Kuya Dale's NCAE Results

If you are a follower of this blog, you may remember that I told everyone that I will not post about Dale anymore because I want to give him his privacy.  However, I cannot contain my happiness when I found out his NCAE results!  I am so proud of him.  See results below:

 

  

Congratulations, Kuya Dale! Keep up the very good work! 

When Special Children Are Not So Special

http://autismacceptanceday.blogspot.com

Any children with a disability or disorder needs special needs, ergo, they are called special children.  They were not called as such because they have ice cream on top, or they are supposed to be given preferential treatment.  A little consideration, yes, but they also just want to be normal just like you and me.

My son, Dale, once asked me "Mom, can you help me?  It's my brain.  I think it's wired differently.  I do not think like you or everyone else.  I have prayed every night, just like you said.  I asked God to please, please, please make my brother and my classmates like me, but it's not working.  They still keep saying that they hate me."  As a mother, my heart broke at what he said.  I cannot fathom why someone can say that they hate a person and mean it.  Hate is such a strong word, and so is love; and both should be said and given when it is true.

What can I say to my child that could make him feel better?  Is it really true that everything will be okay in the end? That when I told him to just ignore the bullies, will they really stop?

This is our society.  When we see a person who seems to be looking at nothing or seems to be laughing on his own, we conclude that the person is mentally ill.  When the person do not say "Hi!" back at you or just hum when he is bored, we say he is autistic, "May sariling mundo." 

Then we go say "Aw..." at the new McDonald'scommercial, but never really understood what those brothers have gone through.  Children with Down Syndrome are easily recognized because of their physical appearance, but what about the other children with different disabilities?  They look just like you and me.  If McDonald's used a "KUYA"  with ADHD, will you still recognize his disability?  Will you still say "Aw...?" 

Personally, if you see a differently-abled child, you do not need to know what he's got.  You need not bother with labeling, especially if you are not there to help him.  Labeling is important only to those who are handling his case, like a therapist or a doctor.  It is important for them so they can treat him properly.  Labeling should never be used as a tool to ridicule a person or to limit his capabilities.  

That is the reason behind wanting to change the label to CWA (Children with Autism) from "autistic," because it becomes who they are.  Thus, instead of saying "I have autism," you define yourself by saying "I am autistic."  Autism is not the person, autism is just a disorder he has. 

And I dream of a world where we all know the difference.

of nightmares and coffee

Today, right at this moment, I'm looking at my son, Dale, sleeping soundly in my bed. In his hand was a plastic toy flower. My mom gave it to him when he had a tantrum. He wanted to buy something from the store, but sadly, the stores were closed. So, in between sobs, he slept, flower in hand.

My mom went to sleep right after. She was exhausted. Oftentimes, dealing with Dale's tantrums can be physically draining, not to mention emotionally tiring. Mom couldn't stand it when Dale does something unusual, like look up at the ceiling and shake his head, or giggle for no apparent reason.

When I look at him like this, peacefully sleeping, I try to visualize what his dreams may be like. Does he dream at all? Does he have nightmares like we all do? If he does, what is it that he fears the most?

I wish he could tell me when he wakes up. I wish he can wake up in the middle of the night and cry and when I ask him he'll tell me "Mamaw!" just like his brother, Anton. But there were never moments like this.

But I'm still thankful and happy, for when he's awake he can now tell me what he wants... he points, and he whispers them to me. He looks for me now when I'm not in the room, shouting "Mommy!" while going to every room.

Two days ago, he woke up at 4:30 in the morning, he tugged at my hand, and I, thinking that he had a nightmare, told him "Ssh... what is it?", and he told me...

"Coffee?"

And then I looked at my son in the dark. I thought, I was wrong. I have to be thankful if he doesn't have nightmares.

You know what my nightmares are?

They're moments that Dale wakes up in the dark, just sitting beside me, staring at me, and not telling me what he wanted because he did not know how...

And they're moments when Dale wakes up in the middle of the night asking for coffee, but couldn't find me in the dark.

I was cleaning my files, and I saw this piece at the back of some of my papers... I'm not sure when I wrote this, years ago, i think.

I still have the same nightmares now and again.