Travel Day

Today is a travel day, which means it is a good day, although in reality, I mostly hate the actual traveling part of traveling. I just want to be there. When teleportation becomes an option, you can sign me up. 

But no matter how often I travel, I maintain my sense of wonder at being able to start my day at home and end my day in an entirely different part of the country, or world, for that matter. 

So even though today started like most days, with Aidan waking up too early and asking to watch TV in our bed, it will end with a walk up Lombard Street, sushi, and possibly some of the best Irish coffees I've ever had. That's pretty cool. (Thanks, technology!)

Be Serious

We got the revisions to Owen's IEP today. One of his short term objectives reads as follows:

"Owen will be able to to have one or less reminders of not being silly when the situation calls for listening to instructions 75% of the time."

Do you think that if the situation calls for listening to instructions only 50% of the time, then he'll get two reminders?

But really, questionable grammar aside, I can't help but wonder how many typical five- and six-year-olds could have this listed as an objective, were they scrutinized the way Owen is. 

I'm not saying he couldn't use some work in the listening department - he definitely could - I think I'm just reacting to this idea that him being silly is the issue. As if silliness is this obstacle he must overcome. 

Do we send our kids to school to make them less silly? Is that an educational objective?

The Upswing

I survived my first "week" at the new job. It was good. Not particularly inspiring or fun, but good in the sense that it wasn't bad and I am earning money. 

I realize that I've been on a bit of a career roller coaster (or experiencing a bit of career schizophrenia) as of late, so the thrill of hearing about my latest "new job" may have lost its luster to some, but I couldn't help noticing how much more excited everyone seemed to be about my bakery job. Granted, I had built that job up in my mind to be full of much more promise than it ever really was, but still...I know it's more uplifting to hear about someone taking risks and following dreams, but there's also something wonderful about, say, suspecting that your car needs transmission work and knowing that you're going to be able to pay for it without wiping out your dwindling savings account. 

I'm really just trying to make myself feel better about the slide back into corporate America. One thing that helps tremendously is knowing that this is the year I will check "take family to Hawaii" off my list of goals. Because really that's what a lot of my travel does (superfluous trips to Vegas excluded), it gives me a sense of accomplishment. I wanted to see it, I saw it. I wanted to have that experience, I had it. Check and check. 

Speaking of travel, I am thrilled to tell you that I am off to San Francisco on Friday for a friend's wedding! I'm even more thrilled to tell you that our plane tickets were free, thanks to the airmiles my husband banked while traveling to and fro for his corporate meetings. Free travel is just the greatest. 

Since I've been to San Francisco before, I can't really count seeing the city as a goal, but last time I was there I was only 19, so this time I'm going to the American home of the Irish coffee, the Buena Vista Cafe, which is sort of like a goal I didn't know I had until it presented itself. "Have greatest Irish Coffee available on U.S. soil. " Soon-to-be check. 

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In autism news, our country is making progress in ensuring fair insurance coverage for children with autism. Nevada is the most recent state whose senate has passed a bill that would cover Applied Behavior Analysis (ABA) therapy, one of the most promising treatments for children with autism. Learn more at Autism Votes. (Seriously, go learn more - you might be surprised how soon this information could come in handy). 

Cubicle Hamster

I returned to cubicle land today and I am relieved to report that it didn't feel depressing at all. In fact, despite my 47-minute commute (that's one-way), I came home feeling happy rather than exhausted. Happy!

I'm not going to get crazy and start thinking that I won't get cynical about this job - I think it's smart to approach all corporate jobs with a healthy amount of suspicion - but I have to tell you that even as I was sitting in a conference room today, having an almost-identical meeting to one that I had seven years ago at my last corporate job, rather than thinking how I'd rather be at home, I thought, "I can totally do this."

I won't lie, it makes a huge difference that I love and respect my boss. It also didn't hurt that in one of my meet-and-greets today, I learned that an employee had recently contacted the corporate team to find out if the company (which makes medical devices) could help her get a pacemaker for her relative who was in another country in dire need, without the financial means,  and that the company - my new employer - actually came through for her. It's hard to be cynical about that. 

And so, I will go back tomorrow with an uncharacteristically good attitude. But just in case you're worried that this shift in work dynamic might leave me with nothing to be bitchy and snide about, please let me assure you this is not the case. There is always something to be bitchy and/or snide about. I promise. 

On an unrelated note, the New York Times ran this article on the costs of educating children with autism this weekend. I won't be bitchy or snide about it, just a little angry that any family would have to mortgage their home (and they are not alone) to get their child the education she deserves. 

All's Well That Ends Well

I was so busy up on my soapbox yesterday that I neglected to celebrate my last day of work at the bakery with you!

I really don't have much to report, other than to say that despite the issues I have with the way they run that place and the fact that making minimum wage is depressing at my age, it wasn't a terrible job. In six short weeks, I actually met some people that I like and might even keep in touch with - the most likely being Reality Bites (whose name I am now changing to "Coffee Girl," after that Tragically Hip song). 

But in a happy ending of sorts, Coffee Girl is moments away from getting a new job, Still a Teenager already quit, and I was able to write my assistant manager a letter of reference for her husband, who worked at the bakery until his wife was promoted and is now still looking for work (she is giving it to the manager to sign and asked me to write it because, in her words, my English is so good). Plus, I came home with a box full of goodies. 

On Monday, I will reprise my role as a cubicle hamster. This weekend, I will enjoy having a mind free of strategy. 

P.S. It's still Autism Awareness Month, so I'd like to refer you to this article, which summarizes all 10 of the "Ten Things Every Child with Autism Wishes You Knew."

First, Do No Harm

Just as I thought I was losing steam on my autism blogs, along comes the latest controversy in the autism community. It involves this Public Service Announcement made by the Dan Marino Foundation and the Autism Self-Advocacy Network (ASAN).

The PSA is meant to show autism in a more positive light, featuring people on the high-functioning end of the spectrum (most notably ASAN founder Ari Ne'eman, an adult with Asperger’s Syndrome), proclaiming “Our lives are not tragedies.” 

Viewing the PSA as the mother of a child with high-functioning autism – and removed from any other feelings I have about the neurodiversity movement –  I felt a surge of agreement. Owen’s life isn’t tragic. We are full of hope for him. He can, as the PSA says, “speak for himself.”

The problem – and what a large part of the autism community is reacting to – is that this PSA does not give any consideration to those with autism who cannot speak for themselves. In fact, it portrays the more severe end of the autism spectrum as a myth.

Except there’s nothing mythical about children who are unable to speak, or who can’t perform basic tasks like getting dressed or feeding themselves. It’s no myth that some of these autistic individuals are unable to function independently. And not only do we not yet have a solution, we don’t even understand what’s causing it to begin with.

There is no single face of autism. Autism is the child banging his head against the wall in the corner, who has never spoken a word. Autism is also the child obsessively doodling in his notebook, speaking in lines from his favorite episode of Thomas the Tank Engine. Autism is also the child who can add five-digit numbers in his head, but struggles with answering open-ended questions.

Autism is so different for so many people that I have often questioned whether we are doing a disservice to all people with autism by classifying those who are “severely” autistic with the same disorder as those with high-functioning autism and Asperger’s Syndrome. I have, at times, felt guilty that my Owen could be taking resources away from kids who need them more. I have conversely been frustrated that the only dedicated educational programs for kids with autism focus solely on those affected severely. 

What Owen needs is a program dedicated to teaching kids with high-functioning autism in the manner in which their brains are wired to learn. Still, I understand why such a program isn’t a priority. It makes sense to me that with the limited autism resources available, we would focus them on the kids who need them most. I understand it, but I still want Owen to be given every opportunity to reach his full potential.

And that’s what I’m getting at: We’re dealing with different levels of need here…different perceptions of what the problem is. If you are an autistic individual who has little or no ability to communicate even your most basic needs, that’s a lot different than being an autistic individual whose biggest everyday challenge related to autism is that society doesn’t understand you. They are both problems, sure, but should those two people be fighting over the same pool of resources? I’m thinking not.

But can we advocate for autism research, for autism resources, for equal rights, for better educational programs and for a more informed society without tearing each other down? I’m thinking yes.

Autism is serious. While it's not life-threatening in the medical sense, it threatens quality of life. Even for my Owen, who is very high-functioning (and probably exceptional in some areas because of his autism), I already see how autism makes his life harder and I worry that it will rob him of certain joys. I cannot imagine the heartache of worrying that my son might never speak. 

I am proud of Owen. I don't ever want him to be ashamed of having autism and I don't want anyone putting limits on what he can achieve. 

But with a public that is already under-informed about this disorder, the last thing I think we need is a campaign that minimizes the impact of autism. That doesn't help any of us.  

TV Time

A couple of years ago, I began getting my boys into watching a few of my TV shows. I think it started with cooking shows and then we picked up The Biggest Loser, which I never even used to watch, but the weigh-ins appealed to Owen's obsession with numbers, so we all got hooked. 

Anyway, I'll admit that my initial reasons for introducing my boys to some of my shows was to be able to actually watch them while they were awake, versus trying to cram all my TV viewing into the few hours between when they went to bed and when I collapsed in exhaustion. 

 

Now we regularly watch several shows — The Amazing Race is our favorite, but there's also Chopped, The Biggest Loser, Will Work For Food, and sometimes Food Network Challenge. "TV rots your brain" arguments aside, I love having the opportunity to get both boys to sit in one place and cuddle them (plus, they've actually learned a few things). But I'm starting to wish these shows were still "mine" and not "ours." 

We've basically flipped scenarios, so that rather that being able to watch these shows when the boys are sleeping, I now have to wait to find a time to watch with them. And yes, of course I could just watch the shows and tell the boys they missed out, but that feels a little mean. 

And btw, thanks to the supposedly family-friendly Amazing Race, Aidan said "bitch" for the first time last night after reading it in a subtitle on the preview for next week's episode. Sheesh.

On another topic, we are only halfway through April and I'm running out of steam on these Autism Awareness Month moments. But my moment for today is a question for those other parents of kids with autism: Do your kids play tag?

I'm not sure whether it's an aversion or a complete lack of interest, but Owen is not a tag player. He does okay when he's being chased, but once he's it, he pretty much loses complete focus and ends up going to do something else — much to the frustration of his brother, who apparently like nothing better than being chased. I'm just wondering if this is typical or just another Owen-specific quirk.