Dear Abby – Feeling Chastised in New England

Let's all celebrate

Let me just begin by saying that since I began writing this blog I have had the pleasure of meeting a few Autistic Adults.  They are amazing individuals that do a great deal to raise awareness about autism. I “speak” with one in particular often enough to consider him a friend. He is a wonderful human being and it makes my day to “talk” with him or just read his posts. He is truly an inspiration to parents of children with autism, other teens and adults with autism. But above all that, he is a glowing example of the good things that can be found in today’s young adults in general. I don’t think of him as having autism, I think of him as my friend, plain and simple. I’m honored to have him as my friend.

My son’s autism or level of autism  is not like my new friends’. Autism affects each person differently.  Therefore, parents should not be made to feel inferior or chastised for their own beliefs. Everyone is different, everyone. There is no right or wrong, when it comes to autism, just a lot of people arguing with each other, it seems.

Today I received this private message on my face book page from a friend of mine who is pretty much in the same boat as I am “level-wise”.

The fact that she did not feel comfortable posting it publicly, speaks volumes about the environment we find ourselves in with the hostility that she (and I) knew would have ensued had she posted it publicly.

(The following message is used with permission. The names have been changed to protect the innocent)

Dear Abby (Vickie)…I think I’m missing something. Why is it wrong to feel like I’ve lost something in having an Autistic son? Why are we supposed to not want a “cure” or something that helps them handle this world we live in a little better? I look at the video of Bob from birth to 18 months and there were signs, but he was still there. It was June of 1996 – he was 18 months old – all of a sudden he disappeared. He is lost to me. He will never have a normal life. He will constantly need care and supervision. There are many people that are on the much higher functioning side of the spectrum that can navigate the world today. Bob is not one of them. Why am I supposed to not want that to be different? People say you don’t miss what you never had – but I know what could have been. I know what life he could have had and now for sure will not. He will find happiness somehow; he will be as productive as his disability allows him to be. But the sky is not the limit for him. The opportunities for him are not the same as they are for my daughters. Why am I supposed to celebrate that? With all this  hullaballoo about celebrating autism over the last few months, I’ve been feeling like a minority. I think these kids are lost – lost to the life that could have been, lost to the possibilities that would have been. I feel they have a disability because they are “not able” to process and handle what happens in life the way others do. Why are we getting lost on the rhetoric? Am I missing something Vickie?

Feeling Chastised in New England

I have said this many times and in many different ways:

  • I celebrate my son as an individual
  • I celebrate my son because he is my son and I love him more than words could say.
  • I celebrate his accomplishments, no matter how large or small they may be.
  • I celebrate him because he is wonderful.
  • I do not celebrate the part of  his autism that will keep him from being safe and out of danger.

I write stories about my son because:

  • He is wonderful.
  • I’m very proud of him.
  • I’m very proud of his progress.
  • He makes me laugh every day.
  • He makes me smile every day.
  • He makes me worry every day.
  • I believe these stories shed a little bit of light on autism and the way his mind works – not all autism, but his.

I don’t believe anyone should be made to feel “less than”. I don’t consider my son “less than” but there is an issue. There is that life he could have had. Maybe it would not have been a better life, maybe it would have been, but at the very least he would have been able to understand it and navigate through it.

Individuals should be celebrated, not the diagnosis.

Like “Feeling Chastised”, my son will never be able to live on his own. He will never be able to take care of himself. He will not know when/if he’s being taken advantage of. He does not understand danger or safety. He is verbal but really not able to communicate if something might be wrong.

My suspicion is that many of these parents in celebration have younger children or children that can function at a higher level than mine. They still have hope of great progress, and they should have hope, there is always hope. I still have hope for more progress, but living in the real world I know that even though he continues to make progress, none of the issues listed above will improve enough that I will not spend every day and night worrying about what will happen to him when I am gone. This is the stuff our nightmares are made of. What’s going to happen to them when we’re all done celebrating autism? Our “kids” are going to outlive us, people. Who’s going to take care of them? Will they be cared for in the same fashion that we have cared for them?  How drastically will their life change then? Think about it.

If I haven’t said it a hundred times, then let this be the hundredth; if I were to live forever, I would not change a thing about my son. He’s happy almost all of the time. He loves his life. He is in his own little happy world, but he won’t always be able to live in his own world, he will someday have to live in the real world. Then what?

When your child with Autism becomes an adult with Autism and your own mortality begins to slap you in the face, come back and talk to me then about this celebration we are supposed to be having.

Those of us with adult children that will not be able to live or navigate the world with out constant support, that have been in the trenches for many years, long before there was a “spectrum”, long before there were many of the services available today, deserve a little bit of respect and deserve to be able to voice our opinions as you are allowed to voice yours;  to want something more than a celebration.

I believe in raising awareness. I believe in trying to make people understand Autism. I believe that INDIVIDUALS and accomplishments should be celebrated. I also believe some of us need more than that.

My only wish is to be able to die in peace knowing my son will be okay…….

There’s No Place Like Home

There's No Place Like Home

There’s No Place Like Home

I am fortunate that DC loves to travel. This was not always the case and for a time I believed we would never be able to go anywhere at all, especially by plane. But now he loves to go everywhere and anywhere.

As much as he loves to go away, he always knows when it’s time to go home. If he knows we are leaving on Tuesday, then we are leaving on Tuesday. If he was offered an extra day in Disney, he would not take it because he is going home on Tuesday. It’s not that he is not enjoying himself, he is. He just knows when it’s time to go home and he wants to go home.

Three years ago we took a trip to San Francisco. With the exception of the off season heat wave, the “salad dressing incident” (as it has come to be known by many of my friends), the evacuation of our hotel and an extremely frightening ride in a taxi, the trip went well.

Evacuating the hotel - San Francisco 2010

Evacuating the hotel – San Francisco 2010

We had a great time!

Walking on the Golden Gate 2010

Walking on the Golden Gate 2010

Saturday came and it was time to go home. We had a very late flight, so we spent the day seeing some last minute sights, dinner, and nap and off to the airport to catch our 12:30 am flight home.

Everything went smoothly; bags were checked in, we got through security quickly, we made it to the gate, got DC some snacks for the flight and waited to board.

It was about the time for the plane to begin boarding when the announcement came that the flight had been cancelled! Not delayed, cancelled, due to the crew’s “fatigue” ~ seriously that is exactly what they announced; the crew was fatigued and the flight was cancelled. The next flight out was not until 6:00 am the following morning. This was an already scheduled and sold flight, so chances were they would not be able to accommodate all of these people that just became stranded in the airport.

This was not going to be pretty; DC was ready to go home.

The conversation went like this:

DC the plane is not coming; we have to wait until tomorrow.

“Going home now”

“There’s no place like home”

 No, Bud we have to wait until tomorrow, the plane is broken (I wasn’t going to try to explain “fatigued). Okay, we will go home tomorrow.

“Okay”

Pause……….

“Plane is cancelled, going home now. There’s no place like home”

Mom, going home now. No place like home. Plane is canceled, going home now, there’s no place like home.”

I tried to explain again and again, but as many times as he said “Okay” he went right back into “Going home now, there’s no place like home, plane is cancelled, going home now”

I gave up explaining and tried to ignore it, but he got right in my face and started to get loud “Going home now, there’s no place like home, plane is cancelled, going home now”

The gate was a zoo, with all of the passengers trying to book other flights home. I sat with DC while Doug was in line trying to get us on a flight. There was nothing else I could do for him.  He wouldn’t take any explanation I could give him. It just wasn’t going to sink in.

Now I was also worrying about spending the night in the airport with him. I didn’t think it was going to be easy to get a room anywhere since the entire flight of people would be trying to get a room. We had already turned in the rental car and I was imagining us driving around all night in a cab looking for a hotel with an open room.  Our bags were checked in earlier and we wouldn’t be getting those back tonight so  we had nothing!

And DC was still going on and on……

At this point I saw that Doug had made it to the counter and was working to book a flight. DC was just going on and on so I decided I would share the “joy”. I took DC up to the counter and stood next to Doug.

DC went on and on…..

“Going home today, there’s no place like home, plane is cancelled. Mom! Going home today, there’s no place like home, plane is cancelled, going home today” louder and louder……..

The woman behind the counter looked up at me and said “Oh! I AM Soooooo SORRY!” as DC kept reciting his lines. He kept it up, I tried to explain over and over and he went right on.  She apologized again and on he went.

She was finally able to book us a flight for the next day. And she also threw in a room free of charge (She may have been afraid she would have to listen to this the entire night – I think that “Sharing the Joy” may have paid off a bit……..)

And yes, in this case I agreed with DC… there is no place like home!

Wax Museum - San Francisco 2010

Wax Museum – San Francisco 2010

(We’re going to skip over  the next battle in the room, with no luggage, when he refused to go to sleep because he had no PJ’s and one just doesn’t  sleep In one’s clothes, you know)

“Look in the mirror and spit cookies”

"Look in the Mirror and Spit Cookies"

“Look in the Mirror and Spit Cookies”

One of my greatest fears (one of them; I have a million) is DC having something medically wrong with him and I won’t be able to tell.

Unless he has a fever,  throws up or passes out right in front of me (try catching a 200lb boy at 3am) there is really no way for me to know.  He doesn’t really let on that there is a problem and when there is, his behavior is pretty much the same as it always is. I don’t know if he doesn’t feel pain like the rest of us or he just doesn’t process it the way we would expect.  This boy can run full speed with a sprained ankle!

When he was younger, he would “tell” everyone that he was sick; actually he would just sign “sick” with no other details. Most of the time he was not sick at all, but he knew the school nurse had jellybeans in her office so that is where he wanted to be! Then he discovered when he was finished with the jellybeans that they would call Mom to pick him up. Most of the time, knowing that he really wasn’t sick, I would pick him up and bring him to work with me – which he loves, so I wasn’t really winning any battles there, but I had to work. (We’ll forget about the ONE time, he threw up all over my office, the ONE time he really was sick and no one believed him. I guess he showed us!)

On the few occasions that I did suspect that something might be wrong, I had to resort to asking him questions that I hoped he would respond with a “No”. The more ridiculous the question, the better. Because he answers “yes” to everything, I can’t lead him to an answer by asking;

“Does your head hurt?”

“Yes”

“Does your stomach hurt?”

“Yes”

If I ask him more than once, all of his answers then become “no” because he thinks he’s giving me the wrong answer.

So I have to ask “Do your eyebrows hurt?” or “Does your hair hurt?” By asking him this sort of question, he thinks it’s funny, gives me a “no” and then he understands the question and sometimes even tells me what hurts.

Because I had to do something about his daily jelly bean pilgrimage to the nurse’s office, I stopped taking him to work when they called. If he was so sick that I had to pick him up, he had to go home and rest. That ended that game, but now he won’t tell me anything at all because he’s afraid he’ll have to rest or worse…. go to the Doctor!

There was one time when he did tell me…..

Well, sort of…

One night he ran by me on his way upstairs. I asked him what was wrong and where he was going.

“Look in the mirror and spit cookies” and he ran upstairs.

After a very confused few seconds, I realized that a few months back I went upstairs and found a disgusting mess in the bathroom sink. It was apparent that DC was sick (evidence! YES!) But instead of telling me he just went to “listen to the music” in his room.

I realized that “ looking in the mirror and spitting cookies”  was his way of telling me he was going to be sick, because that last time, he was in front of the sink, in front of the mirror and he had eaten cookies!

I was right and yes, this is the way my mind has to work to be able to figure anything out.

I’ve told him so many times that it is very important for him to tell me when something hurts. Mom might have medicine to make it better; it doesn’t always mean a trip to the doctor. We have this discussion at least once a week. I didn’t think I was getting anywhere.

The other morning I heard, “come here please”. I went upstairs and said “What’s wrong, DC?”

“I need your help”

What do you need me to help you with?

“Nothing, I love you” (I didn’t find it all that odd because he calls me upstairs quite often to tell me he loves me or to tell me what he wants for breakfast the next day).

I went back downstairs. He came down looking a little out of sorts. I asked him again what was wrong.

He proceeded to tell me, not in the words you or I would use, but he told me! Luckily I had medicine to fix it! He was okay in about 20 minutes.

So I’m hoping that he’s realized that he can tell me and sometimes I can fix it and it doesn’t always mean resting or going to the doctor. I’m also hoping this means if something is bothering him enough, he will say something, which is a little bit of a load off my mind.

Just one small step in the right direction……..

Communication, Paper Towels and Other Nonsense

The battle for communication from the time DC was in the Birth to 3 Program has been a never-ending battle fought, for the most part, uphill.

When he was younger I asked –  begged, someone – anyone; his teacher, his IA, anyone,  to write at least one thing that he did that day that was specific to that day. I explained that I wanted him to understand the question “What did you do today” and to be able to have some sort of conversation whether it be in sign language (when he was young) or in just a few words (when he moved past sign and started using a small  words). I just wanted him to understand the question and give me some sort of response.

If I couldn’t get a response, at least I could list a few things I KNEW that he did, hoping that this would get the point of “today” in his mind. If I listed things that I thought he may have done and he answered “yes” and then turned out he didn’t do those things, we were missing the point of learning to respond to “what did you do today”. He will give random answers, or answers that he gave before, even if they are not correct. So I needed to KNOW.

“Fine Day overall” – my all-time favorite, was not what I had in mind.

Now he’s in a day/work program. It took a long time to find this program (which was the blog I was going to write today).  He works in their on-site Greenhouse which is open to the public. Communication is a little better about what he did that day, but other notes can be a little odd at times.

Judging from some of the notes I’ve received I really don’t think they understand him or the way his mind works.

 “DC refused to do a job that was assigned to him today”.

Now…… I am not one of those “Not MY Child” or “My child would never do that”, I know what he would or wouldn’t do and my child would not do that! Upon further investigation I discovered that they were phrasing their assignment, for example; “DC do you want to empty the garbage?” Of course he is going to say “No”! Who wants to empty the garbage if given a choice? Phrasing it as a question is giving him a choice in his mind. He’s not refusing, he’s answering a question.

I’m not going to get into all of the notes, but it’s clear to me that they don’t understand Autism, which I find odd in a program for special needs adults.

Note from yesterday:

“DC, when given some directions – a job I guess he did not want to do, banged his hand on the water barrel.”

That’s it.

It’s difficult enough to talk to him about something after the fact, never mind without specifics.

What was the Job? Were there too many directions?

He can follow directions but it has to be a step or two at a time, otherwise he overloads, shuts down and won’t hear any of it. Something they should know at this point.

And then:

“DC has been using up paper towels at work. I told him it’s a rule – One Towel only when you wash your hands. I made a sign that says “Rule – One Towel” for him. If you have a suggestion, let me know”

(This about a kid who more times than not dries his hands on his pants)

I went to have lunch with DC hoping to speak with her, but she was not there.

After lunch DC had to use the rest room and I waited (1/4 of my life is spent waiting outside the Men’s Room :). He came out, went to the sink, washed his hands, took one paper towel and threw it away.

And then there was this:

DC Rule 1 Towel

DC Rule
1 Towel

They posted his NAME on the sign in a place of business that is open to the public!

As I was leaving, the assistant said “DC do you want to work in the garden with the boys?” – and DC said “no”……….. – (heavy sigh)

And how was your day?

****

The sign with his name on it and the question (again) instead of a directive were both addressed …. but we won’t get into that. The sign was taken up with the director later that day.

****

Tales from the Day Program – ALL

Does everything really need to be this difficult?

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Please Note: The following is a rant, plain and simple; a rant, a vent, whatever you would like to call it. There is no moral to the story, no happy ending, no “Ah Ha” moment, no conclusions to be drawn (actually there are many conclusions to be drawn, but we won’t say them out loud) – just a plain and simple “I’ve had it” kind of rant.

For those of you who don’t have a child with special needs or have young children and haven’t had to think about the “adult” side of things, here’s how it works. I don’t know if it’s the same in every state, but this is the way it goes here.

When your child reaches the age of 18, depending on the severity of the disability (can he/she make decisions for themselves)  the parent is required to apply for guardianship of their own child otherwise they will not have the ability to make decisions for that child. The state views them as adults, period, and this means they should be able to make their own decisions, medically, financially, etc. (Paperwork, Probate hearing)

Due to budget cuts right around the time DC was to about turn 18, anyone not covered under Title 19, lost their caseworker through Department of Developmental Services. DDS is where the funding comes from for their work/day programs after they leave the school system at 21.

This is the time in our children’s lives when you really need to have a caseworker. This is when you have to begin looking for a program for them when they leave school.

Before you can apply for Title 19, you first have to apply for Social Security (tons of paper work).

After you apply for Social Security, you can begin the application process for Title 19. I am fortunate that my case worker, Ruthie, at the time, was there to help with this. She came to my house and my friend who has a son the same age as DC, came over and we all did the paperwork together. If not for her, I would still be sitting in the same place trying to figure it all out.

Now we’re done, right? Wrong!

Every year I have to fill out the forms for Guardianship (when they come, sometimes they don’t) again – just to be sure DC is still disabled. Not a big deal, just annoying. But seriously, he has autism, it doesn’t go away.

There is an annual report for Social Security as well as an audit or two during the year “just because”. And….. now that he is in a work program and makes a tiny bit of money, I have to remember to call in during and only during the first 6 days of the month to report his wages for the previous month to Social Security, so they can reduce his monthly payment appropriately.

Also once a year we receive the annual Title 19 redetermination, which is basically as much paperwork as the original application. I’m not complaining, I can live with all of this, but it is a LOT of paperwork!

Complaining begins here:

Now, I may not look like the most organized person in the world, but I do get all of these things done, on time, always!

DC’s redetermination was due on July 20. On July 16th I mailed a giant package with the application, the year’s worth of check stubs, his last bank statement and insurance cards – everything they asked for in the instructions. This was the fist time filling out a redetermination since he had begun working.

Done! PHEW!

Wrong again!

On Monday, August 26th I received a letter from DSS that his benefits had been discontinued because I did not complete and return his redetermination! There was a form included so I could request a hearing. This form had to be completed and returned by August 30th – in four days!

“Calm” was never and will never be a word used to describe me, so the next morning a dragged all of my “books” to work to recopy all 43 pages of his redetermination, because at this point I can’t think about anything else.

First, I decided to try to call the number (silly, yes I know). There was really no menu item that described this situation and no way to talk to a person, so I moved on to faxing the hearing notice and the copies of the redetermination to the number provided. The fax was cutting out and disconnecting and after I don’t know how many attempts, I gave up trying to fax it all.

Knowing this was going to take more than a fax at this point, I took my lunch break at 9am so I could copy all of these forms, check stubs, insurance cards and bank statements. I decided I would mail one copy to the local office and the other to the address that was on the hearing notice. Two more giant packages in the mail – Done!

I was not confident that either of these packages  would ever be seen by anyone, as they never received the original and having only 3 days now to request a hearing, I found different phone # in all of my 3 ring binder records and tried again to call. Fortunately, I was able to put the call on speaker and do some work while I waited otherwise I’d be putting in for vacation time to finish all of this! Unfortunately, all of my co-workers had to listen to “Your wait time is…. more than 20 minutes” over and over again.

An HOUR and 9 MINUTES later (just a tad more than 20 minutes), an actual person picked up. I explained the situation as calmly as I could.

Her reply was: “Oh, we’ve put a new system into place where all the redeterminations go first to our scanning facility and are inputted into our system for us to work on. Because the system has been up and down and they are very backed up, we probably do have your original redetermination and we have extended everyone’s deadline to November 20th. His benefits have not been cancelled.

Seriously? It may have been more effective to put THAT in the letter instead of telling me his benefits were cancelled and I only had 4 days to do something about it!

Those that know me can imagine where the conversation went from there, so I will spare all of you the details.

End result, she gave me her fax # and I faxed another 43 pages directly to her.  She did explain that she is not the person that would be working on my son’s case, but I wanted them to go to SOMEBODY.

So at this point, there are 3 packages of my son’s information floating around somewhere and one more in the hands of this person who has nothing to do with my son’s case.

She also informed me (after receiving 43 pages) that they really only need the last 4 paystubs. Hmmmm….. Maybe the redetermination instructions could say that!

So….

  • They lost his original packet (but maybe not, we may never know)
  • You can’t talk to a person at the number they provide.
  • They mailed letters to clients telling them their benefits were cancelled. (The person I spoke with said they received 1500 calls that morning)
  • They extended the deadline without bothering to tell anyone (This would have been something to send a letter about –it may have gone a long way to reduce the amount of calls they received.  And really, nobody at DSS found it odd that 1500 cases were being cancelled at the same time, due to non-completion of their redeterminations? – Somebody had to MAIL all of these letters!)
  • They sent a hearing notice to return by fax within 4 days with a fax number that clearly doesn’t work.
  • And I still don’t know if anybody that actually works on his case has his forms at this point.

.

I feel like there was nothing accomplished here and there was an enormous amount of wasted time on both sides.

I suppose I will be in the dark until I get my notice in November.

Don’t Judge What You Don’t Understand

There is a convenience store in our town that my son and I stop in pretty regularly. The employees are very nice to him. One in particular seems to be very interested in him and his diagnosis and really goes out of his way to try to talk with him.

A few weeks back, there weren’t many customers so he began asking questions about him. I never mind when people ask questions; I’d rather they ask than stare or shy away from him.

One thing led to another and he began to tell me that they do not have the system that we have in his country. In his country the families take care of their disabled children. He proceeded to say (which I’m sure he thought was a compliment) that I take care of my son, but other customers who come in with disabled children and adults ask for receipts for what they are buying.

I really didn’t understand at first what one thing had to do with the other but he explained – “I ask them why they need a receipt and they tell me it is for the child/adult’s father or some company”.

In the first place, why would he ask anyone why they needed a receipt? And then why would anyone feel obligated to answer that question?

He proceeded to tell me again that, in his country, the families take care of their own children. He automatically made the assumption that if someone else is with your child, a staff person, or a person from a group home that the parents are not taking care of their own children!

Immediately the pointing finger came out (I really have to learn to control the “finger wagging”) and I said “Oh, no. Do not judge people because someone else happens to be with their child at that time!”

I tried to explain to him that, in my case, my son has been with me and I have done just about everything for him all of his life but now I too have staff people with him a couple of hours every day after he gets home from work because he needs to learn to be independent from me.  I don’t like it at all, but I know it’s the best thing for him. I’m always convinced that I am the biggest detriment to his independence.

Unfortunately, I didn’t get to finish my speech as customers were coming in and I could see that he was getting uncomfortable because he thought he’d offended me, which he did. When people make those kinds of assumptions whether it be about me or not, I DO take offence. I suppose I just could have let him believe that I was not one of those “awful” people pawning their child off on someone else; he would never know any different, but I just couldn’t let it go.

Partially, I think I react that way because I DO feel guilty when I am not with him. All I was looking for when all of this began was some type of program after school so I didn’t have to continue cutting my hours at work to make it home before he arrived from school. I’ve been a single mother for nearly 20 years, and I have to work; fulltime, always have, it’s only me supporting us.  What I ended up with was staff hours for life skills, community, and activities. And yes, I know it’s the best thing for him, but after 3 years with this staff (they are wonderful, don’t get me wrong), I still feel guilty.  His staff is only here from 3pm – 5pm, and then they accompany him to some night activities as well – activities that I would normally have taken him to. But,  I feel like I’m being judged by people, my neighbors that weren’t living here all of the years that it was just me and just people in general who have no idea what this is all about, like the man in the store.

I wanted to ask the cashier just what happens to the children is his country when the families are gone or too old to take care of these children? They’ve been sheltered all of their lives, what becomes of them? How to they adjust to having no one?  I don’t know anything about his country, I don’t even know what country he is from, but I feel that here, at least in this house, we are not trying to shelter our kids by just keeping them safe and out of the way and never learning or experiencing life, the best life they can have.  I  am hoping to help him become as independent as he can be and if that means letting someone else take the reins for a couple of hours a day, then that’s what I am going to do.

I know he’s not a bad person and I was sorry I made him feel uncomfortable, but I am really hoping to finish this conversation one day and hopefully make him see that he should not judge what he does not understand and maybe even change the way he perceives  “these parents” (myself included)…… ……….

We can’t have it both ways…. but it’s still a little bit sad.

Today was my son’s first day attending day camp this summer. He has attended this camp since he was 5 – he’s 22 now.

Every summer he was able to attend camp all summer long, even staying after until 8pm for a special after camp program they hold twice a week. He loves it there.

Now that he’s 22 and aged out of the school system, he is in a work program, year round. When I started looking at programs for him I was shocked that they didn’t get the summers off!

Of course they don’t, they are adults and have to do their job every day, just like we do. But it was a rude awakening for me at the time.

Everything changes after “school-age”. He’s aged out of Challengers baseball. Seventeen years of baseball….over. No more February vacations, Spring Vacations or Summer vacations. He’s “working” now, with 3 weeks’ vacation, holidays and some sick days, just like everyone else. This was probably the hardest transition for me so far. I have to think to call “work”, “work” and not “school”. It takes a minute, when I panic that I haven’t set up anything for February vacation – to realize that there is no February vacation any more. Becoming an Adult may actually be harder on me that it is on him. It’s just such a huge change.

Yes, I know we are moving into adulthood and working toward independence; as much independence as his capabilities will allow.  Yes, I know this was the goal all along, but on the other hand, he’s still so much a child. He’s still watching “Barney” (22 years of Barney! That’s a Support Group I need to form, anybody?), he’s still reading and watching Disney and is not embarrassed to hug and kiss his Mom.  On some level, for me, as much as I always work and hope for more progress, I love it,  it’s nice.

This should be a happy time, and of course it is. He is an adult. He is in a program that he loves, but when summer comes around and it’s time for Camp to start, it’s a little bit sad that he doesn’t get to spend a fun filled, happy-go-lucky summer at camp as he used to. He only gets his two weeks.

Because…..he’s an adult now………