Hello, let’s talk mainstreaming

Hello my lovelies! It’s been a while since we’ve talked. Never fear, I’m still writing.

I started taking writing classes and it is definitely keeping me on my toes. It has a secondary affect, which could have been adverse. My 11 yr old son is being mainstreamed in English Language Arts (ELA) and math. I am hopeless with math, but English? Who Ohio! I’ve got a degree in that!

This is important. If you have a child going from Special Ed to Mainstream you need to listen carefully.

His teachers are phenomenal. But most classes in the SDP range are focused on reading, writing and spelling. Parts of speech, well… So we have a child that has fought his way through everything and is ready to cross the threshold hold but doesn’t know half of what’s being asked of him. Not because he’s dumb. Not because of bad teachers. But because the program that got him this far didn’t teach him those particular things.

He also has a problem with short term memory. Don’t feel bad though, his brain goes so super fast, he’s able to convert to long term memory. It might take him a bit, but he’s able to do it. Pre Mommy taking classes it was no problem.

With me taking classes it is a problem. There’s only so much time in the day. Also, my kid will be a turkey with me:crying, pouting, fit throwing, you know the drill. Our kids will push us to our limits of patience, but will be perfect angels for everyone else. This just childhood, nothing to do with dyspraxia.

But a tutor? And a person he already loves to death? Who also happens to be card carrying member of the Grammar Police? Oh yes, that will do. That will do nicely, thank you very much. No crying, no fits, just lots of learning. And that is a wonderful thing.

Now, I’m off to do your own homework. Ack! I promise, tho, no crying… well. I won’t throw a fit…. no. I promise to do my homework. How’s that?


My path is not the

Straight and narrow 

Of your ken…

You say you understand,

My brain isn’t wired like yours.

And yet, 

Every time,


I have to fight for the

Simple right

To be 



If I had autism

I’d fit in your b

If I had ADD

You’d feel better

Putting pills 

In my mouth.

It’s not my fault

You choose not 

to see….

There are no boxes 

For souls

And mine is beautiful

Even if you choose




Gearing Up

Tomorrow, the dyspraxic, the agraphobic, and the single mom going through ish are going on an adventure.

For the dyspraxic, I need to remember to reign in my spinning annoyances. Deep breaths, because he’ll pick up on it. I’m also praying that it will not be sensory overload– he ended up in the ER after trying to see Jurassic World, 3D with the great sound system. So… also need to make sure we plan a place to meet just in case. Then there’s the motor skills portion– hopefully he won’t have any major falls or spill but if he does it’s just like at home: Shake it off if you can, don’t let it ruin your day.

I made certain sure my son knows how to pick himself up and dust himself off 🙂

The agraphobic… well, that part’s harder. Because I don’t know what to do for her. I am straight up kidnapping her tomorrow. She said she was up for it. I bought the tickets. It’s our adventure, darnit! But I think she’ll be fine.

I think sometimes that she doesn’t know when I’m falling apart. That I’m full of fear but I’ve gotten really good at hiding it. Well. It’s what mom’s do, right? We carry on, make sure the show doesn’t get cancelled. Clean up the messes, sooth the savages… er… children LOL. But she knows now. Because I told her.

So that leaves me. The midlife crisis person going flipping crazy with what I want to do and what I know I can do and what will test me beyond my limits. But I’m gonna do it anyways. My hair is in the process of being dyed PINK as I type this. PINK! HA!

For me, I’ve already started running what I need to do for tomorrow. I wanted my hair done for the Willie Wonka Sing Along because really? If you’re going to do it, you need it for that! Clothes are in the dryer.I know where the tickets are, I emailed the box office and they were kind enough to send me lots of information and really great directions.

I’ll pop a note book in my bag. Because the people I’m travelling with know, without a doubt: Wynwords will Write about it.

Ta, my lovelies! I’ll speak  with you soon!

To the Woman Dating My Ex….

Please know that what I have to say has little to do with jealousy. The man I left is not the man you are dating. That being said, there’s a history between he and I. And when it comes to our son, it informs my decisions. I try to make all my decisions be the best for my son. That’s why I have never bad talked his father to him, or allowed people to do so in The Princeling’s presence. I have always tried to keep that door wide open, so he could have a positive relationship with his father.


You might be the sweetest person in the whole world, the re-incarnation of Mother Teresa, and still I would say: I should have been consulted before my son met you. Period. That should be the end of the story, because really. It’s a fact. But I’ll let you in on a few secrets.

When most people see my son, they see a bright, happy friendly kid. The Princeling can make friends no matter where he goes. He is not shy, my son.

I get to witness the tempest, try to navigate its waters. You see, the Princeling has a neurological condition called Dyspraxia. And while many people look at him and see the surface, or only the bobbles of the motor skills… I get to deal with all of it.

Like the fact that he sobs uncontrollably for twenty minutes after his dad leaves. Don’t believe me? Ask his family. It’s happened over there. He feels, deeply and profoundly… but those feelings are not tempered by a normal neuro child. He has chased after his dad’s car. He has started to jump out of my car when his dad passed us. Poor impulse control, coupled with an emotional base that is not on par with his years. Welcome to dyspraxia.

Then there’s the sensory processing disorder. When things get too loud, he shuts down. He has gone to the ER with what was essentially a panic attack from a movie that was too much for him. I have held him to me, one ear pressed into my chest and the other ear covered by my hand. This is not something that happened to him, something that he learned. A semi-truck or motorcycle going past the house was enough to make him scream as a baby. We’ve learned ways to cope. He also has a weird reaction to pain: sometimes he doesn’t even feel it. And sometimes, no one knows because he will power through and save it for when he gets home. For me to take care of. His safe place. Which is why when he falls, and he will fall, you need to check him over.

Princeling is smart as a whip. I’ve had him tested, so I know. But he has problems getting it out, and doesn’t learn the way most do. Coupled with short term memory loss (please don’t ask him to remember your name), it makes learning a challenge for him. He’s also at the stage where being in that class is making him feel vulnerable, less than other kids. Add to that the fact that his speech is getting sloppy again, and he’s drooling just a bit again. Which leads to more teasing, which he has a hard time coping with. He keeps it all inside.

Yah. It isn’t easy being a dyspraxic.

Go to and poke around. Warren has a lot of great information on the site. Because dyspraxia is a great big grab bag full of wonderful chaos. If you’re going to be around my son, he deserves nothing but your very best effort at understanding him.

It isn’t easy. Even some family members don’t get it.

But that’s ok, with them. Because he has me, and other advocates in the family that have taken the time to learn about dyspraxia and deal with him

But when it’s just the four of you?

You’d better be on board. For his sake.

Because he’s worth it.