In lieu of the gorilla tragedy at the Cincinnati zoo, varying opinions, outrage, defense mechanisms, and even threats have surfaced. Each and every person is entitled to their opinion. However, along with opinion sometimes comes defamation, hypocrisy, ignorance, and judgment based on a lack of understanding, which is definitely out there right now. This is a classic example, to me, of a clear lack of understanding by many, many, individuals who have said things like, "zoos aren't your babysitter". On the flip side, I've heard comments in regards to exhibits creating safer enclosures. And then there are  animal rights enthusiasts who believe this is yet another reason that captivity of animals is cruel and that the situation could have been avoided altogether.  I'm speaking to the mother's defense.

It's difficult for me to wrap my brain around the judgment and apparent threats that this parent has received as a result of this accident. Because that's what this was, an accident. Regardless of your beliefs on whether the child was old enough to know better, or if he was told "no" numerous times and did it anyway, it was still an accident. Even if the zoo could make the enclosure safer, it was still an accident. I do not know the mother of this toddler, but I have been a mother to a 4 year-old ADHD, sensory seeking child, and I feel for her.

If you do not have kids, or have not been around very active toddlers, sensory seeking, ADHD, or other special needs children, you have no idea what life is like as a guardian and care provider. Your opinions are entitled, but unless you have walked each and every day in this mother's shoes, or shoes of a similar nature, you have absolutely no clue what obstacles this child or this child's mother face or dealt with at the time of this accident.

I sometimes joke about being a high-functioning basketcase, but when it comes down to it, I kill it as a mother. In total honesty, I do not have any (close) friends who have had a more active child then mine. That does not make me any better of a mother, but it means I stayed in crisis mode from the time Fischer could walk until about age 5. At age 5, I still had to follow him around if we went anywhere in public because he had absolutely no impulse control. I could say "don't touch that", but since it takes his neuro system a while to react, he would touch it anyway. It wasn't to be naughty or be deliberately defiant- as a lot of people silently judged him for- it was because he struggles with impulse control due to a part of the brain that actually doesn't function like an average brain.. When I would go to pay for groceries at the store, I'd take out my wallet, swipe my debit card, and by that time, Fischer had knocked half the gum and chocolate bars onto the floor. .

My kid has eaten his own poop, deer poop, potting soil, wood chips, worms, and he's drank rubbing alcohol and random potions that he has concocted. I used to have to lock my toddler in the bathroom with me while I was sick, at home, because he was so starved for sensory input. Am I a bad mom because I was using the bathroom, fell down while chasing him, picking all of the chunks out of his dinner due to texture issues, or cleaning up after him? Nope, I'm not. Is this woman a bad mom because her child fell? Nope, she's not. What if she dropped her purse, her wallet fell out, and when she bent over to pick it up, he got bumped away from her? What if he quickly let go of her hand because he wanted to see what everyone else was seeing because (surprise surprise) he was curious, and the exhibit was so packed that she couldn't find him right away? What if the mother sneezed and was covered in snot, so she had to let go of his hand and dig for a tissue with her other (non snot covered) hand? I can think of 20 other scenarios, off the cuff, that would in no way suggest this mom is a negligent parent.

​Think I'm taking it too far? I'm not. My kid could have, and did, wander off during times like this. My sensory seeker utilized every opportunity to his advantage. Could it have been prevented? Maybe it could have, but honestly, that is moot because the truth is this:  kid fell, gorilla died. You don't know the details. (I feel inclined to mention that a lot of these judgers may be the same type of parent who would suggest this child be on a leash, yet would be the first to say, "I'd never put my kid on a leash", in another situation.)

To that parent that has the perfect, well-behaved, mainstream child and you feel the need to delve out "you shouldas"- you don't get it. You have no clue. Be thankful your child listens to you, but don't think it's because you are a better parent. I have no doubt your rearing of your child is a reflection of good parenting, but children who do not visibly "listen" are not necessarily products of bad or neglectful parents. You NEVER NEVER know what obstacles a child may be fighting because not all disorders and disabilities are visible. And even if this child (who, let's remember was injured, which is sad in and of itself) who took this horrible fall doesn't have any special needs, it does not mean his mom is neglectful. It does not make her a bad mom, and it doesn't make him a bad kid. He's 4. What if you were throwing up or had diarrhea (seriously...it happens) and your toddler drank your pine sol when you had to abruptly abandon your mopping? And let's face it, toddlers are not all that different than many of the adults at a Trump rally.

If your 4 year-old is perfect, listens all the time, never runs off, never tries to get away with anything, never climbs on anything, and is never overly curious, then I feel for you. The world of wonder and curiosity is what I miss most about being a child. We learn, even as adults, by making mistakes. Discovering something new or unveiling something you've never witnessed before is phenomenal, and wonder is an amazing sight to witness as a parent. This 4 year-old was possibly just curious. It's almost impossible for a child, especially a toddler, to resist "oohs and ahhs". Maybe he couldn't see what everyone was "ooh-ing and ahh-ing" over. Let me ask you this: what would you do if all of your co-workers huddled together and were saying things like, "look at that", "oooh", "wow, that's amazing"! Would you want to see what it was? I'm betting you would. Even if you don't have the energy, or decide to refrain from the crowd's excitement, you would wonder. Children that age are dying to obtain new information.

I will admit to loving the zoo. But I also acknowledge feeling sad after viewing many of the exhibits and living quarters of the animals. So, I can appreciate the animal rights perspective. I KNOW that the incident "could" happen to anyone so I get this mother's perspective. And in that moment, it was a judgment call on behalf of the zoo who felt this child's safety was in danger. So although I find it incredibly sad, I absolutely get the zoos perspective. I don't understand the perspective of those who feel this is the mother's fault. She's obviously dealing with an injured toddler, probable remorse, and self judgment on top of becoming notorious over night, and not in a positive way. This is a sad situation, anyway you look at it. it doesn't do anyone any good to spar judgment and hatred toward a woman whose story you don't know. I read that the individual who raised Harambe from birth say that his name means "come together" in Swahili- doesn't it make more sense to just be sad for all involved, stop passing judgment on this mother and what happened, and come together to come up with solutions for how to prevent this from happening going forward? I don't have an answer, but I know this mother doesn't deserve scrutiny.

I will venture out on a branch by saying that many, not necessarily most, but a lot of parents have an idea of what they want their child to be like, both as a little person and when they grow up.  Of course, if you have these preconceived notions before spawning, you’ll laugh at people like you after you produce the offspring.  Because everything you say you will do, or you will never do, or you will only do a certain way, or how you will instill values- goes bye-bye once you are actually in the mix of rearing a child.  I often laugh at my pre-offspring self and what I thought certain behaviors or traits meant.   I broke every rule that I outlined for myself except for one- I do not, nor will I ever lick a napkin and wipe my kids face.  If I used this maneuver every time my kid had crud on his face, I may as well give him a saliva bath because he is never sans crud.  

 

I have screwed up so many times as a parent e.g., yelling, losing my temper over sensory things that Fischer couldn’t help, or just flat out handled a situation poorly.  I still agonize today over a terrible fit that I had when Fish was three over a situation I know now caused him anxiety. I realize though that you haven’t gone off the beaten path of successful parenting just because your kid hollers “bye doo-dee head” out the window as your SUV drives out of the roundabout after school.   Of course, I’m not speaking from experience.  All this really means is that your child is under the influence of other kids/social factors.  Your child isn’t an un-kind child because he says un-kind things or does un-kind things (at times) - it just means that he is human and susceptible to social influence.  I always tell Fischer that “just because you do naughty things sometimes, it doesn’t mean you are a bad kid”.  From a professional and parental standpoint, I have learned a lot by making mistakes.  Fischer learns in the very same way.  Sometimes he has to be told to stop doing or saying something over-and-over, especially because of his sensory-seeking drive and anxieties concerning certain social situations.

 

My deepest conviction as a parent is to raise a kind and non-judgmental being.  I definitely think futuristically, but this is a must-value that I work hard to instill in the here-and-now i.e., who he is now, as a 6 year-old child.   Many parents focus on the end-game or their child’s chosen career path, which is often times linked to financial security.  Religion and spirituality is a biggie for many parents.  And then for others (me), personal values, experiences, and child-specific needs serve as a basis for upbringing.  

 

Fischer does not always know that his behavior is less than desirable, or that he could potentially hurt feelings.  He has a tendency to gravitate toward attention-seeking children when he gets deregulated, which drives me NUTS.  I recognize that children who actively demand attention are typically doing so because they are either not receiving enough or they are conditioned to believe that they are entitled to excessive bouts of attention, thus carrying the egocentric mentality over into adulthood.  Maybe even in some situations they have a narcissistic parent- you just don’t know.  Or they just get nervous and want to make people laugh.  Regardless of the reason, it makes me crazy when Fischer befriends a child who is inherently obsessed with being the center of attention and will say or do hurtful things to others to get said attention.  Because then we run into him mimicking these children’s behaviors and trying to make them laugh in obnoxious ways in an attempt to ease his own anxieties.  At his age, he does not recognize that these are the children that will most definitely NOT be funny in a few years.  I have come to realize, that even when my child temporarily aligns with these children, he is extremely remorseful when we reflect on his behavior.  His remorse for hurting others is tender and astonishing.   And THAT is how I know that he is truly a kind and loving child.

 

My goal as a mother, is for my son to reach the top of Maslow’s hierarchy (enjoy peak life experiences and fully grasp his potential).  Instilled with the values and tools necessary, he can achieve self-actualization and hopefully help others achieve this level of self-fulfillment.  My hope is that Fischer’s kind heart matures to develop benevolence and an even deeper compassion for others.  I want Fischer to have an insightful and in-depth understanding of enculturation; I want this understanding to run so deep that he is comfortable resisting enculturation in a healthy manner where stereotypes are defied and every human being is treated with kindness.

 

When Fischer first saw a photo of a same-sex couple on our refrigerator, he said, “Girls can’t marry girls.”  I knew this topic would arise at some point in time, especially with a parent so deeply committed to human rights and with a belief that being kind is of the utmost importance.  I didn’t want to call too much attention to it, so I just said, “sure they can, and look how happy they are”.  

 

Currently, we’re doing this ‘daily acts of kindness’ thing at home.  Each day he has to commit at least one act of kindness.  For example, he told his grandma last week that she looked nice and healthy (we try to use this word instead of pretty).  And yesterday, he brought our elderly neighbors 2 pieces of pie…there may have been a slight ulterior motive because he likes their bird, but the kid is only human!  Last night when we were riding bikes, I posed a scenario to him and he told me how he would handle it.  If one boy teased another boy because he wore a pink shirt:  “some boys like pink and some boys don’t- but that’s their choice”.  As an afterthought, without prompting, he said, “just like girls can marry girls, and boys can marry boys, and you don’t have to get married at all if you don’t want to if that’s what makes you happy.  All people deserve to be happy, right mommy?”  Talk about gooey heart melting stuff!  

 

Aside from one toddler comment where he stated that he wanted coffee like the “brown man over there”, Fischer has never separated people by skin color.  He rarely comments on physical appearance or on others weight.   He went through a phase where he talked about tummy size, which raised my eyebrow; his teacher later told me that they were studying size comparison in math.  He notices disability, but has compassion for these individuals.    

 

Of course, this is a constant work in progress. Fish will be susceptible to other children and social pressure imposed by the media and stereotypes.  I know that there will be many discussions on this journey of kindness.  I know he will succumb to peer- pressure and we will have to discuss how his behavior makes others feel.  Attempting to exclude girls in his play will continue for the foreseeable future (I suffered from the “girls have cooties” mentality).  And I know that he will be met with confusion because many people have opposing beliefs on human rights.  I am comforted in knowing that my child, in his core, believes that all people deserve his kindness.  How lucky am I?  

As kindergarten comes to a close, I’m feeling more and more disambiguated toward the offspring’s’ academic future.  Narly, right? Yes…mostly yes- I guess, but not always…sometimes (you’re pickin up what I’m putting down right?).  I have realized throughout kindergarten that no matter how many coping mechanisms Fischer arms himself with, he will always have these mini-regressions, if you will, in order for him to move forward.  Like a volcano could erupt, I feel like a “regression” is always a possibility, seemingly out of the blue.

​Two years ago when Fish started preschool, icy-cold pinot was a staple in the grocery budget (not just on the list, but incorporated into the budget).  I feared everything about him starting his academic career:  the anxiety of starting a new routine, new people, and exposure to a classroom environment with the smells, acoustics, and social norms that accompany it.  I worried for nothing- he more than surpassed my expectations on day 1; his teach said that “you would have never known it was his first”, albeit a saturation of sensory overload.  Pinot was already in the budget, so why not just keep it there?

So many parents and adults do not have a clue how difficult and trying school is for a child with sensory processing obstacles.  I have always used the word obstacles as opposed to disorder because people hear “disorder” and their minds go to places that don’t pertain to my child.  I would venture that about 2% of new people that I talk to about SPD have heard of it.  And even after I explain it to them, they still don’t really “get it”.  They say, “So, it’s like autism”.  Then I have to go into how a large amount of children with autism also deal with sensory processing obstacles, which makes their struggle even more difficult.   This is why I digress so much…it has nothing to do with a stellar case of ADHD.  

When the typical child gets done with school, they eat, play, watch TV, do homework, or attend extra-curricular activities.  Fischer functions in a “normal” school environment with mostly “normal” behaviors for his age.  But, he is able to do this because of coping mechanisms he learned in OT and techniques taught at home. When Fish gets home from school, it’s more important that he get in his heavy work/proprioceptive input then it is to participate in extra-curricular activities or do “homework”.  We’ve got about 3 hours when we get home, and he requires 30 minutes of activity (no more, no less) and it must end at least an hour before he goes to bed, otherwise he can’t get his nervous system to calm down and sleep.  Eating, and then bathing falls third on the list of priorities, which I imagine will have to take a higher precedence as he gets older.  

Kindergarten has been full of ups and downs, mostly ups, and again Fischer exceeded expectations.  His OT (my personal, quick psychologist) tells me that as long as he is progressing, making positive social connections, forging relationships and is happy in school, she’s not worried.  “Common-core standards are not for Fischer” (not a topic I’m capable of discussing without extreme irritation).  This system links to public school funding, which for all intents and purposes makes what is considered a “good” school, which actually has nothing to do with the best interests of children and isn’t that what education is about? It isn’t as cut and dry as this, and I wouldn’t even claim to have the answer.   Many public schools that would not necessarily be considered a “good” school by mainstream standard provide a solid education with less pressure on students to conform to this cookie-cutter style of learning.  This is why I chose a project-based learning, private school curriculum for kindergarten.  It caters to Fischer’s style of learning.  

Public school works for many children, and I would never ever knock any parent’s choice for their child, but I feared that Fischer’s interests and talents would be squashed in this setting.  As kindergarten closes, he hasn’t mastered 100 words, but he rigged my drain stopper so I could soak clothes in the sink.  He constructed a windmill with scissors, duct tape, straws, random household trinkets, and I believe a piece of fake bamboo which he chopped off from a Pier One piece.  Dirty martini day.  

He’s had periods where it feels like he’s regressing, but he always comes out of them more advanced.  And I’m starting to understand that there are logical reasons if I dig deep enough.  The anticipation of something exciting, like vacation or Christmas, can cause deregulation because it’s out of the ordinary.  He counted down to Christmas and Easter 60 days in advance and it caused disruptions in his behavior.  And I will NEVER tell him about a vacation more than a week in advance.  Fischer gets “spring fever” in his own way- snow melting, blooms, changes in lighting, and changes in clothing.  He deals with things that do not phase most.  I never thought vacation was even in the cards for us, and he roamed around Chicago as if he and I were crossing the streets alone with no cars in sight.  It is reasons of this ilk that I’m not (too) worried about him leaving his early education school and moving onto Montessori school.  This is why I’m changing my mentality- phases of seeming regression are nothing more than adjustment periods.  

It's 2014, right?  This means that Fischer will start kindergarten this year.  For many of my friends and most people that I know, this is something that is not given a lot of thought.  Most people that I know send their kids to the closest public school.  Don't get me wrong, I'm a big believer in "public schools work", but right now, public school will not work for my sensory tot.  I'm a prodigy (translate:  product) of public school, and I turned out just fine (jury's still out).

Even before I had Fischer, I believed that I would send my kid(s) to Montessori school (or a similar private setting).  I believe in the teaching style and the beliefs, but since I am apparently a consultant, I have no idea if I can afford it forever. I wouldn't want him to get used to a particular, "less-structured" regime and then have to transfer to public school.  

Currently, Fish attends an absolutely amazing preschool and he's doing phenomenally well.  Development and growth occur through active learning environments and choice.  Inspirational discovery takes place with teachers engaging the "whole child."  The teacher to student ratio is 1:7 and he has 13 classmates.  The playground is natural, built from trees and items that fell naturally on the property and contain a log cabin, covered bridge, a path for tricycles, and a massive sandbox.  (All amazing for the sensory soul).  He gets outside time every morning and it is also how he ends his day. 

His school is extremely costly for only 2 full days per week, but I'm doing alright on a diet of ramon noodles and boxed mac-n-cheese.  The school is hoping and likely to have their pilot Kindergarten program (project based learning) next year.  I just got word yesterday that we have received a scholarship.  It will still be costly, especially since I will have to drive him 45 minutes to and from school 5 days a week.  We are not sure if we will be able to afford it, but I'm praying we will.  I'm touring a few other schools just in case.  

For preschool, I did hours of countless research in the spring and ironically ended up choosing a Christian school 1/4 mile from where I grew up.  The day I called to put down the deposit, the school informed me that they cancelled the pre-school program due to low enrollment.  It was 2 days before school let out so I didn't have time to scope out another.  After several moderate panic attacks and an emergency phone consult with Fishs' OT, I realized that I needn't make my choice right then.  It wasn't a huge deal if he missed the first few weeks of the school year.  I made the right choice with his current school even though it's put me in the poor house. Now it's time to make more decisions about K and the anxiety returns.  No one told me that these decisions were going to be so tough.   

What I decide for Fish now sets the foundation for success for the rest of his life.  He isn't ready for public school...he can't sit still and the amount of people and noise is still too much for him to handle at this point.  Classroom size is too overwhelming and he won't get the encouragement he needs.  He isn't special needs- he needs the type of learning environment which fosters freedom and choice in development.  K in public school settings is intense (from those I have scoped out).  When I went to kindergarten, it was a half-day, and I played most of the time.  Now kids sit in a desk for hours at a time and get 1 short recess and an extremely short lunch with little time to eat and socialize.  What 5 year-old can sit at a desk for the majority of a school day?  If your kid can, you suck.  

What if I can't afford private school?  I'm giving myself an ulcer.  And I'm consuming enough anxiety flower oils and drops to scent my neighbors yard.  (They don't do near as well as the tranquilizers and psychotropic meds, but I suppose they are a tad healthier.)   

A teacher in a public school stated that she had "experience" teaching a child with SPD.  Her experience entailed one child with extreme issues due to never having received any OT or help.  He could not role/pretend play at all and was destructive and violent.  The teacher suggested meds for ADHD because she didn't have the extra time to spend with this child to develop a plan to ensure his success.  It's so cliche', but it's where many educators go.  In the teacher's defense, state funding & classroom size verses teacher:student ratio makes it difficult for a teacher to spend the necessary time with a particular student.  And I am speaking generally; not all teachers do this- there are a lot of great public educators out there who understand SPD. 

A few simple adjustments makes all the difference, but sadly, a lot of the time, these minor adjustments do not happen and these kids fall through the cracks or end up being medicated for "issues" they do not have to begin with.  On a side note, my heart goes out to this little boy-he was made out to be the bad guy, when all he really needed was some help.  This could have been Fischer had he not gotten OT.  Now, he's thriving in a learning environment that fosters his development naturally.  I just hope I can keep it up.

Took Fish to see Madagascar 3 a few years back and made it through about half of the movie before we elected to partake in lame arcade-ish games.  You know, those eternal punishers, aka claw machines.  My version of this story has us "electing" to exit the theatre, but I am positive the kindly young usher had a different story to tell, which may have involved ring pops and volume control.  But really, after exhausting all of my disposable income for the month on suckers (oral motor comfort), concessions, and tickets- I was really pumped about shelling out further [extremely] disposable income on rotating motorcycles, violent touch screens, and claw-all-my-money machines.

Fischer is 4 now, rapidly approaching 5, and has seen all the damn desolate advertisements for the new Disney movie Planes.  Repeating commercials consistently during the already annoying plethora of tot programming is good, pure marketing.  The DVD won't be out for months, so parents have to frequent the godforsaken theatre and drop loads of cash because their offspring cannot possibly hold out until DVD release.  (Hang on a sec, I need to refill my coffee for the 3rd time this a.m. because anxiety is creeping up on me just reliving the flick experience).  I have ADD and it is extremely difficult for me to sit still during a film that I have no interest in whatsoever.  The spouse can watch cartoons and kids movies for hours.  I don't get it, but I digress.  The only thing that curbed my overwhelming desire to bolt was holding out for Goose and Viper to appear and discuss the need-for-speed.  Tragically, we vacated before Anthony Edwards and Val Kilmer made their appearance (I think). 

We prepared with the calming oral motor necessities and his key key (blankey).  We chose a time when no one else should have been in the theatre.  Should being the operative word.  Who sees kids movies at 4:20 on a Wednesday anyway?  Middle aged people with no offspring see kids movies in the middle of a workday.  I smiled at the overly non-friendly concessions gal as I handed over 30 bucks.  Seriously, 30 bucks?  Whatever. 

As soon as the lights dimmed, he panicked.  Then came the sound and the first thing out of his mouth was "that's too loud."  Vaulted ceilings, echoes, surround sound = uneasy Fischer.  He asked to leave immediately.  I wanted him to be able to see the movie, plus I had just shelled out a ridiculous amount of cash and Kevin wanted to watch the movie.  He went through 3 suckers in the first half-hour and patrolled the aisle like it was his job.  I took him out 3 times to wash the sticky off his hands.  I let him chew gum and gum is a total no-no in our house.  Finally, Fish and I kindly removed ourselves after 40 minutes of the flick.  And I am positive that the whispers, "it's about goddamned time", were for the usher with repulsive BO and not for us.  We went next door to Family Dollar and waited for Kevin to emerge and end the nightmare.   

As we walked out of the building, Fischer said, "that's just not for me."  I wanted to cry tears of happiness and regret.  My little toddler never ceases to amaze me with how in-tune he is with his own body.  I should have known he wouldn't be comfortable.  It was in that moment that I realized that he isn't missing out on anything.  I'm not depriving him of a fun experience.  It's a matter of preference.  It's no different than forcing a kid to play soccer when he has no desire simply because you want to afford him the experience.  He has a sensory disorder.  Why would he want to be in a dark place where lights flicker constantly and his eyes remain in constant overdrive?  Why would he want to be in a loud environment with sound coming from every direction?  Fischer has made so much progress over the past 2 years; I sometimes forget that he has a sensory disorder.  He has grown out of a lot of his sensory obstacles, but the underlying uncomfortableness lies dormant and does resurface.  I couldn't have summed our experience up any better than he did; "it's just not for me."  To each his own.

The sun has arrived in southwest Michigan.  I never thought I would see it's beautiful rays ever again after a brutal winter.  Brutal is not only a reference to the cold and bitterness, but also to the offsprings' behavior.  For 5 straight months, we have been starved of the natural sensory input that is crucial to Fischer's behavior and development.  (It has absolutely nothing to do with my sanity and increased olive juice and prescription budget.)

The wear and tear that winter brings on the lawn is rather annoying.  Say goodbye to the necessary depletion of disposable income on flowers, soil, plants, rocks, mulch, potting soil, and whatever else might be necessary for a non-white-trashy yard.  While my neighbor across the way utilizes ratty blankets and stained towels for curtains, and Schwan's ice-cream buckets for planters, I prefer to go the more traditional route with my outside decor. 

Preparing the summer yard is heavy-work heaven for a sensory-smart mamma.  I completely forgot how great yard work is for Fischer.  His nervous system settles down and he starts to process input more calmly and appropriately after one outing in the yard.  The anxiety and need to wrestle decreases dramatically.  And we have so much fun planting and getting dirty (I the former, Fischer the latter).

I am fairly certain that my neighbors believe I punish my child with manual labor, but he loves to carry bricks and heavy rocks.  He loves constructing flower beds with his dad.  He loves carrying potting soil and dirt for me.   He has a Fischer-size wheelbarrow that he loads up with garden tools. 

And let's not forget it's fire-pit season.  Fischer loves him a good fire.  Carrying firewood is an excellent activity for him.  He's a bit of a pyro, but what man isn't?  And as long as Kevin is standing next to him, he is allowed to poke the fire.  With his dad guiding him, he learns the appropriate force necessary to stoke the fire.  This particular skill spills over into everyday tasks, like handling delicate objects, giving gentle hugs, and grabbing objects with appropriate force.

This may sound bizarre, but I'd like to give a bit of a shout-out to all of the invertebrates in my yard that take one hell of a good beating from my kid.  I feel quite terribly actually for the worms in my yard, but they will never know how grateful I am for their service.  Fischer knows that worms make good fishing bait, and he was taught that worms hide under wet objects.  In my yard, they take cover under heavy rocks, which is awesome.  Fischer will push over every single rock in my yard in search of worms.  And some of these rocks are more like boulders.  Fischer thinks that the trap door of his Scooby-Doo pirate castle is the most suitable place to store his worms, but it's another semi-heavy object for him to tote around so I don't put up a stink. 

The proprio-pros to summer go on and on for sensory activities:  bike riding, scooter racing, walking to/from the library with books, [Fischer] taking out the trash, watering flowers, baseball, and never forget the power of the playground.  I've figured out what stimulates Fischer and have based many simple, readily-available activities around that.  Never thought I'd be so thankful for worms, dirt, and fire!

Dr. Seuss had it right when he said that "you'd be surprised how many ways I change on different colored days".  Other slogans adopted by the offspring in my domestic nest include: 'whatever floats your boat', 'take it or leave it', and 'ready or not, here i come'.  In lieu of a completely disastrous day followed by a rockin awesome day (obviously stemming from Fischer's behavior, mood, and inclinations), I've felt the urge to purge my thoughts on the difference between an awesome day verses a catastrophic day in our world.  (NOTE:  You may sense a tremor of a facetious tone, but mostly, I'm SO not kidding.)
An awesome day begins with a smile, hug, and "good morning mommy" before the demands for milk, tv, and breakfast begin.
A catastrophic day begins with "mom, gimmie milk and tv."

A- I only have to reheat my coffee 3 times AND I make it through an entire day without self-medicating or busting out the olive juice and shaker.
C- I am still reheating my initial cup of java at 3 in the afternoon, and I most definitely do not make it through the day without self-medicating and calling the spouse midday to remind him that I need more olive juice.

A- Fish plays independently most of the day, and I have to ask him if he wants me to play.  (NOTE: I still have to play the shit roles.)
C- Fish whines All. Day. Long.  No desire to play on his own.  Hangs all over me, and follows me around as though boredom is going to wreck his life.

A- He tells the general public that his butt is scratchy and his pants hurt his wiener.
C- He can't control his disgust and frustration and drops the "F-bomb" in the store.

A- I only have to resort to bribery twice, dolling out 1 sucker and 1 pack of fruit snacks.
C- Bribery and threats are the name of the game.  No amount of sweets or taking away of toys will matter. 

A- Fischer let's me know before he exits the bathroom that he needs me to wipe his butt. 
C- It not only escapes his mind to inform me about his number 2 business, but he takes it upon himself to wipe and play inspector gadget.  (Have you read Running With Scissors?...if you have, you know what I mean)

A- Fischer only asks the same question 5 or 6 times over the course of the day.
C- Fischer obsesses constantly over an upcoming event; he might ask the same question 40+ times throughout the course of the day. (This obsessive, anxiety ridden behavior has improved 100% since starting OT and only seems to surface when he gets very out-of-sync.)

A- Impulse control is in tact, and I only have to make minor adjustments like:  replace batteries, rearrange bookshelves, put away 20 dvd's, 409 the spaghetti stains out of the carpet, sweep up his oatmeal construction site, and rewash the dishes that he "washed" with lavender oil.
C- Umm...where to begin?  Fischer's imagination and creativity with play dough trickles all over the house.  A blob of red play dough winds up inside the dvd player because he thought it might make the skipping cease.  Little balls of blue play dough speckled throughout the living room floor, which is necessary if the jolly roger is going to set sail.  (I won't find what he did with the yellow play dough until next week.)  75 (not kidding) books piled on my bed because it is his library.  Red marker to remove off the freshly painted white walls (what was I thinking?).  All knobs removed from his sister's dresser (Kevin can deal with that shit.)  Remove broken crayons and hi-ho-cherries from his shotgun...both are actually quite creative substitutes for bullets.  And, I only have to buy a new box of crayons twice a week. 

A- Fischer spills his milk down the crevice of the couch and tells me that it was an accident. (Seriously, it is THE cutest thing when he tells me something is an accident!)
C- I am summoned to the living room to look at his new-and-improved pirate ship, (his $80 pirate ship) and it's slashed sails and flags (with scissors); Fish asks if it was an accident.

A- Fish only drinks half my coffee.  Coffee is like toilet paper, it's not meant to be shared.  Since I can't self-medicate every day, I rely on coffee way too much to share even a drop.
C- He snakes my coffee in the am, stashes it away, and pulls it out an hour before bedtime and downs the entire thing.  He's like his mamma when it comes to coffee; if it means going without, he'll drink his coffee cold.

Awesome- There isn't a toddler out there who is as dynamic, unique, and funny as mine.  He is a completely different kid today than he was a year ago and has made progress beyond belief.  He tells Kevin and I at least 12 times a day that he loves us.  He tells me that I am beautiful.  His imagination and pretend play is so deep and complex that I'm too simple-minded for him at times.  At times, he can play independently for over an hour.   He has worked so hard to reprogram his brain and has developed so many coping mechanisms that you don't notice that he's not a normal, smart tot.

Catastrophic- Even on bad days, he still tells Kevin and I that he loves us and wants to be held and loved on.  Tough days serve to remind me how much "noise" he has to deal with to present like other kids.  On these days, I think that as difficult as it can be at times to parent a toddler with SPD (or a toddler in general), imagine how difficult it must be to be that toddler who isn't in control. 

I was sick for a week, then Fischer was sick for a week.  Flu and SPD do not go well together.  I couldn't do any heavy work or proprioceptive activity with Fish for a week because my ass was too busy making indents in the couch.  Even when I wasn't beached up, exhausting options on the DVR, I couldn't do heavy work.  Then he got sick and wasn't able to do any heavy work himself for a week.  2 weeks minus heavy work combined with lack of routine means an additional 2 weeks of out-of-sync, domestic woe.

We've been trying to find ways to get Fischer physical exercise and the heavy work he needs to get back on track, but it's rough when it's cold.  His reaction time to activity is delayed; he may do the heavy work every day this week, but won't start regulating until next week.  Yesterday morning, we did some wheelbarrow walks before heading to the kids museum where we climbed enough stairs to flare up my rheumatoid arthritis.  (I was completely devastated that I had to consume Tylenol PMs last night.)  Then we did some swinging, sandbox, and rode on the 4-wheeler, in the rain. 

Today, I'll have to play Pengu; a hodge-podge of tent building, pillow throwing, and hide-and-seeking where I typically play the shit character.  I'm always the slow, unattractive, underdog.  I never get to be Captain Hook- I'm either Mr. Smee or a puny pirate.  Occasionally, I get to be the poop monster...at least he mixes it up.  If being the poop monster means he'll get underwear and pants on, I'm in. 

Tonight is gymnastics.  Lately, he's been campaigning against gymnastics.  Novelty has worn off, and the structure of the class infringes on his sensory seeking.  He was actually elated last week that he had diarrhea and could not attend class.  He tried to tell me this morning that he had diarrhea down the crack of the couch.  He's made it abundantly clear that he will not participate unless he gets a Wendy's hamburger before class.  Once the boss was finished outlining the rules, he agreed.  He just told me that he plans to let his teachers know that he had diarrhea last week, which is why he could not attend class.  I tried explaining to him that it is more appropriate to simply let them know that he was sick, but he believes in full disclosure.  I just hope he doesn't feel the need to demonstrate where diarrhea originates.  Last week, he spread his cheeks and asked me to look for his diary.  He dropped his pants at my parents house and showed them his rash.  I think he understands the difference between public and private appropriateness in this matter, but I'm not quite sure.  Either way, I'm pretty positive the word diarrhea is the word of the day. 

Mom blogs are huge right now.  In fact, some of my favorite mommy blogs are frequented by thousands of visitors daily with 100+ comments on each post.  Perhaps this just pisses me off because I have yet to receive my first comment.  And I'm no where near thousands of visitors a day, but I think that a surplus of 550 hits in the first month isn't too shabby.  I follow blogs of SAHMs as well as working moms.  And I've come to the conclusion that over half of the moms that claim to be SAHMs are full of shit.  They are knee deep in bs and not the knee deep shit that I'm experiencing with a noro-infested tot on my hands right now. 

I'm not a SAHM by design.  I lost my job almost exactly 1 year ago and apparently a Master's degree with 10+ years of experience isn't enough in this economy.  So, I've started looking into the 'making-money-online' notion that you hear tweple chirping about all the time.  I'm an above average writer, but more importantly (I've realized), I'm a really smart dumbass.  AND, I'm confident enough to put my dirty laundry out to dry, wrinkle, soil, and mold, which is really what people want.  I recently told a friend that a really good writer must be self-aware/confident and vulnerable at the same time.  So, I've got the tools in my rusty toolbox complete with ancient gold fish crackers, used tissues, and moldy sippy cups. 

I finally got this damn website up and running, which took FORever...8 months to be precise.  Keeping up with the trends means following a lot of mom/dad blogs, working mom blogs, and other female blogs.  Posting just 1 blog per day, promoting it on fb and twitter, and reading my favorite bloggers daily would take at least 8 hours, easy.  Here I must point out that the antecedent to my writing is Fischer.  I have offspring.  I am a mom, and by design or not, I'm a SAHM.  And Fish is a toddler with SPD.  He runs my ass ragged all day long.  So, I can't spend 8 hours writing and reading.  I also have to squeeze in applying for "real jobs" every day, which is a full-time job in-and-of itself.  Then you throw in ridiculous necessities like laundry, dishes, cleaning (or mere tidying up in my world), cooking, paying bills, getting groceries, and errands. 

I used to clean-up quite well and dress in chic clothing with stellar shoes.  I suppose I could have just ended that statement with clean-up and dress and it would have been adequate.  My living space was immaculate.  I've mopped my current floor 3 times over the past 12 months, and right now, I'm looking down at some sort of sticky, gooey, gunk that slightly resembles something that should only be seen while swirling down the toilet.  I pay bills late, and I never clean my car.  I play tractors, trucks, Captain Hook, tag, hide-and-seek, bike ride, and do activities each and every day, but i know that it isn't enough.  This stuff takes TIME.  I have several friends who are also SAHMs.  They have similar complaints about lack of time, mental stability, and a trashy living space- qualities of a true SAHM- and most of them are not also trying to write and find a job.  So, the conclusion that I've arrived at is this: a shit-ton (which is a lot) of the moms who claim to be SAHMs and write...total bollocks. 

I read blogs from SAHMs who complain about similar things, yet they have time to post 3 or 4 posts per day, plus freelance, and contribute to other blogs.  I say bullshit.  I've only got 1 living, breathing little person to raise and it's difficult for me to write 1 blog per day.  I read blogs of parents with 4+ offspring, many of which include major special-needs children.  What the hell?  Have they discovered some coffee with supernatural powers?  Do they smuggle ativan and xanax on the side?  Can they actually function with a bottle of wine running through their system everyday?  Do they only require 4 hours of shut-eye for full-functioning capacity?  Or, do they have an offspring remote equipped with stop, pause, and play features?  Pretty sure the answer is not any of the fore mentioned.  They are just full of shit. SAHMs who blog, freelance, guest contribute and write books must either parent make-believe offspring or they covet the secret N-word (nanny).  This conclusion makes me feel liberated.  I can talk myself into and out-of almost anything, which is really quite the attribute when you fail on a daily basis.  Self-validation is so underrated.