Rapier's Wit

It is FINALS week at my son's university, much like the majority of colleges around the country. He has always put forth a lot of effort to achieve good grades. There are times, despite his studying and perfect attendance, the good grades do not materialize.  As a parent, I try to encourage him without nagging. He resides with me. I see him studying. He stays up late working on essays, homework, etc... I pray a lot for his success.  Today happens to be my mother's birthday. She died from ovarian cancer in June of 1981. It doesn't matter how many years pass, I miss her. There are times it is even more painful. She loved to sing. Her passion for music has always been evident in my family. On Facebook early this morning I posted that it was my mom's birthday. At the moment I hit send, I began to cry. It has been quite some time that I wept over missing her - not that it lessens what her absence means. I put out a wish for her to assure me she was with me. Ba...

Music is almost always playing in our house. My son often has ear buds in. He'll listen to a variety of tunes. Often, he will listen to variations of the same song. We sing in the car together. Mostly, on those occasions, we are tweaking the lyrics to humor ourselves. My kiddo was never in choir. The only concert he sang in was in 2nd grade Christmas. His struggle to maintain the choral stance on a riser was a true test. His Asperger's Syndrome diagnosis made it difficult. Still, he had love of music. He was in band (trombone) for a couple of years. It wasn't his true love, but he stuck with it until scholastic requirements meant he couldn't take band as an elective. I have a love of musical theater and talked him into auditioning for a couple of shows. He enjoyed it. It is structured socialization. Plus, it was mother-son time without me appearing to be a helicopter mom striving to have quality time. Mancub is now a sophomore in college. He transferred to the loc...

As Mother's Day 2014 quickly approaches, it occurred to me that I haven't blogged in a very long time. My son aka Mancub, is nearly 20 years old. Just the fact that I still refer to him on the blog as Mancub tells you that I'm still quite protective. When I stop quickly in the car I still fling my right arm in front of his chest. You know, the original safety restraint. Every year he gives me the same thing on Mother's Day. Nothing. If I remind him what day it is, he'll wish me a happy Mother's Day and go on about his business of playing video games or sorting through his YuGiOH! cards. Wait. Before your eyes get lodged in your skull from rolling them, let me clarify that I'm not complaining. Every single day of the year my kid celebrates me. As I said earlier, he's nearly 20 years old. One of the first things he does when he sees me after waking is gives me a hug. He wants to. Whenever I leave for work, or he gets out of the car to go to classes...

Mancub has never written an endless list of wants for Christmas or birthdays. He'll name a couple very specific items and be done. That was always a source of mild frustration when family members wanted to know what to buy him. I'd always buy the two or three items listed which left nada for the kinfolk to purchase. Gift cards aren't fun to unwrap, but manage to do the trick. This year was more difficult because my 19 year old, regardless of how many times I asked, didn't give me a list. He couldn't even muster a simple suggestion. Egads! Time was dwindling to shop aka order things online. I should tell you right now that while I do enjoy new footwear, clothes, this n' thats, shopping is not my favorite thing. Going to the grocery store is painful. Maybe it is sensory overload. Perhaps there's too much threat of running into people that'll hinder the task at hand. Whatever it is, shopping until I drop only takes a few minutes. OK, back to Chr...

Ah, the beginning of a new era. Please permit me to inject sound effects of screeching tires, needle scratching across a record. When my little bundle of love was born I had huge hopes for him. It's natural for any parent to imagine what great things their newborn will be capable of accomplishing. It's easy because that version of the future is so far off ... Now, insert the sound effect of a rocket blasting off or race cars speeding around the track. Time flies, yo'! Being the only parent consistently in my son's life, I admit to over protection. It is a fact. Mancub has heard my admission time and time again along with apologies for having done so. I am that mom who would have wrapped her child in bubble wrap in order for him to play football. You laugh. I am serious. When I dropped him off for his first day of Kindergarten I had to pull off the road to sob. Then, repeat until arriving at home to completely break down. He survived, but not without co...

Dear Pixar: As always, I am behind on watching movies. Ever since my son hit puberty we aren't as prone to racing to the theater to see your movies. He's into fart humor flicks and action/adventures. So, this morning I was flipping through the 100s of channels offered up and stumbled upon your film BRAVE .  Since I had not seen it and nothing else piqued my interest, I opted to view. First off, let me applaud the design of the wild haired Merida. It's clear in the very beginning she is not the usual 'live in a shiny castle upon the hill' sort of princess. Secondly, it was refreshing that none of the first born males of the other clans were strapping, handsome warrior sorts with the heart of gold. You almost always throw some stud in the mix that the wild eyed princess fawns over completely losing sight of her identity. Again, thank you. Thirdly, encouragement from the father to remain independent reminds me a lot of my own relationship with my dad. My mom,...

Sunday, Father's Day, Mancub and I were returning home in the late afternoon. When making the turn for our block, I noticed a lone duckling quickly waddling from the church parking area making its way to the street. STOP! Look! A duckie! I put the car in park and grabbed the phone to take this photo. See the little feathered friend in the gravel? Mancub hopped out of the car -- no one was coming from either direction -- because the duck vanished and we feared he'd gone under the car. Alas, he'd diverted to the front. Poor thing had to be bewildered. Mancub safely escorted the duck across the street to prevent an oncoming car from hitting it. At that point I had exited the car to take another photo. Why did the duckling cross the road? He's center just within the shaded area. Shortly after the above photo was taken the duckling took cover in the bushes at the neighbor's house. Mancub dashed in the house to use the bathroom while I kept watch. Oh, I h...

The approach of Father's Day always gets me thinking. For one, it makes me miss my own father very much (he died in '99). That was the same year I went through my divorce. We were 800 miles away from the nearest family and I had to go through it without my rock, my father. You can tell me he was and always has been with me in spirit but those are just empty words when all one truly needs is to have the presence in human form of the embodiment of unconditional love. He wasn't a man of many words despite his articles in The Kankakee Journal's Voice of the People and other various publications. When it came to his kids, his thoughts were many, but his words profound and few. Our relationship hadn't always been ideal. As a little girl, I was undoubtedly his baby. The last born of the brood he had with my mother, he seemed determined to do right by me. We had a special bond. Then, when my mother passed away in '81, it was quickly severed and we hit years of rough...

Well ... he did it. My son graduated from high school. Through every trial and tribulation that the journey threw at him he managed to blaze his trail. No obstacle was too great for him. He persevered with tenacity that would make a lesser man crumble. Unlike his mother, my boy managed to graduate with a 3.5 grade point average. Dear old mom, me, graduated by the skin of her teeth and probably a little bit of pleading for passing grades. What I'm saying to you is that he is a far better student and person than the person who raised him. The experience is all so surreal to me. As the end of the school year approached and I started rifling through photos, certificates of accomplishment and honor, his life passed before my eyes ... my tear filled eyes. I can't recall the last time I shed so many tears. While the awards were laid out before me, I didn't fail to remember how hard he worked to achieve them. Not forgotten were the multiple IEP meetings (Individualized Educ...

What else is there to do on the day after Mother's day other than video blogging? I could have written some things down ... earnest things ... but the mood wasn't there. Instead, I give you the following. I felt redemption was in order regarding my aesthetic in the above video. Just watch and I explain. Sort of. Kinda

There are many things in my life I have done wrong...totally screwed up and lived and learned from the mistake. However, the best thing I have ever done and continue to do is being a mom to Mancub. This month he graduates from high school. Fourteen years ago it seemed it would be the longest road. The most tumultuous, rigorous, painstaking journey has paid off. His tenacity has brought him to a major milestone. Ask me about my perfect boy and I'll go on for days telling you how amazing he is

First grade was tremendously challenging for Mancub as his teacher was determined to teach him in the  cookie cutter manner she'd always used. What I mean by that is her belief was that children would bend to her will and fall in line. I am quite certain my son wasn't the first child she encountered that required accommodations yet she behaved as if he was the first child to enter her class with an Individualized Education Program. Mancub's second grade teacher fell from the heavens. She seemed to truly understand his mind and his moods. She was the kind of teacher who remained flexible in teaching lessons. Her methods were not rigorous yet her style was structured. By the end of the first quarter she shared that all the kids seemed to benefit from Mancub's accommodations from time to time.  My son really blossomed in second grade and found that he could achieve academically. He joined the Science Club. His socialization skills improved. The club had many field t...

I have covered that the special education resource teacher, Rose Barton, would prove to be a godsend to Mancub's life. The actual diagnosis for Asperger Syndrome wasn't instantaneous. It took great research and testing. Developing a proper IEP was hit upon swiftly as accommodations were necessary for Mancub to set upon a successful path. However ... There was a teacher who, in spite of a specific IEP (Individualized Education Program), wanted to challenge or continue to teach every student within her comfort zone rather than that of the student. I'm not saying this is not a difficult task for the teacher to make accommodations. The following is shared as an example of how challenging first grade was for us. Accommodations were met with argument and frustration: Mancub's first grade teacher was the most resistent to his IEP. This would be the inaugural stepping stones for executing it. The day before school started parents are invited to visit the classroom with ...

Mrs. Rose Barton was (she has retired) the Special Education resource teacher at Mt. Vernon Elementary when Mancub first met her. She swiftly consulted with me; arranged consult with the child psychologist at the school; set up observation of Mancub for herself and the child psychologist. It was determined that my darling son was certainly mis-categorized as EBD (emotional behavior disorder) by his former school. Both professionals determined that he was not acting out and perseverating to gain control. His surroundings were setting it off and he was clearly frustrated and upset. Not an expert in the field of autism, Mrs. Barton sought out help from her colleagues and researched Asperger Syndrome. When she first approached me about the possibility my son was 'special needs' I'll admit to feeling defeated and devastated. No lying. Immediately, I pictured my child being harassed and bullied for being different. I made some phone calls to friends and family members who were ...

April is Autism Awareness Month. My son has autism spectrum disorder / Asperger Syndrome. Giggling Mancub age 4.  I truly dislike tagging a label on him. To me, he is perfection. When someone pats me on the back for being a good mother I joke that God knew I'd be raising my son alone and provided me with a child who is easy to raise. When Mancub was in pre-school it was obvious he had issues not adhering to some guidelines. Quick change of schedule or altering the food menu would cause a melt down. He never had such tantrums when we were one on one so it made little sense to me. Then again, I am a creature of habit. It was rare for us to deviate. Once, he 'lost his mind' -- their words--  when they had to do self portraits and he colored his eyes green. His eyes are chocolate brown. The teacher argued with him that his eyes were not green. They had him look in a mirror to prove him wrong. He insisted that his eyes couldn't be brown because "Mommy has g...

Kitty cats and video games.  The two things that my son loves. Our cats only give me attention when he's not around. Otherwise, they snub me for his attention.  I don't know what it is, seriously.  They dash away from me and run under beds.  Yet, with Mancub, they willfully go to him.  Silver is especially skittish with me. There's no chance of me holding her in my arms.  She becomes this spastic, skin shredding psycho.  With Mancub she's docile.  She anxiously awaits him each morning.  Every night after he showers she paces for him to emerge. Then, she races to the couch, meows as if commanding him to sit down so she can hop up on him and snuggle.  What really gets to me is the smug look she gives me as she cozies up to Mancub. After posting a few photos of my son with his furry companions, my friend and fellow blogger Angie Bailey asked if Mancub would like to be part of a regular feature on her blog Catladyland : Men Who Love Cats ....

I have been working too much.  That fact became glaringly obvious yesterday evening.  It's ridiculous that my son has suffered the consequences of the shortcomings of my work place and I have to fix it.  Tuesday brought me a day off. Finally.  I'd worked 8 days straight with the majority of those days keeping me away from home due to working until closing (9 PM). Mancub and I haven't spent much quantity or quality time together.  He sees that I am stressing.  He's not a selfish boy. He's compassionate and due to that, he has spared me any additional stress. Or so he thinks that is what he's doing.  But last night all that he's bottled up came to a head and he let out how much he hates his school and the kids that inhabit it.  He's a big kid, but a gentle giant. He's easily upset by rude remarks.  They know it and pick at him.  His efforts to ignore it are often futile.  The beasts know if they keep at him he will eventually displa...

Family and friends gathered to celebrate My son's 16th birthday. After downloading the photos to the pc, it dawned on me that no pictures were taken of me with my son. My sister Maureen was the first to see my 9 pound 2 ounce bundle of love. So, with that in mind it seemed fitting that she'd be next to him as he blew out his candles and made a wish. For the record, I managed to sing "Happy Birthday" without falling apart and becoming a sobbing mess. Hooray for small miracles. Earlier that day we had to head out to his high school to register for his sophomore year. Weird! It conjured up memories of my own 16th birthday. I, too, was registering for school. My junior year. Unlike Mancub, after getting my student ID photo taken, my sister Mary and I drove to the Illinois equivalent of the DMV. We don't call it the DMV here. Anyway, I got my driver's license ON my sweet 16. My son is slotted to take driver's education first semester. EEP! Valium may...

If good parenting was judged by the number of photos of my child scattered about the home, I would be one giant failure.  Oh, it's not that I don't have pictures of my son.  I have tons of them ... in a big box in the closet.  There's a most recent photo of him that sits on my bookshelf.  There are always promises made to myself that I'll get photo albums and frames, but that's yet to happen.  One day ... What brought this line of thinking about was my scrounging through the big box of photos this morning. With Christmas staring me in the face, I remembered the cutest pictures taken of Mancub when he was 5 years old. A photography studio was called upon at his pre-k to take memorable Christmas photos.  Seeing them always brings forth a giant puddle of tears.  Where has that little boy gone? Imagine Chevy Chase as Clark Griswold in Christmas Vacation when he's holed up in the attic ... blubbering like a fool as he views a movie from his childhood....

Where do I begin? You're all probably aware of how exceedingly proud I am of my son.  He's made great strides in his career as a student.  I've written briefly about his ability to overcome the many challenges a child with Asperger's Syndrome faces.  Rather than go into a dissertation on AS, I've provided the link. Just know, for the sake of this post, that for Mancub it has imposed upon his social interaction, concentration and coordination.  Never has it been my desire to make that the focus of why I bask in his accomplishments.  However, today's post deems it necessary. Big changes can often disrupt the balance an Aspie has persevered in managing.  Taking on the basic tasks of changing schools and tackling harder studies of being a freshman put me on high alert for Mancub.  He's always had to deal with kids who don't like that he's different from them.  That's not to say all kids who endure the bullying of such neanderthals are Aspies....