Put on a vest with an S on your chest, oh yes (Blogher is comin')

Every year around this time there is a cacophony of protest raised on twitter and elsewhere and it needs to stop. Some pretty fabulous women, women who otherwise are self-assured and together, freak the hell out at the mere thought of meeting other women, who feel the same way. Why?

Blogher is our conference. Women bloggers. (and some men) come together for an annual roustabout celebrating that thing that the outside world pooh-poohs, writing a blog. And we are all in the same boat. It is what unites us. With varying degrees of transparency, we proverbially barf all over the Internet's shoes, and hope that the resulting mess is something that will be accepted. Some write about nipple rings, some about death, some about children, some about business. The point is, we write.

So it kills me to watch every year as women who are amazing and talented downplay their skill because they aren't, in their mind, A List bloggers. Honestly? Who is? Because if you talk to those so-called "A List" bloggers, they don't think they have "made it" either. So who defines success as a blogger? How many are actually making a career out of their blog? Dreadfully low numbers, I can assure you. And for all the sleep you lose thinking that the A List bloggers aren't going to like you? I guarantee that someone thinks YOU are A-List and wants to meet you.

YOU make a difference. You might not realize it, but you really do. Every time you hit "publish" on your blog, people are moved. And what makes you special is that you write. So what if you aren't the biggest blog, with the best stats. Screw the stats. Seriously. Write because you like it. No, write because you love it. Don't get caught up in the "Business" of blogging. Forget your "brand" and the swag. Just write.

And next week, when we all get together, hold your head up high, rock those shoes like the mutha that you are. You are a writer, dammit. It's enough. And you are worth knowing. Do not be intimidated, get in there and meet people.

You are good enough, you are smart enough, and doggone it, people like you. See you in New York City, Superwoman.

- Posted from my iPad

Dental cowards form an orderly line to the left

I have had a life-long fear of the dentist since I was a teenager, I think. I would break out in a cold sweat at the thought of visiting a dental office. Which is kind of ironic, because my mother is more fearful than I am. She wanted to be sure that her children wouldn't end up with the same phobia, so she worked hard to find a good dentist. And she did. Dr. Howard was an avuncular boisterous man, and I liked him. No worries, so far. My mother insists that I refused to get braces, but I don't remember it that way. Still, it was a good experience. I didn't mind having my teeth cleaned, and didn't have much fear. The problem came when I had to have my wisdom teeth out at 18. With a different dentist. I developed an allergy to the pain medication and wound up so sick I lost 14 lbs. in a week. I had a dry socket, which means the blood didn't clot and the nerve was exposed to air. I popped Tylenol like candy for a while. Until my dentist introduced me to clove oil, and instantaneous pain relief.

I did really well for a long time, going to the dentist when I needed to, maybe not getting regular cleanings, but does anyone? After my second child was born, I had to have a root canal. And the experience was as bad as I had imagined. The sensory nightmare of the shots, the drill, the cement, all of it, was enough to put me off dentists for a long time.

A few years back, I broke a tooth, and had to have another root canal. I didn't have a regular dentist at that point, so I went to what I term a "chop shop." I had a very intense panic attack outside the office that day. Still, I went through with it, mainly because I had incredible pain from an abscess and it had to be dealt with or I was going to jump off of a bridge. I ended up with an ill-fitting crown, that they redid twice. It was still never right.

Soon after that, we found an amazing dentist. His office is decorated in Craftsman style, warm woods, cool lights and just an aura of relaxation. Entering, I was still terrified, but intent on making sure my children have good dental care. I eased them into it, and would sit in the room with them as they received their treatments, constantly It served to help me be less skittish. had to have two teeth pulled by an oral surgeon, which was awful, and did nothing for my dental phobia. But I was convinced I needed to get over my fears, and I pushed myself to do so.

I needed a lot of work, but over time, it was all done. Now, I am in my last phase, and wearing Invisilign to straighten out my overbite and stop me from grinding my teeth at night. And I see the dentist monthly. My phobia is completely gone. I still don't like dental procedures, but I no longer cry. I am quite proud of my courage and sticktuitiveness.

My kids love the dentist, and see him regularly. This is a feat accomplished with kids who have autism. Dental fears are right up there as far as fears go. But the process of spending time with our dentist (who also goes to our church and works in the childrens' department with my kids) My youngest, JBean, went from terror to looking forward to seeing him. That's a testimony to a great dentist.

My dentist is worth his weight in gold. And that's about how much I pay him. I wouldn't have it any other way.

T, who is over it

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photo source

Aftermath

My suitcase is heavy. It sits, crouched in my room, next to the closet. I haven't had the nerve to unpack it yet. It looms, pregnant with unrealized dreams, frustrations and what could have been. I try to ignore it. I don't do a very good job. Every time I walk into the room, there it is.

Sixteen days. Seems like a lifetime ago. That's when I kissed plump cheeks goodbye, squeezed sticky hands with admonishments to "be good", and climbed into my father-in-law's car to drive to the airport with my husband. I had high hopes, but didn't really know what to expect. We hadn't been away together for any length of time since the children were born. We were ready.

And it was wonderful. Awesome, even. We drove down the coast of New Zealand, stopping wherever our hearts lead us. We had no agenda, and no qualms about enjoying the company of one another. Memories were made that will last a lifetime. That's the problem.

I had to come home. And I can't see home the same anymore. I have never allowed myself to consider what life would have been like without my children. It is what it is, is my motto, why push it? But for sixteen glorious days, I was not a mother. I was just…me. With him. And it was wonderful. My heart was full. No tethering to others' needs or whims. I was free. It couldn't last, and it didn't.

I had thirteen hours en route to LAX to forget that bliss; to morph back into a mother who puts her children first again. But those shoes aren't fitting very well. I am aware that makes me an awful, selfish person. And it is why my suitcase is heavy. It is a constant reminder of what I had. And unpacking it means I will ferret it away into a closet, forgetting what it was like to live from it for weeks. Unpacking would be putting to rest the adventurer and the free spirit I was two weeks ago. And I am just not ready to do that.

And the guilt? The guilt is palpable. I can taste it on my tongue, metallic and bitter, like I need to brush my teeth. I want to be that mother again, but I don't know how. I almost wish I had never gone, because now? Now I am back. And I know what I am missing, every minute, of every day.

My suitcase is heavy, but not as heavy as my heart.

T, who hopes I will get over this

Why I fear airport security

In three days I will be in line at LAX, waiting to be screened for my flight to New Zealand. I will be terrified.  Yes, I have flown before, but airport security always scares me. Standing in line, having them peruse my ticket and my passport always feels like sitting there in that big chair in the principal’s office.

When I was in the eighth grade I was caught cheating on a test. It was the first and last time I ever cheated.  The teacher sent me to the principal’s office and as I write this that cold, hard ball of fear settles in the pit of my stomach.  It has been many years, but I remember what the office smelled like (a combination of plants, Vaseline Intensive Care Lotion and some sort of minty after shave.  To this day, after shave still makes me want to throw up). I sat on the narrow bench waiting to see the principal.  I don’t even remember what he looked like, or who he was.  Which is peculiar.  I think I blocked the memory. I know he called my father, at work, and my father had to come down and pick me up. He was a sergeant in the Army.  To say that he was unhappy was an understatement.

Looking back, it was probably one of the best things that could have happened to me in my young life.  I never again tried to cheat, at anything, ever.  It wasn’t that I was worried about getting caught. My father took me home and sat me down.  He was not a gentle man, but I saw softness in his eyes.  With intensity,  he looked and me and said, “You’re better than that.  You don’t need to cheat. Cheaters never prosper, but more importantly, they can’t look themselves in the eye in the mirror.  You have one thing that no one can take away from you.  It is yours to lose.  Your integrity is who you are.”  And then he left my room, closing the door softly.

We never spoke of it again.

But as I stand in line waiting for airport security to use their funny little light pens to make sure I am legitimate, as I divulge myself of my personal effects, and they run through the x-ray for all to see, as I walk through the metal detector, I hold my breath. I am afraid.

T, who is leavin' on a jet plane

Prayers for Anissa

She helped me eat kittens on Fridays. Well, we didn't actually eat them, we just discussed it. You see, we were annoyed with Follow Friday on twitter, and wanted to come up with something else.

Anissa is a trip. There is no other way to describe her. When I hang with her, I feel like I have been on vacation. On twitter she makes me laugh out loud. I can't drink anything when we are tweeting one another, lest I bathe my monitor! At Blogher she made me snort. Ask her about sex toys. In short, she's awesome. In September, I had the great pleasure of having dinner and drinks with her, Heather, Jim, Lori and Diane, from HP, a good friend of Anissa's. when she was here in town for a Disney event. We had a great time, and some wonderful conversation afterwards. Everything from favorite drink to gifted kids. Because that's what you can expect from Anissa. A laugh, some serious thought, then more laughs. Except for today.

She's a bloggy mogul, Aiming Low was her brainchild. She's a strong mother, she has three children. And Peyton just celebrated ONE YEAR cancer free. She has a lot to be thankful for. But today.

Today, Anissa had a stroke. I know, I was floored, too. There isn't much to tell. She is in ICU, and I will update when I know more. My heart aches for her family, but I know she is strong. She is a survivor. She is my friend. If you live in the Atlanta area and want to help, please check out this link. If you want to do something, and don't know what to do? Please pray for Anissa, and her family.

And Anissa, I am saving you a kitteh to eat.

T, who has a heavy heart

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RIP John Hughes, your legacy lives on with my kids

Ferris Bueller. Claire, Brian, Allison, Andrew, Bender. Gary, Wyatt and Chet. Samantha Baker & Jake Ryan. Andie, Duckie, Blaine (that's not a name! That's a...major appliance!) & Steff. These names were engraved upon my psyche, at the Northridge Cinema in Central California as a teenager. I remember trying to avoid the well-meaning octopus who would try to cop a feel at the theatre, because, after all, he paid for the movie and the popcorn. And ok, sometimes it wasn't really a feel per se, as much as a... snuggle. Such was high school. And such was the feel of those movies. I grew up in the shadow of genius.

I was entertained on those nights by an amazing man and visionary by the name of John Hughes. He wrote the movies for my generation: The Breakfast Club. Sixteen Candles. Ferris Bueller's Day Off. Pretty in Pink. Weird Science (I admit it, I wanted to BE Kelly LeBrock!) Movies that meant something to me. I can quote many lines, by heart.

It is so sad to lose John Hughes...so young, at 59. His movies and the music in them wrote the soundtrack to my life. And possibly yours. John Hughes has been mostly reclusive and out of the public eye for some years now..but he was not forgotten. I always hoped he would do something else, and Drillbit Taylor was not it. I hoped he would still speak for my generation, maybe a movie about social media, blogging? Alas, it was not to be.

First Michael Jackson. Now John Hughes. The 80's? She is over. I am no longer preoccupied with 1985, sorry, Bowling For Soup. We are moving on. With a heavy heart, to be sure. But, we are still moving on.

And now? I pull out all of my best John Hughes flicks and show my 15 year old what real movie making was. I only hope she enjoys them as much as I did at her age.

T, who is saddened that we lost a visionary too early and too young

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You Have Nothing To Fear..Except Everything

Lately we have been struggling with the 7 year old's growing list of phobias.

Bugs, especially creepy-crawly bugs have her terrified. If she sees one, she runs in the house like a screaming banshee (well she is always a screaming banshee, but she becomes a screaming banshee with one purpose: Escape). Currently, one of the targets of her fear are crane flies. Now, you know they are a bit scary looking, but crane flies are harmless. Only she can't get that. Big bug, long dangly legs. Dangerous.

In autism, it doesn't matter how irrational a fear is, once a child makes up her mind, it is very difficult to change. Theory of Mind, which means that she sees ALL situations with only her point of view, doesn't allow for anything but black and white. There is very little gray in autism. We work at helping her broaden her viewpoint, but it's very hard, and it can be really frustrating. Sometimes, I can actually convince her that the bug isn't going to eat her. She believes me. Just for that moment. Because, you see, once that bug is gone (because I never kill bugs, I catch them in a large plastic cup and carry them outside...a product of my soft-hearted son's insistence that all of God's creatures deserve to live) she won't remember that all of that type of bug is harmless. Apparently, the Harmless Bug has evil cousins that are Evil Bugs and even though Harmless Bug is, in fact, harmless, Evil Bugs are bent on eating my daughter for lunch. I can explain until I am blue in the face, and she cannot generalize the specific situation. So every time she sees a bug, either inside or outside, there is screaming and cowering, and sometimes running into the house.

Another phobia lately is of dogs, particularly our neighbor's rat-dog nasty-ass chihuahua. Don't get me wrong, I love dogs. BIG dogs. Tiny little yip-yip dogs are like rodents, with great big eyes and little teeny teeth....the better to bite your ankles when you aren't looking. The problem isn't the dog, it's the owner. People don't realize that dogs are not human and don't need to be treated like babies. There is a pack order that they respond to. Possessive little dogs may seem cute, but if that dog was large, it would be dangerous. Teaching a dog, any dog, to be over a human by allowing ill-mannered behavior is just asking for trouble. And with little dogs, people don't see this.

I am not in the least afraid of dogs; I haven't met a dog I couldn't figure out or let's be honest, control if I had to. The Dog Whisperer has improved my skills, but I was already pretty good. The secret is...you have to show a dog who 's boss. You can certainly treat them well, but in the end, you are the alpha.

My son was also afraid of the dog, because it chased him into our house. That's right, the neighbor's let this dog run free and it ran my son into his own damn house! I then taught him how to stand up to the little booger, with body language and eye contact. ("Remember son, I am not at all suggesting this, but remember, that dog can be a football if worst comes to worst") Now the dog stays away from JBear, since he isn't a target anymore. But my little daughter, JBean is still afraid of the obnoxious thing. It has gone so far that she refuses to go outside, for fear it is running loose. Makes me so angry. I have talked to the neighbors, and they did bring the dog inside. But he gets out so frequently, there isn't much point. We have a leash law, but it's only in public. Still, by law, you cannot let your mutt run over other peoples' private property. So keep the dog out of my yard, off my driveway and away from my kids.

This is JBean's interpretation of the Evil Chihuahua...click on the picture to embiggen...

You know I homeschool, so my kids often spread a blanket in the yard and spread out their schoolwork. This dog is really cramping our style. When I went up to the neighbor's door, the dog tried to go after my ankles, but I let it know I wasn't afraid of it. I just wish I could teach JBean that she has nothing to fear. If nothing else, mama is there. And she knows I will protect her, no matter what. That's what Mama does. I will kick ass and ask questions later. And if that dog bites one of my children, it's War baby.

* I realize I need to say that I haven't hurt this dog, nor would I. I like all dogs...small ones for other people. I wouldn't have a small dog, but you can if you want to. Just don't let it chase my kids and bark at them. Ok? Ok!

T, who wants a big dog but doesn't want to have to walk it every day

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What Asperger's Is Like From The Kids Who Have It

I don't usually post more than once a day, but my friend califmom found this and I HAD to share it with you. What having Asperger's is like, from the kids themselves who have it. AMAZING video.

The embedding is iffy, so if you can't see this, PLEASE go watch it here: What Asperger's Is Like

T, who watched with her teen

Part 2: Somewhere Over The Rainbow Lies an Autism Diagnosis ( I Don't Think We're In Kansas Anymore!)

This is Part 2...did you read Part 1 first?

JBear was diagnosed with High-Functioning Autism (HFA or Asperger's, depending upon who you ask) at around the same age as JBean. In autism circles, it was considered a late diagnosis. He never received early intervention because he just came across as "quirky" in the beginning. He really wasn't struggling the way you would expect, well at least not until the first grade. Then he started running from the classroom, hiding under desks. He couldn't function in a classroom. But JBean wasn't struggling at all.

I know I sound like I am in denial, but I really am not. There were a few behaviors that I couldn't quite put my finger on...they seemed slightly..off. Yes, she could play for hours alone, making elaborate games and worlds that were hard for her to share with others. Yes, she threw horrible tantrums. But then, maybe it was just normal and I was being paranoid. This was a preventative measure...if she was affected, the concern I felt was for the future, not the present..

The doctor played with JBean, taking notes. Then she had yet another cheery young assistant play with my daughter while she observed from another room. Finally, she was ready to give us the verdict. She sat back in her chair, and pulled her glasses off, setting them on the folder in front of her. She cleared her throat. She had done this a thousand times. This was just one more speech. "Mr. and Mrs. Cruz, she began, your daughter has autism. That's my diagnosis. She will need special ed, Occupational therapy and speech." She waited, eyes fixed on us. It was our move.

I didn't know what to say. It was happening again. The room was spinning, I fought to regain control. I explained to the medical professional that I homeschooled, and we would provide private services for our daughter, if needed. She pursed her lips and looked at me steadily. "Can you provide the support she would get in special education classes? She needs to be around other kids her age. She needs a trained instructor and support staff, or you are going to have trouble on your hands. You are not equipped to deal with this. I have an autistic child, I know what I am talking about."

I tried to keep my voice from quavering. At times like these, I had such a fear of authority. "I believe we can give her what she needs. Her brother was diagnosed three years ago and is doing very well. I held her gaze. "We will always do what is right for our daughter." She pushed her chair back and refused to look at me again. She sighed. "I'll have the desk write up my recommendations, and see you again in six months." She stood to leave, shaking our hand. We had been dismissed.

Hours later, as I sat with the letter in front of me, I thought about what it would mean. Yes, I knew how to deal with this. Yes, I knew interventions: sensory diet, brushing techniques, self-control strategies. But I was already wearied thinking of going back to Square One again. Autism is exhausting. How was I going to handle this? And why did I have to? What did I do wrong that caused my children to have autism? I didn't steal. I didn't sleep around. I was a good person, and I loved God. (Sure, I knew God loved me, but at that moment, I didn't care, I was feeling sorry for myself.)

Three years before, when we sat in the psychologist's office, and, after extensive testing, received a diagnosis of High-Functioning Autism, I was relieved. It was the culmination of a long journey and the label helped me make sense of JBear's behavior. I felt something close to relief. Now it had a name.

I have three children. The youngest is the last. That night, I found out my 5 year old, my baby daughter, the one who was almost 10 weeks premature and with whom I had spent a month camped out next to in the NICU, the one I carried in a sling for months because she could not bear to be away from me, had autism. There it was, in black and white. Autistic Disorder. I felt relief when it was my son. While the rest of my family slept peacefully,I sat up and tried to make sense of yesterday. I did not want the diagnosis to color the way I saw my beautful girl. Though she was the same child as she had been earlier that morning, something had irrevocably changed. That night, the night I was forced to accept what I already knew in my heart? That night... I cried.

T, who wants to hear your experiences

Somewhere Over The Rainbow Lies an Autism Diagnosis ( I Don't Think We're In Kansas Anymore!)

This is Part 1.. the post was too long, so I split it... Will post the rest tomorrow evening...

It was 2 a.m and everyone was sleeping. I was staring at the letter, willing it to disappear. I wished like hell that I could go back in time, to yesterday. Yesterday, when I didn't know what I now knew. I wanted to go back before the appointment. before my husband and I walked into that building with the obnoxiously bright blue carpet and rainbow- muraled walls and had our world shattered, yet again.

Eight hours before, we had entered the glass building approaching the double doors of the suite, checked in with the cheery young receptionist and taken a seat in the waiting room until our name was called. I looked at my tow-headed five year old as she played with the office blocks. Surely, there was nothing wrong with her, right? I had initiated this; I had to be sure.

I took a deep breath and shifted uncomfortably in the hard chair. I imagined I could hear the ticking from the clock on the wall. It was hard to wait. My husband squeezed my hand encouragingly. Was he as scared about this appointment as I was?.

When our name was called, we followed another cheery young assistant in techicolor-scrubs to a small room, filled with toys. An older woman entered and introduced herself as the doctor. I cannot remember what she looked like...at this point it doesn't matter. She asked us a lot of questions: did JBean play well with others? Did she have friends? Did she line things up? When did she walk? Talk? Eat? Did she sleep well? The questions continued, peppering me with the accusations that went unspoken. Could she read? Write? Count? Could she skip? What about throwing a ball? Why didn't you get intervention sooner? ...because we didn't know. Not really. Besides, doesn't autism only strike once per family? That's fair, right?

More tomorrow...

Here is part 2 in case you googled and only found this post, it continues the story

T, who found this a very hard post to write, but if it helps just one person, it was worth it

We Interrupt This Blog For An Important Announcement

photo from NY Times

I missed Clinton's speech at the DNC, and thought, on this, the third evening of the RNC, it was a good reminder. I know it is long, but you really need to read it. If nothing else, at least read the parts emphasized. (emphasis mine)

I don't normally blog politically, but this election is so important. I have many friends who are conservative. They have wonderful hearts, and I understand their views. But the party has abandoned them, as proven in the last 8 years. We are worse off than we have ever been in my lifetime. The house across the street from me finally sold after a year. For half what it was worth. Other houses on my block are in foreclosure. And I live in a prosperous area! Truly scary stuff. Also known as The Orange Curtain, for a reason. Red, all the way. I am one of the few Dems in the area. One of the few who does not drink the Kool-aide. Add to that the fact that I am a born-again Christian, who is not a Republican, and I am a serious Fish Out of Water. At the risk of alienating you, I really want you to read this and understand where we are right now. What future is left for our children?

Clinton's speech:

I am honored to be here tonight to support Barack Obama. And to warm up the crowd for Joe Biden, though as you'll soon see, he doesn't need any help from me. I love Joe Biden, and America will too.

What a year we Democrats have had. The primary began with an all-star line up and came down to two remarkable Americans locked in a hard fought contest to the very end. The campaign generated so much heat it increased global warming.

In the end, my candidate didn't win. But I'm very proud of the campaign she ran: she never quit on the people she stood up for, on the changes she pushed for, on the future she wants for all our children. And I'm grateful for the chance Chelsea and I had to tell Americans about the person we know and love.

I'm not so grateful for the chance to speak in the wake of her magnificent address last night. But I'll do my best.

Hillary told us in no uncertain terms that she'll do everything she can to elect Barack Obama.

That makes two of us.

Actually that makes 18 million of us - because, like Hillary, I want all of you who supported her to vote for Barack Obama in November.

Here's why.

Our nation is in trouble on two fronts: The American Dream is under siege at home, and America's leadership in the world has been weakened.

Middle class and low-income Americans are hurting, with incomes declining; job losses, poverty and inequality rising; mortgage foreclosures and credit card debt increasing; health care coverage disappearing; and a big spike in the cost of food, utilities, and gasoline.

Our position in the world has been weakened by too much unilateralism and too little cooperation; a perilous dependence on imported oil; a refusal to lead on global warming; a growing indebtedness and a dependence on foreign lenders; a severely burdened military; a backsliding on global non-proliferation and arms control agreements; and a failure to consistently use the power of diplomacy, from the Middle East to Africa to Latin America to Central and Eastern Europe.

Clearly, the job of the next President is to rebuild the American Dream and restore America's standing in the world.

Everything I learned in my eight years as President and in the work I've done since, in America and across the globe, has convinced me that Barack Obama is the man for this job.

He has a remarkable ability to inspire people, to raise our hopes and rally us to high purpose. He has the intelligence and curiosity every successful President needs. His policies on the economy, taxes, health care and energy are far superior to the Republican alternatives. He has shown a clear grasp of our foreign policy and national security challenges, and a firm commitment to repair our badly strained military. His family heritage and life experiences have given him a unique capacity to lead our increasingly diverse nation and to restore our leadership in an ever more interdependent world. The long, hard primary tested and strengthened him. And in his first presidential decision, the selection of a running mate, he hit it out of the park.

With Joe Biden's experience and wisdom, supporting Barack Obama's proven understanding, insight, and good instincts, America will have the national security leadership we need.

Barack Obama is ready to lead America and restore American leadership in the world. Ready to preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States. Barack Obama is ready to be President of the United States.

He will work for an America with more partners and fewer adversaries. He will rebuild our frayed alliances and revitalize the international institutions which help to share the costs of the world's problems and to leverage our power and influence. He will put us back in the forefront of the world's fight to reduce nuclear, chemical, and biological weapons and to stop global warming. He will continue and enhance our nation's global leadership in an area in which I am deeply involved, the fight against AIDS, TB and malaria, including a renewal of the battle against HIV/AIDS here at home. He will choose diplomacy first and military force as a last resort. But in a world troubled by terror; by trafficking in weapons, drugs and people; by human rights abuses; by other threats to our security, our interests, and our values, when he cannot convert adversaries into partners, he will stand up to them.

Barack Obama also will not allow the world's problems to obscure its opportunities. Everywhere, in rich and poor countries alike, hardworking people need good jobs; secure, affordable healthcare, food, and energy; quality education for their children; and economically beneficial ways to fight global warming. These challenges cry out for American ideas and American innovation. When Barack Obama unleashes them, America will save lives, win new allies, open new markets, and create new jobs for our people.

Most important, Barack Obama knows that America cannot be strong abroad unless we are strong at home. People the world over have always been more impressed by the power of our example than by the example of our power.

Look at the example the Republicans have set: American workers have given us consistently rising productivity. They've worked harder and produced more. What did they get in return? Declining wages, less than ¼ as many new jobs as in the previous eight years, smaller health care and pension benefits, rising poverty and the biggest increase in income inequality since the 1920s. American families by the millions are struggling with soaring health care costs and declining coverage. I will never forget the parents of children with autism and other severe conditions who told me on the campaign trail that they couldn't afford health care and couldn't qualify their kids for Medicaid unless they quit work or got a divorce. Are these the family values the Republicans are so proud of? What about the military families pushed to the breaking point by unprecedented multiple deployments? What about the assault on science and the defense of torture? What about the war on unions and the unlimited favors for the well connected? What about Katrina and cronyism?

America can do better than that. And Barack Obama will.

But first we have to elect him.

The choice is clear. The Republicans will nominate a good man who served our country heroically and suffered terribly in Vietnam. He loves our country every bit as much as we all do. As a Senator, he has shown his independence on several issues. But on the two great questions of this election, how to rebuild the American Dream and how to restore America's leadership in the world, he still embraces the extreme philosophy which has defined his party for more than 25 years, a philosophy we never had a real chance to see in action until 2001, when the Republicans finally gained control of both the White House and Congress. Then we saw what would happen to America if the policies they had talked about for decades were implemented.

They took us from record surpluses to an exploding national debt; from over 22 million new jobs down to 5 million; from an increase in working family incomes of $7,500 to a decline of more than $2,000; from almost 8 million Americans moving out of poverty to more than 5 and a half million falling into poverty - and millions more losing their health insurance.

Now, in spite of all the evidence, their candidate is promising more of the same: More tax cuts for the wealthiest Americans that will swell the deficit, increase inequality, and weaken the economy. More band-aids for health care that will enrich insurance companies, impoverish families and increase the number of uninsured. More going it alone in the world, instead of building the shared responsibilities and shared opportunities necessary to advance our security and restore our influence.

They actually want us to reward them for the last eight years by giving them four more. Let's send them a message that will echo from the Rockies all across America:

Thanks, but no thanks. In this case, the third time is not the charm.

My fellow Democrats, sixteen years ago, you gave me the profound honor to lead our party to victory and to lead our nation to a new era of peace and broadly shared prosperity.

Together, we prevailed in a campaign in which the Republicans said I was too young and too inexperienced to be Commander-in-Chief. Sound familiar? It didn't work in 1992, because we were on the right side of history. And it won't work in 2008, because Barack Obama is on the right side of history.

His life is a 21st Century incarnation of the American Dream. His achievements are proof of our continuing progress toward the "more perfect union" of our founders' dreams. The values of freedom and equal opportunity which have given him his historic chance will drive him as president to give all Americans, regardless of race, religion, gender, sexual orientation or disability, their chance to build a decent life, and to show our humanity, as well as our strength, to the world.

We see that humanity, that strength, and our future in Barack and Michelle Obama and their beautiful children. We see them reinforced by the partnership with Joe Biden, his wife Jill, a dedicated teacher, and their family.

Barack Obama will lead us away from division and fear of the last eight years back to unity and hope. If, like me, you still believe America must always be a place called Hope, then join Hillary, Chelsea and me in making Senator Barack Obama the next President of the United States.

T. again:

Hope you all still love me, I am really just about doing the best for my family and looking at myself in the mirror while doing it. And teaching my children compassion. How about you? This is a discussion. What do you say?

T, who wants a future for my children that I can be proud of

Technorati: Clinton, Democrat, DNC

What the Hell's Wrong With Me?

My bathroom buddy Jenny, the funniest blogger I know, wrote a post over on her blog about her neuroses. She asked about others' neuroses and I realized I had the makings of a post, right there! So, here, without further ado, are my foibles and OCD-tendencies. Please refrain from laughing until you leave. yes, this means you, stop laughing, I might cry.

So here, for your amusement, I present, in no particular order:

• I will only use a thin-bowled spoon. If the only clean spoon is a thick-bowled spoon, I will wash a thin-bowled spoon rather than use the spoon in the drawer.
• If I go into a bathroom, and the mirror faces the door, I close my eyes until I get the light on. I never go into a dark room with a mirror without having a light on. Too much Bloody Mary, as a kid, I guess.

• I am a nightowl. I can go to bed at just about anytime, but I play a game with myself. No matter what time I go to bed, I don't look at the clock. I put a cloth over it, and tell myself it is midnight. It works. I have been doing this for years.
• I don't touch public bathrooms. I flush with my foot, then wash and use the towel to open the door. I am not a germophobe anywhere else
• I hate drinking water. I will pretty much only drink Arrowhead water. Or, water that comes out of my fridge filter, with lemon and ice. I have tried to make myself drink different bottled water, but I can't. I can absolutely taste the difference.
• I always eat the cake, then the frosting. I am very careful about this. I feel guilty if I eat the frosting first.
• I hold my breath during orgasm. I heard somewhere that it made it better, and now I don't know how to stop, so I keep doing it
• I am beyond terrified of cockroaches. I shudder just looking at the word. My reaction is pure fear.
• I never read the end of a book until I get to it naturally. I have never gone to the end to see if I want to buy the book. Makes me crazy to watch other people do it.
• I am very sensitive to sounds, like styrofoam squeaking, fork scraping or wind chimes. They set my teeth on edge.
• I think the most evil invention is the gas-powered blower. Loud, obnoxious, and blows the debris somewhere else. The epitome of life in the United States: make it someone else's problem. If a gardener uses one around me, I make him stop
• I have to wash my hair twice. Just like the shampoo says. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. Even if I am washing in the middle of camping, I still have to wash my hair twice. It's a thing.

• I eat all of the ice cream and save the hot fudge, so I can have a bite of just hot fudge at the end
• I hate socks. I mean really hate them. I wear them about twice a year, when it is so cold my toes are blue
• I check the door, every night, twice before I go to bed. Even if I know that I locked it earlier

So there you have, it those are the things that make me weirder than you are. Think I am wrong? Leave your weirdness in the comments, and we'll compare notes.

What weird things do you do? Don't worry,it will just be between us

T, who is more screwed up than I thought

Technorati: neuroses, weird, psychology

The One Where I Have a Meltdown

I got nuttin creative for you today.

I have so much to do before Blogher I am running around with my hair on fire. Haven't had time to do any writing.

Here's why:

Tomorrow:

1. I have a La Leche League meeting. That will take most of the morning. And yes, I have to be there.

2. I have to finish my laundry, make a packing list, pick my final outfits and shoes (oh, the shoes!) and accessories.. Figure out what the HELL I am going to wear to the two parties on Thursday night and the other parties the rest of the weekend. I am pretty much a jeans/heels person, but I have a couple of dresses, so I have to make a decision..not my strong suit

This is worse than my high school reunion!

3. I have a therapist appointment one of the ways I stay "mostly sane" with the family that I have which means dropping my kids off at my in laws, then going to my appointment, picking them up and battling evening traffic home.

4.There will be no time for me to get my snaggly toes done professionally before I fly out on Thursday, so hopefully, tomorrow night I will have time to at least paint the darn things.

5. My son, who had his braces tightened on Friday was in so much pain with canker sores that he literally laid at my feet, holding them for most of the day. when he wasn't begging like a crazy man to play Nintendo to take his mind off the pain Also, little one, who is just "out of sorts" glommed on to me like a barnacle, all day long. She was either sprawled across my lap, or glued to my side. Pretty funny for a person like me who has closeness issues.

"FOR THE LOVE OF EVERYTHING HOLY, GET THE HELL OFF ME!"

which I said in my head...

6. I was not able to get much of anything done today. The same items on the list that were there this morning are there now. I wanted to run screaming, into traffic today. How much screaming and fits am I required to endure? And at what point does my head explode? I can barely think, JBean has this high-pitched scream when she is angry, it turns my blood to syrup. It makes me crazy. It makes me want to drive a spike through my ears. It makes me unable to think. So I didn't print out my iitnerary or my invitations and I haven't gone to get my swag, either.

7. I need to go get new Spanx, the ones I have have done spanked all they are gonna spank. This body, after three kids, well it needs some help. And if I wear a slinky black knit dress (which I am considering) I will have to superglue everything into place. If I don't manage to get to the store...well, it might get ugly. And you will see me wear my jeans on Thursday night with all the hot bloggers. (Yes,I have considered that the invitation came to the wrong person..) Yes, I will look like a gradeschooler next to the cheerleading squad... so I have to make time to get to the store.

Autism Sucks in a serious way

Let's hope I have time to finish doing all the things I need to get done, make my flight and get to the hotel. I am having a panic attack just thinking about it. And that's not even touching on the fact that I know no one in real life that will be there, and I am completely out of my depth, and and and... That's enough for tonight. I have to go and find a fire extinguisher now...

T, who really wants to go, but is feeling very overwhelmed by circumstances

Technorati: BlogHer, stress, preparations

There is a Reason We Don't Watch Childrens' Television

I was surfing today and one thing led to another, I ended up on YouTube, and found this FrightFest:

There is not enough money in the world for all the therapy JBean would need if she saw this. She would never eat again. Food? Alive? In her tummy? Do these people hate kids, or are they just clueless? I have a literal kid. She would not sleep for days. I get what they are trying to do: Umm, vegetables, yummy! I want to eat them. Om nom nom nom nom. But, really, do they have to pander? Kids are smart, they don't need this approach.

T, who swears her kids eat without dancing carrots

Technorati: video, scary, Yo_Gabba_Gabba, TV, kid_television

Exactly the Way a Brick...Doesn't

Spider = 0

Spider-Killing Brick = 2

I guess the evil Black Widow that I offed called in her cousin. I was in the house when I heard JBear call, "Mommmmmmma!" I know that note of alarm well, and he only uses it if something is really wrong. I rushed out the door and he was sitting on the porch, eyes as wide as saucers. With a shaking finger he pointed, "Mama, there's a black widow right by the door. Sure enough, there was the relative of the Widow I murdered, and she seemed pretty calm. Ok, I already proved I am a bad ass. I will let my huband deal with it. (Plus, if I can walk up to a spider, no worries. But if I have to walk by a venomous evil thing, that's harder.) And..it was at ankle level, so hard to see. I chickened out. So I called J and told him it was his turn. He grabbed the Method cleaner that I use greener, don't you know and sprayed it. I told him it wouldn't do anything, since it was natural. Apparently, I was wrong, it seems to be the Method for Stunning Spiders, so I wouldn't advise that you bathe in it, or drink it. It stunned her enough that he was able to crush her with the brick.

If you want to see pictures, click for more..I am not going to post them on the front page. I will say if one more shows up, I will be calling the exterminator!

T,who really, really doesn't like those spiders

Technorati: black widow, spider, family_life

The Itsy Bitsy...Holy Crow that's HUGE

I have mentioned before that I am not Supermom. But sometimes this message doesn't get into my brain. It especially Does Not Compute if it involves protecting one of my offspring. I am the Motherboard, after all. I make it all run.exe. (or start, if you are Mac user, like me) So, last night, when my son came in from playing outside to tell me there was a black widow hiding underneath a pipe by the corner of the house, instead of letting my husband, he of the Awesome Tech Support and Killer of Creepy Crawlies handle it, I grabbed a bottle of hair spray and went out the door to prove that I am more than just fantastically gorgeous, sexy and a bitchen writer. I am also: She Who Kills Spiders. I need a disclaimer here...I don't kill spiders. I catch them and put them outside, the poor things. But when it comes to venomous arachnids and children? All bets are off, and it WILL die.

The first thing I noticed was that the thing I was sent to dispatch was frickin' HUGE. She was as big as my thumb. I didn't take a picture, because, well, be honest, would you want to open my page and see that monstrosity staring back at you? No, me either! She clearly was quite settled where she was, and wasn't intent on relocation, especially not to the Big Web in the Sky, because when I sprayed her with the hairspray, I think she grinned at me, and retreated deeper into the crevice from whence she came. Thinking hair spray was going to freeze her was clearly wrong, she was probably in front of her Spider Mirror doing her hair! Part of the problem is that in an attempt to be more environmentally-friendly, we don't have Aqua Net or any of those aerosol-type sprays in this house. The only spray available was my daughter's year-old cheap Suave pump spray, left over from her theatre production. Probably not the best weapon against a Widow from Hell.

This was war.

I retreated to the garage to plan my next move and to grab a can of poison. We don't usually have spray, but readers may remember that I have a phobia of the er. "r words." Large black insects that scare me so badly I cannot even write the word. We keep the spray just in case an errant bug cannot read the signs posted all around my house and haplessly wanders into my driveway and certain death. I retrieved the can, and came once again to meet my enemy. I raised the can, poised to spray her into oblivion. She merely stared at me with all eight of her eyes, and tossed her now-gorgeous spider-hair in defiance. I narrowed my eyes in answer and let loose. I sprayed the snot out of that spider! And still, she wouldn't die! She did a lot of spider dancing, so clearly it was affecting her. I considered turning the hose on her, but remembered years ago when I had then-babies and was trying to exterminate a black widow in the back yard: those mothers swim! I continued to spray her and she was either going into neuro-toxic convulsions or she was break dancing, I still don't know which. I decided to end it and show her once and for all who the true Survival of the Fittest would be. I pulled a sucker punch. I picked up a brick laying nearby and I smashed her flat. Dead.

I? Am a a bad-ass. Thank you very much. Now I have to go and curl up in a fetal position because that was a #$@& POISONOUS SPIDER! WHAT the hell was I thinking??

T, who won't be doing that again. Maybe

Technorati: family, spider, Supermom

Maybe An Eviction Notice Is in Order

I borrowed this picture, I know how the dog feels

I had expectations, doesn't everyone? I expected to hold my child in my arms, cradling the downy softness of her head, next to my cheek. I expected to put her to my breast for the first time, meeting her eyes in solemn agreement. I supposed that I would hold her small hand tightly as she lifted her foot for the first time, coming down surely without landing on her bottom. I would see her beam proudly at her accomplishment.

I knew that there would be tantrums, two year old balled up fists and screams of rage. But it would be a stage, not a landing pad, and would pass quickly, into squeals of joy and chubby cheeked eskimo kisses. I expected life would be rosy. What I hadn't expected was the monster.

Who is the monster, you ask? The monster we live with day to day, isn't always out in the open. In fact, sometimes, it isn't visible at all. Those are times when she climbs onto my lap, cuddly with a book in tow. But in the back of my mind, I know that monster is lurking, ready to thump us all with a surprise attack. The evidence is everywhere: the set of the jaw when an answer isn't forthcoming. The balled fiststhat come from a level of anxiety that most people don't live under. The scream, that once it erupts, is more characterized by a car alarm than by a voice. The sibling rivalry which, while on the outside seems innocuous, often stems from misunderstandings and inability to read others' cues. At these times, a simple disagreement can erupt into screams, tears and ultimately, if I don't step in and referee quickly, fisticuffs.

This is the monster called Autism. It isn't always an easy houseguest. It leaves the toilet seat up. It uses the last of the milk and then puts the empty carton back in the fridge. It wipes its mouth with its' sleeve and then refuses to wash its shirt. It interrupts. It has terrible language. It yammers constantly about inane topics. It throws fits. It is a beast. A large, lumbering, elephant under the coffee table beast.

My first fleeting glimpse of this monster was when my son was two. Autism came to visit, but didn't stay long. I think it was just getting the lay of the land: checking out its new digs. It wasn't until my son was in the First Grade that autism moved in. Kindergarten had been uneventful. My son did well; we expected he was a genius since at 5 he knew all the colors in the Crayola box and told his teacher the sky was a beautiful shade of cerulean one day. He dressed as Indiana Jones, and well, though that was a bit er, eccentric, it was still pretty cool, so we indulged it. So what if he had to change to Indy clothes before the van left the curb after school? He was creative!

By the First Grade, it was apparent something was different in relation to his peers. JBear couldn't attend to the classroom. He wouldn't do his work. He spent most of the class time either cutting out pieces for an Indiana Jones board game he was devising, or huddled under a desk. Despite the fact that he had a full-time aide to help him, he couldn't handle the class. We saw the school psychologist. We saw a diagnostician. We saw a psychiatrist. We saw the large, black monster and named it for what it was: High Functioning Autism. Yes, he was brilliant, and stubborn and creative. He had interesting topics of conversation, as long as you were enthralled with his latest obsession, (if you could call it a conversation...mostly he talked and you listened). He had a hard time filtering out distractions, and needed textbooks that were "less busy" than the colorful Mtv-ish books that passed for curricula in public schools. I straightened my shoulders. Ok, we can deal with this, knowledge is power, and I am powerful. And Autism slunk behind us and followed us home.

We learned to cohabitate fairly well. Autism was mostly polite. It stayed out of the way. When it caused a ruckus I waved a stick called Intervention at it and it hid behind the sofa once again. And the years passed slowly on. I homeschooled. JBear learned to read. He learned to add, and subtract and measure. He learned to spell, somewhat. He learned to say, "Please" and "Thank You" and "I'm Sorry" and "I Love You." He learned to say he was hurting, he was angry, he needed help. Autism wasn't such a bad roommate after all.

And then, this last year, Autism stepped out of hiding again. My baby girl, my JBean, was diagnosed with Autistic Disorder, too. Here we go again. Autism erupted with a vengeance. It was twice as strong, wily and ready from its rest. It had learned a thing or two. It learned that loud voices add to already chaos. It learned that anxiety multiplied by two is quadrupled, because everyone suffers. It figured out that once the word is no, a fit is in order. And if not staved, the fit will become a tantrum, which will lead to tears, sometimes mine. It learned to steal my time, by interrupting every activity I try to engage in (yes, even writing) multiple times so that I want to cry in frustration, or just capitulate to its will and abandon my project. It learned to cause separation anxiety that is sometimes so terrible it isn't worth the leaving. It learned to change our lives.

But it isn't as bleak as it sounds. Having Autism as a houseguest makes me realize how thankful I am for the quiet moments. The cuddles in my bed as we are waking up. "Teeth check" after she has brushed her teeth at night before bed, and then the welcome laugh as she throws her arms around my neck spontaneously. Playing "What's This," and holding up my finger, answering the question with, "A Tickle!" and having her dissolve into giggles. Experiences that, by themselves are wonderful, but stolen from Autism make them all the sweeter.

I know my children aren't severely affected. Autism wreaks havoc in many lives, not just ours. But I only know what we experience day to day, living with this unwelcome guest. And now, you know, too. In time, I may be able to look at this monster and not think of it as the invader, the party crasher, the Kato Kaelin of my household. In time, if I don't push it, if I let it happen gradually, perhaps, I may eventually call the monster Life. Perhaps, it is almost too much to hope, I might call it Family.

T, who always feared monsters, but is learning to stand up to them

Technorati: autism, High Functioning Autism,Aspergers,autism1, family,fears, anxiety,monsters,

Signs of Aspergers/High Functioning Autism

Image via Wikipedia

All kids are quirky and do things that sometimes make us wonder if they are ok, but when does quirky translate as needing help? You are concerned your child may have a developmental delay. You think your child might have autism, so how do you find out? And what signs should you be looking for that are yellow flags? Keep in mind, the lists that follow, all kids are different, and will show different signs. Few children with autism show all of these symptoms, and sometimes they are hard to spot. If you have concerns, by all means, follow up with a psychologist, or someone trained in autism detection.

First, the medical jargon, and then the definition follows: The DSM IV defines Diagnostic Criteria

in order to be diagnosed with autism or Asperger's Syndrome:
Diagnostic Criteria for 299.00 Autistic Disorder
1. A total of six (or more) items from (1), (2), and (3), with at least two from (1), and one each from (2) and (3):
1. qualitative impairment in social interaction, as manifested by at least two of the following:
1. marked impairment in the use of multiple nonverbal behaviors such as eye-to-eye gaze, facial expression, body postures, and gestures to regulate social interaction
2. failure to develop peer relationships appropriate to developmental level
3. a lack of spontaneous seeking to share enjoyment, interests, or achievements with other people (e.g., by a lack of showing, bringing, or pointing out objects of interest)
4. lack of social or emotional reciprocity
2. qualitative impairments in communication as manifested by at least one of the following:
1. delay in, or total lack of, the development of spoken language (not accompanied by an attempt to compensate through alternative modes of communication such as gesture or mime)
2. in individuals with adequate speech, marked impairment in the ability to initiate or sustain a conversation with others
3. stereotyped and repetitive use of language or idiosyncratic language
4. lack of varied, spontaneous make-believe play or social imitative play appropriate to developmental level
3. restricted repetitive and stereotyped patterns of behavior, interests, and activities, as manifested by at least one of the following:
1. encompassing preoccupation with one or more stereotyped and restricted patterns of interest that is abnormal either in intensity or focus
2. apparently inflexible adherence to specific, nonfunctional routines or rituals
3. stereotyped and repetitive motor manners (e.g., hand or finger flapping or twisting, or complex whole-body movements)
4. persistent preoccupation with parts of objects
2. Delays or abnormal functioning in at least one of the following areas, with onset prior to age 3 years: (1) social interaction, (2) language as used in social communication, or (3) symbolic or imaginative play.
3. The disturbance is not better accounted for by Rett’s Disorder or Childhood Disintegrative Disorder.

Diagnostic Criteria for 299.80 Asperger's Disorder
1. Qualitative impairment in social interaction, as manifested by at least two of the following:
1. marked impairment in the use of multiple nonverbal behaviors such as eye-to eye gaze, facial expression, body postures, and gestures to regulate social interaction
2. failure to develop peer relationships appropriate to developmental level
3. a lack of spontaneous seeking to share enjoyment, interests, or achievements with other people (e.g., by a lack of showing, bringing, or pointing out objects of interest to other people)
4. lack of social or emotional reciprocity
2. Restricted repetitive and stereotyped patterns of behavior, interests and activities, as manifested by at least one of the following:
1. encompassing preoccupation with one or more stereotyped and restricted patterns of interest that is abnormal either in intensity of focus
2. apparently inflexible adherence to specific, nonfunctional routines or rituals
3. stereotyped and repetitive motor mannerisms (e.g., hand or finger flapping or twisting, or complex whole-body movements)
4. persistent preoccupation with parts of objects
3. The disturbance causes clinically significant impairment in social, occupational, or other important areas of functioning.
4. There is no clinically significant general delay in language (e.g., single words used by age 2 years, communicative phrases used by age 3 years).
5. There is no clinically significant delay in cognitive development or in the development of age-appropriate self-help skills, adaptive behavior (other than in social interaction), and curiosity about the environment in childhood.
6. Criteria are not met for another specific Pervasive Developmental Disorder or Schizophrenia.

But what does this really mean, to a parent? What are some warning signs, and when should you worry?

An infant is less likely to:

• make eye contact
• respond to his or her name
• imitate those around him
• follow objects visually
• smile reciprocally , if you smile, baby doesn't smile back
• babble or make noise
• may have motor issues
• weakness in trunk, or hypotonia, lack of muscle tone
• may not meet developmental milestones within reasonable amount of time

Babies that are passive and inactive at six months, then extremely irritable at a year have a higher risk of autism, according to the Harvard Medical School. If you suspect your baby has autism, definitely seek help from your pediatrician. With autism, the sooner the interventions occur, the better.

In children autism can manifest by:

• lack of speaking
• sing-song speech, or speech has strange cadence
• repeated phrases, called echolalia
• avoiding eye contact
• inability of pretend play (or, conversely, losing himself in play for hours alone)
• cannot make his needs known, may grunt or other non-verbal communication
• uses people as tools; may use your hand to point at things
• sensitivity to sights, smells sounds
• unusual fears (bugs, sounds, bathtime)
• lack of response to audio commands; may not respond to his name or requests; in his own world
• may have a lack of interest in others
• shows a lack of empathy and may not be able to express feelings; may not even know what she is feeling
• prefers lack of contact, or conversely, holds too tightly, needs a lot of contact
• rigid, has a hard time adapting to changes in routine
• can line things up, or need things arranged in a certain way
• repetitive actions
• one or more niche interests, that border on the obsessive
• sleep disturbances, inability to stay asleep
• highly anxious, especially when routine or preferred activities are disrupted

Know that in each child, autism presents differently. The hallmarks are there, but can be expressed in ways you wouldn't expect.

Siblings often will try to speak for a younger child, this does not necessarily point to autism. Encourage the child to speak for himself.

For example, a child may seem to have pretend play, but is it alone? Is it rigid? Does the child play well with others, and adapt them into the game, allowing the other child to make suggestions? Or does the child have difficulty handling the new playmate?

Many child insist upon wearing the same clothes, but most do not refuse to leave the house or become distraught over the possibility of something different. Kids with autism can be extremely rigid.

A child may not line items up, but do they spend time creating elaborate set ups and become upset if someone moves the toys? This could also be a sign.

Tantrums and lack of self-control are normal for a two year old. The child is trying to find his own identity. A seven year old, however, has mostly learned to control himself. If tantrums continue into middle childhood, it can be a flag.

Some sites for online evaluation help:

Autism Treatment Evaluation Checklist (ATEC)
Childbrain.com PDD Assessment Questionnaire
Modified Checklist For Autism In Toddlers (M-CHAT)
Australian Scale For Asperger's Syndrome

I wrote this article for my section on special needs at Type-A Mom. You'll find more articles like this there.

Some of the things I have written about:

Autism and Fears
Power Struggles and Autism
How to Convert to the Gluten-Free Casein-Free Diet (GFCF Diet)
Helping your child cope with anxiety
The Importance of Early Interventions For Autism Treatment

There are many more. If you want more info, be sure to email me:

sendchocolatenow[AT]gmail[DOT]com

You can find more of my articles at: Type A Mom sendchocolate I am the Special Needs Parenting Editor there.

Sources: Kirby, Barbara "DIAGNOSTIC RATING SCALES FOR ASPERGER SYNDROME" Diagnostic Ratings Scales for Asperger Syndrome" O.A.S.I.S. August. 1999
Diagnostic Criteria for Autism and Asperger's Syndrome CDC.gov July 3, 2003
Autism Symptom Checklist autism-pdd.net February 12, 2009
Harvard Health Publications Harvard Medical School "Searching for Early Signs of Autism Spectrum Disorders" < cid="M1107b"> 2007

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