Your Bartender

Nick: Maeve ---My Yahoo profile

---Witches Brew!

Quote: ~Welcome to my bar, pull up a stool and have a few shots. I am the mother of a beautiful, yet challenging son with autism. And yes, I'm a witch.

Happy Hour Specials....


---Hawt Asian Chick
---Fetch My Flying Monkeys
---Attack of the Red Neck Mommy
---Keesie
---Charming, just charming
---Elisson
---V man
---Catfish
---Acidman
---Walrilla
---Lelsie's Omnibus
---FLOWER!
---Great Reader!
---Jimbo
---Libby
---Evil Blonde
---Rainbow Wolf

Martinis


---Cure Autism Now
---Surf Camp for Autistic kids
---Soldiers Angels
---Hearts 4 Heros
---A mom's view on Autism
---Operation Love from Home
---Talk About Curing Ausitm

In the wine cellar

09/01/2003 - 10/01/2003 10/01/2003 - 11/01/2003 11/01/2003 - 12/01/2003 12/01/2003 - 01/01/2004 01/01/2004 - 02/01/2004 02/01/2004 - 03/01/2004 03/01/2004 - 04/01/2004 04/01/2004 - 05/01/2004 05/01/2004 - 06/01/2004 06/01/2004 - 07/01/2004 07/01/2004 - 08/01/2004 08/01/2004 - 09/01/2004 09/01/2004 - 10/01/2004 10/01/2004 - 11/01/2004 11/01/2004 - 12/01/2004 12/01/2004 - 01/01/2005 01/01/2005 - 02/01/2005 02/01/2005 - 03/01/2005 03/01/2005 - 04/01/2005 04/01/2005 - 05/01/2005 05/01/2005 - 06/01/2005 06/01/2005 - 07/01/2005 07/01/2005 - 08/01/2005 08/01/2005 - 09/01/2005 09/01/2005 - 10/01/2005 10/01/2005 - 11/01/2005 11/01/2005 - 12/01/2005 12/01/2005 - 01/01/2006 01/01/2006 - 02/01/2006 02/01/2006 - 03/01/2006 03/01/2006 - 04/01/2006 04/01/2006 - 05/01/2006 05/01/2006 - 06/01/2006 06/01/2006 - 07/01/2006 07/01/2006 - 08/01/2006 08/01/2006 - 09/01/2006 09/01/2006 - 10/01/2006 10/01/2006 - 11/01/2006 11/01/2006 - 12/01/2006 12/01/2006 - 01/01/2007 01/01/2007 - 02/01/2007 02/01/2007 - 03/01/2007 03/01/2007 - 04/01/2007 04/01/2007 - 05/01/2007 05/01/2007 - 06/01/2007 06/01/2007 - 07/01/2007 07/01/2007 - 08/01/2007 08/01/2007 - 09/01/2007 09/01/2007 - 10/01/2007 10/01/2007 - 11/01/2007 11/01/2007 - 12/01/2007 12/01/2007 - 01/01/2008 01/01/2008 - 02/01/2008 02/01/2008 - 03/01/2008 03/01/2008 - 04/01/2008 04/01/2008 - 05/01/2008 05/01/2008 - 06/01/2008 06/01/2008 - 07/01/2008 07/01/2008 - 08/01/2008 08/01/2008 - 09/01/2008 09/01/2008 - 10/01/2008 10/01/2008 - 11/01/2008 11/01/2008 - 12/01/2008 12/01/2008 - 01/01/2009 01/01/2009 - 02/01/2009 02/01/2009 - 03/01/2009 03/01/2009 - 04/01/2009 04/01/2009 - 05/01/2009 05/01/2009 - 06/01/2009 06/01/2009 - 07/01/2009 07/01/2009 - 08/01/2009 08/01/2009 - 09/01/2009 09/01/2009 - 10/01/2009 10/01/2009 - 11/01/2009 11/01/2009 - 12/01/2009 12/01/2009 - 01/01/2010 01/01/2010 - 02/01/2010 02/01/2010 - 03/01/2010 03/01/2010 - 04/01/2010 04/01/2010 - 05/01/2010 05/01/2010 - 06/01/2010 06/01/2010 - 07/01/2010 07/01/2010 - 08/01/2010 08/01/2010 - 09/01/2010 09/01/2010 - 10/01/2010 10/01/2010 - 11/01/2010 11/01/2010 - 12/01/2010 12/01/2010 - 01/01/2011 01/01/2011 - 02/01/2011 08/01/2011 - 09/01/2011

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Wednesday, June 15, 2005

My friend Aussie sent this to me. She works with kids just like Pudd'n, only she lives in Australia (for now). Aussie will be out here to live this Sept. providing that our earth quakes & tsunamis won't scare her off. It shouldn't, I mean, she's dating Athena. A little ground shaking can't compare to putting up with Athena! LOL

I never knew anyone disabled until my son was diagnosed six years ago with Autism. When he was just two, I remember asking my husband how kids get to ride the little buses – they seemed so child friendly – I couldn't picture my `baby' riding the big bus. Talk about living in a vacuum. What a laugh that story's become. I now have four sons and three get to ride the little bus. A few years ago, I was picking up my typical son from preschool and another mother complained to me that the boy next door gets a bus, while she has to drive her child back and forth every day. "And he hardly seems disabled," She said. I felt a twisting of my gut and my left eye probably twitched uncontrollably, but I kept my mouth shut. Unfortunately she started to seek me out, two or three times a week for this same discussion. Since I was PTA president then, she believed I could influence the district transportation policy. Finally, on a day where 11:30 am felt like 10 pm, I looked her in the eye and said, "I know it seems unfair, so why don't we trade? I'll take a typical child and drive aback and forth and you can have an autistic child who gets to take the bus." I didn't speak with her much after that. In that short conversation, I couldn't possibly pry open her world to what the little bus really means. Personally, on the `down side' that little bus means:

watching typical children run and play and laugh while my child floats alone in his own world,
spending over 15 hours each spring developing and Individualized Education Plan for each of my three children
meeting every 4-6 weeks with each of those child study teams to exchange notes, support each other and maybe switch strategies,
the silence of the phone – no calls for play dates here,
huge meltdowns of pure panic because my son can't comprehend that today we are going to stop at Super G before going home,
trying to explain to my sobbing 10 year old why he can't go on the big bus with his little brother, because he needs a different school, Concerta, Prozac, ear tubes, echo-cardiograms, EKGs, blood work, genetics, pediatric: cardiologists, ENTs, and GIs, intestinal biopsies, tonsillectomies, adenoidectomies, emergency surgery, special diets, picture schedules, sign language, social skills programs, sensory integration, evaluations, ABA, Verbal Behavior, DIR, physical therapy, speech therapy, and occupational therapy, and waiting, hoping and praying for the miracle of achieving an ordinary developmental milestone.

On the `up side' free transportation means:

a heart that soars each time I hear "Mom" because it took four years to hear it,
always believing in Santa Claus,
finding joy in an unexpected kiss from my child who doesn't like to be touched,
laughter that is genuine and deep,
finding peace, understanding, tolerance and patience where I had none,
unbelievable happiness when I hear "I did it" after weeks and months of trying
joy and gratitude for every inch of achievement because no one works harder than a child learning to walk while his peers run by, a child learning to talk while his peers tell stories and a child learning his ABCs while his peers read books.

I confess to have been ignorant and frightened of disabled people. Once after church, an altar server caressed my oldest son's cheek. He couldn't speak, he had Down Syndrome. I felt nervous and uncomfortable. What a shame! I had spent thirty years in darkness about disabilities and now I could write a book. Now, I live on the other side of the fence. I love my four sons, three disabled, one typical and for them, I am giving my life, so that there is a place in our community for them as happy contributing adults. Would I trade for the big bus? I don't think so, I'd rather we all ride the same bus – of comprehension of walking in another's shoes. Thank God, the little bus has taught me that. So, dear mother, whose angst is caused by unfair school transportation. I'm sorry I 'snapped' at you years ago. I wish for you a discovery: that the chambers of the heart become infinite when you know and love someone with special needs and that what matters most is not what you get, but what you give.

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