Friday, May 30, 2008

Dr. Dillweed, Dipsydoodle and a Series of Infuriating Events

Just had a weird and somewhat (ok, BIGwhat) infuriating experience. My mind is still boggling with a "this is SO UNFAIR" smackaroonie upside my head.

As I've written before, since Little Guy has turned 18, we had a list of things we were advised to set in motion for his future.

One of these things was SSI benefits. He's not in any actual need right now, especially since in our divorce agreement, his biological dad and I agreed to support him in all ways until he's 21. He qualifies for very little, which is how it should be.

But he has dreams of doing his own thing and living on his own eventually (even in an assisted living environment) and with that, he's going to need some help to be independant. He needs to be in the system.

Anyhoo, due to the basically overwhelming evidence from the med records I provided, he was "presumptively" approved almost immediately. Just a couple of more hoops to jump through, which I wasn't exactly aware of.

About 10 days ago, I received a phone call from a woman with a totally bippy cheerleader voice.

"Hi! This is Dipsydoodle, and I'm calling to confirm Little Guy's appointment with Dr. Dillweed on May 29th at 3:00pm!"

Whaaa? Who are you? What appointment are you talking about?

"We have Little Guy down for an appointment, and I'm calling to confirm!"

Wait just a minute. Who is Dr. Dillweed, what kind of doctor is he, and who made this appointment???---because I know I didn't!

"Dr. Dillweed is going to evaluate Little Guy for SSI!"

Ohhhh. Ok. Let me check my schedule. We've got stuff on that day. Can we change it to a more convenient time?

"You'll have to contact Social Security about that!"

Ok, I'll get back to you, Dipsydoodle.

So I called our caseworker, the fabulous Lady K (and I'm not being facetious, she really is fabulous) to find out what was going on. She said that we should have received a letter from SSI first before the "confirmation" call (ended up getting it two days later), but that it was really important to make this appointment.

So I rearranged our other stuff. Big Kid had a rehabilitative driving lesson down in the city early that morning (they're backed up for at least 2-4 weeks if you have to reschedule), and there was simply no way to fill in the 5 hours between appointments with lunch. Due to various issues between the guys, driving around and "shopping" wasn't an option. And driving back up into the mountains only to turn back and drive back down was just stupid.

We rescheduled the driving lesson. Last Thursday, I called Dr. Dillweed's office, talked to Dipsydoodle and confirmed our appointment for a week later---Thursday May 29th, at 3:00pm. Thought that was it.

A couple of days ago on Wednesday, we had 4 hours of appointments for Big Kid. ::sigh:: Just as we walked in the door, the phone rang.

"Hi! This is Dipsydoodle, and I'm calling to confirm Little Guy's appointment with Dr. Dillweed tomorrow on May 29th at 3:00pm!" More bippy cheerleader.

Hi Dipsy. I just talked to you last week to confirm the appointment.

"Well, we have a policy of calling a day in advance to make sure!" Rah rah, bippity doo daah!! No worries.

Ok, we'll be there tomorrow at 3pm.

We spent the morning at home. I Map-Quested the directions to Dr. Dillweed's office.

As wonderful as Little Guy is, he doesn't react well to changes in his routine.

Although I had prepared him for this appointment (he's not the kind of doctor who will give you shots, he's just going to ask questions and you have to try really hard to answer them), he wasn't happy about it.

Was I going to record Judge Joe Brown? Would he be back in time to see Judge Judy? If not, are we going to record Judge Judy? Would the dogs miss him? Would the dogs watch Judge Judy without him if he wasn't back in time? Was I going to leave the TV on for them? What about Judge David Young, who does justice with a "snap"? Would he miss that? What about Cops?

It's not like he actually watches all the shows. He just needs to know that they're on at a certain time and he can watch them if he wants to. It's part of a routine that he depends on.

So yesterday, we drove an hour down from the mountains into the city for our appointment. When we got to the facility, we had to double check our letter from Social Security because the room number listed was actually a physical therapist's office.

When we went in, I asked the receptionist at the desk if this was Dr. Dillweed's office. She said that he was really based in Denver, but saw clients in a room in their office once a week or so.

I said, "well we're here for our 3pm appointment." She gave me a funny look.

"You know, you're the second person who's come in for an appointment with Dr. Dillweed this afternoon, and he left for the day at about 1:30."

WTF? I showed her my letter from Social Security with the date and time on it. Told her that I talked with his office the day before to confirm the appointment.

She called his office in Denver, and explained the situation. Told the woman on the line that I claimed to have confirmed the appointment the day before.

The woman on the line said, "Well who did she talk to?" which was relayed back to me.

I talked to some woman named Dipsydoodle!

The receptionist said into the phone, "Well, she talked to YOU!" Guess she was talking to ol' Dipsy herself.

I got handed the phone.

Dipsy said to me, "Were you one of the people we tried to reschedule?" Cheer and bip.

No---you and I talked yesterday, and confirmed our appointment. I've been home all day. Nobody called to reschedule anything.

Dipsy: "Well Dr. Dillweed should be back here in Denver any minute!"

Lots more cheer and bip.

And this is going to help

Dipsy: I guess we'll have to reschedule your appointment! When would be a good time for you?

At that point, I'd had enough.

Do we have to reschedule with Dr. Dillweed, or is there anyone else available? I'd rather my son see an actual professional who values our time as much as he values his own.

Yes I was steaming.

No more bip. Voice of steel. "You'll have to contact Social Security about that."

Little Guy and I left the office amongst multiple apologies from the receptionist and therapists, who'd gathered around for this bit of drama. I raced home, seeing red.

As soon as I walked in the door, I called the number of the medical compliance worker that was listed on our "URGENT MUST MAKE THIS APPOINTMENT" letter and left a mighty frosty message on her voicemail.

We were at the appointment as instructed, the doctor wasn't, please call me to advise.

She called me back a few minutes later, and started with this---unfreakingbelievable:

Dr. Dillweed called her (during our hour-long drive home) said that he had PERSONALLY called and spoken with ME on the day before and I told him that we wouldn't be able to make our appointment, so he took us off the schedule. She'd like to hear my side of the story.

Was she KIDDING me? Seriously? The Dillweed said he had spoken to me personally?

I was off to the races.

Did she actually think that I get my jollies by having to reschedule a hard-to-get private driving lesson which we pay 150.00 an hour for in the hopes that our oldest will at some point be capable of getting a driver's license, paid almost 4 bucks a gallon in gas to drive 70 miles round-trip in a car that gets about 12 miles to the gallon in 86 degree heat and no air-conditioning with a child whose world practically falls apart if his routine is disrupted?

And what about the guy who showed up at that office for an appointment before us at 2pm only to be told that Dr. Dillweed had gone for the day? Did the Dill personally talk to him too?

It would be one thing if Dr. Dillweed had said that his receptionist Dipsydoodle had make a mistake (Oh Jane, you ignorant slut, who DID you sleep with to get this job?). Yes, sh*t happens. I understand that. I can forgive and eventually laugh at that once I get over my annoyance.

But it's another to be a blatant lying sack of crap who blames others to cover up his own incompetence or laziness.

Especially because I document EVERYTHING. Every appointment, every phone call---every scrap of information gets written down and put in the kid's file.

I wonder if it's a part of a larger pattern. Early on, ex and I had health insurance with his company. After he got laid off from his job, our marriage disintegrated, he disappeared....the kids were diagnosed and I was unable to get private insurance because of pre-existing conditions. For a brief time they were on medicaid.

I thought I was being paranoid at first, but I have to say that there was a low-lying but definite sneerage and almost disrespectful dealings with pharmacists and office staff of the different specialists the kids were seeing once we produced our medicaid card. Of course this changed when we got private insurance again.

So I'm wondering if there is some sort of similar dynamic going on with those who have to go these kind of government-paid hacks for disability approval. Since we're not paying for the evaluation and all. Do they have some kind of disdain for us? Do they think we're stupid? Do they think that we're just going to lay down and roll over because they got a call in to cover their ass before we could get home to report their unprofessionalism?

One thing is clear. I'm not going to let the Dillweed anywhere near my kid for evaluation. In my opinion, being such a lying douche bag automatically makes anything he reports suspect. They better find us someone else.

Where in the hell are my bunny slippers?

Thursday, May 29, 2008

Asshat of the Week---Wendy Portillo

This week's Asshat goes to Florida kindergarten teacher Wendy Portillo!

Since I've been tied up with other things, I haven't been checking the news very frequently. The ABFH sent me a link to this article, suggesting an Asshat be awarded. She's kept up with the story in more detail at her blog.

Portillo is the kindergarten teacher who made a young boy (who was in the midst of the tedious process of getting an autism diagnosis) stand in front of the class and instructed the other 5-year-olds to tell him what they didn't like about him. And then had them "vote him out of the class" Survivor-style.

What in the???? Lord of the Flies would be more accurate, in my opinion.

Since this story broke, in the wake of hundreds of emails, the school district has suspended Portillo from contact with students until they can investigate.

Their stance?

Teachers often aren't given any special training to deal with autistic students until a child in their class has been identified as having a disability, said Bill Tomlinson, the district's director of special education.

So freaking what? When would that behavior be appropriate any where? With ANY student? It wouldn't.

Grrrrr. Somebody needs to vote that megalomaniac into another career. Preferably one with adults who wouldn't hesitate to break a foot off in her ass if she attempted to pull that crap with someone who wasn't a 5-year-old.

Monday, May 26, 2008


It's over, it's finally over! Yippee!

The graduation was lovely. It was held at a performing arts center down in the big city, and was wall-to-wall people.

Of course, typical to form, all my ex-in-laws arrived much later than scheduled, so Hubby and Mom went in to try to save some seats while I waited outside with the tickets so they could get in. When they finally got there, we couldn't FIND the family at first, but got sorted out at the last minute.

I got my wish. Like I said, I adore my ex-MIL, but didn't want her anywhere near the video camera. Luckily, my Mom got some seats on a different level and sat there with all the in and out-laws.

Hubby got seats in the balcony. Found him, and Big Kid and I got settled right before everything started.

Then Big Kid had a massive panic attack. I don't blame him a bit. These seats were HIGH and steep. And not only were they high, but they were designed so that everyone could have an unobstructed view, and the heads of the people in the next row down were pretty much between our feet. It gave the illusion that you could stand up, make a wrong step and fall right off the balcony, even though we were three rows from the edge.

Told the Big Kid to move over a seat to the end, so he could grasp on the railing. We held hands between the empty seat. I got a little bit of vertigo myself. For a few moments I was afraid I was going to yark some Diet Coke into the back of the head of the woman in front of me.

The ceremony was really nice. Little Guy's class gave him a standing ovation when he was called to get his diploma.

I cried my eyes out, of course. We are so proud of him.

The next day, we held an open house between 11am and 2pm. Lots of friends dropped by to congratulate Little Guy and wish him the best. Again, true to form, all the ex-in-laws showed up at 1:30pm, and stayed for about 4 hours after everyone else had gone. ::sigh::

My ex-FIL and ex-MIL got into it (they've been divorced for at least 35 years), and at one point we thought she might just knock his block off (she's like 5 feet tall in heels and he was 6'4 in his prime, but have to allow for some shrinkage). He was pompously "advising" everyone on retirement income tips and kept insisting that her "current" husband (of 30 years) had been dishonorably discharged after 14 years in the Navy. Not true, and she got supremely pissed off when he constantly reiterated it. No wonder.

Then we thought ex-hubby and ex-FIL might come to blows. Scared the kids a bit. Old family crap that has never been resolved but plays out during the infrequent times they all get together. feh. Amazingly enough, no alcohol was served at all. But like we've said before---there IS no pill for "asshole". I think it runs in the family.

We finally got rid of them when ex-hubby and ex-MIL took the kids to dinner and a movie (they came together). No reason for ex-FIL to stay, so they all left at the same time.

As an aside: I KNEW ahead of time (because I know this family) that ex-hubby and I had to have a plan in advance. He was staying with his mom for this trip, and hadn't seen the boys in a year. He wanted to spend some time with them on this very short visit, but didn't want to spend time with his dad, who has historically tried to take over and "decide" what everyone was going to do.

I had said to ex, "we have to have a united plan, because if we don't, you know your dad is going to try to hang out here while you're out with the boys, and then try to rope you into doing what he wants you to do the minute you all come back. I won't have it. Hubby won't have it."

Now mind you, twice during these 4 after-party hours, ex-FIL went into the bathroom for like 20-30 minutes. The second time around, I declared to ex-hubby that if his dad had fallen down in there, he better not expect either Hubby or I to go in there and pick him up. Fortunately, ex-FIL was ok, and emerged on his own.

15 minutes after we got rid of them all (successfully, we thought), and hubby and I had kicked our shoes off and were trying to relax, ex-FIL CAME BACK and announced that he thought he'd need to use our facilities again before getting on the road.

DOH!! No problem. ::sigh::

30 minutes later, after emerging again (at about 6pm), he tried to sit down and engage us in a discussion about the gold standard, and do just exactly what I predicted he'd do. Hubby, bless his heart, kindly but firmly ushered him out of the house and deposited him in the front seat of his car. And stood on the porch waving until ex-FIL drove away.

I opened the door to the bathroom to go in and open the window and let the fug out. On the floor in front of the toilet was a skillion pieces of potato chips.

WTF? Was he shoveling them in as fast as he could poop them out or what? yeck! How bizarre is that?

On Sunday, I woke up with a big huge bloom of herpes blisters all over my lower lip, along with the achy flu crap that goes along with these kinds of outbreaks. I spent most of the day in bed. Today too.

I can't remember the last time I had an outbreak like this.

Oh wait.

Yes I can.

It was the last time we had this whole crew together at BIG KID'S graduation!


Hope you had a great weekend!

Thursday, May 22, 2008

Pomp and Circumstance

I know, I know, I've been MIA.

Been trying to finish up everything for the school year. Receptions, teas, breakfasts for the graduates.

Plus trying to arrange everything for the ex-in-laws and outlaws so nobody kills each other. ;-) Imagine a group of people who only meet up on occasions like this and are barely civil to each other.

Imagine them all with ADD.

"You never paid a dime in child support and I should go to court to...hey, was that a hummingbird?"

"I didn't pay child support you SOB, because you kept the kids from me and all the assets from our marriage---like the car, the house, the retirement do you think that woman's hair is her natural color or is it dyed? I don't think hair actually comes in that color!"

Little Guy is graduating tomorrow, and then we have a party planned for the following day. And as much as I adore my ex-MIL, I have to find a way to keep her as far away from the video camera as possible. Or else I'll have to duct tape her mouth.

The running commentary we recorded from Big Kid's graduation drowned out all the speeches. Seriously. "Ah, look at the Bishop's hat. Is he Catholic? I thought this was an Episcopal school (not that it matters--we're all Protestant). And the robes! Covers up all kinds of sins. Hehehe. Doesn't look like he's missed any meals, does it? Look at the hat that woman is wearing! Should we have worn hats? Do you think she's Catholic? I think the man behind us farted. Do you smell anything?"

Then once we pack everybody off, I'll finally get a chance to breathe and come visit you all.

Hope you have a wonderful holiday weekend! Keep safe!


Thursday, May 15, 2008

Have a Crappy Day!

Well not only have we had two days of snow (it's snowing as we speak), but one of our terlets sprung a leak.

Hubby almost had a nervous breakdown since there was no more quiet and contemplative daily doody morning ritual for him. Not with three other poopin' peeps banging on the door squawking, "C'mon Dad, I gotta GOOOOO!" and "Holy crapfoot Batman, did you flush yourself down in there?"

Poor guy had to squinch it all back in, and will prolly be constipated for a week. Was able to get the plumber out by the next day, so everybody else's plumbing is back in working order. whew.

I've read a couple of bathroom-based stories in the news this week, and came upon this amazing picture of a dog crapping out an orange kitty, so I figured it must be kismet! Poop for all!

Deputies in Wisconsin were sent to do a "wellness check" on a 90-year old woman when her sister reported that she hadn't heard from her in months.

An adult woman answered the door, but refused to let them in. She finally relented, and deputies found the decomposing body of the elderly woman on the home's only toilet. She'd been dead for a couple of months.

It's unclear what relationship the other people in the house had with her----there was a man (who goes by the name of "Bishop Bushey"), a woman and two teenagers, but they insisted that the elderly woman was "not really dead" and that they could "pray her back to life". In the meantime, they'd just use a bucket to poop in.

Deputies ordered the woman to remove her children due to the putrid smell of decay that permeated the house. The teens later told authorities, that "Bushey convinced them to be quiet about the body. They say Bushey told them demons were making it appear that Middlesworth was dead, and that if her death was discovered, the children would be sent to public school and be forced to get jobs."

Oh my. Public school and jobs. A fate worse than---well occupying a house with a moldering corpse and having to squat over a bucket. Blech!

A woman with over-inflated entitlement issues is suing the town of Norwalk, Connecticut because her toddler stepped in a pile of dog dookie and it ruined her day. She wants the town to reimburse her for parking, tickets to the Maritime Aquarium and a new pair of shoes.

The town's response? "Poop happens". Good for them.

What is it with people? Crappy things happen on a daily basis, and it doesn't mean that we're entitled to be "compensated" for them. It's called life.

If it was my kid (and I've done this before), I would have carried her to the nearest public restroom, washed the shoes off in the sink (most toddler shoes can be rinsed off or wiped, unless they're Jimmy Choos, and then I'd just say you're an idiot for wasting that kind of money), cleaned up the sink after that and gone on my merry way. And then taught my kid not to walk in sh*t.

If this is all it takes to "ruin her day", then damn, she must be a real treat to live with.


Monday, May 12, 2008


Ok, I tried to make a Mother's Day post. Maybe a poem about Bad Mutha's, including some recent articles I read that make my normal feelings of motherly inadequacy seem minor. Maybe a post about great mothers, or prolific mothers, like Mrs. Duggar who is working on her 18th, and is making a new definition to "clown car".

I just didn't have the energy. Or the interest. It's been a long, long week. LOL

Hubby was gone for the weekend. One of his nephews got married (on Mother's Day weekend!!), so he reluctantly ::koff:: packed his sarcophagus-sized-and-shaped golf case with his clubs, clothing and necessities and took off to an old and revered country club/golf course in the south (on Mother's Day weekend).

Poor baby was unfortunate enough to have booked on American Airlines, so after the first 3-hour delay for oops checks, he missed his connecting flight. But they got him there on time for the festivities (on Mother's Day weekend).

Luckily for him, he pre-ordered me a lovely bouquet which was delivered while he was gone. Otherwise, when he came back from (Mother's Day weekend) the trip, he might have had a hard time getting into the house. He also bought me several lovely gifts which he'll find out about when his next credit card statement comes in about a week or so. He's so generous! That's why I love him so!

Big Kid got up and made coffee for the first time in his life. For moi. He also gave me a shoulder rub. Little Guy made me breakfast and a home-made card.

Ahhhh, wouldn't trade these guys for all the tea in China.

But maybe for a 15-minute Colin Firth pole dance. Maybe. Ok, probably. I'm bad.

Last week----gak!!. All I can say, is that it's over.

First of all---the semester is over. Big Guy and I got all A's. Woohoo.

Apparently our home visit for Little Guy's guardianship hearing went well. The home visitor had to interview my ex, and I had all kinds of apprehension about that. Since he converted to Mormonism when he married his current wife, I could only IMAGINE what kind of objections might come up. I was thinking of all kinds of rebuttal statements if anything needed----like, "so WHAT if we have cocktails on Friday? Once when I was married to ex I was the designated driver and he was so drunk he puked CORN out of his nose onto the dashboard of our car for pete's sakes!" Or "Coffee? You say that in the same tone as if it was COCAINE!!"

When I got the report back, all it said was "I have no objections. She's had sole custody since we divorced when he was 3 and I'm fine with guardianship."

Which in a way is kind of sad too. Ex didn't show up for our divorce hearing or ask for any custody or visitation, so it all came my way sort of by default. I've been liberal---strike that---instrumental in pushing any and every kind of visitation over the years, just so the guys can keep a connection to their dad. His family has been really great with staying connected and involved. So on one hand, I'm immensely relieved, on the other hand I'm kind of pissed off.

How weird is that?

We went to Little Guy's social security meeting last week as well. Since he turned 18, I've had a checklist of things we need to apply for/take care of for his future.

Here is our government at work. LOL

I filled out like 20 pages online of preliminary stuff. We could have done it on paper, but we were encouraged to do it online. Every doctor the kid has seen, along with names and addresses. Every therapist the kid has seen, along with names and addresses. Every diagnosis, test result, blah blah blah. Did it, finished it, got the retrieval case number, then had to print out and fill out 7 disclosures of information so they could find out for themselves.

Luckily I brought along the hard copies of his initial diagnosis and his last triennial review from school.

Because even with the retrieval case number, everything was gone gone gone from the SSI system. And I didn't think to bring the names and addresses of everybody because I thought it was all done online. feh.

Had to run down from the mountains early this morning into the city to bring the case-worker a hard copy of my child support payment records for the last month and Little Guy's birth certificate. She could see me before her day started at 8:30am. The office doesn't officially open until 9am, so all of the stations were closed. The place was filled up with people without appointments who were waiting to be done first come, first served when the windows opened up.

You have to go to a kiosk and punch in information. Have an appointment? Punch in the last 4 digits of the social security number. Then you get a "you're checked in" ticket. Otherwise, you get a "number" of when served.

Got there, and realized that I suddenly couldn't find Little Guy's Social Security card. Looked through my wallet like 5 times. Found his ID, and I had had them together when we visited last week. But his SS card was gone, and I didn't remember the last 4 digits. I took a wild guess and punched in a few numbers. Got a "when served" ticket.

I went over to the security guard's desk. Explained that I had an 8:30am appointment and with who, but couldn't find the kid's card and wondered if maybe I had left it there the week before.

He preened and postured for a couple of minutes, then pulled open a drawer and pulled out a huge stack of SS cards that had been "left" at the office.

Whew! At least I wasn't the only overwhelmed dumbass on the planet!

He laboriously and painstakingly thumbed through them. Little Guy's wasn't there.

So I said, do you have a list of extensions? Could you possibly ring this person and tell her we're here?

"Why don't you punch in the last 4 digits of your SS number and it will tell her you're waiting?"

I patiently explained again that this appointment wasn't for ME, it was regarding my son, and I didn't know the last 4 digits off the top of my head.

So he preened and postured again, and threw in a few sighs, then pulled out a big book. He went through it, page by page, and I had to spell the lady's name a few times because he was going phonetically, and not by actual letters. He found her extension, punched it in, and said, "she's not answering, she must not be here."

Which brought on a whole bunch of questions in my head. Was she here at all? Was she sick? gak?

Could you possibly try her extension again in a couple of minutes or go back and check if she's here?

No, no, he can't leave the room to go back and check. Why don't I sit down and wait until 9am and somebody can help me when the windows open up. Ok, I understood that. He was the only guard in a room full of people who hadn't managed to get a full cup of coffee in them before showing up that morning to wait in line for ages to be served. Kind of like an Ozzfest concert.

A recipe for complete anarchy, I tell you!

So I went to a back table and dumped out my purse. Went through absolutely everything. My wallet, every pocket, every cranny. The doofusy security guy came by and asked if I needed a pen to fill something out, the helpful little booger.

I finally found the card in the new checkbook for the account we had just opened for Little Guy. I guess when producing this the week before, I had slipped it in without realizing it. I went to the kiosk, punched in the numbers and got a "you are checked in" slip right before 9am.

I went and sat down in the waiting area.

They have a big screen TV on the wall that shows children's movies with English subtitles (the sound is turned off). When we were there last week, while waiting, we saw the better part of Shrek 3.

The TV was turned on with the menu displayed. The screen was displaying the menu option of subtitle language. Shrek 3 again.

Security Guy left us potential anarchists by ourselves and used his key to go to into the area where the appointments were to click on the DVD player to get down to the "English" subtitle screen. Took him 3 tries back and forth. In and out with the key. Then he managed to go back again and hit the "play" button.

Yet he couldn't check to see if the lady we had an appointment with was actually there (it's not a huge office---there is like 10 caseworkers back there).

9am arrived, and the windows came up. They announced that everyone with "U" tickets should go to Window 4. Security Guy came over to me and said, "don't you have a U ticket?"

Obviously that meant he wasn't completely brain dead. Lazy and disinterested in customer service, well that's another story. But then again, he was carrying a gun and I wasn't.

I was pretty frosty.
Nope, I found our card and we're checked in.

Just then, our case-worker came to the door and called me.

Turns out that due to computer problems, her station was shut down. She had moved to another one, and wasn't able to access any of her files until 9am. Not that she needed to access OUR files, mind you. She just needed to Xerox the hard copies of what I had brought. Which could have been taken care of right away if Zippy the Pinhead had just called out her name while he was ignoring potential anarchy and loading Shrek for the viewing pleasure of all the senior citizens and disabled persons waiting in the lobby.


Monday, May 05, 2008

Stupid for Breakfast

Guess who ate a big, steaming bowl for breakfast? We ought to make it official that people who create these kind of signs at least know how to spellz gude.

And which "America" is she talking about? North America? South America?

Let's run right down and insist those Guatamalans speak English only, why don't we? What about those people in Quebec? No French for them!

Sheesh. I actually feel a little embarassed.

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Blogging Against Disabilism Day 2008...Little Pitchers Have Big Ears

Hubby and I have always tried to be careful about what we discuss in front of the guys, because you never know what might be repeated at a future date (and at the worst possible time).

When we were kids, my older brother--the smartypants--fancied himself as the joke expert in the family. Whenever anyone ELSE would tell a joke, he'd retort, "That's as old as my grandma, and she farts dust!"

Needless to say, when Grandma came to visit and older brother was trying to entertain her with his wit, that exact phrase came back to haunt him when it popped out of my 6-year-old brother's mouth in response. Ouch!

Little pitchers and all...

Some months ago, my ex-husband asked for a copy of Little Guy's medical records and evaluations. His oldest in his second family was having some developmental issues and was being evaluated for Asberger's Syndrome (which is a form of high-functioning autism).

After zipping him off his copies, I talked about it with Hubby. I was a bit perplexed that ex didn't want a copy of Big Kid's records as well, especially since there have been many instances of ADHD being misdiagnosed as Asberger's and vice versa, and there is a strong family history of ADD/ADHD. In fact, many of ex's son's symptoms mirrored Big Kid's at that age----impulsivity, running amok, defiance, inability to sit still, lack of attention, etc.

We went on to discuss Big Kid and where he's at now at the age of 21. The med regimen he started last August has been a great combination---the new stimulant he takes for ADHD doesn't set off his bipolar and make him manic, and he hasn't had a rage attack in months. Fortunately (or unfortunately) it hasn't dulled his personality---he's still the same ornery, contrary cuss he's always been.

Or as we say from time to time between ourselves---"there IS no pill for a$$hole".

So Little Guy comes home from school the other day, and we chat while we're making dinner.

"Did you know that Hot Cutie (his girlfriend) has a disability?"

He was agog.

Well, Honey, so do you.

"You mean I don't have autism? I have a disability instead?"

Eek. This needed some sit-down time. I tried to explain that the term disability encompasses a wide range of conditions, while the term autism was more or less specific. He has autism, and so does Hot Cutie. His friend XXXX has a physical disability and uses a wheelchair. His brother Big Kid has a disability which is completely different (didn't want to get into all of the specifics so I left it at that).

Then I asked if he understood what I was trying to say.

He was thrilled that it all clicked for him and he nodded enthusiastically.

"I have autism and it's a disability. Hot Chick has autism and it's a disability. Big Kid has a disability too.

...Mom, does Big Kid have A$$holeberger's Syndrome?"


Gonna go wash my mouth out with soap now.

Carol Brady would be so ashamed.


I originially posted this on Disaboom a few months ago, but brought it back for Blogging Against Disabilism Day 2008. Check out some of the fabulous bloggers who are participating!