Wednesday, December 26, 2012

Merry christmas and a happy new year.

...and we go on, another year is coming.
All the good things are waiting just around the corner. It is true.... absolute...whispered in a dream and set in stone. They said it the elves at the crossroads and the ghosts in my dreams. It will be better...for better or worse.
Be careful what you wish for and thankful for what you have.
Let us blow the past to pieces and build again.
Burn it to ashes.
Bright flames to show the way.

Happy new year.

video

Saturday, November 24, 2012

On words and hope in winter

The days go past ...so fast.
Christmas is in a month. The days are short, cold and dark and windy.
Winter is always heavy and crushing.
Everyday brings too much. Too many things to remember too many people to take care of.
My daughter is traveling around south America...happy and adventurous.
They are three together.
They feel safe and untouchable...invincible.
She does not call as often as I would like...I do like to keep my people close.She wants to exercise her independance.

My oldest son is growing and I see him less and less...his friends becoming his world. I worry if I have done well enough. He seems fine ...not much of a talker though.
A skateboard or a snowboard, that is all he needs.

Sturla is making new strides and progress all the time and I am amazed and sometimes even hopeful that there will be an end in sight one day.
Perhaps.

I get nothing but good news from school. He works on group instructions and staying on task.
Social skill are another chapter...we have had two play dates with classmates. The little friends want to come back so ...mission accomplished for first step.

That life is whirlwind of dreams and excitement my mind all over and yet always with you my son as I strife and berate myself for my lost patience and longings.
Your future constantly on my mind so I lose sight of the now and here now and then and for that I am so sorry.

...and then you make me laugh at the strangest moments...
What is for dinner...Tortillas your father replies
When is it ready....sooon..your father replies
Ohhh I am so happy ...you exclaim loudly, exuberantly
...and then I am so happy too...how could I not be touched by your joy ...over a diner with tortillas.
I did not know tortillas could bring such joy, and now I know.

He shares with me all the time now. Ideas and funny things he sees.
He gets simple word play and that lifts my spirits...
His sister catches a baracuda in Cuba. He makes a joke..an untranslatable joke  a play with words and I am stunned. I wonder if it was luck...but I have chosen to go with intent.
Language has a great meaning for everyone...for me it is also an identity. We are generally good with words in my family. We translate and write...my father was a linguist, my grandmother wrote poetry. Wit is words. This play with word was a code ...for me it was us...family country identity and roots. We would exclaim over a new unheard word, jokes were word play and a limerick would be made over dinner. And we would snigger at the final line...together
...that family is gone now...my father and grandparents dead and the words gone.

I do not have time for words and play anymore...
We work and fight for words and we cry over the lack of them.
But now I think...Perhaps ..there will be a day to play with words again.
So in spite of dark winter days I am hopeful this month.

Sunday, October 21, 2012

Seven years old yesterday.

We wake up together in the family bed after a late night watching Pirates of the Caribbean.
"It is saturday " he says..." we saw the pirate movie yesterday evening".
Happy birthday I say smiling. How old are you today.
"I am seven"
No drilling this time to remember and understand how age works, he just knows. The use of time concepts comes easily and fluently into his thoughts. Pronoun confusion is history.
It was a bit scary was it not? I ask.
"Yup" it was a bit he admits.
Where is my teddy he asks me and then finds it, and a book. He takes care to situate the toy so it will see the book and then reads to the teddy. Now he is hungry, he says when he is finished and we go downstairs to feed our children.
We spent months on the theory of mind programs last winter and there it is...in use.

His patience wore thin as the film went on, it is too long but he refused to go bed and I let him stay up with his brothers, it was their sisters turn to pick a film.
Pizza and a film for a friday night. And then I took him to my bed so he would fall a sleep quickly and not be disturbed by his older brothers still stuck in the action of fighting pirates...

We get up and start preparing for the family party.
Are you baking a cake for my party? He asks.
He is asking a lot more than he did before the summer and we are pretty close to our goal of at least twenty questions a day. How questions kicked in last august and now I hear one every day.
Why and when need a bit more work I guess.

He is now I would say somewhat conversational at least with adults and with his brothers as they give him the necessary help to sustain the flow of a conversation.
He loses the thread with his class mates though.
He picks a classmate and a question to ask everyday in school. Last week he asked if B had a pet. B told him yes and the day after B brought a picture of his pet to school to show Sturla.
We are trying to build some connections. One question a day may not be much but it makes him seen and acknowledged.
Nothing is built in one day.
Patience.

His teacher is sweet and willing to accommodate and his aid his wonderful. Our consultant attends the meetings with the school and she is listened too.
So far so good.
He sits with the class the whole day and rarely needs a break. He is learning the same as they and refuses to be taken out of class when they are doing something he already knows like reading. The class is on beginners level and he is reading like he was in second grade. He reads fast and fluent...but he wants to do the same as they do, so he stays.
The school uses incidental teaching. There is knowledge of both aba and teacch. But they do not  use either method in particular. Accommodating each student as they see fit... I go with it.
I will not rock this boat.
The best thing is, Sturla loves going. The first time in three years I do not feel guilty leaving him.
it is a good feeling and makes our lives so much easier.
The goals for this winter include listening to group instructions and to keep on working on his assignments. He drifts off if left to his own devices and needs to learn to stay on task.
His mind wandering to who knows where...like when he sees the trees and leaves moving, he is lost in the wind and the light and the movement.

The piano goes as well as always we still have that wonderful teacher. He will be finishing that first suzuki book before Christmas, music is just amazingly effortless.

He wants a Parrot for his birthay.
This he decided last winter. When his brothers rescued a stray parrot...which later was returned to its owner, a little six year old boy that cried from joy when he saw his beloved bird.
We get him a parrot.
...he picks one, a bright pale yellow bird just like the one that we found and he names him Mikki.
...like the parrot I told him about that I had when I was little.
He remembers more than I know and seems to retain more knowledge than I am aware of. I see more and more of examples of it.

He is thrilled when the doorbell starts ringing and the guests arrive. He is happy about all the presents and shows interest in everything.
Happy birthday the guests say and he replies happy birthday....it is enough to say thank you I whisper.
But he is to excited, to remember.
He loves an angry birds t-shirt with lights on and fart balloon.

He does better with each birthday and I have to remember how time is after all on my side. I have been fighting time so long trying to teach as much as possible in the shortest time possible stressing myself endlessly and now I see it flower, as he makes it his own.
I love to see him unfold...I like what I see.

...and so it goes on.
 It is a marathon and I am catching my breath this weekend. We are going swimming and I have decided not to mind that we are low on hours because we are also entering a new stage where a shift is needed.
I need to grasp how to go about it.


Friday, October 12, 2012

Getting my head out of the sand.

There is too much going on apart from the daily tasks my mind is all over the place and i have no idea where to begin.
There was this facebook group someone pointed out to me when the family had that crasy meltdown over the last failing playschool.
An energetic mother with two kids on the spectrum started this group in order to prepare for a group pushing for changes.
I of course stuck my head in there....lots of wonderful parents with stories of a sucky failing system.
We met...established a grpup party whatever this would should be called.
Since then two press interviews...one with other two parents and our picture on the front...it does not take much to get anxious me going and I admit I hardly slept for a week after that one.
I feel I cannot back down that would be failing what is right. But I am not sure I have the stomach for this...I am so afraid of  say something wrong, not to have all the facts straight and to offend someone. The darling husband encourages me and says I will get used to it. But I am not sure.
I am stuck...
I want to stick my head in the sand but then I would not want too look at myself again....
... so I am stuck.
We will meet again tomorrow and decide the next steps...one will definitely be calling the attention of the media. We have to call for a debate with psychologists teachers special education and all the others.
There is now a policy of full inclusion in the schools. Now many and perhaps most of us long for our child to be fully included and to be able to function in a "normal" school but that can not happen unless the schools accommodate and know how to accommodate. The University that educates our teachers has not one single course on what can go wrong in a childs development...nada about autism adhd and all sorts of other labels and diagnosis.The have no knowledge and nothing has been changed in the education system in order to welcome and accommodate those students that come from special education schools and are now mainstreamed. Unless you have an IQ above 50 you are mainstreamed. Exceptions been made in rare cases.
Mainstreaming is a great thing when it works..and oh boy how I want this winter to work out for my little one.
But it has to be done well. People have to know what they are doing. I know there is a lot of knowledge out there about how to make mainstreaming work. The thing is without the right resources nothing works at all and mainstreaming lots of special need children least of all.
The first step seems to have been closing down special needs schools...not building resources in the main education system. Not educating the education system.
The irony is that a few years ago teachers studied for three years to be able to teach children now it is five years....they refused to add education about special needs.
There are waiting lists everywhere for every step.
Our story is that even though my son had a preliminary diagnosis at two and a half years of age he had official ABA at 3.8 months old.
One and a half years was lost. We started on the beginners level of almost everything with therapists starting on zero ( I call a five days course on ABA zero)
Catching them early is a joke in this system.
There is a weird consensus going on that parents should not be pointed towards scientifically proven methods, but are given a choice.
...a diagnosis and a choice of action...It is a horrible choice.... a scary and unfair choice.
The responsibility of the right choice lies with the parent. Do we all have the means to read science studies to catch upon the best autism treatment while we come to terms with the emotional turmoil of our childrens diagnosis.
It is a sick play.
The participants represent doctors and educators psychologists and special education teachers who all fend their positions knowledge and power and try at the same time not to offend each other because it is nicer as they all have to drink their  coffee in the same cafeteria.
We are a very small community her in Iceland.
And this choice between methods is somewhat real as far as play schools go in theory at least but when you enter elementary school....you just take what you get and if you are lucky you get some nice people to work with your kid....any notions of ABA....better get that out of your head.
...it only leads to trouble.
People post questions like.
Does your kid have an individual education plan?
Do you get to see you kids IEP(equivalent)?
I might be mad enough to get over my stomach...anxiety and longing to keep my head in the sand.
Our story is nothing compared to the ones I see in our group and compared with the horrors parents of older children have gone through.
I write this to clear my thoughts and to see if I am mad enough and I think I am.


Thursday, September 20, 2012

Winter is already here



https://vimeo.com/49809856

We are still good.
He is loving school.
We still strive for 30 hours a week of homemade ABA.
He is happy.
He asks every store clerk their name.
My grandmother died.
The leaves have barely turned yellow
still winter is already here.
Our much trusted consultant is pregnant.
I will miss her.
There are ends and beginnings everywhere.

Thursday, August 30, 2012

The first days of school in first grade and a birthday party... on crutches.

Everyone was all smiles and happy vibes. I felt strangely comfortable the first day..
He said goodbye and went with his aide...not even looking back at his mamma.

He still has that plaster on.
Running is almost possible on crutches. Still he manages... he goes forth in long swoops and swings and sometimes I have to run to catch up. He has mastered the crutches big time.
I picked him up just after lunch as we agreed to keep the first day short. He was still happy and still smiling.
"We go back tomorrow" he says matter of factly, as we enter the car.

There is a birthday party invitation in his back pack with a picture of a blond boy posing as soccer player.
I have no idea what to do about it.
Sturla loves birthdays... but can I leave him for two hours in a strange house?
I did in the end.
Nervously I ring that doorbell and a tall blond woman and a trail of young boys  open the door. I think I should accompany him for a while I explain...he is new in the class and he is on crutches I mumble vaguely.
...Lets use those crutches...
Sturla is already speeding up the stairs and I follow ...feeling stupid and superfluous in the party. He enters the room and starts looking at a book. In a while he approaches a boy and says Hi. T what are you doing and sits down beside that boy not really waiting for an answer and starts playing with some things.
I am speechless.
And I decide too take my leave...
A little over an hour later I am back to pick him up and he is beaming with happy...
As we leave he asks the hosts mother the name of her camera and if she has batteries in it.
The camera is called canon and it has batteries.
She is a bit taken aback with him and answers dutifully.
Yup...that is resolved then.
He leaves smiling with a bag of candy which I let him eat in the car even though it is dinner time in an hour.

The second day of school goes smoothly as well.
The third day there is a tiny complaint as the car stops and we are about to enter the school.
He says he does not want to go.

This is all it takes to shatter my confidence.
I take him in my arms and tell him that I will be fetching him soon enough to go home. He needs that touch and melts into my arms for a second and then he hobbles out of the car and into the school. I walk with him to the classroom where his teacher and 19 other fellow students wait and leave him in the hand of his aide.
Today he leaves happily again and I am glad I let him attend that birthday party. He wants so badly to connect.
A word or a smile will make him think he has a new best friend. That is all it takes.
The little friends though become bewildered by him quickly enough and I am terrified that things will take the wrong turn and he will be rejected.
I has only been a few days now.
But this is it.
It will not get easier it will just be a different kind of hard  and every year has new challenges.
I guess I will just bask in the sunny fact that the last days have gone well enough and he is happy.





Sunday, August 5, 2012

Camping, rhubarb and a broken leg

 The camping king.
Climbing as high as the mother can take and getting down when she starts tearing her hair out.
Strokkur sprouts water every few minutes. What I loved more was that When we sat down on a bench Sturla made a garden in the sand with pebbles and sand.
 Happy brothers
Rocks are made for climbing.
 Eiki is my best friend he says.
 The beach and the gate to the center of the earth in the background.
The water is freezing, but who cares they dive in anyway and dance to the clatter of their teeth.
We were driving back from our camping trip and decided to stop at one of our favorite spots. There was wind all around but magically that spot on the beach was calm. White sand beaches are rare in Iceland.

The rhubarb testing and the bowl of sugar. He did not really like it but tasted it several times anyway to please his mother
 The broken leg and the boy attached to it. He did so well at the hospital..answered any question asked some were asked multiple times from different doctors and nurses. What is your name, do you have a best friend how old are you and on and on and on...,so patient with the social niceties of the world...aimed to calm him.
And yup we are getting on that plane to France tomorrow broken leg and all.

Friday, July 20, 2012

In the midst of summer

The summer is passing by so fast too fast.
We are busy really busy.
I still teach in the morning my kids have turned around the clock...so we can all spend more time together and so we can fit in his program five hours a day ...and it does not matter the sun shines at any hour anyway.
They take the bus to my school and join me as we are running a course for children who have an Icelandic parent but live abroad. Those kids need to practice and improve their Icelandic. Some of them do not speak any Icelandic at all,  it is a summer school, a game and play course and we are all there, me and my daughter (who the headmistress hired after it turned our we were having more kids attending than was anticipated) running the course for the little ones and my sons helping out and including their brother in the games and actions.
My sons have made me so proud this week with the care and attention they show the kids and the way they pay attention to their brother and what he is doing. My oldest son is working there too, a three weeks summer job and the smaller ones are just coming in with me.
For Sturla it is a social course.
I would be lying to say it is a piece of cake it certainly is not. I wake up at six to prepare the course and to keep Sturla´s papers and programs in order to think of opportunities and then I have to keep twelve other kids happy and engaged and hopefully learning some Icelandic as well. Frankly some of them just do not see the point of speaking Icelandic.
The first week is over and I am crashing a bit...catching up on some sleep, regrouping and thinking over how I can increase Sturla´s interactions. He does well when we sing and read and do structured games even in a large group with forty kids and when I ask questions he knows the answer too, he stands in line, holds hands and is somewhat enjoying it all he even remembers the kids names.
Bur it takes a toll on me teaching two courses and then go home and teach my child. I have to take care and notice when I get cranky like a child and then slow down  no good teaching happens with a bad tempered teacher.
He has difficulties in many tag and run games though and when the sessions are unstructured.
I also have to keep him engaged with a reward system... tokens to remind him to join and stay positive for three hours until we can go home.
He finds something to do on his own now and then even though it is not always social like chasing the bees or drawing with chalk in untructured time when we are outside which is the hardest for him and that is progress.
I have too set goals for next week.

Chin to his chest pacing on the green grass not looking up
not seeing
noticing
Come here and I pull him in...because he does not enjoy himself like that
it is an inability to plan and sequence that makes him like that.
he needs movement
he craves it ...it helps him focus
he talks better when he moves
he laughs more on the move but he needs purpose in his movements.

I plan to let the kids end the course by setting up a little play.
And I plan to have Sturla participating as well.

The three goats and the troll under the bridge.

we have been on two camping trips.
Lovely weather.
dirty clothes
steaming cocoa in the chilly evenings
swimming in new pools
grey moss and lava
jumping between the tectonic plates
loosing balls into canyons
fishing
walking and waking and endless waking because summer is too short and the nights are long and bright.

The rhubarb in our garden is huge and sturla suggest he tastes it ...first time ever we run out with a knife and cut a piece I give him a bowl of sugar beacuse that is how I ate rhubarb as child.
I have a sour face...he says and... yup... he does.
I want this summer never to end.

Wednesday, June 27, 2012

A fishing trip and a tiny little turd

I enjoy this summer. Even though I am still working every day and will not get any vacation until the beginning of august. It does not matter.
Sturla is so lively and funny I feel I am getting to know him again...he used to be like this only now his language is better now.
I got all my boys out of the house just now. I asked them to go and fish some fish into a bucket and handed them nets on a stick or whatever it is called...I wanted a break to drink my coffee do do some laundry or whatever make some phonecalls...just a break.
They started arguing Sturla got sulky and cross Dabbi refused to participate and do his share and I got pissed.
They came back before the fishing trip started.
I started telling them off ( his older brothers) Sturla cried. DUHH
Those who cannot play outside and do various fun things can not be on the computer playing their favorite games was my respnse and then I left them alone. To do some thinking.
They love the computer all of them and we need strict rules or they will spent the summer inside in front of the screen. That is not my idea of summer.
Sturla came to me and pointed out to me that he was crying.
Yes, I acknowledged and went about my business.
A very unsympathetic cold mother.
Few minutes later he got the bucket and the nets and said I am going fishing.
Go and ask Eiki to come with you I told him.
Hey Eiki do you want to go fishing?
Sure!
And then Jöri came (he really likes his time for his favorite game)
And Dabbi...and they all went
... and now it is raining and I feel guilty.
Not really enjoying my coffee.

We have been practising impossible commands...
I say... hey... Sturla walk through that wall.
His reply: No I can not.
Why I ask?
Because it is thick or made of stone or something along those lines.

We have also been talking about pee and shit and such disgusting stuff ...you get the idea.
Sturla got a good one or so he thought.
He brought me a tiny turd he made all by himself and asked me to eat it. expecting me to go through the practised recital...
No I can not
Why
because it is disgusting

Instead he got a very thorough hand washing

He is getting ideas now and too many of them are pretty wild.
Does the cat fly? OOpps
Do we drink pee? NOOOO
I think I need to settle him better into reality ...only fantasy is more fun.
I totally get that.
His favorite game these days is to ask impossible questions and answer yes and then ask true questions and answer no.
And of course laugh hysterically.

Here they come soaking wet and so happy with one tiny little fish.

Friday, June 15, 2012

Summer plans

Finally there is summer.
Vacation.
No more lunch boxes, no early rising. Getting too school on time is done with for a while.
It is just me and the husband who have to be anywhere on time.
No more search for matching socks.
It does not matter when we go to sleep there is no night anymore.
 bliss.

The boys run around in shorts and I shiver just looking at them. They play outside with water pistols and do not mind the breeze.

Sturla does not like it much when he his clothes get wet he takes them off, gets cold quickly and shivers.
He laughs and points to the naked buttocks of his brothers when his they strip themselves of the wet clothes. He would not have done that last summer.
I make a point of laughing with him and his brothers run shrieking for towels to hide their nakedness.
So much for scandinavian open mindedness.

He plays the piano still and there is steady progress. He loves seeing himself on the camera.

He is sweet and calm mostly again but more opinionated than before. It is a chance to learn I tell myself when we disagree. There have been no heavy tantrums for a while and for that I am grateful. He manages to come back after a while.

We practice pronouncing, fa fo fo af ef áf óf and so forth and he adds log off....
Fox means refur he says out of the blue....
...let us focus on Icelandic I think. But wonder how he picked that up.

I have yet to find a fix for expressive and receptive language disorder.
But we are working on it as hard as we can.

We are working on imitating six words in a sentence and it is hard for him to discern between all the small words that glue the sentence together. He confuses af and að and the consonants and many others and I wonder if we will ever bridge that gap.
How do you know... is another program we are working on.
Matching features.
Naming from categories is being revisited.
Theory of mind. It is my opinion that theory of mind should be redifined as a language skill rather than empathy or an understanding of another ones mind. Sturla does not lack empathy, he lacks language.
We are adding to vocabulary practicing words for object placement and naming parts of objects.
We are counting above twenty and stopping. Count to eighteen, count to 22 and so on. I have not worked much on math skills but school is calling soon.
I make a question game with his brothers to work on attention and mix questions he knows and does not know the answer to. He rises his hand when he knows something and I reinforce him to pay attention and remember the answers his brothers give.

He has started to write all by himself and now he can complete simple written assignments.I add that into his play book which he can use independently for about 30 or 40 minutes with a bit of praising and reinforcing.
I am working on vocabulary through the books he reads making him match words and meaning encouraging him to ask what words mean.
I need a clearer focus on how and what i should be working on there. Reading comprehension is on the top of my wish list...right there with language per se.
Conversation picture descriptions and story telling are ongoing programs that I visit every day.

I tape him as he picks his nose and describes the delights of snot.

His brothers play with him every day for long periods of time and his play skills are coming along though never as fast and far as my dreams.
We play games outside and add to his repertoire of structured games and we play inside.
Eye contact is a never ending story but it has improved.
Wh questions are still an ongoing project, needing to be linked into reading comprehension.

It is a lot to juggle and I am never satisfied with myself.
There is always room for improvement.
I am tired and find myself dosing off during the day any strange time at all.

But it is summer and we spend a lot of time outside. He goes looking for crabs and makes houses for larva he finds. He rescues stray bees that come into our house and thankfully the wasps are not out yet.

We drove to the westfjords. Visiting hot baths and high mountains old houses and some family.
The boys roll down steep hills and we see seals and the weather is beautiful.
I just want to pack our bags and stay outside for weeks.
It would be lovely to come home with the autumn winds.

We are going to France in august for three whole weeks. The boys have not been abroad for six years. Sturla is exited and keeps telling me how he will stay at the beach and swim in the ocean and then he gets cross and demands that we go straight to the airport.

He will be in school next fall. With a one on one aid full time.. She is experienced a special education teacher and a therapist though not an aba therapist. That is something hard to find here, I think she is very capable and I frankly would rather have a capable experienced person as an aide for him than some newbie or someone with a superficial understanding or knowledge of aba.
We will continue our work at home as long as we can or as long he needs.

I know it will be hard for him.
But I will not think of that now it is summer and we have travel plans and playing plans.
There are no autumn winds blowing yet.

Sunday, May 27, 2012

Happy graduation

My oldest child, my daughter is graduating.
We invite everyone we know and have meant something in our daughters life.
We do not do babtisms or confirmations but this we will do with gusto.
She is and was the funniest kid ever. She was so from the moment she was born.
Nothing ever happened fast enough for her. Walking, talking.
She could climb walls and she was never still, she knew and still can recite countless Disney movies and texts.
She pretended to be a lion for a year at the time hubby was studying in the USA and she did not understand the language so she just growled at people.
She still does occasionally.
Awww what a sweet little girl someone would say and in return she would stretch her neck forward and do this amazing lion growl.
She has always been amazing to me.
She plays the flute and has taught herself to play both piano and guitar and she sings and I firmly believe she can do absolutely anything.
She has no idea what she wants to be.
Perhaps she can sing Disney songs somewhere.
Perhaps she can growl.
I am sure she will do a good job whatever she makes up her mind to do.

Time has gone so fast and she is grown up.
In April she was in car that went off the road during a snow storm...only fifeteen metres and they would have fallen into the sea 200 metres down.
There would have been no more singing.
Luck was on our side.

I want to celebrate your future darling beloved daughter. Your joi de vivre your humor and loudness. Your soft heart and common sense.
I am a lucky mother.

It was a great party with singing and music.The higlight being when the her father sang Mufasa´s song to her I wish I had it recorded.
Hilarious...



Thursday, May 17, 2012

Random thoughts

Last week I looked out of the window to see tiny white snowflakes drifting down from the sky.
My tulips played dead in the garden....and the green looked trampled and pale.
Vegetation is amazing and a few days later it is as if nothing happened.
The tulips are perky and straight and the leaves grow bigger every day.

I play the behavioral detective still.
But I am just putting out fires.

Be opinonated and yell.
Express yourself. I asked and begged
Be quiet child. Do as I say.
Be both.

Silence and passiveness is behavior too and  I would not go back to that, for anything in the world. For the first time in his life, he goes out alone with his brothers to play. I even let them go down to the sea too look for crabs on their own.
I f anything happens, one of you comes running back and fetch me I say and talk them through all the safety measures I can think of.
You all hold hands when crossing the street and take care of each other and remember to remind your brother to watch out for the cars.

He comes home energetic lively and oh so happy.
We found one he says.
The sleeves on his jacket are a bit wet and his fingers red and cold.

This is growth.

I take our program apart and wonder if I make things too hard for him. I switch over to more nonverbal programs and increase the emphasis on play.
The truth is I am tired and that makes me a bad teacher.

The last days of school are full of little festivities and concerts and the kids have exams.
Eiki is playing on his saxaphone and we take Sturla with us too watch and think nothing of it, he has always been well behaved.
Not now.
He squirms and growls and then it escalates into screaming and I run out of the room. He calms down and I manage to go back just in time too see Eiki perform. Then I run back out as Sturla starts screaming again.
Dabbi will be playing on saturday so...
I will prepare him better.
He will sit through that little concert.
Wish us luck.

My daughter is graduating next week and we are preparing a huge party. I look forward to it and I want it to be grand and it makes me stressed.
This will be about her.

I am thankful I am teaching a really small class at the moment. I can chill a bit at work. My students now are absolute beginners in Icelandic and we take it very slowly focusing on relaxed atmosphere and talking.
I teach immigrant workers, refugees, people that have married Icelanders, that travel to Iceland and some that have some special interest in the land  All sorts of people.
I feel like I meet the whole world in my work. I meet people with no education and also highly educated people from all kind of backgrounds.
It is always interesting and sometimes challenging.

It breaks my isolation keeps me sane and helps me see the bigger picture.

Not everything is about autism all the time.
Sometimes it is just life.



Friday, May 11, 2012

Rising temperature

My sweet natured boy has been showing some new tendencies and I do not understand the cause.
I wanted him to be more assertive and even yell out from time to time but I do not know where this is going.
He refused to do as his piano teacher said and she is so wonderful and always ready to accommodate.
It has been escalating for a while...he just pounded on the keyboards no matter how we made plans and suggested what marvelous things he would do afterwards. When the time was over (he has only 30 minutes) and he realized we were leaving without him finishing the plan and gaining his privileges (playing on the computer) he lost it I carried him screaming outside and asked my daughter to get our shoes and then went to the car wearing just my socks
I do not understand he likes playing the piano.

( my daughter came because as it is suzuki the parents are supposed to learn as well to play and I just do not get it, not my department and he learns to quickly for me, a matter of great pleasure of course)
On my way out I met an old aquintance with her sweet well behaved daughter and their violin case and she looks at me concerned and with shock on her face, is everything Ok she asks.

(Sorry can not talk now and no nothing is Ok...)

Just fine I say and manage a slightly crumpled smile.

What happened?
Two other tantrums happened the same day.
We fetch his brothers and buy some sweet cookies on the way home...an awesome treat.
I get the idea since it is sunny and his big brother has some very nice playmates for a visit to play games in the garden and eat outside,
...juice and cakes and nice stuff.

They boys run outside a large group... my three and two extra
Sturla makes big deal of not eating in the kitchen...
I am stubborn. I hate rules.
No, we eat in the garden.
Followed by thirty minutes of screaming.
He goes out in the end though but my nerves are frayed.
My mind is fried.

Hubby is working really a lot now and I tackle dinner time and therapy on my own this day. I run to the store and pick up some burgers to make my cubs happy I even buy cider which they love and while I cook they chat with their brother and my daughter keeps them in line and is on the token system. Their goal is to keep Sturla chatting until all the nuts in the bowl go to another bowl.
Teamwork.
I am so proud of them how they help and understand and play with him all the time...  day after day...

Sturla is really happy and  playful and the nuts go plink, plonk into the bowl with quite a regular rythm.
Then he decides his hamburger bread is an excellent plaything and starts using it as a character and telling this story
...and the boys laugh... he was hilarious.

Then the bread broke into pieces...
I did not see it, I was cooking and the ketchup was missing and I was just nor reading what happened so I start talking about where the ketchup is and there we go again.
Screaming ...screaming
I can not communicate with him it seems to trigger more screaming.

Half an hour later he ate the burger.
A salty burger with tears.

This is just not as it should be and I can not see the pattern.
Perhaps he is tired these days as the weather gets better and better perhaps I make too many demands perhaps he ...perhaps I...
Perhaps it is growth and he is testing me...I do not know.



Friday, April 27, 2012

Day three, doomsday.

The last day of evaluation Sturla goes with just a bit of complaining and his mood is rather sour. He finishes the assessment with the speech therapist although he occasionally lays his head on the table and pretends to snore but he  refuses to work with the other one. So we skip the rest of the testing. They say they can go without it as one test covers some areas of the other one.
We are all exhausted and we are done.

Today the results gave us some idea where he stands among his peers.
He has both expressive and receptive language disorder and that is a huge factor in holding him back.
He no longer has a diagnosis of mental retardation. He has gained somewhere between 25 and 30 points in three years.
The road is still  uphill and we are still in the lower range but...
On nonverbal tests he scores as his peers. Still the charts look like the Swiss alps. Reading and writing skills are now called strenghts, nonverbal tasks as well.
He is still almost two years behind in language.
He is gaining language at least on a normal speed perhaps a tiny bit faster.

This was actually not as bad as I thought it would be. It was not great and I think he can do better but I know where we were and I also know where we are headed.


The doctor who turned the results over to us met us three and a half years ago. I did not believe he could go that far she says.
I make an inward snort...
Did you not... I think... This is the reason I do not share his files with the schools. No one will put a lid on his abilities.
We are not going to allow it.
They will get a rudimentary list of skills and strenghts they will know that he can learn as his peers and that he has a language disorder on top of his autism.
What is Autism anyway. All those children are so different.
The doctor talks about how complicated it will be to meet his needs probably meaning his alp like charts. I do not know, perhaps it is perhaps it is not.

Sturla is a happy go lucky boy when all is well, he has a hard time paying attention he has a hard time talking. He is gadget guy a reader now and an amazing piano player. He is interested in other kids but does not know how to interact and cannot follow their conversation.
He is a sweet natured child, he never hits and seldom screams.He is not difficult himself. It is just hard to keep his attention. He needs a very good structure to focus and stay on track.
All I know is that I am glad this week is over and that we can continue our work and I can focus on teaching him again.



Tuesday, April 24, 2012

Day one and two

Day one.
Shit I am not doing this...damn should we not go? just fuck the system.
We go ( my rebel heart very small) and are met by two young women who barely see their subject of assesment, they are so busy being scientific.
Guess no one told them pshychology is not a real science.(my smartass father told me this once, he was a real one ( scientist I mean) so that is why I know)

Sturla is happy and lively in the beginning but quickly starts yawning and giving silly answears. Sometimes he ignores them sometimes he gets sidetracked in his mind.
Name me something elsa than a car that has wheels. Four he says...ahhh the examiner replies ( she thinks he said bycicle as he can not yet say a rolling r) bicycle!...two he replies.

I am in a absurd play and look around almost thinking there must be a rhinocerous in the room.
Nothing here and I mean nothing, the room is bare and cold and totally uninteresting.
He yawns and it goes on and on and on. I asked if he could have a token system. no that would not be suitable.

Stupid stupid I think.
I am getting seriously pissed.
Sturla is getting seriously bored and starts yawning more and more and doing his ignoring thing.
He is really good at ignoring.
Can we go home now?
Not yet...
YAWN

We are both getting pissed me more than him. During a short break I loose it a little bit. Just a little bit. I tell the examiner that she needs to establish a connection with the subject and that the subject is not being cooperative.
 You know what. It is all part of the game.

Fuzzy answers about generalisation.
pissedy piss

When we get home I am furious and declare that if hubby wants this test done he will do the rest himself. I am not participationg in this stupid stupidity.
I have great vocabulary when I am mad.

Day two.
I cool off during the night.. a little bit. we make some calls.
One is about the results they are ours and ours only. We let them know how we feel about finishing this... or not finishing this.
Then we get going.
Sturla refuses... he is coaxed. and we go. Back in the exam room he refuses altogether. She tries and I stomp out muttering something about the total absurdity of this all.

He is totally noncompliant and no use continuing.
We go home and make some drama and coffee.
I write a social story make a plan and we are back two hours later. We use token system he can come to us for little treats and breaks. And the examiner makes an effort to interact a bit before they start.

We get a new room a more cozy one.
It goes better.
Still he is kept doing this for more than an hour with two short less than two minutes for breaks.

Please can we go home?

I make her stop before she is finished when he lays his head down and refuses to answer easy questions.
She agrees to continue tomorrow.
So tomorrow it is.
Stupid stupid.

Friday, April 20, 2012

Next week

Evaluation....I dread it.
Testing
IQ testing language testing pshychological testing adabtability testing...
whatever you can think of testing.
We have not been doing so great on those tests historically.
Pretty much flunked it all, collecting labels.
Autism.. mental retardation, no language. I am really scared to see it on paper where we are, even though the gains you have made are obvious to everyone.
I think I will keep my fingers in my ears and sing loudly when they start telling me in their calm sympathetic voices where you are and what we might expect.
I have no stomach for reasonable people to outline your future.
I have no intention of listening.

I will keep my head in the sand my mind in the clouds, my feet on the ground and my arms around you.

I regret not quitting that playschool much earlier...

so much has improved eye contact, language, play, joy.
I hate that there are only so many hours in the day.
I hate not being able to do more.
I hate my limitations and tiredness.
I hate my mistakes.

 there..
I dread next week and what it brings.
I am probably most afraid that no matter how hard we work it will not be enough.
I can dream of your future and what you will conquer... I am very far away from accepting that limits will define your life.

I am scared that I fail you somehow.

Friday, April 13, 2012

It is nothing

On Fridays the children in the school sing together and we go too listen to our eight and ten year old sons. Every Friday Sturla runs and finds a place somewhere in the group. He sits down and if he knows the text he will sing too. I berate myself for not teaching him all the texts but there are so many other things he has to learn too... so it really has not happened as it should.
Besides this is not his school yet.

I stand there shortly before the singing
having a conversation with Eiki's teacher.
Sturla has found a place to sit.
"Mamma..." I turn and face those green eyes.
" it is nothing.."

But that my sweetness was everything.

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Is it spring yet...?

Little bits of general knowledge drilled in by DTT sessions.
Tiny seeds of information
trying to make a pattern
books about seasons.. pictures...conversations about the weather.

Then he stands by the window and the snow is gone
the trees still black and dripping wet and the bright green of brave lilies

This unruly head of hair like chicken ass in the wind... we laugh
blond baby hair turning dark
he is getting long and lanky
pyjamas too short
cleft forming in his chin.
getting into mischief..
cutting curtains and drawing on walls.
He has a new way of saying yes... a no nonsense, kind of way.
yup... he says and it sounds short and brisk.
as if he has other better things to do with his time than answer my ongoing questions.
It is a I am busy kind of yup....
a lets turn to other things kind of yup...
a leave me alone kind of yup...
It is a very independent yup.

Is it spring yet?
he asks ...

I relent, and declare... yes... it is spring.
Hoping we have seen the last batch of snow.
Hoping the weather gods will humor me.
See...we need consistency. Teaching the cycles of seasons and weather
....please humor me this time.
And still I know very well it might snow again at least once perhaps twice.
It is only april after all.

But then again the lilies prove it...
and the days are getting long and bright.

Sunday, March 18, 2012

The meme I have been tagged for...



I am not quite getting the hang of memes and tags...
but being a good sport...
and as both Marsupial mama and my new blog friend Flannery both tagged me
I comply.
And I am flattered

ten things you might not know...

My earliest memory is from Norway from the time my father studied there in the seventies and I was about eighteen months old.
It is snow everywhere... but given my short stature it might have been quite average.
My parents built me a snow horse and I remember anticipation and excitement, when I was put on back... there was this terrible disappointment when nothing happened... I very clearly remember that I expected something more...
there it is my first memory is utter disappointment in reality.

I have extremely bushy eyebrows which I never pluck.
Thanks to Brooke Shields who was on the front page of Vogue when I was at a vulnerable age.
Thanks to my father from whom I inherited my eyebrows and general looks, and whom I still miss fiercely.
Thanks to my great great grandfather the shark hunter from the north and whose eyebrows are depicted very clearly on a statue put up in his honor on the island where he lived and hunted.
Thanks to Frida Kahlo who is just a marvelous artist and always looks stunning with those raven wings across her face on every self portrait she ever painted.


I grew up in the cold war.
Iceland's fortune was to be in the middle.
My father had long hair and radical opinions... my mother had a more conservative view of the world.


I remember being babtised. I was five.
At the confirmation my father asked if I was OK if he did not come to the church, I was relieved... I did not want him to see the parade.
Religion annoys me.
I think it is genetic.

I never knew what I wanted to be when I grew up so I tried law and was disappointed. Then I switched over to philosophy.
Then I wanted to be an artist so I went to art school and studied sculpture.
I still do not know what I want to be.
I am a wannabe.

My husband and I met almost twenty years ago. My father died that same summer.
My daughter is almost nineteen.
children grow
Time flies.
Things happen fast

I did not plan to have five children they just happened again and again and again and oops then I did it again.
I am glad they did.

I used to read a lot as a child and when I read I was so totally immersed in the book that I literally could not hear anything in my surroundings.
People had to touch me to get my attention.
That ability or disability sorted itself when I had children.

My sons were all born at home. I read as obsessively about home birth as I now read about autism.
I was fascinated when women told of painless birth.
I wanted to experience it and I did.
Sturla's birth was nothing less than magical.

I still like fantasy better than reality.

Wednesday, March 14, 2012

No more snow

Finally there was this heavy rain pouring down washing and cleaning a way the dark dirty clumps of winter.

I take the bus to work these days leaving behind a very happy boy in pyjamas and a sleepy eyed teenage daughter. She is so brilliant with him.
Hubby pics me up after work and there he is again...smiling and happy greeting my fellow teachers as he walks in.

We manage between us about six hours a day of therapy time.
We are still sort of cleaning up and seeing where he is.
We intend to make this work.

there is reading playing and piano and a very full program

once a week our consultant will come and right our course

Every child that comes within a ten feet radius of our house is coaxed into play and conversation and I walk around with my pockets full of sweets and silly toys to lure them.

Some of his passiveness is gone. He is more opinionated he yells more and that is good.
He needs to wake up

yell and be happy
express yourself
be mischievous and creative
and above all act up
get ideas
That is progress

good sweet and calm became passive and unresponsive lately

And I intend to wash that away like the last bits of dirty snow

Spring will be upon us very soon.
Big words...but...
I have to believe it.

Tuesday, March 6, 2012

The only way is forward.

I cut my hair
I washed my floors
I am done with angry emails
the broken reckord in my head has resorted to whispers

and I ask him do you want to go to playschool
No, I quit... he says
Are you sure... do you want to go?

I am so afraid of the answer... because he would tell me.
No I quit....

I sigh in relief...

And now I watch him with his bunch of brothers...playing... laughing
now and then rushing to the piano playing little pieces of music, because that is his stim.
Constant music.

he is so lucky to have them
they are his playschool

He is happy.

Friday, March 2, 2012

Goodbye and thanks for nothing.

This is a translation of the post I recieved from playschool this morning. Yesterday we had workshop with our consultant..which frankly was not what I hoped.

this is what they had to say

" We have decided to use a different approach to work with play. We can no longer take B(a peer) out of his group or other children in the play school.
When we work with children we want to do this on their terms and for their benefit not on their cost(lousy translation). B is not benefiiting from playing with Sturla as all the work is on Sturla's term not his.
B himself does not want to be apart from his group and has started to say so himself.
We will continue to work on play by offering various children the opportunity to a free play that comes from themselves with Sturla."

To which I replied.
First by rushing in a dramatic fashion and getting my kid out of there and then by letter.

In a response to the letter I received this morning and in explanation of my reaction.

1. A different approach than suggested by professional consultants?
2.No other children in play sessions? ...(meaning therapy work)
3. Is Sturla's therapy and progress harming other children?
4. I put a question mark on the attitude ..when teachers therapists can not see and work with children as benefits them both typical children and children with developmental delays.
5. We have never suggested that a child should be a therapist for Sturla. Or that one child should be picked out for play sessions. This has been discussed several times.
6. Free play?
a. children with autism do not learn play or social skills by osmosis.
b. Therapists claiming to work with children using aba should do so by building systematically up useful skills and make use of professional advice.

With this in mind I can not see how Sturla can continue his stay at this so and so playschool.

Regards
Þ

Thursday, March 1, 2012

Can you do it?

Please be a monster he says almost crying to his brother Eiki as I drive his brothers to school.

And I am so sorry I have to get to work and get him to play school.

later today he is again at home with us

Can you do it?
he asks.. handing his brother a drawing...
Sure I will try...

what is it? I ask

A labyrinth
And there they are on a stack of paper both small and big.
At least ten of various complexity.

making me so blissfully happy

Monday, February 13, 2012

IEP..or something somehow.. whatever (tag at last)

The tag from Marsupial mama... here it comes at last for those interested in how things might work in another land and somewhere else...

Here things work somewhat differently..
Not surprisingly for a nation of 300 thousand.
We have one center that serves the whole country... one drowning center in a sea of autism.
The system is very cut and square... we pay a huge sum in taxes so pressure is high... things are supposed to work...
The system believes it works. And sometimes it does...people have a right to the same kind of services regardless of their income... that is how the ideal is.
This is scandinavian wellfare....
....and to some extent it works.

Free therapy and even monthly support for education materials and such if needed.

Could work!
Should work!

And the system loves itself and believes in itself and we need a playschool to get support...and every child is entitled to a place in a public play school.
Private enterprize when it comes to education is not the thing... that is social democracy. We love equality.
Do not get me wrong I like that there is a good wellfare system and I will not complain about taxes...

It just has to be put to good efficient use.
That is where i will complain.

And then there are always random factors, human errors and the general chaos of life.
And special needs are never the priority in any society.

Nothing is in writing.
The playschools rule themselves within regulations.
The Center for disabilities do consultations not hands on steering.

This is how it happened to us...
I went to as 18 months check up... somewhat late as I was not really concerned there was just this tiny itch somewhere that I could not get rid of and a kid should get his checks but on the whole I was not too concerned about my baby... you see there is nothing wrong with my kids ever... ever.
I felt I kind of knew my stuff... five kids gives you some weight in the baby business.

I had a good doctor ...a mom to four kids and I listened to her... in the end
She wanted him checked.
I said we will see... that is how stupid I was...
and the itch grew and it grew.
My aunt has a good friend... she works at this center... my aunt asked if I wanted to meet with her.
I did.
The itch was getting bad.
He was diagnosed on the spot.
He was two and a half years old. I did not feel anything.
Perhaps I did not believe her.

This is when I drowned myself on the Internet reading about autism.

We went back to that doctor.
Sturla was getting a placement in playschool and this is where the preliminary diagnosis took place.
I wanted everything explained to me... every thing he missed and why and how and how he scored and how the test were done and you name it... I could not stop asking and reasking and pushing for better explanations.

No one told me what we were supposed to do.
We were put on a waiting list at the center.... it took six months and he spent his three years old birthday at the center.
While we waited I found out about some things. Slowly because no one pointed us in the right direction and the Internet does not necessarily give you the best info when you google autism.

The warfare in autism treatments.
That our district had denied aba to every child and parent who had asked for it, even though the center works even handedly with aba and teacch according to parents wishes.
There is no consensus on treatments here...

Beaurocracy.
Hail democrazy.
Anything goes

So the fight began.
Turned out someone before us had sued.
We got aba.
No one had experience with aba in the district....
We got a wonderful consultant from the center. Still she would only be around for some standard consultation.

I read all I could and bought books and read about what the components of a good aba program would be... I wanted to know everything.

Early intervention consisted of no written plan and a one on one aid that had back problems and was just as often sick as able to work. When we recieved aba he had two therapists but if someone was sick or if the play school was understaffed he missed his therapy...
hours were low continually.
They did not understand the programs or how to implement them.I
I tried complaining
I tried explaining.
After all they did not spend every night reading about autism.
After all it was not their child that needed help.

The playschool complained...told me to my face I was difficult.
There was just something about me... she said....and then her voice trailed off
We quit.
It was just to hard.
I just did not get it... why would not the whole world hold its breath and help my child. I still don´t
We hired a young girl as a therapist and she became his new therapist at a new playschool.
Things worked somewhat for about a year.
T was inexperienced and she was not good at teaching social skills and the playschool itself could not handle anything. She argued with the headmistress.... I had them complaining.... one in each ear.
yackedy yack

Things sucked more and more...
suckedy suck

We got a new consultant from the center...I missed the other one.
I hired my own consultant mainly because I thought we needed more intense meetings twice a month or just when we needed assistance, we are still working together.

T quit.
The playschool refused to work with our consultant.
We quit,
the center agreed...things were not working.
Playschool number three looked good on the surface... but was probably the worst mistake we ever made.
We are still banging our heads on that rock.
And here I am feeling quite stupid and still pissed.
Trying to be a one size fits all therapist... mother and a part of the working force.
I we quit this play school and do not start with yet another we have no choice but to pay for therapy ourselves or do the therapy ourselves. The former not being an option.

The system does not consider failure... it does not consider that parents may object to lousy therapy and there is no such thing here as a board certified behaviour analyst.

I just know one thing and that is ...
I will never quit.
Never ever.

And slowly I understand better and better how he should be taught and how to handle the system.
It is just too slow.
Ideas change slowly.

Children with autism have no time for slowness on the other hand and that is the hard part.

Sunday, February 5, 2012

The rock and the hard place.

If we pull out of play school we loose all support.
We will not be funded for a home program.
Wednesday we get the consultants from the center (there is one center that serves the whole country, this center has several divisions and handles all disabilities)for a meeting and a week later a follow up meeting.
I have been on the phone a lot last week.
Do I think anything will change.
Not really.
I have found programs after programs that have not been generalized into the playschool.
The hard work for both my son and me on personal pronouns seeping through the cracks because there is no follow up.
Ask versus tell finished and fluent in end of october not worked on in playschool.
and more...nothing works there.
The same old lame reinforcers used again and again until he is sick of it all.
There is no connection between him and his teachers.
He shuts himself down.. does not answer does not look.
Can work like this be fixed..
We are trying.
I will continue to bang my head on this wall until the end of february. Then we look at the status.. Do I see dedication blooming or just a scratched surface.
Is he learning?
Is he happy?

The sad thing is seeing him give up... this social thing is so hard ..
Then I give up on the system and we stay at home until school starts.
Who knows how he will handle that.

I know there is no such thing as giving up...but will never again trust anyone for your education. But at the same time I know that the world has to become your playground and you have to respond to it so we have to find our way again...
We just have too...

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

The final set back...

Our consultant broke her leg rather badly...
As I really feel sorry for her I feel very sorry for us too.
At the moment I feel this is the final straw.
There will be no more hands on consultation for the next few weeks... I actually do not know for how long.

The hopes I had were built on her.

All the curse words I know in any language I have ever heard go through my head at a rapid speed.

I just want a break from all this stupid stuff and I just want my son to be happy.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

Battles in the playschool

There is a silent battle going on
battle I am very much afraid I will loose...
How does one change peoples perspective and attitudes.

I am not alone though

My wonderful consultant is already coming into the playschool once a week (apart from out meetings, those were not enough as her advice was not being followed)

No use having great advice when it is ignored.

Now she is breathing down their necks..nicely but sternly.
in and out
out and in

We are on our second week of heavy breathing... third one coming up.

We actually have this great system that children with autism have a right for aba therapy in playschool.. 25-30 hours a week.

It is just no use when people are not actually doing aba. When people have no training and have such a hard time generalizing what they are being taught.
We have for the last year provided the playschool with a free course on ABA.

Meaning our consultant.

To no avail
Then there was staff problem now there is ....I do not know what...

There are only a few months until playschool is over and done with...
There will be summer.
There will be regular school and mainstreaming with a one on one aid....
The pit in my stomach grows and grows.

There are certain things I really really would want him to get better at before we start school

Following group orders.
Talking to peers,
Conversation.
Attention
Attention and did I say attention

I actually have an endless list but that is another story.

If this does not work out the next few weeks We will pull him out and try building a home program until school starts...

I actually have discussed this with the school districts and the whole organisational package and they agree...

Play school sucks and may well be beyond repair.
The sad thing is that it is not for lack of wanting to do right but the lack of skills and know how.

I am beyond anger now.. my thoughts are getting clearer and more calculated as I attend meetings.
I am not afraid of anyone anymore.

Just the future


We went swimming yesterday as we so often do..
I love swimming when there is snow and sleet..watching the steam rise in the darkness. The burning sensation in my feet when we step into the steaming hot tub after walking on the snow.
The boys ran happily around in the slides and were wonderful at engaging Sturla.
I sat and watched.
Relaxed.
I met...a girl from college. Her ten year old son was there he has autism too.. so different from Sturla. He seems very engaged and had great eye contact is talking a lot but still has mental retardation and his movements were awkward. We talked quite bit.. she told me of another girl in our year ... mowing home from Sweden and abandoning a great carreer because of her son with autism. I have heard that the attitude in Denmark is very much let us wait and see apparently in Sweden too..

I feel a hint of my anger... rearing its ugly head... that time consuming... fire spewing dragon... such a waste... those children are worth it all...quality programs... educated therapists... educated choices

So many children.

And such a waste in energy...
There is knowledge out there... there is money...

Not enough people that care enough...
... there I go again...
... there is no cure for being pissed off.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Janúar

The weather and me... the rain the sleet the snow and frost and thick chunks of ice everywhere annoy me as much as the constant criticism I seem to be handing out to everyone around me.
It is this dark month I tell myself...
It will get better in a couple of months.
When the sun rises again.

I annoy myself.
I am swearing and feeling giddy and flippant at the same time... I am beyond ...
slightly crazy

Normal is an unclimbable blue mountain in the distance
we go shopping for groceries when hubby returns from work I have been stuck with no car in the weekend no outings and just my pleasant self as adult company.

Normal is the faraway land ... a fairy tale... a fantasy
the golden pot at the end of the rainbow
the soft spot on the dragons belly

Sturla is happy to get out and he is running around in the store getting lost on purpose trying to find some good stuff to sneak in the basket....yet ...yelling.... mom where are you?
I yell back and we meet in the middle of a field of yellow cheerios packages.

He wants to watch the christmas calender on tv... christmas is over I tell him for the hundreth time.... Perhaps dad can act it for you. Or the clerk I point to a young man stuffing groceries in a bag. The young man smiles and looks away... too shy to answer

I am the shop keeper he declares as he sits behind one of the checkouts... I pretend to shop...

Normal is another land

din of cats paws
woman's beard
fish breath
bird spit
...and what else did the dwarfs use for making this unbreakable rope...

I tie myself freely and willingly to this fantasy
I knowingly will not have it another way
It is my way

....and often lonely on this highway....
the only way I can live with...on the way to that unreachable blue mountain.

We have been working non stop the week and the weekend and I am tired and silly.

Christmas break is over.
There is work tomorrow.
Playschool and the battle for team work...
I better check my tongue and put on a pleasant smile in happy land.

And I watch you my sweet child and you are worth it all and much more.
Worth your weight in gold
Worth your weight in tears
worth my worries...
My budding pianist
My budding conversation partner
My budding bunch of potential

It is just a tiny leap of faith.
I can do it
After all I can believe in ghosts and dreams and elves so how can I not believe in you.

Sunday, January 1, 2012