I’ve been having a tough time lately. I will spare you the sad, poor-me, pity party, and just say that sometimes life kinda sucks. But, I try to always find the silver lining, and if I can’t find that well, then I start looking for chocolate! Or if it super sucks, I start looking for chocolate chip cookie dough.
And I don’t know about you but I don’t want to make an entire batch of cookies and be a slave to the kitchen for hours on end. I want to be in and out. I also don’t want 3-4 dozen cookies just hanging around my house for the next week or so tempting me to eat them.
The Boy LOVES – I mean, like obsessively LOVES chocolate chip cookies,and has since he was old enough to eat them. I just hate store bought baked goods. They taste gross & heaven knows what’s in them. So I try to make most of the goodies myself … or with The Boy! He did about 75% of the work on these.
I scoured the internet looking for ideas, looked at my own full batch recipe and tried to do the math, but ultimately just gave up and kind of improvised. I love my cookies buttery, soft, fluffy, with lots of chocolate chips and lots of walnuts. So if you do too, here you go!
PS – I am an advocate of eating raw cookie dough no matter what the warnings say. Obviously those people just don’t want to have fun in life. I chowed down at least 2 cookies worth of cookie dough while making these & I’m alive to tell you about it!
Mama Loves Half-Batch Chocolate Chip Cookies
Yields about a dozen or so (depending on how much cookie dough you eat while making them!)
1/2 cup (one stick) butter, softened
6 tablespoons brown sugar
6 table spoons granulated white sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1 heaping cup flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
3/4 cup chopped walnuts
Method: TIP: Use your hand mixer for better results – I tried doing it the old fashioned way by hand & quickly plugged my hand mixer in to make quicker work of things.
Preheat Oven to 375*
Cream the butter and sugars at a low-medium speed. Add the egg, mix some more. Add the flour gradually, mixing together. Add the salt & the baking powder. Mix it at a low-medium speed until the dry ingredients are totally mixed in with the wet ingredients. Turn the mixer off & hand stir in the chocolate chips & walnuts.
Use a small kitchen spoon (or a super cute cookie dough scooper) to drop tablespoon sized balls of dough onto a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper (makes for easy clean up!)
Bake at 375 for about 10 minutes. Remove from oven right as the edges of the cookies are turning golden brown. Let them cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then gently transfer to a wire rack to cool for another few minutes.
Look. Let’s be honest, I never wanted to homeschool. I did it out of love because I didn’t want to subject the love of my life to any further stress or anxiety of being in the wrong placement in our inept school district. I love this child dearly, deeply, with a love I have never known until he stirred in my tummy in 2009, But I HATE homeschooling. Ok, hate is an awfully strong word. (My mom always used to get mad when we used the word “hate.”) Maybe I don’t HATE hate it, but there are lots of things I don’t enjoy about homeschooling … and a handful of things I actually do enjoy about homeschooling. Maybe I just despise it, but I’m focusing on the things I hate right now.
REASONS WHY I HATE HOMESCHOOLING:
Not My Cup Of Tea: I’m not made for homeschooling (personality-wise.) I’m too type-a, too stressed out, I’m not laid back enough. I try, believe me, I try. I see my friends who homeschool — they are sooooo laid back, so easy-breezy, so ‘type-b’. But me? I’m a planner, and while I can be fun and say “let’s have a ditch day today” every once in a while, I’m constantly stressed out about what comes next. And I won’t let The Boy slack off more than once in a while because I know how important a routine is for him. And if he thinks he can take a day off every Friday, he is expecting it every Friday! So I try not to. Weekends aren’t even fun for me. By mid-day Sunday, I’m stressing out because I need a block of 3 hours to lesson plan for the following week. A block of 3 hours ALONE. The Husband considered this “me time.” That makes me grind my teeth & want to give him a swift kick to the nuts. Lesson planning is TIME CONSUMING and guess what I have very little of? TIME!
Time Consuming: Speaking of TIME & how little of it I have to prepare for what-comes-next, I now have pretty much ZERO “me time.” (You should see my nails! You should see my *once organized* closet, or any of the kitchen drawers!) Why was my last blog post 9 months ago? GUESS! I was busy homeschooling!! Who has time to blog at the end of the day. I mean, homeschooling is like a full-time job on top of my already full-time job of being a stay-at-home-mom / boss-of-the-house! If I could connect a wire from my brain to my laptop, I could blog around 11pm, because I have things to say, believe me … and they all come flooding into my head when it hits the pillow and I’m too exhausted to move, let alone blog!
Not An Educator: What the hell am I doing? I feel overwhelmed pretty much constantly because I have no clue what I’m doing. I have a degree in Acting & Theatre Arts … and a second degree in English. What don’t I have? A Masters in Education. So I struggle. Seriously. I have no clue as to what the hell I’m doing half the time. I mean, there’s no one place where you can go to find everything you need. (Can someone please make this!?) I have to collect stuff from this book and that one, this website and that one, then I have to streamline all of the subjects so that it’s one cohesive over-arching theme … EVERY FREAKING WEEK! And it has to be fun, interesting, engaging … and educational. And really, some weeks I just can’t, I just don’t feel like doing it at all … It actually reminds me of my own plight with homework in high school, so I wing it, which I hate. I’m not a wing-it kind of woman. Because when I wing it, I end up feeling like more of a failure.
My Student Is An Aspie:The Boy, of course, isn’t a neuro-typical kid, so I can’t ever leave him to his own devices while we’re doing school – he needs constant behavior management & supervision. I have stickers, mini cookies, jellybeans, fuzzies & owls. He completes a small part of one task = cookie; completes more = cookie & sticker; completes a segment or a lesson = fuzzy & owl. Immediate rewards, long-term rewards, short-term rewards, yes, we have them all!! Laptop, iPad, worksheets, white boards? Yes, yes, yes, and yes. Maybe if he were a neuro-typical child, it would be easier. Maybe if I weren’t his mom it would be easier. I don’t know. He fights with me on every.little.thing, most of the time, and views himself as my “equal.” He wants to call the shots, he wants to be the teacher. And I do let him have a say about curriculum and schedule … to some extent. But holy moly. I feel like I’ve survived a battle most days. Honestly, it’s exhausting. I have to think at least 3 steps ahead of him all the time! I prepare for every moment of our day, school and beyond. .sigh. Did I mention that it’s exhausting?
Melt-downs: Have I mentioned my kid has epic 45-minute, physical / verbal / emotional violent meltdowns? Have I told you that these meltdowns are directed at me? Have I explained that it’s mentally & physically exhausting to deal with a 5-year-old Aspie’s aggressive attack at 9:16 in the morning? It’s intense. It makes you want start chugging wine at 9:42am. It makes you want to put his shoes & socks on, and drag him down to the shitty school I pulled him out of last December, and say “good luck, dude! Be someone else’s problem!” But you know I won’t do that because I love him too much, and I won’t ever give up on him. But it isn’t always easy.
To be fair … I have to be fair because I was born on the cusp of Libra & fairness is a big deal to me. I have to be fair, so I have to tell you that a) I’m totally bleeding right now & just in a bitchy, hormonal mood (but my reasons for hating homeschooling are valid!) and; b) there are some things I legitimately like about homeschooling, (which is what I focus on when I want to throw the towel, drive to a winery in Santa Barbara and just be done.)
OK, OK, REASONS I ACTUALLY ENJOY HOMESCHOOLING:
I Never Miss A Thing: I love that I get to have him here, around me, all of the time. We (usually) have a lot of fun together – he is so damn smart, and so much fun. I love knowing what he is doing, what he is learning, who he is listening to … I love being the BOSS of what he is doing, learning and listening to! He is no longer influenced by some unknown, happy-meal-loving, junk-food-eating, crap-manners kid with absolutely no personal hygiene.
Our Day Is Our Own: There is no one lording over us with a schedule and a common core curriculum, or standardized tests, (which I do NOT believe in!) Or homework, (which I also do not believe in … especially for a child his age.) We can go down rabbit holes of subjects that are of real interest … like, when I started teaching science this year, I opened the book and it started with earth science, which The Boy was like “meh.” Ok, clouds, yay. But that wasn’t what he was really excited about. He was really excited about sea animals. He was totally into Octonauts at the beginning of the year, and so I said to myself, “hmm … let’s just close the book and make up our own curriculum for science.” I printed out a bunch of blank “animal reports” and each week we picked a different sea animal to study & write a report about. We went to the aquarium, we watched videos on youtube. We went to the library & researched a different sea animal each week … He was so engaged in our science studies. We did our own thing. You can’t do that in any other school besides your own.
Fundraisers: THERE ARE NONE! Enough said : )
Parent-Teacher Conferences: Oh, they happen … with me, my hubby and a glass of wine : ) Waaaay more fun than the alternative!
Creativity & Playfulness: I love that I’m able to foster a creative environment where we are playful & silly … where we use story-telling and silly voices to educate. That is important to me & no way in the world would a typical school district create a classroom designed to stimulate the innate creativity in a child and really figure out how that child’s learning style can be utilized.
See … when I look at the (2nd) list above, I think – yeah, this is ok, i can do this homeschooling thing! I get all pumped up. Then Sunday comes and I start stressing about the week. But then I take 3 hours and get ready. Then Monday comes, and it’s a struggle to get him to engage and focus, and I think “this sucks.” It’s like 6 of 1, half dozen of another. It’s a conundrum. I’m so torn.
And then I think about The Boy … and I think about what all of the professional psychologists have said to us … He should be in a small classroom environment with typical children (or children who are JUST like him.) And I know how social he is … how much he loves to have friends and be around other kids. I tried to find homeschooling co-ops, but there are no appropriate groups that are near us that would work for our schedule.
So I went to see a special education attorney (finally) and she thinks I have a case against the district & long story short, I’m suing the school district on behalf of The Boy to get the services I believe he deserves: A small classroom setting with typical peers & possibly a therapeutic companion for a (hopefully) short-term time period, to get adjusted.
In the meantime, we’re still homeschooling : ) and I’m still going back and forth with my love / hate relationship with homeschooling. But I want you mamas (and dads ) to know that it is totally ok to not love homeschooling, to think you suck at it (you probably do not!) and to doubt your decisions. Look … at the end of the day – our kids need US. And they will learn the stuff they need to, but developing the “whole child” is more important than having them be able to recite facts back to you. Don’t stress out. Try and have fun (I need to take my own advice!) Just do the best you can because that’s really all you CAN do!
Baby it’s cold 59 degrees outside (shut up, don’t laugh.) And tonight it’s supposed to RAIN! Woohoo! Break out the Uggs & the earmuffs, kiddos, cuz I’ve been stalking the weather guy all week for these cloudy skies.
Before we get to the good stuff, I need to just bitch about the weather some more, ok? I know, I know, you’re snowed & you want to reach through your computer and smack my little suntanned, California girl face with your mittens. I’m sorry, but even though I’m a Cali girl, I like my seasons – I mean, all 4 of them, not just “summer” and “more summer.”
Anyway, I’ve been waiting until it was cool enough to make my neighborhood-famous Mama Love’s Crock Pot Chili. Chili just screams football season & crisp fall evenings to me, and I love the way the house smells while this delicious chili simmers in the crockpot all day long. So, tonight’s the night: Thursday Night Football, baby!
Now, this one morphed out of a family recipe, and I’m sure you remember my lecture on the subject of sharing secret family recipes last year, right? Just remember, if my mom asks, we don’t know each other, ok? This originally started as a “Quick Chili” recipe handed down from my Great Aunt Margie, (cute, little, old lady who could kick back a lot of gin & tonics.) I got my hands on it about 15 years ago, and made some tweaks after I met the love of my life, my first CrockPot. It’s still super easy & super yummy. Oh, and some people call me Mama Love. Why? Well, “The Fairly Good Mother” is a mouthful! No, I’ve actually had this little nickname since before I was a real mom, and I guess it’s because I’m so motherly & adorable, and I make all my delicious food with love … Love is the secret ingredient.
MAMA LOVE’S CROCKPOT CHILI (serves 6)
1-1/2 lbs ground beef (85%/15%)
1 green bell pepper – chopped
2 cloves garlic – pressed
1 onion – chopped
1/2 tsp cumin
1 tsp chili powder
1 small can diced green chilis
salt & pepper (not a lot, just a dash of each)
16 oz can chopped tomatoes
1 small can tomato sauce
1 can Ranch Style Beans* – regular flavor
1 can Ranch Style Beans* – with jalepenos
*Now – before I get to the method, I need to school you a little bit. Do NOT mess around with the beans here, ok?! Ranch Style Beans are a brand of beans & it is a big deal to use these specific beans if you want to be a chili master. You do want to be a chili master, right? Ok, so you’re going to have to go on the hunt for them, (I put an Amazon link in there for you folks out in the sticks,) and if you have to resort to using some inferior type of bean, well, don’t expect your chili to kick ass like Mama Loves.
Brown ground beef, garlic, onion & green pepper over medium-high heat. Drain fat, return to burner.
Add cumin, chili powder, diced chills & salt & pepper. (Season your meat first, don’t just dump everything in.)
Add tomatoes and tomato sauce & simmer 1/2 hour uncovered.
Pour in crockpot, & add beans.
Simmer all day on low.
And don’t forget the love 🙂
Let’s say you don’t have all day, no biggie, I’ve dumped that meat concoction in the crockpot right away & everything was hunky dory.
Or what if you don’t have a crockpot. No worries! After you simmer the meat & tomatoes for 1/2 hour uncovered, just add the beans to your pot & cover, then simmer for 2 hours or as long as you like. (I think it tastes better when it simmers all day, but that’s just me.)
You can add more beans if you like a bean-y chili, or more meat if you like a meatier chili.
This is even good without meat if you’re a vegetarian. (I was a vegetarian for almost 12 years, but that’s another story for another day.)
Also, good with turkey meat if you’re looking for a slightly healthier chili.
And, I’ve made it with steak and roast too, if you prefer chunks of meat in your chili.
I serve warm tortillas with butter on them as an accompaniment to this chili – I roll them up and you can just shovel chili into the tortilla if you want. I don’t like cornbread very much, so I don’t serve it as a side, but feel free to do that if cornbread’s your jam. And to make it a little fancier, (like if I’m serving this to dinner guests,) I will put out some toppings for people: shredded cheddar cheese, sour cream & diced green onions.
You can add more chili power if you want to kick it up a notch, but let me tell you what you should NOT do … You should not open up someone’s crockpot after they got up early to make this chili before going out to ski for the day, and then proceed to screw around with it by adding things like sliced olives, coffee, bay leaves, and crap like that. First of all, it’s not cool to mess around with someone else’s recipe, especially when she’s hormonal & PMS’d, (true story!) Also, I gave you the gold here – don’t mess with perfection. It’s simple for a reason. Not everything amazing needs to be complicated & time consuming.
And now, a challenge to my sweet bestie & amazing food blogger, The Kitchen Snob. I challenge her to make this chili & take prettier pictures with her professional camera. I know she has made this chili before, but they don’t have Ranch Style Beans in Pennsyltucky, so I am sending her the proper beans. Let’s see if we can get her to make this again & if she has any wonderful insight on kick-ass chili making.
Once upon a time there was a cute little orange “Tabbysinian” kitten who found his way into our lives. His papers said he was a Rudy Abyssinian, but his face was much softer than what you might expect a typical Aby to look like.
He picked The Husband one day, 14 years ago, when Pet Stores were not outlawed quite yet. The Husband was only “The Boyfriend” back then, and it was the very beginning of our relationship. And although he hadn’t intended for this little kitten to be a present for me, well, he ended becoming just that. Even though we didn’t live together yet, we shared this cat – I would bring him to my house for overnight stays, and eventually we all ended up moving into a house together 2 years later, (with our other cat, Emmy, a rescue who had found her way to me a year after Ozzy.)
Ozzy. I will use his real name because it’s cute. And he was an Ozzy through and through. He was so sweet & friendly; a bunch of orange fur with a purr as loud as a tractor motor – so loud, it was difficult to fall asleep if he happened to curl up & take a nap with you. He demanded to be pet all.the.time. If you stopped petting him, he would nudge you with his wet nose, or gently nip at the fat on the back of your arm (YOW!) to get your attention.
We made all the mistakes with this guy, our first “baby.” We fed him food from the table, which transformed him into a steak-thieving, fang-bearing wild animal. He swiped chicken nuggets off of plates at parties, until we eventually had to lock him up when guests came over. Yogurt, eggs, tuna juice, salmon, filet mignon, burritos, artichokes, edamame, butter … there was no human food that this cat wouldn’t want to ingest.
And because we didn’t know any better, we let him roam around both inside and outside, until the unthinkable happened one day & he didn’t come home for dinner. Several days later, he turned up, mangled and barely hanging on to life. We rushed him to the hospital, where he cashed in one of his nine lives. He had been hit by a car & his jaw was broken. It was the first scare in our career as Ozzy’s parents, and I vowed to never let him out of the house again. He lamented that decision, but eventually got used to being just a house cat. He tried, and managed to, escape once or twice.
Fast forward to the arrival of our human child, The Boy, five years ago. Ozzy was probably the least excited of the cats to meet this new unpredictable babbling little wild man – a new entity in his midst, that would surely take our attention away from him. Ozzy kept his distance, carefully eyeing The Boy, and scrambling away when The Boy got too close.
The Boy didn’t care if Ozzy wouldn’t play with him, The Boy still loved him no matter what. The Boy called all of the cats his brothers & sister, and would draw pictures of them with him or by themselves. The Boy, just like me & The Husband, is a true animal lover.
So in September, when Ozzy first got sick with a blood clot in his front paw, The Boy & I rushed him to the emergency vet and waited, hopefully, for the doctors to say that he would be ok. As Ozzy lay sedated in the oxygen cage, The Boy got to pet him & was elated that he finally got to feel Ozzy’s soft, orange fur. The Boy saw me cry in the consultation room when the Cardiologist explained that Ozzy had silent heart disease & that this time we were lucky because the clot was in the front paw … if it was in the back leg, that is a much worse diagnosis, a death sentence pretty much.
Back home, for the past 3 months, we’ve watched as Ozzy made a remarkable recovery, and plied him with pills twice a day, hidden in the smokey folds of salmon. Spoiled, sure, but if anyone deserved it, it was Ozzy. I knew that his days were numbered, but figured we were looking at years, not months. So, last weekend, when Ozzy refused to eat dinner & could not walk on his back legs, I was shocked. And I knew in my heart of hearts that this was it. The end.
I am a very emotional person, an easy (and very ugly) crier. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and I’ll cry at the drop of a hat most days – something that moves me, be it happy or sad, can trigger the tears. But when the proverbial poop hits the fan, I switch into “take-charge” mode, and I become the calm in the midst of chaos. I’m the one who takes a deep breath & coordinates everything when everyone else is falling apart. This was one of those times. I knew that I didn’t have the luxury of breaking down right now. I needed to be strong.
I shuffled The Boy into the tv room & put on a show that would engross him, as I took The Husband into our bedroom and told him that he needed to say good-bye to Ozzy. I would take him to the emergency hospital, but I wasn’t expecting to return with our cat. The Husband couldn’t really handle the magnitude of the situation, and didn’t want to believe that this was happening. He stayed with The Boy and I rushed Ozzy to the hospital.
My fears were confirmed and the ER Doctor told me that Ozzy had a saddle thrombus in the worst possible place, and recommended euthanasia. I was devastated and for the first time, I started to crack a little. My emotion caught up in my throat and I couldn’t stop the tears from spilling out. I signed the papers and held him for the last time, stroking his head and telling him about The Rainbow Bridge – a place where he would be able to run and chase squirrels and birds, eat steaks and chicken nuggets – and I would meet up with him again someday. I tried so hard not to cry – I wanted to be strong for him and brave, but I couldn’t help it. I wept as I watched him go.
When I got back home, The Boy was just about to go to bed, and I couldn’t tell him then. We decided to wait until the following day after he got out of school. I baked him a batch of his favorite chocolate chip cookies, and The Husband & I sat at the kitchen table and explained that Ozzy had been really sick for a while, and the doctors tried everything, but he had passed away. At first, The Boy took it pretty well – asked us a few questions in between bites of cookie: “is he coming back?” No, sweetie. “Will I ever see him again?” No, love. And then he ran off to play …
But at bedtime, that’s when he really broke down. After I kissed him goodnight & closed the door, I heard him quietly crying and calling out for Ozzy. My heart broke, and I rushed back in. The Boy came undone, asking me questions like “is everyone I love going to die?” “Why couldn’t you save him, mama? Why did you let him die? He was only thirteen years old!” “I miss him, I don’t want him to be gone, why can’t he ever come back?”
The Husband is an atheist, and I’m (for lack of a better label,) a witch. And I don’t want to get off on a tangent about religion, but suffice it to say The Husband and I have agreed to raise a child who is curious about the world around him, while supporting him in his search for whatever spirituality (religious, or not) works best for him. We expose him to the Pagan holidays, (and Hanukkah too, since The Husband is Jewish by blood.) But all of our celebrations are based around tradition, family & food, and not anything religious. We focus more on nature, the changing of the seasons, and less on theology.
Answering these big life questions for a five-year old were tough for me, but here’s some of what I told him:
You know how at Halloween, I talk about the veil between the two worlds? This world here where we are, and then a world where the spirits and ghosts live? Well, some people think that the other world is a place that animals and people go after they pass away from this world. It’s beautiful and magical, there’s no sadness, no pain, no sickness, and there’s just love. I would like to believe that Ozzy is now in that world, playing with other animals and running after silly squirrels and eating all the steak and salmon he wants to. We won’t be able to see him anytime soon, but I like to believe that someday we’ll meet up with him again. And you know how I talk about my grandma and grandpa who aren’t alive? I told you that I think they’re my angels, and they look out for me and watch over me? I would like to think that Ozzy is now one of our angels, too. And even though he isn’t alive here on earth anymore, he is still alive in our hearts. We can talk about him and remember all the funny, silly, sweet things he did and all the good times we had with him. And it’s ok to be sad and to miss him. It’s ok to ask questions and talk about him, and it’s ok to be confused. It’s going to take some time for all of us – you, me, Daddy & the other kitties – to get used to not having Ozzy in our house anymore, so we need to be kind to one another and be gentle with each other because it’s a big change to lose someone we love so much. And I know that thirteen is a small number and that must scare you, but for cats and dogs, time is much faster – one year for humans is 7 years for cats and dogs, so Ozzy was really ninety-one years old in human years! That’s a good, long life, sweet boy. No one lives forever, but usually people don’t die until they’re very old and have lived a long life. So you don’t need to worry about losing anyone else in your life, because no one is sick, everyone is healthy and just because one bad, sad thing happened, it doesn’t mean a lot of other bad, sad things are going to happen to. Ok?
As I grappled with explaining the unexplainable, I could hear the Husband crying in the room next to us. He later told me that he was sorry that he couldn’t be stronger & couldn’t come to help, but that he was in such pain from listening to our son sob about the loss of his sweet pet, it caused him to completely lose it. He said that I did a beautiful job of helping him understand & work through his grief. I hope so. I know it must the an instinctual mothering-type thing to want to shelter your children from any pain of the real world, but I also cannot lie to him. I tried my best to explain it as honestly as I could while still trying to bring him some comfort.
The following day, on the suggestion of a friend, I bought The Boy a small stuffed kitty cat that resembled Ozzy. I can’t believe that the toy store had exactly what I was looking for – it was kismet. I put a name tag on its collar that read “Ozzy,” and presented it to him after he came home from school. He hugged it tightly and said, “the real Ozzy will live in my heart, but this Ozzy will come with me everywhere now.” I smiled, proud that I had brought him some bit of happiness in the wake of a truly sad tragedy.
And we have been taking it one day at a time, as we’ll continue to do. In fact, just yesterday The Boy proclaimed that “Emmy just moved up a notch” to his “second favorite cat.” Of course, his best buddy, Sniper, has always held top spot … But, Ozzy, we’ll miss you so much, and we’ll think of you fondly & remember all the silly, sweet things you did, and all the joy you brought to our lives.
Well, we’ve been in school for almost 3 months now, and I’ve already had to call an IEP. This is the wrong placement, but it’s the best one we can get right now, all things considered. Not only is The Boy on the spectrum, (High-Functioning Autism / Aspergers,) but he’s also very intelligent & tests way above average, so that’s called a “Twice Exceptional” “2e” or “Twice Gifted” child.
He’s only 5, so he’s technically in Transitional Kindergarten (TK) because he has a late September birthday, and that’s the law here – kids have to be 5 by September 1st to enter Kindergarten no matter your intellectual ability. He is currently placed in a Core Autism classroom with 10 boys (all boys) ranging in severity, (the majority are non-verbal, low-functioning kids.) The ages of the kids range from 5, (The Boy is the youngest one in class,) to age 8. TK – 2nd grade. Wrong placement for him because of the severity of the behaviors in his class, but the best available option because he is able to work above his grade level with the 1st & 2nd graders. In his current IEP, The Boy is supposed to push out to general-ed, but for what? He would tear a “typical” “gen-ed classroom” apart in about 30 seconds if left to his own devices. He’s way beyond “A makes the ‘aaaaahhh’ sound.” He’s reading, spelling, doing math, learning geography, etc.
He needs a one-to-one aide, someone who can be with him in a typical (but advanced) classroom … not forever, but for the time being until he can learn to self-regulate. He’s over-stimualated & easily influenced by these low-functioning kids. He’s picking up behaviors and trying them on for size. Behaviors that had taken a long time to eradicate are now resurfacing. He needs to be around his more typical, higher-functioning, bright peers. I have told the school district this for over a year now, and my assertions fall on deaf ears. I know what they hear when I ask them for an aide, they hear the sound of money being pried out of their sweaty, bureaucratic hands. It costs approximately $100,000 a year to have an aide for a child. It’s no wonder they have denied me time and again.
This was my 4th IEP and I’m pretty much a pro at these now. I read several very helpful, (and very dense,) special education books from “Wrights Law.” I have my notebooks all properly prepared, each paper at the ready in case I need to reference something. I have my secret advisors within the district, who, (of course,) shall forever remain nameless. I have my outline of what I’m going to discuss placed in front of me, I’m dressed professionally, and I am ready to confront them, even though “we’re all on the same team.”And, sorry, but I don’t buy that for a second. Sure, they all say they have The Boy’s best interest at heart. And I believe that they want to believe that, but at the end of the day I’m not the person signing their paycheck. Their loyalty lies with the school district.
We’re at an impasse here. They basically told me that they don’t think he needs an aide, and to even get to the point where they will even consider an aide, they would have to do (another) Functional Behavior Assessment, (FBA.) Which is a time consuming process of collecting data on The Boy – what triggers behaviors, and why. So, let’s just assume they do this FBA & determine he IS eligible for an aide, the placement of an aide would not even happen until the end of this school year. And that’s IF they decide he qualifies, which I’m here to tell you that will not ever happen without me taking them to due process. They’re just stalling for time, trying to wear me down & honestly, I can’t deny that it’s working. I’m tired of dealing with them!
See where I’m going with this? How much longer do I give them to get it right? How much longer does The Boy have to suffer from their lackadaisical, bureaucratic gridlock? I don’t have the resources to fight them – we cannot really afford to hire a high-powered attorney & sue them, (even though I threaten that time and again.) And even if we did – who is to say that having an aide would even solve the problems he is facing? He is riddled with anxiety that manifests itself in various ways – physical outbursts, nail-biting, aggression toward himself and others.
I can see the toll that daily “failures” are taking on The Boy. His teacher uses a star-sheet for the day where the kids have to earn a certain number of stars for making safe choices, respecting others, participating in group activities, completing assignments, etc., and if they earn a specific number of stars, they are rewarded by being allowed to choose a treat from the treasure box. After 60 days of school, he has had 8 treasure box days where he’s earned enough stars to be rewarded. EIGHT. Out of SIXTY. Tell me that isn’t destroying his self-esteem.
I can’t fault him for not having good days – he doesn’t have the tools to be successful! I mean, of course I will reprimand him for acting out physically toward his teachers or peers – I think he is smart enough to know how to control his impulsivity. But how can I punish him when a big part of it isn’t his fault? This is really wearing all of us down: The Boy, The Husband & Me.
I’ve been pondering homeschooling for a little while now – the past few months it’s been rolling around the old brain cage, as sort of a last resort option. But I’ve been thinking about it more and more lately. A few friends of mine home school their (typical) kids, but they seem much more cut out for the challenge – both are a lot more laid back than I am, and make it look easier than it probably is.
Well, as I was driving this weekend, (alone,) I was flipping through satellite radio, and on one of the channels, a woman was talking about homeschooling. And, it just really struck me, that, with all the blood, tears and sweat I’ve put into fighting the school district to try and get The Boy the tools he needs to be successful in school, I’m still not even close to accomplishing this! And all the time I spend fretting about Common Core & IEP’s, I could be teaching him myself instead of trying to find ways to convince the district to try my ideas.
Instead of fighting them, why not throw the towel in & flip the script? Why not remove the obstacle (The School District) & empower myself to be in control of the way my child is educated? Educated in my comfortable, loving, supportive home environment, where he could focus & receive 100% of my attention. And, bonus: I could kick Common Core to the curb. It’s not that I don’t have the fight left in me to battle the school district, but for what? And for how long until I have to do it again? It just struck me so deeply that I may be fighting the wrong battle, I may be spinning my wheels, I may be wasting my energy. And that maybe homeschooling is something I need to seriously consider.
I sat on this idea for a day. I didn’t tell anyone because I thought maybe it was a fleeting feeling, maybe it was a hormonal thing, maybe I was fired up by the talk radio segment I had heard. I mean, I was on my period – maybe this wild hair would work its way back out of me, but instead the thought of homeschooling kept gnawing at me.
Without alerting him to my objective, I started a casual conversation with The Boy about school. Lately, he has been complaining that he doesn’t want to go … he doesn’t like that they do the same thing every day, he feels overwhelmed with all of the distractions in class, he wishes it was just him alone with me as his teacher. I explained that I wasn’t his teacher, and he relented and said, then he would be better off alone with his 5 teachers. So, wow, he said it, he wants to be homeschooled. That was another a-ha moment.
Then, I went to The Husband. He’s heard me talk about the possibility of homeschooling before, but between him and my mom, they pretty much dismissed it as a passing thought, brought about by my frustration with the school district. They thoughtfully pointed out that homeschooling would be really, really tough & I would be exhausted by the end of the day, probably not up for the task … After all, dealing with a very willful Aspie is really hard to do all day.
The thought is actually frightening, I’ll be honest here. I have no idea what I’m doing, true. And selfishly, where’s my “me time” going to go? I can kiss coffee with the girls good-bye. Our entire lives will have to change – our routines, our priorities. I’m petrified, nervous, overwhelmed … and excited. I feel like this is the beginning of an amazing adventure & I can chart the course. I feel like this could be really great. Or be really awful.
But, don’t I owe it to him to try a different approach? Even if it is going to be challenging for me? He is my only child & he deserves this. I cannot think of anything more important than the well-being, overall health and education of my child. There is no job, no hobby, no community service that I can think of that inspires my passion more than my only little boy.
I’ve been reading some stories from parents who waited too long, and now in a crisis are forced to realize, all too late, that their child would be better off being educated at home. I don’t want to wait until it becomes a tragedy. I want to be that intelligent woman who sees the writing on the wall early enough on, and says, “let’s do this.” If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t work and we will know that we gave it our best effort. But if I don’t try it, it will continue to gnaw away at me, this feeling that we can do better. Maybe it won’t be forever, maybe it’s only for a little while, and maybe it won’t work. But shouldn’t I at least try?
Friends, mommies, homeschoolers, teachers, anyone who wants to chime in, please do! I’m looking for input from those of you in the trenches. Give me a shout out! I need some words of wisdom & inspiration 🙂
So … I’ve been wanting to write this post for a little while & something has caused me to hesitate. I think it’s difficult to acknowledge that I’m no longer friends with a couple of people whom I had considered to be like sisters to me. I suppose that my thought process went a little like this: If I say that it’s “over” on my blog to the world at large, then it’s most definitely over for real. And that finality hurts. Actually, the whole thing hurt, but after I got past the pain of, not one but two, close friendships ending abruptly, I was able to see the lesson & grow from the experience.
The truth is friends will disappoint you, people change, and maybe you’re not always going to be as close as you are to someone who is an important part of your life right now. And maybe the “best friend” you thought was like your sister, will become a different person – someone you no longer recognize – and will walk right out of your life without so much as a “goodbye,” leaving you to fumble around for closure all by yourself. Akin to the guy who just stopped calling you for no reason … only this hurts more deeply, because it was more than just “some guy” you dated a few times whose name you can’t even remember now. This was a friend.
I know that people come in our lives for a reason & sometimes they only stay for a season, or two. And other friendships I have, (and cherish,) are the ones where we’re close during a certain period of our lives, drift apart, (with no animosity, just the way life happens to lead you,) and then come back together as though no time has passed. I love that. I have plenty of really amazing friends that I don’t see, or even talk to, on a daily / weekly / monthly basis, but when we’re together it’s as though no time has elapsed – we pick up right where we left off.
I’ve lost friends to death … suicide, tragic accidents, horrible illnesses & it’s all been awful. But even with the sudden departures, I at least felt like I had a reasonable idea of why we weren’t friends any longer, and in a way I was able to have some sort of closure. And some friends I lost touch with and felt like that was ok because we weren’t that close anyhow – they had chosen different paths for their lives, fundamentally changed from the person I had first met, and I felt like it wasn’t a friendship I wanted to continue.
But when friends – really close friends, people who referred to you as “BFF” or “Bestie” or “soul sister” just stop talking to you, abandon you, don’t return phone calls or emails, you are left to try and reconcile what happened on your own. And it sucks because my motto is “everything can be solved in a conversation.” Yeah, well, that only works if people are, ya know, conversing. So an abrupt departure is painful, and sad, and heartbreaking. You start to question how you could have been so close with someone who has so little regard for your feelings. But people change, I suppose …
Now in my early 40’s I think I’m learning – really learning – a very big life lesson about friendships. My circle has whittled down, especially after everything that has happened over the past 7 years: I got married to a great man, I moved a little further away from everyone (and by further I mean 20 minutes – ha,) and had a child. A child with special needs. Which means my “Me-Time” & “Friend-Time” is very limited. The time that I do have, I don’t want to spend it being roped into unnecessary drama with people who don’t care about things that are important to me.
And it’s OK not to “build a bridge” and be the one who reaches out to fix things if you don’t want to fix things. Someone doesn’t want to be friends with you? Take them at face value – they don’t want to be in your life, so let them go.
A really close friend, a truly great friend doesn’t necessarily equate to the person you’ve known for the longest time. Several of my dearest friends are women I’ve only known for the past few years! And I’m so thankful for their friendship. I know that as we ebb and flow in life, as we grow & take on different roles in our lives, that our friendships will inevitably change. And that’s a good thing!
Keep growing … keep learning, and those people who continue to do the same will continue to add value to your life. The people who are stagnant, living in the past, clutching to old ideals, are those people who won’t be able to add any value to your life. Let them go. Be brave & remember that it’s better to be alone than to be surrounded by fake friends.
The Boy has been in a Peppa Pig phase for a while, and I have to say, it’s a pretty good show, as far as kids shows go. I have actually found myself laughing on many occasions at the crazy hi-jinx of Peppa & her zany family, rather than wanting to stab out my own eyes, the way I do when I have to suffer through an episode of Olivia or Max & Ruby. At least this pig lives with her parents.
However, I do think The Boy might have watched just one too many episodes of Peppa this summer, and may be on the verge of a Peppa Overload!
Here are some signs your child may be watching too much Peppa Pig:
They call you “mummy” instead of “mommy.”
They pronouce the word “Tomato” like “Toe-Mah-Toe.” Ex. “Mummy, I don’t care for toe-mah-toes, they just are not my cup of tea.”
They call gas “petrol” & tell you that you need to stop at the petrol station to “fuel up.”
They refer to the shopping cart as a “trolley.” Ex. “Mummy, may I please push the trolley in the market?”
They start telling friends they need to get in the “queue” instead of wait in “line.”
They begin to use more British phrases like “I’m a wee bit too small for that, mummy.”
Calling a a “zebra” a “zay-brah” Ex. “Mummy, my favorite animal at the zoo is the ZAY-BRAH.”
They request bangers and mash for dinner. I have no idea what bangers and mash even are, so I had to look it up. Apparently it’s sausage and mashed potatoes. I made hotdogs and a baked potato that I mashed up. His reply, “Mummy, I do fancy this dish!”
They start referring to their friends as “mates.”
They call you a “cheeky mummy.” I was floored when The Boy actually said this to me. I had to actually look up the context of cheeky before I knew whether or not to flip out on this kid. He meant it to be cute, so I let it slide, but suffice it to say, this is when I decided to curb his Peppa intake 🙂
Yes, silly, of course I used all of this Peppa mania as a teachable moment … We had a long talk about the different expressions & pronunciations that the British and the Americans use, although I do think he may be an Anglophile in the making.