Being Me…

and discovering that that is quite the roller coaster ride. Wanna come along?

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Twice exceptional children

I learned something new this week – I learned what “twice exceptional children” means.  It seems that our oldest child is on the autism spectrum.  My husband and I have fought (well, argued) against this “label” for some time, but when we went to his IEP meeting this week, some valid points were made to support it.  In addition, we had him evaluated and the verdict was that he may have a learning disability of some sort.  (We’re going to have another evaluation done, just as a side note).

At any rate, in the discussion of autism and his difficulties in the classroom and socially, we also discussed his strengths.  They told us that he does VERY well with reading and math, so much so that the school has run out of books to test him on.  He’s in second grade, and they say he’s reading past a sixth grade level.  That’s when they said he’s a “twice exceptional child.”  We’re going to look into the gifted program for next year – and he’ll still be considered as part of the special needs program as well…

Needless to say, this has been a lot to absorb.  And I’m having to fight the urge to beat myself up because we’ve argued so long against autism.  I know that it doesn’t do any good to kick myself, but that doesn’t make it any easier to stop.  I keep telling myself that all I can do is the best I can, with the information that I have at the time.  Sigh.

Well, we’re going to readjust, shift our thinking, and move on.  Here’s to twice exceptional children, good support systems, and a village looking out for children!



You can pick your friends but you can’t pick your family…

I love my family.  Don’t get me wrong.  It is just that right now they all seem to be out to make sure I’m depressed…or insane.  Whichever, apparently.  Three days ago, my mother, in what should have been a simple, friendly conversation, calmly said something to me almost as an aside, that plunged me deep, deep, deep back into the depression that I thought I was working my way out of.  I’m back on medication and I’m no longer feeling like jumping off the nearest bridge.  (Can I just point out that if she thought she was helping, that is help that I can do completely without thankyouverymuch!)

Tonight my father called.  He means well and most of the time our conversations are ok.  Most of the time – notice that phrase.  Tonight he again assumed that my son (our oldest) is autistic.  He calmly told me that there is disability thing for Social Security for autism.  He thought that would help us out.  I paused.  This is not the first time that he’s mentioned autism and our son in the same breath.  This is also not the first time I’ve told him that our son has not been diagnosed as autistic and that i see no qualities in him (nor do his doctors) that indicate autism.  I’ve got enough going on right now with my seizure-suffering daughter without him adding this.   I’m just speechless.

Right now I have no desire to speak to either of my parents.  And I’m living with my parent’s-in-law and that has its own set of issues.  I’m going to be stark raving mad by the time we get through all of this crap, aren’t I?