being closed on Monday, so I struggled thru a work from home day. Let me just say it requires Herculean effort to accomplish work when these two are around. I can barely get through a Tweet before I'm interrupted, so actually working ... le sigh. And after the emotionally draining, PMS-fueled weekend I had, a bonus full-time mommy day was a bit much.

Some Mondays, I hate that my time with them is over. Some Mondays, I can't get them to school fast enough. This was that kind of Monday.

Tuesday and Wednesday mornings were 'up at the buttcrack of dawn' mornings, and, as a result, Bean was just wiped out by the time I picked her up each day. When you fall asleep at 8, get up at 5:30 and don't nap, your energy is about tapped out by 5 pm.

She's doing well enough at her new school; she's still getting knocked around by the bigger kid every day. The director says "she gives as good as she gets", but what I'm seeing and hearing is that she gives it *verbally*, but this kid dishes it out physically. When I pulled up to pick her up yesterday, they were outside, and he shoved her down without provocation. And she went down *hard* - if there had been something hard or sharp between her and the ground, the outcome could have been very bad.

Bean was upset, but didn't retaliate in any way. I've been spending so much time talking to her about how she has to give this kid a clean slate every day; how he might not be as good at expressing his feelings with words, so he hits/kicks when he can't express himself; yadda, yadda, yadda. But honestly? I'm close to telling her "you remember when you popped that chick in the face at your old school? Do it again, but harder."

Not really, but I am pretty sick of her being hurt every day. She's being so "good" - she runs away from him, pre-emptively, she gives him a clean slate every day, she doesn't retaliate physically ... it's amazing to me that she can call on so much self-control at such a young age. Yes, she still has emotional outbursts, and can get nonlinear when things don't go her way. But she can also call on restraint that I didn't realize she had.

Bean had an appointment with a neurologist today, the goal being to ascertain whether "all" we're dealing with, behavior- and integration-wise is SPD or if there's more going on. I wasn't able to go since today was my day to cover OT, but Dave said that after the eval the doc wanted to approach "this case from two main angles: looking at the PDD (pervasive development disorder - ie autism) spectrum and the sensory integration aspect."

Autism is one of those 'sucker punch' words, so I'm still in the digesting/ processing phase. We know it's not profound autism - so if we are dealing with autism, my road is a much easier one than many parents of autistic kids face. And a PDD "label" would be beneficial when she starts school, as SPD isn't recognized as a diagnosis meriting special circumstances.

But it's still a helluva thing to hear and to think about.

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Now with the flying kick. From a dead stop. What's powering it - raw enthusiasm?

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What a week.

It's stressful as heck trying to get both girls picked up, at different schools, by pickup time. I was already getting to work at like 9:30 and leaving at 4:30 to accomodate the 9-5:30 stretch at the school they both attended; now I'm having to jog east a bit to pick up Bean, and then get over to Miss O, which means I need to leave by 4:15 and I'm getting in around 9:45.

Something's gotta give.

I'd really like them at the same school, but Dave had concerns about the lack of stuff to do in the toddler room. Since the Montessori is closed next Monday, I'm going to ask if O can do a day at Bean's school, so she'll get a chance to see it for herself.

Bean wants her at the same school; since they have completely separate classrooms, she's willing to share the school with her little sister. The Bean - Miss O dynamic is, from my perspective, the most bipolar thing EVAH. I think Bean would trade in every My Little Pony she has to be rid of Miss O, and yet she wants her at the same school, she gets mad at me if I get mad at Miss O, etc.

Anyways; it's been a bumpy school transition for Bean, through no fault of her own. There's a newer boy at the school (he started a little before Bean) that's pretty mean to her and the other kids; on Bean's first day, he kicked her in the chest and she fell backwards and had the wind knocked out of her. Kinda makes her decking a girl look a little tamer by comparison.

Karmically speaking, she's probably owed the daily beat-down. I say that very tongue-in-cheek; of course I don't really think she deserves it, nor do I like that she's getting hurt. My patience for it is probably much higher than it would be had I not been in the other parent's shoes for the past year or so, but still - it's not something I'll be able to tolerate long-term. She's getting hurt daily, talks about how mean this kid is a lot, and usually cowers when we drop her off.

She's learned, at least, that it sucks being hit/kicked/hurt, so it's shaping her empathy a bit. I do worry, though, that she'll retaliate or that she's learning how to be more physically aggressive than she was. I also just hate that she's being hurt.

On the flip side, though, she loves her school. I took her to OT the other day and when we finished at 4:15, she wanted to go back for the 45 minutes we had between then and when I could hand her off to her dad for the night. She chose going back to school over donuts at Barnes and Noble, so that's huge :)

Bean and I had a few great mommy-Bean adventures this weekend, which I'll talk more about later. Now I need to wrap up my morning and head out to work. I'm feeling a little worn down, likely from allergies; but in case I'm fighting a bug, I need to get in a few good days before I let it take over.
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I do. Sometimes, think that far ahead.

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I had a 'woe is me' post scheduled for this a.m. already, but just saw this topic come across a sensory disorder mailing list - has anyone heard of Dabrowski's Overexcitabilities in Gifted Children?

Most of these categories describe Bean with eerie accuracy. Eerie. I've read that sensory disorders are more prevalent in gifted kids, but stuff like this puts me on a circuitous "chicken - egg" thought pattern: does the giftedness cause the disorder, or vice-versa? Can the disorder be calmed by feeding the overexcitability? Is this just another shade of lipstick I'm putting on the SPD pig?

I can relate to so much of what I'm learning about Bean, especially the emotional liabilities of giftedness, since I did the gifted thing starting in 4th grade. I keep thinking I don't want to let her down, or miss something or, worse, mishandle something and give her some of the same difficulties I had.

And still have.

(Quote from "Chosen")
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I could see your heart. You held it before you for everyone to see.

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Still trying to figure out a good work routine; 9:30 - 4:30 is looking to be my normal schedule, tho, to accomodate the girls' school being a 9-5:30 thing. That 5:30 part stresses me a bit, since I have to drive from Kyle to Waco in rush hour traffic. Eh, I exaggerate a bit, but the drive from SW Austin to way N Austin at 4:30 is not a fast-moving one. I'll need every minute of that hour to make it on time.

I need to start looking at alternate routes. And at getting a shload of books on CD to pass the time. It's hard to not feel like an ass singing along to music while you inch down the road with the same few cars around you for an hour.

I started listening to the 5-CD Parenting set from Celebrate Calm yesterday. I attended one of this dude's 2-hour workshop's and I like a lot of what he has to say about raising sensory kids. It drives home the message that they are simply wired differently - it's not a discipline thing, it's not a sucky parenting thing - they. are. different.

I think that's hard for people to grasp, because they see a "normal" kid acting "badly" and feel it's something a parent is doing wrong. I've heard things like "maybe you should call Super Nanny" and "maybe if you just took all her My Little Ponies away ..." They mean well, but they're missing the point. And annoying me a bit.

Could I be a better parent? Hells yeah. But I'm guessing that you could too. We all could be *better*, but we all do the best we can and that means a LOT. And we certainly don't need our choices and methods second-guessed.

If you’ve not had the pleasure of parenting - or spending a decent chunk of time with - a sensory kid, it’s hard to grasp what’s going on. In Bean’s case, you see what appears to be a “normal”, relatively bright 4.5-year old. She talks like the other kids, walks like the other kids, plays like the other kids … you get the picture. Part of what makes sensory stuff such a challenge is the outer appearance of ‘normalcy’. It’s not something that’s outwardly obvious, like a physical challenge or autism. So it’s not only a challenge for the parent who loves the child to see past “bad” behavior and cut slack, it’s also a (huge) challenge for an outsider to do so.

What’s really hard to understand is that for my kid to do what a “normal” kid does, she’s using a lot of energy, thought and emotion just keeping pace. At 4.5, she’s already had to develop and master coping skills that sensory-normal kids don’t. So for her to play seamlessly with a bunch of other kids is already requiring a Herculean effort – when something happens that she doesn’t like, she reacts in a seemingly over-the-top way.

I've come to realize that just the act of playing with the other kids has tapped all of her reserves. She’s had to struggle with all the mis-wired areas of her brain just to maintain what we consider ‘normal’. She doesn’t have anything left to draw on when she’s disappointed.

I can empathize with her, as I tap into my reserves most of my working days. It takes a lot of effort for me to maintain an outgoing persona and meet new people all day long, so when I get home, I physically and mentally shift gears to jammies and couch potato mode. If someone suddenly throws an after-work outing at me, though, it’s hard for me to muster up what I need to make it through that event. Even with advance notice, I have a hard time rallying myself to do something after work. And I'm a grown-up who can (usually) manage my emotions and reset my expectations on the fly (sometimes). I've got 30-something years of experience managing my responses. She's got, what 2 or 3?

Another quirk of the sensory kid is how very much heart they have, and how sensitive they are. It's quite the juxtaposition, having this kid that just seems to barrel through life, full-on, but whose heart is as soft and tender as any you could imagine. Her capacity to love is just amazing to me, and such a stark contrast to some of her surface behaviors.

Parenting a SPD kid is tough enough; you need a solid support network around you - hopefully one or two other folks who are in your boat, and a handful of friends/family who at least try to understand that your kid is wired just a bit differently. I consider myself very fortunate to have both.

(Quote from "Helpless".)

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So, are you shopping? You're probably not shopping

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But Bean is.

It's been a rough week for her, adjusting to full-time. And her days still aren't as long as full-time days were at her other school.

Wednesday, Dave got a call at work asking if he could talk to her about mellowing out and staying the full day. Thursday her got a call around 12:30 to come pick her up because she was throwing chairs. Friday, same thing.

It's just heartbreaking. It's not like I'm working for fun here - I have to do this. And don't think I'm not tossing around ideas in my head about working part time, not working, living in my car. Because I am. But my pragmatic side knows that I'll have to work full-time at some point, and it would be stupid to throw away the great job I've landed.

When I talk to Bean about it, I get these glimpses into her brain that really make me wonder what's all going on up there.

Like when I was talking to her last week about why she peed in her pants at school:
"I had to go to the bathroom, but I lost the football game and I peed in my pants."

She wasn't playing football, she was standing and talking to another kid at her school.

I got an earful yesterday when I asked about the choices she'd been making at school lately.

"The bad choices were one buck and the good choices were like 100 bucks ... My bigger brain was saying 'pick the bad choice' and my small brain was saying to pick the good choice. So the two brains were driving their shopping carts around the store and the bigger brain said 'pick the bad choice, it's only one buck.'"

The conversation (more like a monologue) was a bit more detailed and in depth, but this is all I could capture while driving. But she spent a couple miles of driving giving me the full story of why she made bad choices.

Big brain and small brain? Best guess is since she was looking at pictures of the brain w/ her dad and saw the cerebrum over the cerebellum, the cerebellum is the small brain.

Sure as schnitzel. She just came in, and I showed her a brain picture and she said: "that's the little brain; it stores all the stuff you don't think about." No wonder her big brain is the one making the choices.

Sometimes when I talk to her and listen to what she says, then try to line that up with what she does, I wonder if she's got something else going on ...

(Quote from "Amends")
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One of us is very confused, and I honestly don't know which.

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Le sigh.

Friday was just a sea of badness for Bean. It started rough, it proceeded to be rough all day and it ended on a less than sparkly note.

When I picked her up from school, the director took me aside to tell me that Bean had peed on the floor, kicked a bunch of classroom stuff, kicked a teacher and peeled some of their plastic baseboard off the wall during her nap time. Our afternoon didn't improve much over that, but she did manage panties and not peeing on herself overnight and in the morning.

We had a decent Saturday, except she peed in her pants at Jungle Java after refusing to use the potty no more than 5 minutes before. I wasn't demeaning or cruel, but I did tell her I was mad because this should not have happened.

Today was pretty good. A few screaming meltdowns, but I was in my happy place in spite of being up at 5:22, so I managed to keep my game slightly above hers at all times. There were a few moments when I wasn't sure I'd be able to maintain it, but I did.

Today I talked to her a bit about what happened on Friday at school. She said she was in the bathroom before nap, talking to her friends and a teacher made her leave, so she didn't get a chance to pee. She refused to leave, says she told them she hadn't peed, and then started kicking cabinets and stuff. The teacher picked her up bodily and she continued kicking, and that teacher got kicked in the process. She handed Bean off to another teacher and that teacher admonished her to calm down. Best I can tell, they didn't say anything mean, but in retelling the events, she was very bothered by having been picked up.

When she was handed off to the other teacher, she said she didn't kick because her "legs calmed down". This particular teacher isn't one Big Girl likes or trusts (Bean says, "she always talks to me in a mean voice" and this is the teacher that lied to Bean at least once, telling her that she called her daddy and he said Bean couldn't come home with Dave or I unless she took a nap), so it's not like she likes the teacher and was sparing her harm :)

Then while Bean was talking to another kid in the nap room, she said "I had to go to the bathroom, but I lost the football game and I peed in my pants." Since she was removed from the bathroom earlier, I can only fault her for this so much, ya know?

I'm not sure what her reasoning was for peeling the plastic baseboard off. But when I think about how she doesn't want to nap and that they stuck her next to a wall where she *could* peel it off, combined with what seems her total inability to just lay still and quiet unless she's exhausted, it just seems like a "because it was there and because she could and needed to" situation.

Dealing with her is such a bipolar experience. Within 5 minutes she can go from screaming at me and kicking walls to sweetly offering to do Miss O's clean-up. Today she made a book, titled "Mommy" that talks about me being a princess and playing soccer, I think.

I sent a detailed email about all of this to her OT, trying to ascertain how much I can "blame" on the SPD and what I can do when this kind of stuff happens. The potty accidents, tho, seem all about control, a theory validated today by her threatening me that if I took away her My Little Ponies, she'd pee in her panties.

One of us needs medication on days like this, but I'm not sure if it's her or me.

(Quote from "The Prom")
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Can't call to mom, can't say a word

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Thanks for all the feedback on lying; turns out she was telling the truth, at least for the most part.

What Bean had told me was that the teacher called her dad, and her dad said that if she couldn't lay quietly that she couldn't come come home with mommy or daddy, but if she did lay quietly, she could.

Dave sent a note to the director and apparently the teachers will fake phone calls to the parents to gain compliance from the kids. So at least the calling part was true. The other part will come down to whether the teacher will cop to giving an ultimatum like that or not, versus Bean's word. I tend to believe Bean is telling the whole truth: the day Dave sent the note, my parents picked Bean up, and that teacher made a big effort to go over to my parents' car and say how great Bean was that day.

I had planned to talk with that teacher yesterday when I dropped Bean off, as the director had said she's be manning the door for check-in. So on the way to school, I told Bean that I'd be having a talk with the teacher and that it was never true that mommy or daddy wouldn't come get her, and that the teacher was wrong for telling her that. Then the teacher wasn't working the door, so I didn't get a chance to talk to her. Sigh.

It's not the worst thing in the world (tho for a kid like Bean, who already has, I think, some mild separation anxiety because of the divorce it's certainly not a nice thing), but seriously - why can't folks just ... hell. I don't know. Yeah, its gotta be a pain in the ass that she can't sit/lay still for the whole nap, and yeah, it's some sort of requirement that they do a naptime in a licensed facility, but why can't they just figure something out for her? Why does this have to be such a frustrating thing for her - and I - over something that developmentally, she likely doesn't need anymore? Yeah, it'd be nice if she napped, but she won't, she's past the age when it's really necessary, so let's just. move. on.

I wonder if I can bring a signed note in saying "don't force her to nap - ask her to clean the woodwork with a toothbrush instead".

She starts OT today for her sensory stuff, so maybe that's reason enough to grant her a special circumstances dealie. The OT evaluation also showed hypotonia (low muscle tone) in her trunk and mouth, of all places. So her desire for riding lessons will be fulfilled, as horseback riding is awesome for hypotonia. At least we've already got a helmet for her - thanks Libby!

More later, need to prep for a phone interview. Wish me luck :)
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