Out the Door for Dr. Keroack

Is this president trying to screw up in every way or does it come naturally?

This from Planned Parenthood about Bush’s ANTI-BIRTH CONTROL appointee who is slated to run the country’s family planning program :

"Dr. Eric Keroack was the medical director of 
five so-called 'crisis pregnancy centers' 
that oppose contraception and do not distribute 
information promoting birth control. In Dr. 
Keroack'new role, he will oversee hundreds 
of millions of dollars in federal funding 
meant to provide access to contraception and
reproductive health information. This politically 
motivated appointment is not in the health 
interest of women and families."

Go here to take action. 

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Heard today: "Go within or do without."

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Heard today: "Go within or do without."

Day 29 – still in stage 3

You could call it desert tall grass; February, 2006.

I think we’ll be at Stage 3 in RDI for quite some time. It’s particularly challenging since one must learn to control impulses in order to coordinate with another person. If we are carrying this thing and I must AWAY! and dash ahead! the thing we are carrying will crash to the floor. If we are taking turns pouring bird seed into the container and I simply CAN’T wait another instant, the bird seed will pile atop the other guy’s hand and then scatter all over the living room rug.

More than impulse control, or lack of it, is the issue of Fluffy’s mind. It is so active, so keen, so full of darting ideas and questions and curiosities and inventions, it gets in the way.  We’re working on coordinating actions in three basic ways: (1) doing the same thing at the same time, (2) doing the same thing in turns, and (3) completing a task where we have complementary but different roles. All this must be done in simple ways or Fluffy ges unsteady and in interesting ways or else he gets bored.

The other day Dave came to Fluffy’s room as he was getting ready for bed. He brought one of those big yoga balls with the idea that having him roll on it back and forth may be a relaxing and regulatory thing to do and so he said, Hey, buddy. I have a game that might be fun for us to do. Fluffy took one look at that ball and said with a sigh, What? We’re going to roll that ball back and forth together until I get so bored I fall asleep?

With Fluffy, not only do we need variety, we need to sort of sneak in the whole working on objectives thing. I call it going in the side door. If he gets one whiff that we are trying to DO anything, that we are after any particular result or engagement, he gets on edge. Now, RDI isn’t about getting the child to DO anything; it’s all about adopting a particular mindset that becomes a way of life. YET, it IS a program comprised of stages starting with one and going up to over thirty now, I think. AND the whole point is to help the child acquire mastery of each stage and then move on to the next. So, it’s not entirely true to say one isn’t trying to DO any particular thing with the child. These days, we ARE trying to teach Fluffy to coordinate with another person. And when I am going about my lifestyle activities with my wonderfully RDI-y mindset beautifully in place and I am in the playroom or in the hallway or in the market or in the playground and I initiated some interaction that is about being with my son but also working on doing something together and he gets a whiff of it, his tiny soldiers are wide awake at all posts. I can see it happening–ffrrrrooooooom.

It’s probably about his level of regulation at that moment mixed with the way I present things. I’ve learned that it’s better for me to just start something, just roll the ball to him, rather than to sit down with the ball and say, I have a game! It’s better for me to look at him, look at the curb and make an excited face and then we jump together rather than to say let’s jump! It’s better for me to look at the dishwasher and say, huh, this is so full then to say, let’s unload the dishwasher together! It’s better for me to say, wow, this is so heavy because nine times out of ten, he’ll drop what he’s doing and call out, oh mommy! I’ll help you with that!

I was thinking the other day that Fluffy’s having Aspergers has given the whole family an opportunity to look more closely at that which is unsteady in each of us, to call that up and transform it. Looking at where Fluffy lacks competence requires a closer look at our own feelings of incompetence. Doing that, talking about that, struggling with that is the thing I find most interesting in life. I think it’s great when people have things all figured things but what really pulls me in is listening to people as they struggle to find their own way. For me, that’s the heart of the trip on this wacky spinning planet. That’s what feels most true.

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Today Fluffy asked me a question as he does most all day long. After I answered he said, Oh, for hell’s sake, Mommy, that was an answer to a question I wasn’t even asking!

Is he really at that point when he starts to swear incorrectly? Because it’s going to be hard not to laugh.

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Today Fluffy asked me a question as he does most all day long. After I answered he said, Oh, for hell’s sake, Mommy, that was an answer to a question I wasn’t even asking!

Is he really at that point when he starts to swear incorrectly? Because it’s going to be hard not to laugh.

Day 28 – Lanterns

I love this about winter from Celebrating The Great Mother, “Bare branches remind us of the underlying shapes of things, finally revealed in stark beauty.” I love the shape of bare trees, reaching up and out, standing empty and unadorned.

I’ve been thinking of moving our focus to celebrating the solstice rather than Christmas day. I’ve always wanted to tone down the season, the shopping, the STUFF, but then the season creeps around and next thing you know, I’m making hundreds of lists and stuffing the closet full of gifts to wrap with plans to embark on crafting homemade paper and gift tags. Every year, I end up putting half of Fluffy’s gifts back in the closet until his birthday in February. It’s too overwhelming. Frankly, his favorite gift is the one chocolate santa in the bottom of his Christmas stocking. The boy loves his candy.

This year, we’ll celebrate solstice for the first time. I plan to put candles all over the house and use no other lights that night. We’ll see how that goes! I’m also planning to pull the table to the living room so we can eat dinner by the fireplace. We’ll sing special songs, go for a lantern walk and maybe even make little figurines, the original mother and child–Earth Mother and the Sun Child, to put in a Sacred Cave that we’ll build from found stones and sticks in the yard.

I was telling Fluffy about the ancient celebrations on Solstice Eve, about the lighting of fires and the wild all night dancing and singing. I was telling him about how grateful the people were that the sun returned and the days starting getting longer after that night. He said, how did they know then? On the first night? How did they know the days would start getting longer until time had passed and they could see it? How would they know to celebrate on that first night? I love the way he thinks.

On family project day, we made lanterns for evening lantern walks. We followed the project directions from Family Fun magazine here and here. (There are two others we’re trying next.) I’m doing lots of things from their most recent issue: a book advent, a chain of kindness, and many of the decoration ideas. I love that magazine. It appeals to the suburban housewife in me.

Some other projects we’re planning for December:
Gingerbread House
Various Christmas ornaments
Various Christmas cookies
Making paper

That is all. No horseback riding today. The horse farm is building an indoor facility and the big diggers are there all week which makes the horses nervous. Nervous horse + Fluffy = worried instructor. Worried instructor = worried mother. Ah well. We’ll have to wait another week for another opening day.

Fall is the time of letting go, of release. Winter is a time of "motionless grace", a time of embracing what is bare and true and underlying. Here’s to the underlying shape of things in your life. Here’s to finding the stark beauty revealed when all the fluttering leaves have fallen away.

Day 27 – The Conversation

The Fluffmeister; Spring 2006.

Remember when the mostly nice saleswoman in the tile store bellowed, IS YOUR SON AUTISTIC BY ANY CHANCE? and I froze since my son was standing by my side and I didn’t feel comfortable launching into a candid conversation because we don’t talk about all that in front of him? A lovely commenter wondered if maybe not discussing Fluffy’s autism in front of him may be sending him the wrong message, ie, that we think his autism is something to keep secret, that it is not okay. I wrote this in response:

to be clear, we do talk about autism in front of fluffy all the time. it’s a big subject with us so he hears it a lot. i have an autism awareness bumper sticker, pin, and books all over the house related to autism by autistic people and NTs. there are some conversations about autism that include disturbing things (like parents killing their kids which we certainly wouldn’t say in front of him!) or confusing or very complicated things that i wouldn’t say in front of fluffy since it’s not age appropriate. most of our talk about fluffy’s autism is centered around remediation through our RDI program, again, not appropriate for him since it breaks down lifestyle activities and games into the stages and objectives we are spotlighting and that would be just weird!

the conversation we need to have with fluffy is about HIS autism. i am not worried about what he’ll think of this since dave and i have no shame about his diagnosis and i think he’ll feel that, feel our love and acceptance. plus, we’ve had LOTS of conversation with him about what autism is, how everyone is different, how everyone learns at different paces, how everyone has things they are good at and things that are challenging. it hasn’t been time for us to tell him about his aspergers yet. there hasn’t been a reason to–up until recently. now it feels like the right time. once we have that talk, we will most likely continue to handle discussions of autism the same way, unless of course, he asks about it and then we’ll openly talk to him about any of his questions or concerns or thoughts. knowing fluffy there will be LOTS of questions and thoughts expressed! then we don’t have to worry about what anyone says in front of him. that was my concern. i didn’t want discussions about HIS autism going on in front of him until we told him about his aspergers. i didn’t want him to hear it that way first. What, mom? What do I have? What are you talking about?

Well, we had the conversation. It was a very short, very simple affair. Fluffy and I wore pjs. Dave wore his cartooning uniform: baggy jeans and a short sleeved pocket t. It went something like this:

Me: You know how we say that everyone is both the same and different? That everyone has feelings and hearts and spirits and dreams? But that some people are lightening fast and some people can’t even use their legs; some people are tall tall tall and some people are small–

Fluffy: Yeah, like that man we saw who has very short legs but a regular rest of his body.

Me: Yes. Like him. And some people can’t see and some people can hear almost like a super hero. Well, there are some people who have a special kind of brain that works in a special way and sees and understands the world in a certain way. You have that kind of brain and it has a name. It’s called Aspergers. Have you ever heard that word before? Aspergers?

Fluffy: No.

Me: Well, there are a lot of people who have that special kind of brain. Kids and grownups.

Fluffy: Will I always have that? Even when I grow up?

Me: You’ll always have that special kind of brain but the brain keeps growing and learning so some of the things you like to do will be things you’ll learn more about and some of the things that are hard or confusing will become easier.

Fluffy: Oh.

And then he and Dave took Beegu the Goat Dog on the morning walk to the beach where blobs of brown cotton balls and brown bread chunks were deposited in the sand. Wow. That took 5 days. Is this normal? I mean, for those dogs who typically eat glass and then cotton balls and then loaves of bread on Thanksgiving eve?

Fluffy took it in stride. I know there will be more conversations and lots of questions and that is good. I look forward to where ever this leads us. That brain. That beautiful brain. I tell you, I have so much respect for that boy’s brain and heart and spirit and every carbon containing atom that is holding the whole thing together.

Day 26

We’ve got a real speeding problem on our street, cars zooming by like they’re filming the remake of Bullit or something. I’m always doing the double wave to get people to SLOW DOWN.

I think I’ve found the solution! ! See for yourself:

PPP Day 25 – The Goat Dog Lives!

The goat dog lives! But NaNoWriMo stays on the ground, never to take flight, at least not by the end of this month.

Paragraphs
This is the last set of paragraphs I’ll be posting. Monica is in the bath when smoke alarms go off and Mr. Oleynik bangs on her door, calling fire. Monica throws on nearby clothes. The fireman are at her apartment door, hatchets in hand.

    “IT’S  NOT LOCKED!” I call as I open the door. I turn back but they grab me, these hulking guys, lift me up and then I’m sailing through the air, down the front steps. There is a crowd now, like I’m on stage and they are watching, their mouths great O’s and tight horizontal slits. I squirm to be free all the way to the street.      
    Like a slap stick comedy, I see firemen hacking at the front door of the building next door, I’m  shouting, IT’S OVER HERE IT’S THIS BUILDING as they break the windows of the lady who makes those beautiful embroidered pillows and the crowd is out from the mexican place and there are three trucks in the street, one ladder truck, extending its ladder, brrrrrup, an enormous silver flat slatted tongue. It goes up up up to the fourth floor and stops at the front window, quivering a bit to and fro and then a body is seen, a head and arms reaching up, flashes of white silk and pink organdy and a face smeared with white clay shines with a grin too wide. He slides down the ladder, his six foot frame in the arms of the fireman, as if he were a toddler or a royal waif needing a quick flight over stray puddles of mud.
    The firemen begin to bring everyone down, drag queens in kimonos and face masks, hair curlers, older czechs in sweater vests with stirring spoons still in their hands, dripping with the blood red of borscht soup they were making when interrupted and swept away. They fan their faces and fall into the embrace of the big butch firemen, getting extra attention and support on the street, stumbling back, both frightened and pleased. I watch, mesmerized.
    I see Toby bending to talk to someone sitting in the middle of the street. There is no car traffic. The street is entirely clogged with the three fire trucks and the throngs of people and now another sound, another approaching emergency vehicle and it stops on the sidewalk. An EMS team in a white van. Swiftly, two workers clad in white uniforms and white clogs bound out and with them a stretcher that instantly hops to table height. They propel it to where Toby is standing and I see they are loading someone into it, someone small, someone lying on the ground and then they are back to the open mouth of the vehicle and the stretcher’s legs fold beneath it as it slips out of sight. As they close the doors, I see Toby jog over with a walking stick outstretched.