Oh, what a nerd family joy - I got a contract check in and we had a shopping spree at Fry's. Yes, the echoing noise and the crowd and the hard floor make us all crazy, but still! Geek heaven. (Then an hour or two of very necessary quiet retreat for all of us when we get home.)
We lingered in the robot kit aisle. Rosie has been negotiating for a long summer break from school starting in July, which I don't think is a great idea. I suggested that we spend the summer building a robot instead. Rapture! She was spinny with joy. It will take no convincing to get her to write or do math revolving around robots. She was nutty on the subject even before she saw Asimo in person at Epcot.
I talked myself out of getting a wireless signal detector since I just picked up a widescreen monitor, but now I'm sorry. Phooey.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
All too familiar...
I had to laugh, the last couple of days, over yet another new realization about how strong family traits can be. I've always had a bit of difficulty in social situations, but generally plow through OK once I brace myself. But I've been realizing that maybe my difficulty is a bit specific - maybe related to that shadow spectrum in the family.
Yesterday, I had a project kickoff meeting with a new project team, and I pulled a communication mistake I remember having made in the past many times - the vague self-introduction that leaves out my relevant background and anything else anybody might want to know about me, and includes at least one unintentionally cryptic reference that leaves puzzled looks on people's faces. I realized halfway around the introductions that I'd done it again, and tried to mend it once I got a chance. The rest of the meeting, I kept getting odd enough looks from the others that I knew something wasn't coming out right. I don't actually know what, though. It was a sort of a smut-on-my-nose, is-my-underwear-showing kind of feeling, but I think it was something about what I was saying or how I was saying it. I tried to make the rest of my comments extremely to the point, which took a little mental practicing.
And today, my older daughter was asking me to go on a short group trip with her, and cautiously asked, "Lot of new people to meet and talk to... are you OK with that?" I was a bit taken aback until I realized that she must actually have a reason for asking me in that way: I guess I avoid meeting new people. I don't think of myself as particularly avoiding people - I mean, I do presentations, I run meetings, I join groups, I have friends over - but heck... I guess I also avoid crowds, new people I haven't approached myself, and making phone calls. (For that matter, upon reflecting, I guess I have trouble with greetings and goodbyes, too - they make me tense enough so that I often avoid them. Including hiding when I recognize someone in public I would need to greet. Which I know is rude, but sometimes I'm too wiggy.)
Well, there's a training I'll be attending on how to do social skills training. I'd better not miss that, hehe.
Yesterday, I had a project kickoff meeting with a new project team, and I pulled a communication mistake I remember having made in the past many times - the vague self-introduction that leaves out my relevant background and anything else anybody might want to know about me, and includes at least one unintentionally cryptic reference that leaves puzzled looks on people's faces. I realized halfway around the introductions that I'd done it again, and tried to mend it once I got a chance. The rest of the meeting, I kept getting odd enough looks from the others that I knew something wasn't coming out right. I don't actually know what, though. It was a sort of a smut-on-my-nose, is-my-underwear-showing kind of feeling, but I think it was something about what I was saying or how I was saying it. I tried to make the rest of my comments extremely to the point, which took a little mental practicing.
And today, my older daughter was asking me to go on a short group trip with her, and cautiously asked, "Lot of new people to meet and talk to... are you OK with that?" I was a bit taken aback until I realized that she must actually have a reason for asking me in that way: I guess I avoid meeting new people. I don't think of myself as particularly avoiding people - I mean, I do presentations, I run meetings, I join groups, I have friends over - but heck... I guess I also avoid crowds, new people I haven't approached myself, and making phone calls. (For that matter, upon reflecting, I guess I have trouble with greetings and goodbyes, too - they make me tense enough so that I often avoid them. Including hiding when I recognize someone in public I would need to greet. Which I know is rude, but sometimes I'm too wiggy.)
Well, there's a training I'll be attending on how to do social skills training. I'd better not miss that, hehe.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
Sensory Issues... Weighted Blankets and Foam
I had to read the "sleep problems" questions several times over the last few weeks while filling out assessment forms for the IEP before realizing that maybe the difficulty Rosie has getting to sleep is actually a "sleep problem" and not just a kid who hates going to bed. So that's what all that complaining about the bed being uncomfortable was probably about! A combination of sensory issues and a busy mind, I think. I knew she was sincere about being uncomfortable and I was starting to think that we had a 'princess and the pea' situation going; I couldn't find a thing wrong with the bed and it's fairly new.
After getting Rosie a two-inch tempur-pedic foam mattress topper (set of two at Overstock.com! what a bargain!), she's been able to relax better when trying to sleep. It hasn't solved the problem completely, though, so when I ran across the weighted blanket idea a little while ago it sounded ideal. It looks as though these are really relaxing and helpful for autistic folks and kids with ADHD. It sounds pretty snuggly - heck, I want one.
I'm trying to decide whether to buy a weighted blanket or try to construct one myself. Most of the commercially made blankets seem to be filled with poly beads, which seem as though they'd be unwieldy to work with; my aunt suggested drapery weights, which come either in long strings or chains, or metal shapes prepackaged in a sewable fabric. Drapery weights might be a little stiff and difficult to wash, though. My aunt suggested sewing pockets into the top of the blanket so they'd be removable, but who wants velcro or other lumpy fastenings in a blanket that's meant to be soft and soothing?
After getting Rosie a two-inch tempur-pedic foam mattress topper (set of two at Overstock.com! what a bargain!), she's been able to relax better when trying to sleep. It hasn't solved the problem completely, though, so when I ran across the weighted blanket idea a little while ago it sounded ideal. It looks as though these are really relaxing and helpful for autistic folks and kids with ADHD. It sounds pretty snuggly - heck, I want one.
I'm trying to decide whether to buy a weighted blanket or try to construct one myself. Most of the commercially made blankets seem to be filled with poly beads, which seem as though they'd be unwieldy to work with; my aunt suggested drapery weights, which come either in long strings or chains, or metal shapes prepackaged in a sewable fabric. Drapery weights might be a little stiff and difficult to wash, though. My aunt suggested sewing pockets into the top of the blanket so they'd be removable, but who wants velcro or other lumpy fastenings in a blanket that's meant to be soft and soothing?
Saturday, January 26, 2008
"I'm glad I have Asperger's"
A direct quote from Rosie.
Because it makes her different, she says, and she likes being different. Although I think the smirk on her face when she turned away secretly said: better, not just different.
I contemplated quickly taking the opportunity of reinforcing different, since thinking oneself better is betrayed in so many ways to other people that it's definitely not any advantage in getting along to think so, not to mention that it's a false way of thinking - there's always going to be someone better than you are at something, no matter how intelligent or capable you are. It undermines one's sense of goal-setting and necessary work, too - I'm not expressing this terribly well, but having fallen into the same ego-trap as a child and young adult, I don't want her to make this mistake. I still fight a tendency towards intellectual arrogance; I'm hardly a dolt, but I'm as prone to making a mistake as the next person, and it's been one of the enormous lessons of my life. (Old dogs DO learn new tricks, thanks!)
However, I didn't correct her at this time. It's the first time I'm hearing pride in her difference instead of worry or confusion, and the last thing I want to do is squish that. Her unique gifts will take her far, I think, and there's time enough to seek a balance.
Because it makes her different, she says, and she likes being different. Although I think the smirk on her face when she turned away secretly said: better, not just different.
I contemplated quickly taking the opportunity of reinforcing different, since thinking oneself better is betrayed in so many ways to other people that it's definitely not any advantage in getting along to think so, not to mention that it's a false way of thinking - there's always going to be someone better than you are at something, no matter how intelligent or capable you are. It undermines one's sense of goal-setting and necessary work, too - I'm not expressing this terribly well, but having fallen into the same ego-trap as a child and young adult, I don't want her to make this mistake. I still fight a tendency towards intellectual arrogance; I'm hardly a dolt, but I'm as prone to making a mistake as the next person, and it's been one of the enormous lessons of my life. (Old dogs DO learn new tricks, thanks!)
However, I didn't correct her at this time. It's the first time I'm hearing pride in her difference instead of worry or confusion, and the last thing I want to do is squish that. Her unique gifts will take her far, I think, and there's time enough to seek a balance.
Friday, January 11, 2008
Wotta Week
So, this week we've been shifting from district public elementary school to county public homeschool, while trying to finish the assessment for the IEP. Today was really challenging - 2 appointments with the speech and language therapist and OT for Rosie and a meeting with the new homeschool teacher who'll oversee our work. Three new people to meet, two new locations, and a whole new routine approaching!
Rosie held up like a champ the whole day, though she was pretty nervous. By the evening, though, the strain started to tell and she was extremely reactive and emotional. She asked me to hug and squish her when I tucked her in, and pretend that she was a pillow, and I suddenly realized that this was the same kind of thing that Temple Grandin mentions about her squeeze machine. Rosie had a stressful day, and needed full-body squeezing to calm down. So I did, and it helped her tremendously. Wow! I'll have to look into getting a weighted blanket and see if that helps Rosie's stress levels.
I'm just starting to notice sensory issues with Rosie that I hadn't before. She's noticed and mentioned strong odors a few times in the last couple of days - maybe it's a heightened level of anxiety, or maybe she's more communicative than she used to be in the past. (She's always been talkative, but communicative - not so much.)
I keep wondering if these things I'm seeing for the first time are really "new" or if I'm just now knowing what I'm seeing. But then, I remember Rosie as a toddler. Another parent wrote on his blog about how his son lacked the "elastic band" that keeps typical kids coming back to their parents every few minutes when playing. He described how he followed his young son for more than half a mile down the beach, and the boy never looked back for his parents. Well, Rosie was like that. I followed her down the length of an entire mall once, also around half a mile, just to see if she would ever turn around and look for me, and she never did. So I reassure myself that yes, it was always there - the newness is mine.
Rosie held up like a champ the whole day, though she was pretty nervous. By the evening, though, the strain started to tell and she was extremely reactive and emotional. She asked me to hug and squish her when I tucked her in, and pretend that she was a pillow, and I suddenly realized that this was the same kind of thing that Temple Grandin mentions about her squeeze machine. Rosie had a stressful day, and needed full-body squeezing to calm down. So I did, and it helped her tremendously. Wow! I'll have to look into getting a weighted blanket and see if that helps Rosie's stress levels.
I'm just starting to notice sensory issues with Rosie that I hadn't before. She's noticed and mentioned strong odors a few times in the last couple of days - maybe it's a heightened level of anxiety, or maybe she's more communicative than she used to be in the past. (She's always been talkative, but communicative - not so much.)
I keep wondering if these things I'm seeing for the first time are really "new" or if I'm just now knowing what I'm seeing. But then, I remember Rosie as a toddler. Another parent wrote on his blog about how his son lacked the "elastic band" that keeps typical kids coming back to their parents every few minutes when playing. He described how he followed his young son for more than half a mile down the beach, and the boy never looked back for his parents. Well, Rosie was like that. I followed her down the length of an entire mall once, also around half a mile, just to see if she would ever turn around and look for me, and she never did. So I reassure myself that yes, it was always there - the newness is mine.
Monday, January 7, 2008
Homeschool Decision
Well, I've thought for years (knowing from an early age that Rosie was "quirky") that the homeschool decision would come up, and I was trying to put it off until after Rosie's IEP is complete. But here we are, after the holiday break, and Rosie has been melting down for days thinking about the return to school. So that's that. We're doing it now.
The school psychologist and principal and her teacher have been distressed; they believe wholeheartedly in the high value of the IEP and the theraputic effort of the adults at the school. They were also afraid at first that we were simply reacting to her emotions and pulling her out of school in a 'mistaken' desire to protect her. Words were used like "truant" and "removing her from school." It was hard to explain enough to them so that they were satisfied, yet only give them the amount of information appropriate for a family's private decision.
I do believe in their desire and capability to help, and that's saying something, considering that my family tends to be suspicious of bureaucracy in any form. If this essential sense of fierce individualism did not run in our family (from both sides!), we would be working with this IEP team and no doubt feeling glad for it. However, there it is - we are not a family with particularly mainstream views, and we feel that nurturing her individualism and particular mode of cognition is superior to being trained to fit into the herd. And yeah, I'm afraid I do see how terribly arrogant that sounds. It's not meant that way, if you can believe it. One of our top family values - if not the top one - is valuing the unique qualities of people. So, the realization that the IEP team's idea of what would be helpful is not just social skills training (for instance) but how to be like everyone else fills us with horror. Every time Rosie's older sister mentions a class assignment that requires her to watch some TV show, I break out in hives. We don't do TV in our household.
We believe in the value of homeschooling, we know Rosie and her needs, and we're a family of quirky, intelligent, and successful geeks, who know what she's going through - partly from experience. I don't have any worry that we'll do well once we get into a good routine.
The school psychologist and principal and her teacher have been distressed; they believe wholeheartedly in the high value of the IEP and the theraputic effort of the adults at the school. They were also afraid at first that we were simply reacting to her emotions and pulling her out of school in a 'mistaken' desire to protect her. Words were used like "truant" and "removing her from school." It was hard to explain enough to them so that they were satisfied, yet only give them the amount of information appropriate for a family's private decision.
I do believe in their desire and capability to help, and that's saying something, considering that my family tends to be suspicious of bureaucracy in any form. If this essential sense of fierce individualism did not run in our family (from both sides!), we would be working with this IEP team and no doubt feeling glad for it. However, there it is - we are not a family with particularly mainstream views, and we feel that nurturing her individualism and particular mode of cognition is superior to being trained to fit into the herd. And yeah, I'm afraid I do see how terribly arrogant that sounds. It's not meant that way, if you can believe it. One of our top family values - if not the top one - is valuing the unique qualities of people. So, the realization that the IEP team's idea of what would be helpful is not just social skills training (for instance) but how to be like everyone else fills us with horror. Every time Rosie's older sister mentions a class assignment that requires her to watch some TV show, I break out in hives. We don't do TV in our household.
We believe in the value of homeschooling, we know Rosie and her needs, and we're a family of quirky, intelligent, and successful geeks, who know what she's going through - partly from experience. I don't have any worry that we'll do well once we get into a good routine.
Thursday, January 3, 2008
Nonverbal cues
Rosie and I went to the library and checked out a kid's book on nonverbal communication. It was pretty general, but it served to introduce the idea, which fascinated her. "I had no idea people did most of their communicating this way!" she exclaimed. (Factoid from the book.)
"Tell you what," I said, "watch carefully, and every time you can see me or someone else talking without words, and you can tell me about it, I'll give you a quarter." She got a money-counting bank for Christmas.
"REALLY?!" Oh, total excitement.
So, she's concentrating on eyebrows; frowning, waggling, etc., and has earned a dollar so far. She can't tell what is meant by the expressions she sees, but she's learning to recognize that one's going on. Some of them I've been a bit stumped to explain - ok, example. In The Princess Bride, there's this one scene where Buttercup finally knows the Dread Pirate Roberts is really Westley. He's explaining to her why she should not have doubted him, and he waggles his eyebrows at her, first lifting them high and then creasing them together. Sheesh! It took me a few rewinds to figure out what the hell that meant and explain it. I think it was that he wanted to show that he was earnest and sincere, but was worried that she wouldn't believe him. But I'm not 100% sure. Complicate that with the fact that the expression is an exaggerated one in a funny movie, by an actor. Dang.
Well, at least we're having fun and learning.
"Tell you what," I said, "watch carefully, and every time you can see me or someone else talking without words, and you can tell me about it, I'll give you a quarter." She got a money-counting bank for Christmas.
"REALLY?!" Oh, total excitement.
So, she's concentrating on eyebrows; frowning, waggling, etc., and has earned a dollar so far. She can't tell what is meant by the expressions she sees, but she's learning to recognize that one's going on. Some of them I've been a bit stumped to explain - ok, example. In The Princess Bride, there's this one scene where Buttercup finally knows the Dread Pirate Roberts is really Westley. He's explaining to her why she should not have doubted him, and he waggles his eyebrows at her, first lifting them high and then creasing them together. Sheesh! It took me a few rewinds to figure out what the hell that meant and explain it. I think it was that he wanted to show that he was earnest and sincere, but was worried that she wouldn't believe him. But I'm not 100% sure. Complicate that with the fact that the expression is an exaggerated one in a funny movie, by an actor. Dang.
Well, at least we're having fun and learning.
Finally letting her know!
It turned out that Rosie's anger (last post!) was due to her thinking about the conflict between what she understood her school psychologist to have said a few weeks ago, and what I told her when I heard about it. Or at least that's what she said it was about. I'm never quite sure, when I try to get to the bottom of something like this- sometimes I suspect she's coming up with something just to have a plausible answer so I'll stop asking. It had been bothering her anyhow, so it's just as well.
Her school psychologist hadn't launched any kind of therapeutic effort, he explained when I called him, but was trying to engage her in conversation during the assessment process. He told her something along the lines of it being easier for her to make friends at school if she could act like the other kids do, and Rosie took it as meaning that she has to stop being herself and be like everyone else. When she told me about it, I was a little distressed and said that was wrong. Apparently she was mad at me for saying this. So, I explained to her that I'd talked to her school psychologist the other week and that what he had meant was acting only - that she didn't have to give up her true self.
She digested this for a moment and then said, "So I don't have to be like everyone else? I can think my own thoughts? I just have to appear like everyone else?"
"Yes, exactly," I said. "Learn what they do or say."
"It's pretend," she said. She was radiant.
A second later, she was eyeballing the cover of a book left in my room on Asperger's. "What's this about?" I thought the timing was good, so I told her that her qualities of special thinking had a name, Asperger's, and this book was all about that. "Really? Cool!" she said. (Hey, my kind of thinking's in a book!) I went on to remind her of things I'd mentioned before, without using the term: that Asperger's meant that she had a unique and valuable way of seeing things and that she had a fantastic memory, but that it also meant that she had some trouble understanding what people were saying or doing sometimes. She nodded eagerly, and so I also reminded her that Mom and Dad hadn't had many friends when young either, but that it got easier to find other interesting people to be friends with as you got older. She liked that, too.
After our nice chat we went madly shuffling around the house, round and round, faster and faster, trying to build up enough of a static electricity charge to light a tiny neon light. (Five bucks at Edmund Scientific!) It was hilarious. We couldn't get it to discharge with just one of us holding it, but it glowed beautifully between us, so it was a nice interactive, too.
I was really glad that the opportunity to broach the subject came up and that it went well. I was fretting about waiting to get hold of one of the kid's books on Asperger's and if any of them were worth it for her - and rather blindly wishing that there was a video out on YouTube by other aspies that could tell kids her age what it was about and not to worry. Maybe I'll write a few videobloggers and ask!
Her school psychologist hadn't launched any kind of therapeutic effort, he explained when I called him, but was trying to engage her in conversation during the assessment process. He told her something along the lines of it being easier for her to make friends at school if she could act like the other kids do, and Rosie took it as meaning that she has to stop being herself and be like everyone else. When she told me about it, I was a little distressed and said that was wrong. Apparently she was mad at me for saying this. So, I explained to her that I'd talked to her school psychologist the other week and that what he had meant was acting only - that she didn't have to give up her true self.
She digested this for a moment and then said, "So I don't have to be like everyone else? I can think my own thoughts? I just have to appear like everyone else?"
"Yes, exactly," I said. "Learn what they do or say."
"It's pretend," she said. She was radiant.
A second later, she was eyeballing the cover of a book left in my room on Asperger's. "What's this about?" I thought the timing was good, so I told her that her qualities of special thinking had a name, Asperger's, and this book was all about that. "Really? Cool!" she said. (Hey, my kind of thinking's in a book!) I went on to remind her of things I'd mentioned before, without using the term: that Asperger's meant that she had a unique and valuable way of seeing things and that she had a fantastic memory, but that it also meant that she had some trouble understanding what people were saying or doing sometimes. She nodded eagerly, and so I also reminded her that Mom and Dad hadn't had many friends when young either, but that it got easier to find other interesting people to be friends with as you got older. She liked that, too.
After our nice chat we went madly shuffling around the house, round and round, faster and faster, trying to build up enough of a static electricity charge to light a tiny neon light. (Five bucks at Edmund Scientific!) It was hilarious. We couldn't get it to discharge with just one of us holding it, but it glowed beautifully between us, so it was a nice interactive, too.
I was really glad that the opportunity to broach the subject came up and that it went well. I was fretting about waiting to get hold of one of the kid's books on Asperger's and if any of them were worth it for her - and rather blindly wishing that there was a video out on YouTube by other aspies that could tell kids her age what it was about and not to worry. Maybe I'll write a few videobloggers and ask!
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Holiday Stress, Definitely
A little over two weeks of higher stress due to the holidays and a change in family schedule (now that I'm working from home), and yes, it's definitely what Rosie's struggling with. She had a hard time meeting my gaze for even a fraction of a second and couldn't tolerate frustration at all, blowing up (melting down?) at the least stress.
But yesterday, (after staying up for New Year's eve and, typically, having difficulty with the presence of guests and the change in routine) I noticed a shift - she became calmer, more communicative, more focused, and was able to meet my gaze clearly and for a long period. She even quoted the school psychologist to her cousin, who was having a tantrum, telling her that it was nicer to face someone and look at them when talking.
Today, she was able to meet my gaze entirely WITHOUT looking away - at all! This took place, however, as she was being reprimanded for pinching me hard as I was giving her a hug - something also completely unprecedented.
I'm a bit shocked - she's never done anything remotely like that that I'm aware of. She wasn't able (or willing?) to tell me what prompted the impulse, wasn't inclined to be sorry about it, and when I was trying to get to the bottom of it, held my gaze with a mean expression. I was slightly inclined to get lost in the wonder of looking her in the eye and feeling connected, but that's my issue, not hers, hah. I told her I wasn't about to tolerate that kind of behavior, and got a clear, if snippy, acknowledgement that she understood me. Not a good development. I am going to try to get to the bottom of what's going on... help her sort out what she might be angry about.
But yesterday, (after staying up for New Year's eve and, typically, having difficulty with the presence of guests and the change in routine) I noticed a shift - she became calmer, more communicative, more focused, and was able to meet my gaze clearly and for a long period. She even quoted the school psychologist to her cousin, who was having a tantrum, telling her that it was nicer to face someone and look at them when talking.
Today, she was able to meet my gaze entirely WITHOUT looking away - at all! This took place, however, as she was being reprimanded for pinching me hard as I was giving her a hug - something also completely unprecedented.
I'm a bit shocked - she's never done anything remotely like that that I'm aware of. She wasn't able (or willing?) to tell me what prompted the impulse, wasn't inclined to be sorry about it, and when I was trying to get to the bottom of it, held my gaze with a mean expression. I was slightly inclined to get lost in the wonder of looking her in the eye and feeling connected, but that's my issue, not hers, hah. I told her I wasn't about to tolerate that kind of behavior, and got a clear, if snippy, acknowledgement that she understood me. Not a good development. I am going to try to get to the bottom of what's going on... help her sort out what she might be angry about.
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