You are your father's daughter

A lot has been happening lately... still... always.

I got my girls signed up for kindergarten. I successfully requested they remain together, thus eliminating a possible stressors for them out the gate. During the enrollment, I disclosed Sine's diagnosis and Cosine's pending diagnosis. Thus, beginning many years of a partnership with the Millcreek school district in finding the best education for my daughters.

I finally (after a couple weeks) met with the woman from the IU who is doing support services with Sine in the classroom. She has already given me some insight and ideas. I look forward to working with her throughout the rest of the school year, throughout the summer, and through the transition into kindergarten. She comes across as a kind, emphatic, open, and knowledgeable person-- the antithesis of the girls' preschool teacher.

I am also looking forward to working with the folks at the Achievement Center. Sine and Cosine had their meeting with a psychologist last week. Sine, immediately received her diagnosis and plans for in-home services that would be working with my husband and myself as well as the girls. Cosine will also benefit from     these services, seeing the girls are the same age and always within an arm's reach of each other. This gives me a bit of ease while we are still trying to assess her needs and possible diagnosis.

I attended a presentation by Pennsylvania PEAL Center (Parent Education & Advocacy Leadership Center on parent advocacy. It was EXTREMELY informative and a definite resource. It made me realize what I was told by the Achievement Center psychologist was true. Get everything in writing, and request everything in writing. As un-eco-friendly as it sounds, create a paper trail. And, that is one of the reasons I can't sleep tonight. Because apparently, two o'clock in the morning is the best time to compose a letter to your daughters' school principal because you don't trust their teacher to accurately relay information, events, or facts. And also, it appears to be the best time to begin composing the letter you plan on sending to the principal and Catholic dioceses about the failings and misconduct of your daughters' teacher. A letter you plan to send TWO MONTHS from now.

The two-hour long presentation by PEAL was arranged by the Northwestern PA chapter of Autism Society, a group for parents with children on the spectrum. As a parent of two children on the spectrum, it would seem to make sense I dive into such a support network. However, as an adult ON the spectrum, I find it very difficult to relate and share with others so visibly and desperately reaching out to each other for support. I definitely feel more comfortable in a group of autistic individuals than a group of parents of autistic individuals. And, I am not comfortable disclosing my own diagnosis to these parents for fear I will then be looked at through a microscope or approached for insight when I am, in fact, looking for insight myself. Wait, is that what they refer to a reciprocal? Hmmm. I know I will need to find a balance.

Also, this week I disclosed Sine's and Cosine's diagnosis/impending diagnosis to my father. My father is exceptional hard to read because he doesn't speak much and he is pretty stony. When he does speak, it usually comes across as abrasive and neck-breakingly to the point. And, usually somewhat offensive because of the expletives thrown into the mix. I coined the description that he is only warm to pediatrics and geriatrics. He is a nurse working with men at a veterans's nursing home. And, I have heard he is very good with the men there. He is also very caring and loving to all the kids in the family under the age of six. And, I expect (from personal experience) puberty is the cut-off for him. I have only shared this assessment with my aunt, his twin sister.

Again, he is a man of few words. When I was eight years old, he told me, "I tell you I love you once, that means forever." He has such depth and wisdom, but it isn't always immediately apparent. He was the one to blatantly tell me when I was in early grade school that if I didn't look people in the eye, they wouldn't trust me. He also told me when I was looking for colleges my junior year of high school, that "not everyone needs to go to college". Back then, I thought it was a lack of caring on whether or not I continued my education. But, at the age of thirty-five and three bouts with college later, I realized he meant there are other worldly pursuits that may fit better, be more rewarding, and won't have a payment plan that ends in 2022. My feelings about my degree which has nothing to do with my current employ go like this: it's like paying for a house you can't live in. But, that is another blog entry entirely.

All said, my father loves his family more than he is able to express. I know this. Therefore, I felt I needed to fill him in. Plus, I started to think remaining secretive about all of this was not healthy. But, most importantly, it carried an air of shame. I do not necessarily want my children or myself to become poster children for anyone's autism awareness month event. But, I would NEVER want anyone to read into my behavior, my writing,  or my silence as saying being autistic is bad, should be hidden, or removed. I am, at the age of forty-one, more happy and satisfied with myself knowing now that I have Asperger's syndrome than I was five, ten, or thirty years ago NOT knowing. And, my daughters are still as perfect as they were two weeks before diagnosis... as perfect as they were they day they were born. So, at the end of my conversation with my father, I squeezed in that I was diagnosed two years ago. After telling him I didn't want or expect to be treated any differently, I promptly ended the conversation. I guess I am willing and able to jump over the hurtles with him right now, but not prepared (nor do I desire) to climb that mountain.

Again, it is hard to read my father. Not just because I have Asperger's and can't read 98% of people's intentions or subtle emotions, but because my father show little emotion. His rage and his good humor differ only by the direction his beard moves. So, I wasn't sure how he would respond. He would probably tell you to get up if you were on the ground with two broken legs. He would wrap your wounds and give you crutches, but he would tell you to get up. However, my father was very receptive. Please refer back to the pediatrics or geriatrics comment. He also seemed to be informed about the nature of Asperger's and autism. He was reassuring and supportive. He also had a few select words about the girls' less than effective preschool teacher. Words which I have heard numerous times throughout my Irish Roman Catholic upbringing. Words most often heard on a street corner or in a bar, but in our family frequently heard at the dinner table.

Well, the ticking of the clock next to my desk just caught my attention for the past five minutes, and I think I am losing my concentration. I am going to share a recent email I sent to one of my best friends to wrap this up.

"He did actually tell me you called. I can't find my cell phone... like I ever check it... so that number maybe kaput soon. God only knows where it is. I may find it when the girls graduate from college, and I clean off my desk.

Yeah, work has been a bit of a female dog lately. Just takes one a**hole, one big enough to make up for the other 99% of nice people. Plus, believe it or not, it is a bit stressful working somewhere where you see one to three people die on any given night. Accentuate the positive, I know. I called off last Tuesday. I am usually pretty rigid about only calling off if I am sick. But, I rationalized that 'being sick of it' contains the word 'sick'.

Well, I am up at 2am, because I can't stop thinking. I went to a meeting about parent advocacy last night. Got me thinking I need to write something to the OLC principle about working with and considering (Sine)'s diagnosis and (Cosine)'s possible diagnosis as well as continuing to accommodate the woman from the IU. Whom I met the other day, and she seems like a REALLY sweet and informed person, Kim K. All because, I don't trust Mrs. S. to relay information accurately if at ALL!!! And, if she asks me one more time if I can tell my kids apart, someone is gonna lose a tooth. Probably me from clenching.

Did you decide on a preschool yet? Should I ask? Forget I asked.

Girls are signed up for KIN-DER-mah-GARTEN! Taxes were done by midnight April 17th. And, we priced out the tile for the upstairs and downstairs bathrooms. Designing the new landscaping. Hmmm, time to find some new stressors. Anyone? Anyone? Well, I REALLY REALLY hope to talk to you soon. To see you would be even better.

Did you enjoy the 'just any other day' day?

Meow."

In reading this, I see I am always doing more than perhaps is mentally, emotionally, and physically healthy. But, I get things done. Sharing that I just upgraded my sewing machine to a new Husqvarna (read the history of the company Husqvarna history) to begin a cottage industry doesn't seem to correlate with any opportunities to relax, but I am not a good sitter. I seem to work best when my body is nearly vibrating from all the things to do.

Also mentioned above is a bit about my new job. Perhaps it is job thirty-eight or close to it. I will be taking the opportunity to reflect on my work history soon. And, more importantly, to discuss some of the less then congenial work relationships that have developed recently and some in the past. One of THE MOST DIFFICULT things for me in my life with Asperger's has been navigating the work place. For someone who doesn't go to sleep (yet insists on six to eight hours when not suffering from a thoughtful insomnia) until I pass out, I can say working with others can be the most exhausting thing.

More later. But, enjoy this: Chicory Tip!