1 in 110

It happened. The hammer fell.

My sweet, beloved, 5 year old nephew Manny was officially diagnosed with Autism.

Fans of the blog know this was not a surprise: Nephew Talk, Manny, the Busy Busy Saturday Summary, the Saturday Summary and the Electric Mayhem, and Waiting... all give a snapshot of life with Manny and the tides of his disorder.

But now it's official.

After Manny started school his behaviors sparked an immediate response from the teacher and school, as we were afraid would happen. What was worse than that, though, was their complete bungling of the situation. They attributed his behavior to having not gone to preschool or, showing how shallow their observations were, his reluctance to tell his mother that he was misbehaving.

Of all the things my Manny is, he isn't a liar. If only because he has no concept of truth or deception. His mind just doesn't work that way.

So it was hard to accept the school's assessment. With this also came the nagging thought, though, that these people are professionals with advanced degrees working in a wealthy school district so wouldn't they, shouldn't they, know better than us? Maybe we were being too critical? Maybe we just babied him all of these years, assuming he didn't understand things or not asking enough of him? It was a scary thought.

So we trudged on through the weeks, waiting for his appointment with a behavioral specialist to give us the final word. Under-analyzing, over-analyzing, arguing, researching, waiting.

Last week Debra, Manny's mother and my brother Mick's wife, received a report from the head of the school's child study team. She had done her own observation after Debra expressed dissatisfaction with the CST's original report. The new report was 15 pages long and detailed every unusual behavior, every flick of his eyes and flap of his hands. It outlined, clinically, all of...everything.

So there was a flicker of hope that we weren't crazy, but we would have infinitely preferred to have been crazy.

The behavioral specialist gave the final word on Tuesday: Autistic with a severe Auditory Processing Disorder. He needs special education in a one-on-one or small group setting and speech therapy, as his speech is severely affected by his developmental disorder. He is extremely intelligent, but it's hidden behind his condition.

Now we do what we can to help him.

He is not one in a million. He is one in 110. One in 110 children are on the Autism spectrum.

Early signs of Autism

Saturday Summary and the Electric Mayhem

To those uninitiated to the Saturday Summary here at Salami & Orchids, it's basically just random things that occur to me or happen to me through the week before that aren't really posts in themselves, but are entertaining/informative nonetheless.

New Beginnings: The Food Network or "Background Music" launched a new show Thursday called "Sweet Genius"...basically "Chopped: Desserts". If you don't watch Chopped I insist you do so immediately, it's like Iron Chef turned up to 11. In each of three rounds (appetizer, entree, and dessert) a chef is removed from the competition based on the taste, originality, and plating of a dish made from 3-5 mystery ingredients introduced at the beginning of each round, starting the first round with 4 chefs. The mystery ingredients range from average fruits, vegetables, and meats to the craziest or foreign fruits, vegetables, and meats, or pre-prepared items like boxed Mac & Cheese, teething biscuits, Raisinettes, or hot cross buns. The chefs have to transform the ingredients and make them fit into their dishes seamlessly. The winner receives a $10,000 prize.

It's freaking awesome.

So Sweet Genius takes the same format (4 chefs; 3 rounds; mystery ingredients; $10,000 prize) and applies it to desserts. Unfortunately, it's not exactly the same. What they changed is kind of disappointing, they added strange gimmicks. The show is hosted and judged by one guy instead of three judges and hosted by Ted Allen of "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" fame. Instead of Ted and the judges explaining the more obscure mystery ingredients, the 2 mystery ingredients are revealed and described by a kind of creepy, disembodied, robotic woman's voice. The judge also gives the chefs an "inspiration" and only one of the mystery ingredients, then the second is introduced halfway through the round. It's pretty annoying.

And I wish there were more judges-- more judges means more opinions, and if you have a judges that doesn't particularly enjoy an ingredient a chef used (like on Chopped, judge Scott Conant hates raw onions) then another judge that likes them balance each other out.

Don't get me wrong, I'll still watch the crap out of it, but I won't be as happy about it as I could be.

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Nephew Talk: Oh, the boys, the boys, the boys...

Deb and Mick's son Manny is still struggling in kindergarten, but nothing more than expected, really. He hasn't been to the behavioral specialist yet, but the school's child study team is meeting with Mick and Deb on Monday, so it'll be interesting. What we currently think is happening is mild to moderate Asperger's or high-functioning Autism with a severe Auditory Processing Disorder, but it's all speculation, we just have to wait. The waiting is frustrating, though, because the poor boy is being punished at school for not listening or following directions. The thing is, he doesn't care he's being punished-- he has no concept of being in trouble or doing anything wrong, he just floats through the day while his teachers cite him to his parents as being a behavioral problem...we're much more upset about it than he is. It's a strange situation.

Arthur and Janet's son Sean has started preschool, and after being sick only one day of his life he came out of two weeks of preschool with two ear infections, pink eye, and a cold. Poor little thing. We're going to see him next weekend because he's turning two on October 2nd, and I'm so excited. I miss his little face. We talk to him on the phone a lot-- Arthur and Janet put the phone on speaker so we all get to talk to each other and talk to him. It's interesting because we can actually talk to him and ask him questions about his day and he can answer, mostly "yes" and "no" but when he babbles he does it with purpose, he's trying to tell you something-- which is leaps and bounds from a conversation you have with Manny. Even when Manny is trying to tell you something most of what he says is gibberish.

Manny did tell me yesterday that his brain is in his head, though, so that's pretty cool.

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Told You I was Bad: You know, or should know, that I want you all to learn from my mistakes (The Internship from Hell). Remember when I said I had $10 in library fines in Saturday Summary +8? Turns out it was actually $33 because they thought I'd lost the books. They ended up only charging me $15 because I "found" them...oops.

I got out 3, and I'll probably get all three done and reviewed before I finish Middlemarch because it's so enormous, so look forward to more book reviews coming soon.

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Apparently nobody has an answer as to why people (like me) have vinegar cravings. That's really, really annoying...when I Google something random I want an answer, damn it. At least I got an answer for Why I Crave Junk Food When I'm Sick...apparently it's because getting sick as stressful to the body as emotional stress, the same emotional stress that also makes you want junk food. Interesting.

Oh my god, I WANT VINEGAR. I'm seriously considering just dumping a ton on my dinner...just thinking about that is making my mouth water. Or maybe for a snack tonight I'll roast some potatoes and dip them in some...

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Finishing up today I'd like to say a great big Happy Birthday to one of history's greatest entertainers: Mr. Jim Henson. I grew up on Sesame Street, The Dark Crystal, Labyrinth, and The Muppet Show and it breaks my heart that he's gone, that there will never be anything new from him.

At least his spirit lives on.

Sleep well, Mr. Henson, and thank you for making me laugh, feel, and learn in my past, present, and future.

--

Upcoming Posts really do include Fight Club & Self Injury, as well as Chandler's and my review of The Lion King, the first appointment with my new doctor, and a pause in posting due to the return of the pain. And in lieu of next week's Saturday Summary I'll be posting all day from New Jersey to Maryland and back.

Remember to return any overdue library books!!

Do Not Touch the Baby

I played with the settings again today and so far I like it. Turns out, though, that I had commenting disabled unless people were members which is not what I wanted- I'm all for anonymous comments, especially considering the subject matter I veer into. I apologize to anybody who wanted to comment but couldn't because they weren't a member. My bad. 


So that's fixed. 


I've been taking a break from creating lately- besides this blog, I mean. I haven't been working on my novels, which you think I would considering I'm looking for agents (no new responses...) and I haven't been knitting, which you think I would considering I owe my brother a scarf for last Christmas and I have the materials to make 2 scarves for me- one to match my fingerless gloves and one to match my red coat. I haven't been tatting, either, and I owe my mother a pretty large doily from last Christmas. 


And my dad's birthday is coming up. Shit. 


I've also felt like drawing lately, which is unusual for me because I'm really bad at it. I had to take a drawing class for my degree so I've vastly improved but I still suck. I've been thinking about my style, which is basically teeny-tiny and very detailed, so I'm considering doing some teeny tiny little scenes about the size of stamps. I'm not one of those people that can write on rice, but what with sewing and embroidery I'm very comfortable working in a minuscule scale. For a while I was thinking about tatting tiny pieces for dollhouses...I still might one day. 


It is SO HOT here. According to the weather channel it's 95 degrees but feels like 107. I'm supposed to hang out with my buddy Four tomorrow, but goddamn it's supposed to be 101 degrees. Ick. I hate heat...so much so, in fact, I leave my windows open all winter.


Oh, Four. 


I'm friends with such amazing people I wonder why they bother with me. Four is a voice-over artist and comedian and a brilliant writer. One day I'm going to get to say I knew him when... He's pretty much the best friend I've ever had and I love him to bits. 


My parents, unfortunately, don't feel the same way. In fact, Four and I wanted to date for a while but my parents' reactions were awful and it was one of the worst times of my life as far as my relationship with them goes. My father, especially, is incredibly racist and proud of it and it breaks my heart. One of my parents' rationalizations for hating my relationship with Four and giving me such a hard time about it is that they're trying to protect me from "other people's reactions." 


I'm just going to say that after 10 years of hanging out with Four and being besties with him the only people who have EVER even given me a dirty look about it are my parents, so work out that logic. 


There was one time in my life where out in public, among strangers, I was given dirty looks and glares and stares was a few days after I came back from London a month before my 19th birthday. My nephew Manny (my brother Mick's son) was 3 months old at the time and my sister-in-law, Manny's mother Debra, and I went to the mall to finish up Christmas shopping. I was pushing Manny in a stroller, and Deb was walking beside me and you should have seen the looks. 


Stares. Anger. Fury. Disgust. People were looking at me like they wanted to run over and take Manny away from me. It was amazing. Debra and I were shocked. 


So I decided to play into it. At one point Deb was waiting in line to pay for something and I was standing with Manny a little bit away saying, "Manny, tell Aunt Debbie to hurry up, Mommy has to get home to do her algebra homework. Mommy doesn't want to work at McDonald's anymore. Tell her. Say 'Mommy needs to graduate so she can find a new job and meet a nice man to be my daddy. I wish I had a daddy.'" 


It was awesome. 


And can I just add, by the way, that if you see a little baby in the mall and it's not related to you, DON'T TOUCH IT? That was unbelievable. At one point I had to smack this guy's hand away. He talks to me for a second, "Oh, how old is he blah blah blah" and then he reaches into the stroller. So I say, "Please don't touch the baby." 


Then he reached in again! So I smacked his hand. "Do not touch the baby!"


AUGH. It's not your baby, people! Especially if you're out in public, who knows where your hands have been?! You could have herpes for all I know. Don't touch the baby. 


Like you always ask a dog's owner if you can pet the dog when you first meet them, to make sure the dog doesn't bite or have some kind of disease or is a seeing eye dog that shouldn't be bothered or what-have-you. Don't touch people's dogs, and don't touch the babies. 


You don't know what 5'2", 19-year-old, 130 lb. white girl is going to smack you for it. 


And if she does, you totally deserve it. 

Self-Analysis and Pondering

Busy busy busy busy weekend. I ended up babysitting one of my nephews Friday, then my brother, his wife, and their baby came up from Maryland for the weekend, AND we went to my brother's best friend's house-- he and his wife just had a baby, so we all went to meet the little girl together.

Then yesterday I was sleeping.

The nephew afterglow should last about a week, so we shouldn't have any depressed posts for a little while. They steady me-- no matter what else my brain is saying, I can't ever leave them. In fact, before I was medicated, in my lowest of low moments when I was at the absolute brink of suicide my thoughts would fall on my boy and I would lose the nerve.

I've always felt selfish about it, though. That if I really wanted what was best for him (or now "them") I'd take myself out of the equation because I'm not good for anybody. That my staying does more damage than my leaving, but I suppose it's whatever it takes.

My grandmother committed suicide when I was 2. Her note read that she couldn't stand the world her grandchildren were growing up in, and that stuck with me...because why, then, wouldn't she stay to try to make it better?

I wonder a lot about her. How would my life have been different? Her mother lived to 96, would she still be alive now if she would have died naturally? Her father died the day she did because he had a heart attack when he was told his daughter died-- would I have gotten to know him? My brother and cousin are both named after him, the family adored him, my father tells us stories about him every time the opportunity arises.

What would my life have been like? What would I be like?

Intellectually I know I have to stay, staying's the right thing it's just...when I'm in that mindset though, under the water or whatever, I can't see it. Or it doesn't matter.

I know I said I'd be taking a break from the depressing stuff, my bad. I just started talking about my boys and  then I just started analyzing. It's probably good, really, to look at what I was feeling while I'm not feeling that way anymore.

My gastroenterologist said I should be seeing a psychologist...I tried it for a little while in college but the woman was...an idiot...and it really turned me off to the whole thing. At one point she said "I don't blame you for cutting!" in response to a story I told her. What good does that do? I mean, I know what she meant, but how do you say that to someone who's trying NOT to cut?

It'll be two years in October since I last cut. I miss it every day. Damn Herbert and his ultimatum...

Whatever.

Anyway...so...that's what's going on at the moment. More to come.