My little Vampire. . .

Actually, to be totally truthful, Taz now reminds me of Mr. Jaws from Moonraker.

We went into surgery today with 4 stainless steel molars (from his first oral surgery only 1.5 years ago) and came out with all steel molars and a couple of canines.

This was Taz's 5th surgery and a very difficult one for me. We had to make a tough choice. If were weren't aggressive enough, we would have ended up back in the OR for more oral surgery in another year.

So we opted to do as much as possible. End result, Taz is virtually toofwess.

So far, he's taking it pretty well.

Our timeline via twitter in reverse order, It's more fun to read that way:

• 7:30 pm: Exactly how much does the tooth fairy have to pay for 8 teeth during a titanic recession?


• 5:00 pm: I managed to get my nap but woke up feeling like I was given anesthesia today; I've been fighting a nasty infection for two wks.


• 2:30 pm: Trying to get Taz to lay down in his Spiderman tent for a couple of hours; SNK mom needs a nap.


• 1 pm: Out of the mouth of an ASD babe--“I ust wan mi bwekfst”; his day can't start w/o that routine.


• 12:30 pm: World's fastest recovery; they let us go 30 minutes after he came out of post-op; Taz hates IVs.


• 11:00 am: Trying to read a book; can't concentrate too jittery.


• 10:00 am: Not a faulty pager; surgeon had a question; couldn't he have asked before; raw nerves and Dh is acting like he had versed, not Taz.


• 9:45 am:It was not fun watching them put Taz to sleep and now they're paging us. Just my luck we've got a faulty pager. GRRHH!


• 9:15 am: I must have lost my mind sitting here in a CDC space suit, so I can walk Taz into the OR. Never did that at Children's.


• 8:30 am: I feel like I'm in jail with the energizer bunny; at least Children's where we've gone before, had a kid's pre-op play area.


• 8:00 am: The wai-a-ting is the hardest part. Where's my Ipod when I need it.


• 7:30 am: Taz is such a riot; he's almost 7, but the size of 4-year-old and busy making friends in the waiting room.,


• 7:00 am: At the hospital; Taz is wide awake and wired; no ADHD meds allowed this morning.


• 5:30 am: Time to get Dh moving; have to leave for the hospital in 30 minutes.

If you've made it this far in reading the blog, you're probably wondering when I'm going to get to the punch line.

Well, I hate to disappoint you, but there really isn't one this time. I can only say that there our three things about today, which I will always remember:

In pre-op. Taz asked the nurse if she had any paper and crayons. It's sad to say that he's used to the comforts of the Children's hospital and they no longer accept oral surgery patients, who are not severely medically compromised. Since we're only moderately medically compromised we had to go to a regional hospital that we've never been to before.

That is one of the reasons, I was more antsy than usual. We know what to expect and like the routine at the Children's hospital. I think Taz was one of only two children in surgery this morning (the other one was a younger patient of our oral surgeon).

So I was amazed when the nurse said, no we don't have any paper and crayons, but I can give you a bear.

And, not just any bear, a handmade bear in Taz's favorite color, made with love by a local church. I have to say that is the sweetest gift we have received since Taz got a special Ty beenie baby stork for new born preemies when he was in the NICU. Also donated by a local charity.

The second thing I will remember was having to dress up like an astronaut in a CDC disposable surgical suit so that I could walk Taz into the OR and stay while they put him to sleep.

I don't do well in hospitals and this was not part of our OR routine. He always got liquid versed i.e. loopy juice 15 minutes before hand and was laughing and giggling when they wheeled him away.

I got queasy just thinking about going into the OR, but sucked it up and did my best. Luckily it was freezing in there so I didn't start to faint until after they walked me out.

Finally, I will never forgot what Taz said to me when we got home and he finally got to eat his breakfast at 2 pm. He wanted french fries and his GFCF bagel with jelly, which I gave to him, even though the bagels are hard as rocks. I wasn't about to argue with him, because he was still very grumpy from the anesthesia and his pain meds were wearing off.

And, as expected, Taz cried out when he tried to bite into the bagel after he finished his fries. But, then he looked at me and said the most amazing thing: "I'm going to save my bagel until my grown-up teeth come in. Okay, Mommie?"

"Okay Taz!'

Special Needs Children are amazingly resilient!

Nianya

Just a few dental caries. . .

That's what I get from the hoity toity doctor we saw today for Taz's pre-op.

Not my choice to see that doctor and we'll probably never see her again, but you'd think she would read the medical history I meticulously filled out two weeks ago when we came in for our first pre-op before she asks me if Taz has a history of any medical problems other than dental caries.

Of gee, I don't know. How about pneumonia!!!

Perhaps they forgot to write that down on his chart two weeks ago when we postponed his surgery, because he couldn't breathe.

Okay, I exaggerate just a bit, he could breathe, just not without hacking up his lungs.

Seriously, I should be able to sluff this stuff off by now, but I'm just a bit on the edge today. More than a bit, actually, and I'm incensed that a doctor had the nerve to reduce Taz's issues to a FEW DENTAL CARIES!

If you follow my blog, you know that Taz has run the gammit from prematurity to previous major oral surgery and everything in between. To make a long story short, he's an adorable almost 7-year-old midgit, who is about to lose several teeth and get the rest of them capped with stainless steel to preserve them until his adult teeth come in.

He's very proud of the silver molars from his previous oral surgery. . .all that he remembers of that trip to the OR.

And, memory is the biggest problem we face tomorrow.

This will be his 5th time in the OR in 6 short years. He has very little memory of the previous surgeries. He was only 4.5 years old the last time.

Now he has a memory like a steel trap and he's asking questions I don't want to answer.

• Will the hospital have shots mommy?
• No Taz (IVs aren't shot).
• Would you like to give the tooth fairy some teeth this weekend Taz?
• No mommy, none of them are loose enough. She'll have to wait awhile!

I'm so tired of having to be the strong one, but I have no choice. I'm a special needs mother!

And, when I start to panic tomorrow, I will remind myself that there will be two pairs of strong arms holding me tomorrow on the way to the OR.

Taz on his loopy juice, hugging me goodbye, and God, lifting me up and carrying through it.

Nianya

Some people just need to Get a Clue. . .

As the mother of two special needs children the past several days have been typically over stressful. It started last week on the way to my son's pre-op.

• My daughter's ortho called to remind me that we missed her appt. and to tell me that I owe a $35 missed appt. fee. I say, I think not, my son is having surgery on Friday, give me a break.
• At pre-op, we learn that my son has pneumonia and his surgery has to be postponed.
• We go to urgent care for a chest x-ray and they tell us he has to stay home for 5 days.
• I fax the doctor's excuse to the school and get a call the next night telling me that my son missed school that day. YAH THINK!
• My son finally goes back to school today and comes home with a note from the P.E. teacher saying he's in trouble for not wearing tennis shoes at P.E. again (HELLO he has pneumonia.)
• And, to top it all off, my son is now reacting to his antibiotic.

I was going to throw the P.E. teacher's note in the trash and pretend I never saw it, but, in my current mood, I'm seriously thinking about responding:

GET A CLUE!!! My asthmatic, ASD/ADHD son has PNEUMONIA! The last thing he needs is P.E. right now.

If the teacher is lucky, I will calm down by tomorrow. If not, C'est la vie!

Nianya

All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth. . .

My generation all grew up on that now famous Christmas song. I remember when my ASD daughter lost her two front baby teeth at about 5.5 years and anxiously waited until her permanent teeth filled in the gap. We've been very lucky with our daughter. She has healthy teeth that came in relatively straight and has tolerated her braces well (okay maybe not well) for more than 1.5 years (mostly b/c I got adult braces at the same time.)

We're not so lucky with her almost 7-year-old ASD brother, who was premature, suffered from severe reflux from birth until recently, was diagnosed with asthma as an infant, and, as if all those factors aren't bad enough for baby teeth, has a congenital problem with his enamel or rather the lack thereof.

All of these factors resulted in major restorative oral surgery at age 4.5 and we are now facing another round of surgery next week, to repair, crown and/or remove his remaining baby teeth. Oh, and I forgot to mention that he's also extremely small for his age with a tiny jaw i.e. no room for permanent teeth.

So next week he goes back to the ER for his fifth surgery in less than 7 years. When he wakes up from the anesthesia he's going to have huge gaps in the front of his mouth where the 8 teeth that have to come out are currently located.

We have gotten through his prior surgeries by not telling him much of anything. We take Dr. Bear to the hospital with us, along with comfy blankets and stuff for our stay, we play while he gets his prophylactic breathing treatments and loopy juice (Versed, great stuff) and kiss him and Dr. Bear goodbye on the way to the OR, while he giggles away.

A hour, or two or three later, he comes back to us sleeping like an angel, until he wakes up feeling like a bear in a bear trap (Versed, nasty stuff). He screams, tries to yank out his IV and with any luck goes back to sleep for awhile while his pain meds. kick in.

Sounds like a routine, huh.

NOT!!!!

I have no idea how to explain to him that he's going to wake up without his teeth. We can't tell him before hand, he'll freak. He has major SID issues with his mouth, textures and food. Last time, all we said, once the nasty anesthesia hangover wore off, was that he got these great new silver teeth (expensive stainless steel crowns). This time all he will have left are silver teeth!

We know it's only for months, maybe a year or so, before his permanent teeth fill the holes. We also know that we don't have the luxury of removing these teeth one at a time, like most dentists would do as the perms come in. With a medically compromised child, you have to be aggressive. The last thing we want is to have to go back to the OR again in another year.

I keep praying that the next surgery will be his last. I will continue to do so, even though we know he has a 50/50 chance of needing sinus surgery again at age 8 or 9. We also found out during this go round that he has a narrowed airway. I guessed that a while ago, since he keeps getting croup, which he should have long out grown, but hearing it from a doctor hurts.

Still, we are very blessed, and once he gets over all this, he will probably have a great time wearing a variety of fake teeth.

He's a clown, that Charlie Brown.

Nianya

Mom, where's the dining room. . .

That's what my 6.5-year-old son asked me today when he brought me a handmade present and asked me where to put it. I laughed and told him it's the room with the Christmas tree.

I had to laugh, because we have not used the dining room, as such, since long before he was born. Then I started thinking about all the changes we have made in our house in the past 10 years.

We started out with the typical house format: an front entry-way with a living room on one side, and a dining room on the other. A downstairs bedroom and bath, a 2-story great room and a kitchen. The second floor had three bedrooms, two baths and the traditional master suite, plus a tiny home office over the garage.

That was back when we had only one child, a toddler, and autism was not a word in our vocabulary. We used the dining room a couple of times for extended family dinners and birthday parties, we turned the living room into a music room to house my antique grand piano and turned the downstairs bedroom into a living room. In other words we had way more space than we needed.

Over the course of the next 4-5 years things rapidly changed. I started telecommuting 3-4 days per week, my daughter was diagnosed as autistic, rather than simply ADHD, and we added a son to our household.

We turned one of our upstairs guestrooms into a nursery, we turned our living room/TV room into a playroom, complete with rubber mats for our son to play on, because he had severe reflux, and we expanded our upstairs office into the dressing room to accommodate multiple computers, fax machines, printers, scanners and several shelving units overflowing with office supplies.

We stopped any attempt to have meals together, because our son was allergic to milk, wheat and everything else on the planet. We segregated our kitchen and pantry into GFCF safe zones, labeled everything and expanded our food storage into the garage with shelves for dried and canned foods and an extra freezer to store our son's GFCF foods, which we had to purchase in bulk from health food stores and websites.

We never used our dining room for family gatherings, because our son didn't understand why he couldn't eat the same foods as the rest of us. We fed him separately and ate our own dinners, while he was watching TV in another room or after he went to bed.

A couple of years later, we started allowing our daughter to sleep downstairs in the TV room on the weekends as a reward for good behavior during the week. At the age of 8, our daughter fit perfectly on a kids' pull-out couch, which functioned as extra seating during the day. We moved our then-toddler son's expanding collection of toys and puzzles to the great room and gave him the kitchen desk, complete with TV/VCR and all of his favorite Baby Einstein videos to watch while he ate.

This worked great for a couple of years. We even got to the point where we had an occasional meal "together," with three of us at the kitchen table and our son happily ensconced at his desk with his GFCF food and videos.

Then the kids started growing up. My daughter outgrew the pull-out couch and started sleeping on a blow-up mattress. The TV room became her extra bedroom/locker room complete with her favorite character accessories (Pokemon, Star Wars, Sponge Bob Square Pants and most recently Indiana Jones) all lined up in rows on the tables, couches and floor etc. . . in classic autistic fashion.

My son outgrew the desk and needed space for all the crafts and art supplies we bought to entertain his mad-scientist/craft-boy/severely ADHD brain. He took over the great room, kitchen floor and 1/3 of the garage. We also gave up two of the closets in our master suite to house his craft supplies, which we buy in bulk at the dollar store, Big Lots and Michaels.

For the past two years we have been bursting at the seams and were planning to finish our basement to give the kids and us more space.

Fast forward to the present and things have changed drastically. The economy tanked and ended any dream we had of finishing our basement in the next 10 years, I added photography services to my weekend/nighttime home printing business, which necessitated additional equipment that overflowed into our bedroom, and we had to hook up the Wii, which my daughter bought with her own money, to the little TV in her brother's bedroom, because he was the only one in the house, who had any space left to move around in.

So, two months ago, I cried uncle and decided to take back the house (i.e. rearrange it).

• We had a huge yard sale to get rid of extra toys, unused kitchen appliances and furniture;


• I moved the big TV out of the "locker room" into the great room, hooked up the Wii there and rearranged the couches to maximize the floor space;


• I used to money from the yard sale to buy a designer desk and tables from Big Lots at 75% off the original manufacturer's price and set up a stylish downstairs office with all of my printing equipment;


• I reorganized the upstairs office to maximize our room and storage space and put a combination lock on the craft closet in an attempt to keep our son out of the master suite;


• I added risers to my son's bed so that we could store all his toys underneath in movable containers, which also helps to keep him occupied in his room at night until he winds down and falls asleep; and


• I set some strict rules for both kids with regard to keeping their rooms, the great room and the kitchen in order.

It didn't take long for my daughter to get the hint that I meant business after I put a lock on the TV/Wii cabinet and started changing the combination every time she forgot the rules.

So what about the dining room you ask and why have I had a Christmas tree set up there since early October?

Long story short, I decided the turn the unused dining room into a weekend photography studio starting with a Christmas set up.

On the bright side, I have tripled my tax deductible home business space and it's a lot easier to keep the house clean. On the downside, I now need an extra freezer to store my son's food, because my husband and daughter have taken over his freezer space to store their frozen foods from Sam's Club, Costco and BJs and my son's screaming, because he's out of his favorite breads, which I buy in bulk from Kinnikinnick in Canada.

Give me a break, I hate cooking, we all eat different meals anyway and it costs more to buy the ingredients than it does to buy gourmet frozen dinners from the wholesale clubs.

Nianya

P.S. The tax deductions are about the only real benefit I get from my printing/photography business. I have a full-time day job, very little free time and a bad habit of donating my services to various night and weekend charity projects.

Shedding Layers . . .

A comment this evening made me realize that I have been doing this for some time now. Metaphorically and physically shedding layers to simplify my life.

In one way or another, we are all being forced to shed our excess layers and return to a time when keeping up with the Joneses meant white washing our picket fences and tending our lawns, rather than driving the biggest SUV, owning the newest HD TV and getting the hottest toy for Christmas.

Honestly, I gave those excesses up years ago. We stop buying new cars, taking expensive vacations and wearing designer clothes to keep our kids in private school. We stopped shopping at the malls, boutiques and even the local grocery stores in favor of wholesale clubs and deep discount retailers. We stopped using credit cards and started using cash or direct debit and we still can't survive in the current economy.

So now we're facing the stress and pain of shedding the tougher, deeper layers. Giving up our dream of finishing our basement in the next couple of years didn't really hurt as much as I thought, but coming to the conclusion that our special needs son will have to leave his private school and start attending the local public school really bites.

We want the best for both of our special needs children and we love the school he attends, but we simply cannot afford his private school and necessary supplemental tutoring. It's really simple. That money can help pay bills, until the economy turns around and we can start to rebuild our savings.

I know I have no right to complain, because we are far better off than most, but it's always a struggle to make the right decisions in the face of our children's special needs. We nearly choked when we had to put our daughter's social skills class tuition on a credit card and now we're having to pay for our son's tutoring, our medical co-pays and our prescriptions the same way.

We've been fighting for our autistic daughter's rights in the public school system for three years now and she is making slow, but steady progress. We kept our son in private school, because we did not have the energy to fight for two children at the same time. Now we're going to have to find the strength to do so.

I'm praying that, in the long run, we're making the right decision, because we have no choice.I'm also praying that the economy turns around soon, because this is the last big layer that we have to lose.

Nianya

Angry Mom of Special Needs Children. . .

I try to avoid politics on this website, because I don't need more controversy in my already overburdened life as a mother of two special needs children. That said, however, I never miss the chance to get on my soap box to rebut attacks against special needs children and their parents.

It has been said that the 2008 presidential election will be decided by the angry white male. After last night, I'm betting that you can add the angry working mom of special needs children. How dare anyone insinuate that a mother cannot work and raise her children at the same time. Last time I checked, I had no choice.

I work for the money and insurance to pay for my children's special needs. I don't see the Democrats offering to pay for my autistic daughter's social skills therapy or my ADHD/SID/Asthmatic/GFCF son's private school, tutoring, multiple medications and special diet.

This may be the first time in my life that I actually vote for a candidate, rather than against one.

Nianya

Oh Captain, My Captain. . .

I had one of those incredible special needs Mom moments last weekend during my 12-year-old autistic daughter's first soccer tournament of the year. My daughter has been playing soccer, since she was 5 years old and has been on a competition/traveling team since age 8. Until last spring, we've had our ups and downs (lots of downs) with players and coaches, who did not understand her inability to communicate.

Now, my daughter loves her new coach, she enjoys going to practice and she gave about 1,000 percent at the tournament. I love having the other parents ask: "What are you feeding her?"

"Jalapeno Pancakes with Habenero sauce," we jokingly respond. That's why we call her "Hot Shot."

In truth, it's encouragement from her coach, the other players and the other parents. She's riding a natural high. I'm not going to pretend that some day, she'll be the soccer version of Michael Phelps, but I have high hopes that, if she continues on her current path, she will get a soccer scholarship. In the words of Randy Jackson, that would be the "bomb."

As for the "Mommy Moment," my daughter's team elected her Captain for the day last Sunday. The team votes for their Captains based on MPV status from their point of view, not their coach's. To me, that moment was priceless. It tells me that she has learned to communicate with her team in her own way, through her athletic skills, even though she still has trouble communicating verbally.

As for me, I meant to write this post last Sunday night, but I was too exhausted from photographing the tournament. By the time I caught up on my sleep, my 6-year-old severely ADHD/asthmatic son had the croup again. So much for sleep.

On the bright side, he recovered quickly this time and we were able to visit the Georgia Aquarium today for a special tour. We saw them feed the whale sharks, got a glimpse of the elusive Nandi, the new manta ray, and took a very brief tour of the new Titanic exhibit. My son, who was dosed up on albuterol and steroids, had major issues with the dark tunnels in the exhibit so we had to breeze through, but I reminded my daughter that we can come back anytime for a more in-depth look. We saw the main exhibit two years ago when it was in Atlanta, but they have some new artifacts in this one.

That's all for now folks. Stay tuned for more exciting adventures.

Nianya

P.S. To my friends in NOLA and along the gulf coast, we're praying for y'all.

Tazmania: the Tooth Fairy vs. Poison Control. . .

Never a dull moment in our special needs house. Each little joy is always mixed with a healthy dose of reality.

My 6.5-year-old has been waiting not so patiently for his first tooth to fall out so he could leave it for the tooth fairy. This afternoon, he came screaming up the stairs proudly holding his bloody tooth. "I bit an apple and it yanked out my tooth."

I tried to convince Taz to give me the tooth for safe-keeping but he wouldn't part with it. I was sure he'd lose it before bedtime, but he kept that tooth in his little paw until he put in under his pillow after his bath.

An so, we began the great wait for the tooth fairy, which naturally was rudely interrupted by my discovery of two Sam's Club size bottles of gummy vites, which went from more than half full each to less than a quater full in the past 2-3 days i.e. somewhere between 75 and 100 missing vitamins.

I tried to tell his Dad a couple of nights ago that those bits of colored gooey things under the kitchen desk looked suspiciously like gummy vites, not some long lost fruit snack that Taz dug out of the pantry.

Tonight he finally agreed.

When I called poison control, they calculated the potential overdose and informed me that he could very well have consumed a toxic amount of vitamin A.

Luckily for Taz, the vitamins don't contain iron, he has no classic symptoms of vitamin A poisoning and, he consumed the vitamins over a few days. So he's probably okay. They recommended no more vitamins for at least a month. More like a year, if you ask me.

Dad, was relieved to hear that we avoided another trip to the ER, then asked why those darn bottles don't have child proof caps. I calmly reminded him that Taz was the only child in pre-K, who could open all six of the supposedly child proof caps during a in-class poison control demonstration.

He also knows how to open all of our locked cabinets, even though half of them have combination locks. He watched his Dad open them once and memorized the combinations. I tried changing them. It didn't help.

And so we are back to the tooth fairy, which, as always, Taz is determined to do to the extreme. He went to bed and promptly yanked out another tooth so that he could have a two-fer tonight.

Nothing is ever simple in our house.

Nianya

The "Eyes" have it. . .

Or in our case, the 1-eyed Ugly doll.

My 6-year-old Tasmanian devil came home today from three weeks of respite care with our in-laws. I've really been enjoying the peace and quiet in the house, since we got back from the Grand Canyon. Not to mention the fact that I didn't have to clean up the entire house each night before going to bed.

I really started to miss him though, when my SIL told me a week ago that Taz learned to swim and ride a bike, got his first loose tooth and night-trained himself (at 6.5 years) while he was gone. I guess we all needed a respite to get our Karma back in order.

The good news is he hasn't lost the tooth yet, so we still get the joy of playing tooth fairy for the first time.

He really did mature alot while gone, however. MIL told me that they took Taz and his 5-year-old cousin to a fair and they would not let him on one of the rides, because he was too short. Cousin, who is now taller than Taz, got to ride. Surprisingly Grandma said Taz was really good about it. He sniffed a bit and told the ride attendant "It's not my fault. My medicine makes me short."

If that's not out of the mouths of special needs babes, I don't know what is.

He's been on and off steroids since birth and on ADHD meds. since age 4. The kid can't catch a break, but I'd rather have him stay small, safe and healthy.

As for the Ugly doll, Taz was spinning in circles (as usual) at bedtime, when he noticed the 1-eyed "Wedgehead" from FAO Schwarz in Vegas tucked between the pillows on his bed.

"Mommy, you bought me a MONSTER DOLL!"

Thirty minutes later, after his nighttime dose of melatonin kicked in, he was sound asleep hugging his new monster.

Better a monster in the bed, then under it.

Nianya

Your ear is blue and its blinking. . .

That's what someone told me last Saturday at my daughter's end of season soccer party. Then they scolded me for not leaving my Bluetooth at home.

"Hey, give me a break," I said. "I'm expecting an important call."

I'm always on-call. I'm a mother of two special needs children and, like most of my kind, I'm afraid to leave the house without my cell phone. I don't even sit in the backyard without it.

It's more than just a matter of convenience. In some cases, it's my children's lifeline. I can't begin to count the number of times I've received calls from one of their schools, Sunday school teachers, coaches or daycare providers.

I'm more relaxed about the kids' issues than I used to be, but I still panic when they're out and about and an unknown number shows up on my caller ID. Like today, when I missed a call, because I forgot to turn on my Bluetooth after dropping my son off for his first day at Vacation Bible School. I held my breath and prepared for the worst when I called the number back.

Turns out it was just the dentist's office calling to remind my husband about his appointment. Darn those backline numbers. They never show up on my caller ID.

I realize that I'm obsessive, but I have to be. If I let down my guard, I'll get hit in the head with a big fat asthma attack, or, in my daughter's case, an autistic-style nuclear meltdown.

I'm currently expecting the former and experiencing the latter.

My 6-year-old tazmanian devil came home from VBS with a headache and spent the next 3 hours lying down on the couch. That's a bad sign for a kid, who's usually spinning his wheels in 50 different directions. It means he's getting sick and, when he gets sick, his asthma flares. It's bound to happen this week anyway, since he's going to stay with relatives for three weeks starting this Friday.

Never forget Nianya's Law: If anything can go wrong, it will, at the worst possible moment!

As for the nuclear melt-down. What kind of orthodontist makes an autistic 12-year-old wear so many rubber bands in her mouth that she can barely talk and has to eat through a straw? My daughter has spent most of her life in speech therapy learning how to talk and her ortho practically wired her mouth shut today, less than a week before her big trip to the Grand Canyon.

Which brings me back to my main point. I'm going to have to chill out next week and let others take control for a change, at least as far as my son is concerned. My son will be in another state with his grandmother and aunt, my husband will be home alone and I will be across the country with limited cell phone service.

Say a prayer for me friends, I'm going to need it.

Nianya

P.S. Does anyone have a remedy for Bluetooth withdrawal?

Left of Center. . .

As the song goes, my 12-year-old daughter and I live our lives "left of center, in the outskirts and in the fringes, in the corner, out of the grip."

The only difference is that I choose to live there and she does not.

Because my daughter is autistic, she doesn't know how to approach people, ask them questions or join their group. In short, she lacks the ability to socialize.

When she sees her few close friends in a group setting, she will instinctively remain separate, always on the outside looking in.

A few of her friends have learned that they can coax her into joining their groups by taking her by the hand and leading her there. Even then she keeps her distance.

Last night, as I was photographing my daughter's soccer assessments, I very proudly noted that she was laughing and joining the girls, while they kicked their balls around during a break. Still, when their new coach had them sit in a circle to talk strategy, my daughter sat on her ball to the left. Once again "in the fringes."

Looking back on my life, I note that I always spent my time in the fringes as well. I'm not sure when I decided that I prefer life there, but I think that decision evolved in college where I met others like me. It probably had more to do with the fact that my friends and I were all outsiders at our very Midwestern university, so we rebelled. You can get away with that at a school with 30K students.

Still, I went through my stages of trying to fit in: Pappagallo, Laura Ashley, Doonie & Bourke and the Southern Belle Primer.

On the outside, I was one of the hip crowd, on the inside, I felt like an outsider. Somehow, I learned not to let that show. Those were my quiet years, when I kept my opinions to myself, showed only my poker face and focused on my career. I married, built my dream home, wore designer clothing and spent my vacations in fashionable Charleston. As my husband always said, "I walked the walk and talked the talk."

My quiet years ended when I found myself raising two special needs children. I just didn't have the energy or money to keep up with the Joneses anymore. Over the past 12 years, I have slowly evolved into a person, who doesn't worry about what other people think. My favorite sayings are "So what" and "Whatever."

I keep to myself, unless I want company, and only buy designer clothes, if they are made of cotton, black and grey, and sold at Sam's Club, Costco or BJ's.

Unfortunately, the same principles don't apply to my daughter. She is finally getting to an age where she realizes that she's different. I remember those years. Being an emotional pre-teen is bad enough. Living on the outside, looking in can be devastating.

I don't know how to explain this to my daughter. I'm still trying to figure out how I developed such a bone-dry wit. I'm a lot like the mother in Erma Bombeck's poem "The Special Mother," since I have to learn how to teach my children to live in a world full of ignorance, cruelty and prejudice toward anyone, who is different.

For now, I take my children's issues one at a time, I wake each day wondering what new crisis I will face and I live for those special moments, like today, when my asthmatic/SID/ADHD son finally put his head in the water after two years of swimming lessons.

I suppose that kind of moment is special to all parents, but it's priceless to me.

Nianya

Links: Free Web Browser for Autistic Children

What's this world coming to. . .

I really have to wonder when a 30-something stay-at-home Mom of one (very beautiful) child makes 40K a month on advertising just for dissing parenthood.

She has a book deal, she's on the Today Show and she's going on Nightline. What the heck????

Obviously, we live in an upside-down world where trash talks. Unfortunately for special needs parents, trash talk doesn't pay our bills.

My blogs about various SNK Parenting moments are chock full of dry humour, very cynical and often whinny, but don't think for a moment that I don't thank God each and every day for the children I worked so hard to have. They're not perfect, but what kid is.

I could talk all about the 2 years it took us to potty train each child, but who cares, when my oldest is Autistic and my youngest used to be lucky if he went 4 weeks without a bad Asthma attack. And by bad, I mean, waking up in the middle of the night unable to breathe.

As for post-partum depression, BTDT, didn't have time for it.

My premature son was in the NICU and, when he came home, we had to feed him $25/can hypo-allergenic formula, because he couldn't tolerate milk formula, soy formula or B-milk (can't mention that word on my blog without becoming the pot calling the kettle black).

Apparently Walmart and Hewlett-Packard care, because they supposedly support trash talk by advertising on www.dooce.com.

That really bites, since I regularly shop at Sam's Club and I'm sitting here writing this blog on an HP Pavilion laptop.

I do have dedicated readers and I'm thankful for every one of you, but here's my challenge. Forward this blog to everyone you know and ask them to do the same. Once the word gets out, maybe this blog will attract advertisers that care more about the content than the number of trash-talk based hits.

As for other big-name companies, such as Fox, CBS, Microsoft, Amazon.com, Costco, BJ's Wholesale Club and Target, I challenge you to place ads on this site.

All of the revenue from my blog goes to Liveover Ministries, a non-profit organization, which helps parents of special needs and underprivileged children pay for necessary medical care, home and car repairs and recreational sports activities.

Let's put an end to sponsoring trash talk.

Nianya

Marriage and the Special Needs Child. . .

I applaud all parents, married, partnered or single, who struggle with raising their special needs children, but I feel that it is important to note how difficult it can be to maintain a marriage while doing so.

In a country where the divorce rate has reportedly risen as high as 50 percent for first time marriages, the rate is reported to be considerably higher (as high as 80 percent) for marriages involving special needs children.

I personally know or know of quite a few couples, whose marriages failed to survive the stress of raising their special needs children. I often wonder how my husband and I do it. Over the years we have come to realize that our children inherited their special needs (ASD, SID, ADHD, Asthma etc...) through our combined family histories, not due to fertility treatments (our son was in vitro), childhood vaccines or environmental exposure, we also know that we have many of the same issues and we try to laugh when things get so bad that most people would cry.

Still, that doesn't explain why we remain so committed to our marriage when others could not. My only conclusion: our faith binds us in ways that we may never understand, but have learned not to question. I am constantly reminded of the poem Footprints in the Sand, whenever I feel like I can't go on. We always make it through each crises, because our faith carries us when our physical strength and willpower fails.

Today I read a bittersweet update about Baby Noor, a child who is very near and dear to my heart and the heart of my good friend Debbie Stone, who illustrates my children's books. Debbie spearheaded the initial campaign to bring Noor to the United States for life saving surgery and I had a once in a life time chance to meet and hold this precious child before she returned home.

The update, which included pictures of Noor, now a beautiful 2.5-year-old, mentioned that her parents are now divorced and her father is remarried. Sadly, I was not surprised.

In some cases, divorce or separation is unquestionably in the best interest of the children involved. In most cases, however, the children are simply caught in the middle and this often continues after their parents separate and/or divorce. Many divorced parents disagree about the need for and/or cost of special services for their children.

In the worst case scenarios the children fail to receive adequate/necessary care from both parents. Many of these children end up in foster care or child protective services.

For this reason, I believe that we must provide more support programs and networks for parents of special needs children. Whether single or married, parents of special needs children need support networks and access to affordable services for their children.

For the past several years, I have been working to develop a Christian-based ministry directed toward helping parents of special needs children get the services and support they need to keep their families together. My special needs children's ministry, including this blog and the SNK Parents google group, is partnered with Lifeover Ministries, which provides financial assistance to qualifying families with special needs children for out-of-pocket medical expenses, home and car repairs and children's recreational activities.

We are currently working on a detailed website, which will provide information for parents to apply for Lifeover grants. Please stayed tuned for future updates on our progress and feel free to contact us through this site, if you have any questions.

Nianya

Links:

Providing for Employees with Special Needs

The Autistic Family Life Cycle: Family Stress and Divorce

The Relationship Factor: When Special Needs Challenge a Household

Too Blessed to be Stressed

Last Thanksgiving, I bought a coffee mug at a Christian Book Store that says "Too Blessed to be Stressed." I joked to my husband that they had it backwards. We're too stressed to be blessed. We never get a break and it seems like we always take two baby steps forward and three bigfoot steps back.

If you're a special needs parent I'm betting you know just what I mean. I call it Nianya's Law. My own personal version of Murphy's Law:

Everything that can possibly go wrong, will go wrong, at the worst possible time.

For instance, I started reaching out to other special needs parents after what I call my rock bottom week. My then 18-month-old son was hospitalized with croup/asthma less than two days after I had oral surgery, the hospital had no idea how to deal with our son's GFCF diet and we felt like we we're alone with no one to turn to for help.

Since that time, more than four years ago, I have hit rock bottom several times. Nianya's Law never fails me. It's the one thing I can count on.

Just this past Sunday, I mentioned the hospital croup story to the Elders at our new church.

JINX.

I should know better.

Sure enough, less than 12 hours later we were headed back to the ER with another round of croup, the spare tire that my husband put on the car the night before went flat as we drove out of our driveway at 3:30 AM, the only hospital open was packed with flu victims, the hospital told us our insurance was expired, we barely got out of there four hours later in time to get our older daughter to school and, to top it all off, the whole time we were there, I kept thinking. . .

NOT NOW PLEASE. . . we've been invited to the Today Show taping at the Georgia Aquarium tomorrow morning.

I should also know better than to put my pride above my child's health, but we we're all so excited about the today show. We had special signs and T-shirts made up for the kids and it was such a great opportunity for our autistic 12-year-old.

So I prayed.

• I was afraid my son would end up in the hospital again. He didn't!


• My daughter and I made it to the Today Show taping, despite a broken-down tractor-trailer on the Interstate and everyone knows that, if there's a tractor-trailer incident on an Atlanta freeway, you might as well give it up. Not this time!


• My husband and I succumbed to the flu this week, but Not at the same time!


• My daughter did not get sick. KNOCK ON WOOD!

Things could have been worse. We have two cars, so we made it to the hospital, despite two flat tires. We were able to take turns playing Dr. Mom to our son and each other. We have wonderful friends, who helped us out, when we needed rides to and from school. We have really good insurance. I guess it was a computer glich. And most important, we have our faith.

This week was truly an example of the power of prayer at work and we are truly:

TOO BLESSED TO BE STRESSED

Nianya

We've come a long way . . .

Several weeks ago, I was browsing the new improved health food section of our local Kroger's store, which now includes many of our favorite GFCF (gluten-free/casein-free) dry and frozen foods. Another mother overheard my comments to my husband about the relevant merits of Ian's Gluten Free French Toast sticks vs. Ian's Gluten Free Waffles and asked if we had a celiac child. No I said, just a 5-year-old picky eater with food allergies, asthma and SID (Sensory Integration Disorder) issues.

I suddenly found myself telling this women all about our favorite GFCF foods, because she mentioned that she was having trouble finding gluten-free foods for her 9-year-old, who was recently diagnosed with celiac disease.

When we started our GFCF journey more than five years ago, the new federal labeling standards were non-existant, you couldn't tell if a product contained milk, casein or whey and I constantly had to tell my husband not to buy anything for our son, unless I gave him a specific product name.

Of course that meant not grocery shopping for the GFCF kid, unless you were lucky enough to live near a health food store and even then, you couldn't always trust the store's supposedly Gluten Free products. A sales person once tried to convince me that spelt was wheat-free. When I took exception to her comment, she informed me that most wheat-allergic people are not allergic to spelt. I think I'll stick with Wikipedia's definition .

Back then, I felt like a freak in a milk & wheat world and, when I told people that my son was allergic to milk and wheat, they looked at me in horror and asked "What does he eat?"

Well, until age 16 months, he ate no solid food.

Then we discovered Kinnikinnick breads, Gluten Free Pantry mixes and Roberts Tings. A couple of years later, after bi-monthly trips to the only really good health food store within 30 miles, I discovered that we could purchase many of our favorite GFCF foods cheaper on the internet.

• Amazon sells a wide variety of GFCF and Gluten Free foods and, if you sign up for Amazon Prime, you get free 2-day shipping on eligible products. Amazon also tracks your favorites and notifies you when they are on sale or subject to a special offer.
  
• Kinnikinnick allows you to order up to $200 in foods and pay only $10 in shipping, plus they give you GFCF points toward future orders. (Kinnikinnick is now available in select grocery and health food stores. The prices are considerably higher than buying directly from the company; however, I recommend trying their products locally before you buy in bulk.)
  
• Ener-G and other GFCF sites offer sales and promotions on various GFCF products.

Buying in bulk doesn't have to be difficult. If you don't have a pantry (or your pantry is already overflowing like mine), store the non-perishible items in your garage, get an extra freezer, if needed (our's cost < $150), and invest in a food saver vacuum sealer, which keeps breads and other foods fresh in your fridge or freezer for months. This may seem overwhelming, but, if you're like me, you probably don't have the time (or in my case the talent) to cook GFCF foods from scratch. (Case in point, it took me 3 years to create an edible birthday cake.) And, many of our favorite foods come pre-packaged in small sizes for car trips, school lunches, eating out etc. . .

Word to the wise, let your child choose his/her favorites. Not everything will be a hit. I once got a great deal on gluten free apple and blueberry fruit bars from Amazon. My son (the world's pickiest eater) hated them and they stayed in the pantry for months, until my athletic tween, who will and does eat everything when she's hungry, discovered them. They are long since gone.

1. Check with your local store about return guarantees, many stores will take an opened item back if you or your child aren't satisfied.
2. Don't invest in a bread machine, mini-fryer or other small appliance for GFCF cooking, unless you will use them frequently. If you want to try a new recipe, such as a GFCF coating mix, borrow a fryer from a friend or follow the pan fried instructions. (Our deep fryer has been on the pantry shelf, since we discovered after only one week that it was more trouble than it was worth and the GFCF bread mixes we tried in our bread machine weren't as good as the store bought breads.)
3. Be on the look out for sales and manager's specials. You will save money in the long run.
4. Sign up for e-mail alerts and coupons on your favorite GFCF food sites. Many of them track your purchases and highlight your favorites when they are on sale.
5. And, last, but not least, create a GFCF safe kitchen. Set aside a counter area, cabinet or pantry shelf, use matching or easily identifiable containers for loose foods, such as chips and snacks, and label all of your child's GFCF foods. (My son has a GFCF corner and pantry shelf dedicated to his foods, all of which are labled with his name and our personal logo. That way relatives, visitors and sitters know what they can and cannot feed him.)

As I said, we've come a long way. The GFCF diet has finally come out of the dark ages and is fast becoming a main stream topic. New Federal labeling rules require foods to state in plain terms whether they contain certain allergens, such as wheat, milk, soy or peanuts, many manufacturers now state that their products are produced in plants where items containing such allergens are prepared and restaurants/fast food chains are now listing food allergen information on their website.

Stay tuned for my next post on the GFCF diet in a fast food world.

Nianya

Welcome to my World . . .

If you are a parent of a special needs child, then I'm willing to bet that you've heard some version of the poem "Welcome to Holland," which has been adapted over the years to fit many special needs children and parents. Nearly 6 years ago, I found myself on a plane to "Holland," except that it never seemed to land. I felt like we were circling Siberia.

My son was premature, had severe reflux and was allergic to "everything on the planet." He survived on specialty formula until he was 16 months old and then goat's milk, until we finally found the gluten free/casein free (GFCF) diet.

I met an angel, in the form of another special needs mother, who gave me a wealth of information on the GFCF diet, directed me to web sites where I could learn more about living with the GFCF diet in a milk, bread and potatoes world and gave me a cyber shoulder to cry on when my son passed another birthday without a cake.

Imagine spending three days with your child in the pediatric ward of your local hospital fighting croup and asthma and they have no food to feed him. They had no dye-free jello and looked at me like I was crazy for asking if they could make a scrambled egg without milk or butter.

Welcome to my planet!

I spent the first two years of my son's life in a holding pattern over "Holland" trying to find a safe place to land. Then, just when I thought it was safe to exit the plane, my then 9-year-old daughter was diagnosed with high functioning autism. In reality, she is high functioning only because we learned very early on in her life that we had to live on a very strict schedule with her or our entire world would come crashing down on us. We used to think she was a "difficult" ADHD toddler.

If I'd only known then what I know now.

Hindsight is not always the best sight, however. It turns out that we instinctively helped our daughter function on a higher level by involving her in sports (gymnastics & soccer) at a very early age to improve her coordination and by enrolling her in a Montessori pre-school and elementary where she could learn at her own pace and in her own space. To this day, after years of speech and social therapy, my now 6th grader still has trouble sitting at a desk, raising her hand and answering questions. Imagine what she would have felt like in public Kindergarten when she was practically non-verbal.

Austim used to evoke an image of a child sitting in a corner banging his head against the wall and I have a hard time explaining to people, who don't know much about autism and who don't really know my daughter, that an autistic child's behavior can have varying degrees. My daughter seems quite "normal" on the soccer field, as long as she knows the exact time and place of the game, the exact color scheme of the uniform she has to wear and whether or not both her parents will be able to attend. But, a sudden change of plans can send her into a meltdown worthy of the terrible twos. Try and explain that to spectators.

So now you have a brief introduction to "My World." We live on a different planet in our house. A planet where it's safe to be on the autism spectrum, you can always find something gluten free and casein free to eat, Mom knows how to make an "edible" GFCF birthday cake and we don't rush to the ER for a middle of the night asthma attack. Mom knows how to use a stethoscope, always has the asthma meds and nebulizer ready and knows when to say UNCLE and head for urgent care.

Our lives may be hectic, but we've long since landed in "Holland," learned the lingo and learned how to navigate the back streets.

Nianya