Cheerio Confessions

Things are looking a little crazy at the moment. The blog is in a bit of upheaval. Please excuse it all. It occured to me the other day as I was organizing my files that my photos of Rob and the boys were outdated. Well Elliott Richard's and Emmett John's were from Christmas time but honestly they were just placeholders until I could find some that I truely liked. You're all probably wondering who the heck "Henry James" is...I need to post about him. It's coming. With a few other posts I'm working on. For now, just know that things that appear off kilter but I'm working it. =)

I can't believe Emmett John is 17 months old now. Time is going by way too fast for me. Geez, in 11 days he'll be 18 months old. I can't believe everything that has changed with him. Everything he's been up to.

His nickname has taken some interesting and unexpected turns. What used to be small and cutsie and bug based, is no more. (lol) Although I'm not sure why I'm so surprised. If you remember I went through the evolution of my Boys nicknames a while ago and it's crazy what happens. Mr. Emmett John now goes by either Jack-Jack or Indy, which is short for Indiana Jones because he tends to get into/find dangerous and troublesome situations. Jack-Jack is from the Disney/Pixsar movie "The Incredibles". And just for the record, dangerous and troublesome are entirely accurate descriptions.



(Okay, so while I absolutely adore my layout but it isn't exactly the widest layout ever in existance. If you really need to have the "volume control". Or the option for "full screen". Or the entire *waves hands frantically in the air* RIGHT SIDE OF THE CLIP! Then fine! Just double clip the movie or click RIGHT HERE to watch it on YouTube. If you really want to be that way.)

Anyway, moving right along. (lol)

Since I've brought up his dangerous and troublesome activities, I feel I should let you in on his new "Kid Tricks". Which aren't nearly as dangerous as the actual Jack-Jack, by the way. Let's see...what our Jack-Jack's been up to lately? He runs and sometimes I swear there are more than one of him (hense the "Jack-Jack" nickname) because one second he's climbing the back of the couch - like the flat back, not the cushion to back. But then as soon as he's there, he's on the stairs and then *BOOM* as up the stairs and down again. Then *BOOM* he's pushing Elliott Richard on a push toy. It all seems to happen within seconds and I swear there are more than one of him and they all move at super-human speeds!

He loves to play "tag". He'll play with just about anyone. With Maggie Sue. With Elliott Richard. With Rob or I. The catch is that most of the time we aren't playing. In fact, Maggie usually doesn;t even realize that she's playing tag. (lol) Basically, he chases her from the living room to the dinning room. Once there he "sqees" and runs away! Maggie hears him "sqee" and assumes something must be wrong, so she follows in hot persuit. And so goes the game of "tag" according to Emmett John.

The other "kid trick" he does that I just love, is when he point to you and runs. Every once in a while he will stand up and look around trying to decide who he wants to be held by. Once he decides, he'll point both index fingers at them "horns of a bull" style and run as fast as he can at that person with a huge grin on his face. I just love it. (lol)

I know I'm a horrible slacker mother right now. I'm not keeping up with what the kids are doing. For the most part, Emmett John is right on track. For the most part. There is just that one little thing. That one nagging little bit. Well, okay maybe it's a big bit. I can't decide.

He doesn't talk.

My gut. My mother's intuition. My inner-me. The inner-mommy. They all say that this is a Big, Huge, Waving, Warning, Look-at-Me Red Flag. Then I have well-meaning family members who tell me that Uncle Rick didn't say his first word until he was 2 and 1/2 years old. Uncle Rick is a wonderful, very intelligent man. He's one of my favorite uncles. Heck, he's Elliott Richard's Godfather so clearly he isn't a slouch in my book. And no disrespect to Grandma Gene but Uncle Rick isn't my Emmett John. I wasn't her. I don't know what her inner-mommy was telling her. I only know what my inner-mommy is telling me.

Problem is that even Dr. H is on the "everything will eventually be okay" train. First, he said "if he doesn't talk by 15 months then we'll worry". But Emmett John technically talked by 15 months. He said 2 different words. He said "cookie" maybe 5 times and "cracker" 1 time. He's never said those words again. He understands when we talk to him. He doesn't talk back. You can see he's clearly frustrated. Our faces bear the marks of his frustration. He's a pincher. Yesterday, he and Elliott Richard were standing at the baby gated enterance to the kitchen talking to me while I made snack. Well, Elliott Richard was talking. Emmett John wanted to talk. You could literally see it in his face but he couldn't get it out. Finally, he became so frustrated with the whole situation that he screamed and reached out and pinched Elliott Richard's face all in one swift move. It breaks my heart!

Now don't get me wrong he communicates some. He babbles. He makes what I call "pitch noises", which is where he does like the Tim Allen in "Home Improvement" guy "Arrrooo" thing at different pitches. So it isn't that he's mute because he isn't. He just doesn't speak in words or sentences. We've also heard that it could be because he's the youngest, perhaps we are speaking for him so he doesn't need to speak. We don't and he does. At times Elliott Richard will say, "Emmett John says..." and finish the sentence with some silly little 3 year old hilarity but very rarely to we actually speak for him.

In an attempt to communicate with him, some how I've been trying to teach him Baby American Sign Language. I only know a few words right now. But it's a start. I'm hoping that it will help Emmett John once he learns the signs for himself and he is finally able to tell us what he needs or wants. He "said/signed" his first word yesterday though, which was a pretty big deal around here. He signed "Daddy" to Rob. Then I asked him if he wanted to "sleep with Daddy" or "movie with Mommy" and he went with me. He went to the living room. Now when we sign to him, we say verbally what we are signing so he puts 2 and 2 together. In my experience, and it may just be wishful thinking, he seems to understand the conversations better this way. Only time will tell, I suppose.

I just hope he is able to finally find a way to communicate so he isn't frustrated any longer. It is one of the saddest things in the world to see your baby struggle that way. Knowing he has something to say. Seeing that he is trying so hard to say that and getting so stuck that he ends up striking out in anger when he can't. Something has to change for him very soon before this mama gets angry and starts to lay the smack down.

Wow. I'm not sure if I should feel flattered or irritated. Given my present state of mind, I feel irritated. Although deep down, I really feel flattered. (So take that you comment bots!) Anywho, I've had a few comments lately to this effect:

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And since I just received another one I'm going to have to do something. I just need to decide what that something is.

Any advice? (From someone other than the spammers.)

I have been putting a "water mark" via Photobucket on my photos - both new and old. I am trying to keep these from taking too much away from the pictures themselves; however, at the same time I am trying to make it so that the pictures cannot be copied from my blog and printed out for personal use.

Again, I'm sorry for the generic nature of my "water mark". I will see what I can do to make it more professional and less intrusive in the future. For now, I have to work with what I have.

Thank you for the understanding! :)

As soon as I can figure out how to make the graphic I want with the very limited graphic programs at my disposal, I will have these really cute graphics to go with a new thing I'm adding to the blog. It will be the "Ketchup" where I catch you up on whatever the topic is. Haha Isn't that cute? I thought it was. I just can't get the graphics I want made, which is frustrating me. However, I realized that I haven't posted an actual update in weeks so I guess I'll have to get started without my cute little graphics. :(

But that will have to wait until tomorrow because it's 12:36 am now and I need to go to sleep...soon. First, I need to finish some blog rounds. Nighty night all.

Everyday in the Cheerio household brings about a new sort of "normal". I use that term loosely of course. Our lives are in a constant state of flux. Mostly because of Gavin, not that I'm saying everything is his fault because it isn't. It's just that a majority of the time our lives revolve around Gavin and his needs. Some days the flux is caused because of me and my needs. However, mostly, our lives revolve around Gavin. His moods. His needs. His whims. His fits of anger. His fits, period. His appointments. Him, in general.

I feel like as soon as we get one thing under control here. One thing stablized. Everything else hits a huge wave and smashes into a million pieces. Then we are left clinging to that one thing we managed to stablize while we scramble to gather the other million pieces and try to put them back together. Only it feels as if we are trying to put them back together, in the dark, without glue, without directions and honestly, without any real idea of what they were in the first place. All the while that one stablized thing, whatever it was, is slipping away so slowly that we don't notice until it's gone.

Yes, I know. I know. I just redecorated way back when but the fact of the matter is that while I loved that layout, it simply wasn't me. So I've spent today looking for a layout that I felt fit me. I've finally found it! However, now it's going to take 84,000 hours to get all of my widgets back in place and reordered. But that's okay, because I like doing this part. :)

Yeah, so anyway, if you would be so kind as to excuse my mess, again. I would appreciate it. I should only be for a little while longer now.

Thanks. :)

*gasp* The horror!

Sadly, it's true. I've posted a few times about Emmett John's biting issues. Or maybe I've simply Twittered about them. Either way, I've mentioned it some where in cyberspace before. Last week I finally reached my point of no return. I was laying down with Mr. Emmett John for our morning nap when Gavin came stomping upstairs having another meltdown. He was so loud and angry during this particular meltdown that he scared the crap out of Emmett John. In fact, he scared him awake and caused him to chomp down on my nipple before opening his mouth to scream bloody murder. In that moment, aside from having the strong desire to scream bloody murder at Gavin I realized that if I didn't wean him soon I would be calling Dr. D in tears asking what I should do with my newly removed nipple.

Usually I wean cold turkey. This time I figured we would try the actual act of weaning. You know cut a feeding here. Cut a feeding there. Elliott Richard had an appointment with Dr. H to follow-up on his cough so I asked if he wanted me to start milk or formula. He said to start milk in the skipped feedings. Emmett John was handling everything really well. Granted, he was a little upsest with me. But he still basically had his bedtime and middle of the night feedings so he was okay overall. And then came this past Saturday.

Friday night we went to bed. Emmett John nursed. All was right with the world. Around 3:00 am he woke up hungry/thirsty so I nursed him back to sleep. He fell asleep and then rolled away from me. Now this is very important: he rolled away from me. He broke contact. Not me! So I snuggled in and started to fall back to sleep. Next thing I know, he's latched on again but only long enough to BITE ME! And not a bite on any scale of any of the bites up to that point. Oh no! He took a chunk out of my nipple!

That's right folks! My sweet, innocent baby boy...the darling child that I struggled for 8 months to carry "just one more day, just one more week"...the baby I walked the floor with through colic, reflux, sleep apnea and hospital stays...my Tiny...my Doodle Bug...bit me. I screamed. I was crushed. I was horrified. I was in pain!

Seriously, I've done labor 3 times. I've broken bones. I've been through the physical wringer. But holy cow! God never intended for our nipples to experience that...ever.

In that moment, I decided that we were done. Nursing, Emmett John and I were officially broken up. We would no longer be slow weaning. No sirree Bob. The time had come for good old fashioned cold turkey weaning. My nipples could take no more.

That was this past Saturday. Today is...what?!...Thursday? So it's been nearly a week now? Emmett John is adjusting. He goes through his moments. He's become a major Daddy's Boy, which makes 3 Daddy's Boys. So the math goes something like this:

1 Daddy + 3 Daddy's Boys = 1 sad Mommy with very lonely arms

When he sees me, sometimes he wants to sit and snuggle but since we went cold turkey I've still got some milk so I still smell like lunch, which is difficult for him. So I hold him, which hurts. He smells me, which upsets him. So he cries, which upsets me. Rob takes him and soothes him, which upsets me more. Rob is frustrated because while he's trying to understand he just can't and it really it's a rational thing to be understood anyway, ya know? It's just a vicious cycle.

So now Emmett John is weaned. My attachment parenting with him seems to have come a rather quick end as well. And I feel like I've been left in the middle of nowhere without a map or a compass to find my way home. I know nursing wasn't supposed to be about me and it wasn't. But it sucks to not be needed except for the shopping, cleaning and laundry, ya know?

I've decided that the brief little descriptions I had in my sidebar were no longer sufficient. However, I did not realize that it was going to be quite so difficult to:

a) Get the pictures to look the way I want and do what I want them to do.

and

b) Set things up the way I want them.

Now I don't technically have OCD, however, there are certain things I am very picky about. My blog just so happens to be one of those things. ( :) lol ) So I'm on Day 2 (or 3 - I forget which) of tweaking and changing and rearranging.

Please excuse the mess while I work to get things just right. :)

they are a blowing.

Here's in the Cheerio Household that is. (Okay, totally not our real last name but for the sake of some resemblance of privacy and safety work with me here.) Last Monday Rob and I saw Dr. R, Gavin's psychatrist and he feels that Gavin does not have signs of Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD), which was an idea Rob and I had been kicking around with Patty. He feels that it is much more likely a Conduct Disorder. Now some of you may read the definition of Conduct Disorder, shake your heads and say, "Nope, don't see it." I'm here to tell you that there is so much that most never see. So trust me when I tell you that Conduct Disorder fits. (It's another post entirely for me to explain all the reasons why and I'll try to get to that post ASAP.)

Dr. R said that there is a therapy here in our hometown that is supposed to do wonders with kids with Conduct Disorders. It's called MST. He also stated that children with Conduct Disorders do well in a strictly structured, prison-like environment. Now our lives are structured already. However, if "prison-like" structure is what we need to keep our family afloat then "prison-like" is what we shall have. I'm in the process of putting a plan into action that will create this ultra-structured environment for my family.

I don't do well with structure as a whole. My brain just doesn't seem to work that way. Whenever I attempt to force it to, it just doesn't work out well. However, it is my hope that if it is my plan and implemented by me then I will be okay with it. Believe me when I say this isn't a simple plan by any stretch of the imagination. I'll have to lay it all out for y'all sometime but right now I hear laundry and dishes calling my name.

So the winds of change, they are a blowing. Hopefully they blow us someplace nicer than where we currently are.

Dear Neighbor,

I'm sorry that you are ignorant. I don't know why you feel that paramedics, fire fighters and cops are "a waste of space". Quite frankly, I don't care to know. I am curious though, how do you call men and women who may save you, your family or friends lives a "waste of space"? They were in our neighborhood protecting our homes from the fire in the abandoned house and all you could think to do was insult them? That's classy. Your mother must be proud.

Sincerely,
Color Me Impressed



Dear Driver Whom I've Never Met,

Accidents happen. I get it. Lord knows I've had my fair share. But you hit an animal! You hit and killed someone's dog, their family pet! He had a collar. You were too busy to stop and notify the family. Choosing in stead to leave him for others to handle. The depths of your compassion for another living creature are astounding.

Sincerely,
Not Your Mother but Still Ashamed of the Person You've Become



Dear Politicians,

I understand that you want to make a difference in our great country. I commend you for that. I have one small question/request. Would it kill you to just tell the American people something along the lines of, "Hi. My name is *insert your name here*. I am running for *insert name of office you are seeking here*. I believe *list your political beliefs here*. And I want to change our country for the better in the following ways *insert your plans for our country here*." I honestly don't care who started it, who slung mud at whom first, it just needs to stop. Seriously. I don't care who your opponent's best friend was in high school, college or grad school. I don't care if he/she egged houses or drank beer (underage) or even *gasp* smoked pot once. I care what he/she thinks about the current state of affairs and what he/she sees for our future. So just knock it off. Please.

Sincerely,
Irritated & Concerned American Citizen

While we redecorate & reorganize. It was time for the blue to go.

(Internet Explorer is doing everything possible to make this as difficult as possible. Thank you Bill Gates & Microsoft.)

It's almost time to vote for our new political representatives, including our commander in chief. I don't know yet who I will vote for, however, I will vote. I strongly urge all of you to register (by October 4th in some states) and vote.

The title I really want to put there is "F**K FAITH".

Yup, you read that right. I didn't because I have too much respect for those of you who have faith.

I know I've said this before but I'm done. I don't have it in me anymore to operate on faith. I woke up this morning convinced that God was going to provide for us Like He Promised. WRONG.

I just knew in my heart and soul that the van was meant for us and he would work his miracles and make it happen. That he couldn't possibly let us fall to the wayside, forgotten again. WRONG.

We did not get the van. We did everything within our power to make it happen. All for naught.

I'm not writing this to offend those of you who are so sure of your faith, so strong in it that it radiates from you. In fact, I envy you. I envy those of you who are able to be so unwavering in your faith. Part of me wishes I were like you. Alas, I am not. I can only be me and I am done.

I've been screwed, forgotten, disillusioned, abused, walked on, walked over, and generally ignored far too many times. My faith, what little I had and struggled to hold on to and maintain, is gone. *poof* There is no more to be had. I will not look for it. I will no longer struggle to maintain it. I will no longer exhaust myself clinging to it. It's gone. I will mourn it and move on.

Now this probably seems dramatic to you. Especially if you do not know me or our story. I assure you that I am not dramatic at the moment. In fact, I'm quite calm and collected. The van was just the final straw. I would say that it was the straw that broke the camel's back except we weren't lucky enough to have ever received a camel. So it's the straw that broke my faith. After everything I've been through...everything we've been through I'm done.

I will not go so far as to call myself an atheist, however, I would label myself as agnostic at this point. I do not know if he exists. He might. He might not. All I know is that it's been ages since he's shown himself to me. Since he's helped me. Since he's carried me when I couldn't walk anymore. So if he's there, I can't see him (or hear him or any other verb you care to insert there).

I've decided to add a few new things to the blog. They were inspired by Lindsey's Rantings and My Charming Kids.

Thursday 13 ~ I will post a list of 13 things every Thursday. (I stole this from Lindsey's Monday 13 and MckMama.)

Twitter-isms ~ Whenever they arrise I will post Elliott Richard's newest words and phrases with translations (where necessary). (This is my twist on a cross between MckMama posting about Big Mac and Lindsey's Thursday Pablo-isms.)

After he was mistaken for girl (again) Rob and I finally decided it was time to take the plunge and get his haircut. These are the pictures during his first haircut. (For before pictures, just click the "Elliott Richard" tag-link in the sidebar. There are even a few pictures just of his curls that I took in January, or there about.)

We took him to a local place that only cuts kids' hair. The inside is brightly decorated. They have toys to play with. Movies to watch. And cute little Merry-Go-Round animals to sit on. When I took Gavin there once (at about the same age - so before he really "changed") he absolutely HATED it. So I really wasn't sure what to expect from Elliott Richard.

He did beautifully! The only snag was that he refused to sit on a little animal. So he sat on my lap. Then he wanted nothing to do with the cape. So we both ended up covered in hair. It was a small price to pay for a hassle-free haircut.

(After shots are coming...)

Before

And away we go....

A quick math lesson on this fine snow day.

1) Snow + Freezing Rain = Snow Day

2) Snow Day + Continued Snow and Freezing Rain = Little Hope For School Tomorrow

3) Snow Day + Snow Day = Sad Panda (speaking of sad panda)

On a side note: We don't have a clue who Chris or Megan are but thanks so much for the video.

I was NOT having a real good day yesterday (no real surprise). I was 30 minutes late for an appointment because 77N was at a stand still for 20 minutes. A drive that normally takes 6 minutes took over 20. Later that afternoon I dropped Gavin off at speech and OT, and ran over to Circuit City to help friends pick out a new computer. I love helping people with computers, so that was really fun for me. While we were waiting to check out I got a call from Lizze (These calls always make me nervous, because I never know what is wrong). I answered the phone and the next thing I heard was Elliott saying "Daddy, I love you. Bye, Bye daddy." He missed me and brought the phone to Lizze and said "Daddy, phone." She called me so he could say hello. Words can't even begin to describe how much that meant to my. That was his very first phone call. I felt so good after that. A 30 sec. phone call made all the difference in the world.

Thanks Elliott..... Daddy loves you. :)

When is it enough? How as a parent of a special needs child do we know when it's time to wave the white flag? When Gavin was attending our local public school, it was Hell. Plain and simple.

He had an I.E.P. (Individualized Education Plan) that stated he was to be sent to the Behavioral Specialist with a note, or even a blank piece of paper pretending to be a note, if he became upset but still manageable. His teacher Ms. Chenault (I have no qualms using her name here because other parents need to know what she was like from the stand point of a parent as a special needs child.) refused to do this. She would get into power struggles with him. She would yell in his face. Banish him to one side of the room to sit alone because the other children feared him.

When I set his I.E.P. up for kindergarten that year, I had his therapist there. I also had the school psychologist as well as a few other professionals. While we planned the I.E.P. his therapist was going to give Ms. Chenault tips and tricks for dealing with Gavin. Ms. Chenault refused to attend the meeting, although by law she is required to do so at some point during the meeting. Then when it came time for her to sign it - thereby agreeing to follow it - we had to wait for her to return from the bank! She was too busy with her own life to do what is required by law for her job. Gavin's I.E.P. had provisions for all of his difficulties. We tried our best to cover every base and every angle. Still Gavin struggled daily.

It became apparent to Rob and I that public schools, especially this particular district, was the wrong fit for Gavin when we were informed that Ms. Chenault had allowed another child's grandparent/guardian to take Gavin into the hallway and yell at him for his behavior and frightening her granddaughter. This never should have happened.

It was shortly there after that we learned Gavin was Autistic. You should have seen how quickly the principal's eyes became dollar signs when he heard that! I took great satisfaction in informing him that Gavin would be pulled from his school/school district to attend a charter school. He tried to assure me that his staff was "more than capable of teaching and caring for Gavin". I assured him that "his dollar signs were showing and they weren't quite so willing to teach him or care for him before the diagnosis so thanks but no thanks". It made me sick.

Granted, Rob and I would have probably pulled him anyway. The staff had no interest in doing what was best for Gavin, especially not if it inconvenienced them. However, even if they had tried we would have pulled Gavin. Trying does not mean that it is the best environment for any child. Gavin's teachers were in over their heads, on the best of days. His classmates were absolutely terrified of him. The other parents were wary of me because they had heard of me "through the grape vine". It was uncomfortable, at best.

We pulled him for his own safety, as well as for the safety of his classmates. There comes a point, when as a parent you need to make a decision that may make your life more difficult. There comes a point where, as a parent you must realize the one thing you would like to ignore above all else...that your child is a threat to himself and others. There comes a point, when action needs to be taken and sticking your head in the sand is no longer a defense mechanism. At that point, denying the truth does nothing more than harm others and make you look completely irresponsible.


While to some this post may make perfect sense, I'm sure that to the rest of you this is completely confusing. Unfortunately, this is another of those situations where unless you've lived it, you cannot truly understand it.


I simply needed to vent this. I needed to put this out there, even if only for my own benefit.

As I've mentioned before, I *heart* Big Brother. In fact, I'm probably mildly obsessed. That aside, I'm furious right now! On MySpace, I am a member of a group called "Autism Connections". I woke up this morning and check my MySpace info to find a bulletin from Autism Connections about my beloved Big Brother. (see below)

Feb 15, 2008 1:12 AM
Subject:
Man on CBS show Big Brother calls kids
with
autism "retards"
Body:
***** I got this from Joy. Thanks for
making us
aware Joy.original message from Joy:I hated seeing this and it
made me angry!! A
PR Guy on the big brother show works for an autism
foundation and called
children with autism, RETARDS!!I don't know about you,
but I will be making and
filing a complaint against CBS and I'm goning to
try to find out where and what
the foundation is, that the guy is working
at. I'm sorry to post this on
valentines day , but I wanted to know and see
this! Please repost and pass
along!!Our children are at risk by this guys
presence at the foundation he
works!God Bless,JOY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GNwuXRY8X7E

So I follow the link to YouTube and this is what I find:
(It won't allow me to embed the video for some reason so please go and watch at the link for yourself.)

CBS AIRED THIS!!!!

I am sickened by this...this...I don't know what to call him. No real man would call Autistic children retards and then defend the statement by saying "What? I work with them all day, I'll call them what I want." or "Well, they are. They're all retards, it's not my fault." Whatever he is, he's sick. And not in the "oh I kind of pity him, he doesn't know any better" kind of sick. He's just a sick, self-centered, narcisstic....ARGH!

So here's what we do, we contact CBS and complain. True, they have no control over him. However, they have control over their show.

Next, I suggest we contact United Autism Foundation (the Autism Foundation he is a PR rep for) and we complain to them. Again, they have no control over his actions. However, they control his pay checks or the lack thereof. Autism fundraising is struggling to begin with, we don't need it connected with a schmuck like Adam.