Mom’s IEP

First I want to tell you about my new series “Mom’s IEP” which will kick off next week Monday. Typical children get through each typical day in the same general typical way.

Typical parents raise their typical children in the typical way that works for them.

Some children can’t make it through a typical day like typical children. (At this point I have said typical so many times the word has become nonsensical.  How apropos).

These children probably have an IEP or Individualized Education Plan. The plan has an outline of goals for the child complete with steps to accomplish each goal. It will also state additional services and resources to help the child be successful in school.

After reading over LeBella’s first IEP a few times I knew it wouldn’t be enough. I had to do my part at home but in order for me to be success as a parent I was going to need an “IEP” of my own.

In the beginning I had one goal: Reduce the chaos. Over the years the goals have changed and evolved with the needs of my family. Some of these goals include: turning bedtime into a pleasant time, getting everyone to the table for dinner, incorporating chores, less fast food, more exercise, yada yada yada.

Each week one special needs Mom will be sharing with us her own personal “IEP”, what tips, tricks, and tools get her through the day and keep the chaos at bay. If you would like to participate please email me at mommylebron@yahoo.com. I am very excited about April’s line up!!

Bipolar Tuesday: Let’s Party

Starting next week the linky for Bipolar Tuesday will be back up. I want to do more with this so here’s my plan; we are going to make a list of symptoms less abstract and more concrete. I want to see posts that put each symptom in action. They can be funny or serious. Next week the topic is SEPARATION ANXIETY. Just write a post about you and your child’s experience with separation anxiety and come link up on Tuesday!

Washing Away Stigma:

This week I want to recognize one blogger. Her efforts and organization to bring together special needs parents across the board is astounding. Danette of SoS is another strong voice on the front lines, raising awareness and obliterating stigma. Thank you Danette for all you do!

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Sweet Baby Girl at 1 month old

Sweet Girl's First Birthday!

2 years old and pretty as can be!

Pretty Princess is 3! Prettiest butterfly ever!

Lil Diva is now 4 and sassy!

Graduating preschool at 5....

This Lil Skater Girl is 6!

7 years old and already a rock star!

My Chunky Cha Cha Moo Moo is 8!

At 9 LeBella has become a Baby Blogger, know what that means?

That means you should go leave her some birthday love on HER BLOG! Did you know she had one? She hasn’t posted a whole lot yet, but she takes great pride in it. I know when she’s 100% well it will become her pet project!

I’ll be posting again later today, LeBella wants to get all prettied up and take Birthday Pictures (even though we aren’t celebrating yet lol). Also, I’ll be debuting info on my new Blog Carnival!!

As most of you know I started back at college last week. And also that I had a bunch of crummy days because, well, I’m alive so it’s inevitable. It may have been that I was emotionally depleted and therefore feeling attack when I really wasn’t, or just letting things get to me more than I should. I really am loving my classes because it’s something just for me and other than the stupid math I enjoy the subject matter. Two of my classes are online and we use a discussion board or forum as our “classroom”. I eager typed out my intro in my very me-ish style. Highly collegiate? No. But we were supposed to bring our personalities. Mine was broughten.

“Hello, my name is Amanda. I have been with my husband (of 15 years) since I was 16 years old. We have 3 annoying beautiful children together and we live in Palm Bay. Our sons are 11 and 13 years old. The Princess is going to 10 in 2 weeks b(I just teared up typing that). I was almost half way through an AS in Early Childhood Education when my daughter’s medical condition worsen and I had to devote my attention to her. Now almost 3 years later I am returning and I have changed my major. I plan to work towards a degree in psychology.

I am passionate about a lot of things. I love to write and make time for it every day. I maintain a blog where I chronicle the ups and downs of raising a special needs child and preteen sons. I also share poetry, short stories and exceprts from my WIP. (I am writing a fantasy romance series. Aren’t we all? No? Just me? Alright then.)

I am very active in social media (read: addicted to Twitter and Facebook) and use my outlets for advocacy and awareness. My biggest causes are pediatric mental illness, child abuse and bullying. I created and maintain an online community that allows parents raising children with Bipolar Disorder to connect and share resources.

I spend my free time with my family and pursuing my other hobbies such as reading, needing work, world domination, baking, movies and video games.

I can often be found sporting a circa 1950′s style apron. Yeah, I’m that mom.

*I tend to use sarcasm humor as a coping method and I am known to invent words when I feel so inclined.”

Imagine my dismay on this very downtrodden day of mine when I got the following response:

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Rashu approached the willow trees quietly. She looked like a wood nymph standing there among the weeping limbs. She let out a soft sigh and he saw her lip quiver. In her soft grey grown she nearly blended into the early morning mist, and her hands fluttered at her waist nervously.

“Emilia…” He reached out to her, longingly, but let his hand fall to his side. “Please just let me talk to you. I have to find shelter soon.” He looked towards the horizon, willing her to understand.

“What do you want from me Rashu? Why won’t you leave me be? One minute you’re attacking me in the gardens, the next you’re trying to help me with my chores. Every time I turn around I feel as if I’m tripping over you and searching for Tiago.” She looked wistfully into the distance and sighed again. He felt the warmth of her breath across his skin and he locked the sweetness of it away. A small memory for him to bask in later.

“That’s because you’re looking for the wrong Chthtonian. Don’t you know that by now? Don’t you know who we are? Sit with me, just for a little while; I want to tell you a story.”

He saw the uncertainty flash through her eyes right before she settled on the fallen log beside him. Again he tried to file away every detail his hungry senses could absorb. He noted the softness of her small hands against the gnarly tree trunk and the swish of her skirts around her ankles. The scent of her ebony hair; lavender and musk, hung around her like a halo.

“Emilia, this story starts a long time ago. Long before you met Tiago and I. This time.” He pushed on before she could pose any questions. “I know that Kitty and Tiago have told a great deal about the Chthonian. And I’m sure Tiago told you that you were my Mo Anam Cara?” He glanced sideways at her. Her wide eyes had gone even wider and her delicate mouth hung open in a most unladylike way.

She turned slowly and he braced himself for her denial. “What did you do?” she forced each word through gritted teeth, standing and towering over him like an angry hummingbird. “Tiago told me that you had a secret, that you had a secret and you would find a way to use it against him. So, that means that you did something, something that broke our bond and you’re going to try to blame it on him.” He had never seen the lavender of her eyes darken with rage and it confused him.

“You knew? You knew we were soul mates and you pushed me away? Why?” He tried to hide the hurt but it was hard, he was wearing down, it had been so long since he had just held her. His arms felt emptier than they ever had. He was losing hope and ruining any chance of getting her back.

“Let me start over, please?” She didn’t meet his gaze but tipped her delicate chin slightly and he took that as her assent. “Let’s skip the beginning and just get to where things started falling apart. It was just a couple days after the Queen had released your memories. I was over in the next town; I was guarding a young woman named DeeAnn. She is, she was, Tiago’s Mo Anam Cara.” He stopped, letting his words sink in, she stiffen beside him, but said nothing.

“She was sleeping. And,” he stopped again, overwhelmed by the guilt he still felt, even after everything Tiago had put him through. “She was sleeping and I was walking the perimeter of her cottage. Suddenly you flooded our bond with fear, terror and I panicked. I failed to trust my brothers and I acted without thinking. I left her sleeping and when I got to you, you were so upset, you kept going on about the women in green and I stayed with you until you were calm. I should have sent your Guardian to DeeAnn, or trusted him to guard you and stayed put.” He looked to see her reaction, expected her to be as disgusted as everyone else had.

“Are you telling me that your “race” is so inflexible, so uncaring, that they took away your soul mate simply because you left your post? That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever-”

“They took her, Emilia. They took DeeAnn. Those women in green? They were the baobhan sith. They tricked me and lured me away so they could get to her. I don’t know what they wanted with her. That’s why our bond and all your memories were erased. It was because my actions caused another Chthonian to lose his Mo Anam Cara. I cause our entire race to lose her. That is why Tiago has this enormous grudge against me. He’s using you; he’s going try to hurt us. To get back at me.”

“There is no us,” she spat at him. “You’re wrong!” Her chest was heaving, her face red with anger. “He loves me!” She turned to run away but her grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Even with tears glistening in her eyes she was smirking at him. She looked pointedly at his hands on her arms and it slowly dawned on him. He didn’t feel anything other​ than the creamy smoothness of her skin.

“When Tiago touches me? I feel the blue lightening under my skin, coursing through my veins.” The blood drained from his face and his eyes darkened with understanding. Mo Anam Cara.

And with that she was gone.

*               *                 *                        *                             *

This contribution to The Red Dress Club’s Red Writing Hood meme is a scene from my WIP: The Guardians of the Chthonians: Book 1. Our prompt this week was to write a piece of dialogue. I’m going to call this one a fail because I am far to detaily to stick to dialogue. But I tried!

Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop

<a href="http://www.mamakatslosinit.com"target="_blank"
So the other day Mama Kat and I were sitting around drinking wine organic green tea and discussing her fab new look. “It’s important to grow in social media otherwise you’ll get stale and then Ellen will never write you back.” She was bleary eyed and her words slurred  just a little but I could hear the seriousliness of her voice. Then she turned to me and inquired “How has social media changed you, Mommylebron?” My star-struck heart did a little flip flop because she remember my name and then my fermented berry soak brain tried to pull together a Poodle worthy response.

>Hiccup<

*Ahem.*

When I started exploring social media on Myspace (shut up) I was a caterpillar (without the grossness and eating of leaves). I posted stuff (read:crap) on a semi-regular basis and uploaded eleventy billion pictures. I befriend all my family, close friends and people I knew from school whether I liked them or not.

Then I discovered Facebook. I felt more comfortable there. It was my own little cocoon where I was actually interacting with all my family, close friends, and people I knew from school whether I liked them or not.

And then?

I discovered The Twitter. Here I connected with not family. Not close friends. Not people I knew from school whether I liked them or not.

I connected with random people from all over the world who shared my interests, my passions, but not always my opinions (and that’s ok!). I have met so many amazing people on Twitter that I won’t list them here for fear of forgetting someone in all their awesomeness. After some time on Twitter, I was tempted into a new hobby. Blogging.

I’ve spent a good deal of my life feeling invisible. The wallflower. Often overlooked and forgotten. Suddenly I had somewhere to put my words, my thoughts, my self. And people notice me! They respond and connect with me! I suddenly feel less socially inept.

I feel like I’m building friendships and (dare I say it?) affecting lives. With my words. The words that have swam around my head for 31ish years. I gift them to you and you receive them graciously.

And suddenly?

Physical Education

When we enrolled Griffin (my 13 year old autistic son) in middle school, one thing we were sure of was that we did not want him participating in PE.  It was not because he runs like Herman Munster nor was it because of the famous kick ball incident of ’08.  Frankly, it was because we didn’t think he was mature enough to handle the locker room.

At home, after exiting the bathtub each evening, Griffin has no problem engaging any family member in lengthy discussions about elevator videos or Wilford Brimley, while still totally naked and dripping wet.  These conversations, when they occur in the kitchen, are great appetite suppressants but might not go over well with 50 hormonal teenage boys going through the most awkward stage of their lives.

So, to avoid any locker room mishaps, we elected to have him sing in choir instead of put him through the brutal teenage rite of passage they (sadistic gym coaches)refer to as Physical Education.  Considering his speech impairment and total tone deafness, we thought having him in the choir would, at the very least, make spring recital interesting.

A few weeks into the school year, his teacher suggested that he may be ready for PE and that we can avoid the locker room dilemma by allowing him to change in the ESE classroom bathroom.  We couldn’t refuse and Griffin was off to be tortured educated in the fine art of Dodge Ball. Turns out the gym coaches had some compassion on him and placed him with the girls.  Hmm.  I wondered, given his well known love the fairer sex, how this would sit with him.

Not surprisingly, he loves gym class although the teacher’s solution to the locker room problem was not without some hitches.  Specifically, I picked him up at school the other day and he came bouncing out with his shorts and one sock inside out and his tee shirt on backwards.  He couldn’t care less and neither did I.