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How does he see the world?


I’ve only had a handful of migraine headaches in my lifetime, just enough to feel sympathetic to those who deal with them all the time. All of them begin the same way: I suddenly realize that movement is lost in a strobe-light effect, lights flash, black spots dance across my field of vision, and I have a hard time concentrating, and sometimes my speech is slightly slurred. This lasts for 20-30 minutes, then the pain begins and lasts for about 5 hours. Last week, as I struggled through visual distortions of an ophthalmic migraine to concentrate on Jackson making a breakfast request, I wondered if my visual symptoms are similar to what he experiences.

I am able to focus on Jackson’s left eye, but the rest of his face is fluid, moving, jumping. My brain feels mushy, and my lips thick. I focus hard on that left eye, trying to hear what he’s whispering, “I want….” What is my prompt again? So hard to concentrate.

Is this what you feel like most of the time, love? I wish I knew. I’m glad I had a headache today if only to remind me to slow down, be patient, wait for your response. Remember that your efforts are valiant. Your victories worth celebrating. You’re a tough little fighter, buddy.

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An answer at last


So it took about a week longer for Jackson’s teacher to make her final decision on his placement for next year. Rearranging children, deciding the best for all, and a child dropping out of the morning class all contributed to the final outcome. Jackson will be attending the five day (instead of four-day) morning class with the understanding that if he’s too stressed and cannot hang with it or needs more support and and a slower pace, he’ll be free to move back to afternoon.

I am satisfied with this final answer and more determined than ever to keep him moving forward during the rest of the summer break. We cannot let him slide backward, he needs that consistent schedule and concerted practice to keep him on track, and we need it too.

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Peaceful Anticipation

Today Jackson’s teacher will tell us whether Jackson will be moved to the advanced 5-day morning class or stay in the 4-day afternoon class for his final year at his amazing school.

“I’m on the fence,” the director and head teacher tells me bluntly. “Jackson and another student are really in about the same place, and I only have room for one more in the morning. Do you have a strong preference?” Continue reading “Peaceful Anticipation”

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Hidden Potential


Rat, tat, tat, tat, chk, chk, chk, chk, chk, chk, chk, chk…Ahhh…all else in the house is quiet, but my pounding head is still not at peace since Jackson is not allowed to nap in order to protect the sanctity of nighttime sleep. Two packaged strips of fruit leather are madly flailing against the edge of the coffee table. Jackson’s arms are a blur. With incredible precision and endurance, he whips those fruit strips like his life depends on it. And I am faced with a decision: do I allow him to be lost in this repetitive movement, known in the autism community as flapping or stimming (Self Stimulatory Behavior)? Continue reading “Hidden Potential”

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Saturday Morning Salmon Patty Pancakes (GFCF)

Jackson pulled me out of bed at 6:15 this morning, no Saturday morning snoozing for me! He was hungry and asking for the yummy GFCF oatmeal bars sitting on top of the fridge, “Bar? Bar?” In the early morning haze, I was tempted to just plop one on his plate and head back to bed, but knowing the bar would only buy me another 30 seconds in bed and it was coated in chocolate, I decided to actually make the little man a proper breakfast. Not cognizant enough yet to trust myself to leave a waffle on the iron, I open the cupboard searching for “Jackson approved” GFCF cereal. None to be had. Continue reading “Saturday Morning Salmon Patty Pancakes (GFCF)”