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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/rss2full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><rss xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" version="2.0"><channel><atom:id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951</atom:id><lastBuildDate>Thu, 17 Dec 2009 14:32:46 +0000</lastBuildDate><title>Autism's Edges</title><description>life  and  learning &lt;br&gt;
at the edges of the autism spectrum</description><link>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/</link><managingEditor>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</managingEditor><generator>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>166</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/AutismsEdges" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com" /><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-7842171411121463925</guid><pubDate>Sun, 29 Nov 2009 22:45:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-11-29T19:30:31.718-05:00</atom:updated><title>Pilgrim's Progress</title><atom:summary>Just two weeks back you could have found me afloat in a pool that sported a water slide shooting out from a replica of the Mayflower and a jacuzzi embedded in a simulated Plymouth Rock.Yes, I was in Plymouth, Massachusetts, home of those pilgrims whose fall feast has morphed into the annual turkey-eating-fest that we've just finished celebrating. So what sort of pilgrimage would take me to </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/K7OR-yZbGIw/pilgrims-progress.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/SxMB5uxyF9I/AAAAAAAAAbE/DSpiUFZg9CE/s72-c/inn.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">11</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/K7OR-yZbGIw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/11/pilgrims-progress.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-512861603749652928</guid><pubDate>Sun, 18 Oct 2009 22:42:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-18T18:48:50.899-04:00</atom:updated><title>Hearts Are Ungraded</title><atom:summary>Even though Sweet M's most recent drawings have not show her embedded in a community as she was last year, one of last week's shows her surrounded by hearts. You've gotta love this girl, and apparently plenty of people do.  Art may be graded, but it seems hearts are not.</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/8Tb_oINYpVg/hearts-are-ungraded.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/StuaAfcDgrI/AAAAAAAAAa8/B6OLNIJoB94/s72-c/flower-hearts.jpeg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/8Tb_oINYpVg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/10/hearts-are-ungraded.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-5842769553148771822</guid><pubDate>Sat, 10 Oct 2009 18:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-10T14:38:52.199-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">pedagogy</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">art education</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">middle school</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">autism</category><title>"Art Is Not for Grading"</title><atom:summary>Sweet M had been holding up pretty well with the transitions that middle school has brought. There had been some tears, and there was the return to the image of the solitary flower, but she was mostly buoyant and enthusiastic, especially about the upcoming school dance and planning her birthday party.She was handling the two hours of homework each night.  Yes, that was "two hours," not a typo.  (</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/c2LFk3Yfkh8/art-is-not-for-grading.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/StDTeIy1rjI/AAAAAAAAAa0/Y82XuwgUzEk/s72-c/tree-print-1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/c2LFk3Yfkh8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/10/art-is-not-for-grading.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-5685898242953215702</guid><pubDate>Sat, 10 Oct 2009 01:48:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-09T22:59:15.471-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">art therapy</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">art</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">school placements</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">psychotropic medications</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">autism</category><title>Putting Down Roots</title><atom:summary>One of the reasons that we worked so hard to keep Sweet M at her current school was that we could see from her drawings that something was changing in her sense of relatedness.These drawings from her series of flowers, trees, and cacti are from the fall and winter of last year . . .We're not art therapists, but it looked to Fathersvox and I that she was, bit by bit, feeling settled. Between </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/euIWIactYQE/putting-down-roots.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/Ss_pVuGySRI/AAAAAAAAAZk/d5fg1bOD0xQ/s72-c/1-flowers-oct08.jpeg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">2</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/euIWIactYQE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/10/putting-down-roots.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-8056965661439051926</guid><pubDate>Tue, 06 Oct 2009 10:51:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-06T08:02:24.659-04:00</atom:updated><title>September's Questions</title><atom:summary>The month of September brought us countless questions, often uttered between sobs of deep grief:Why do kids have to go to school?Why can't kids just stay home and learn?Why are the teachers always, always talking?  They never stop talking.Will I go to college?How soon can I go to college?Can I go to college where you teach?If kids are really smart can they do high school in two years?Can I go to </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/wy-IcKSFGkg/septembers-questions.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/Sssw7CutiPI/AAAAAAAAAZU/WMe67F0lu80/s72-c/IMG_1394.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/wy-IcKSFGkg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/10/septembers-questions.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-6671352659654819971</guid><pubDate>Sun, 12 Jul 2009 21:55:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-12T17:56:41.136-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">The Horse Boy</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">horseback riding</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Rupert Issacson</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">autism</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">hippotherapy</category><title>To the Ends of the Earth</title><atom:summary>A willingness to go to the ends of the earth for our kids is something that autism seems to inspire in many of us, but few have done so as literally as Rupert Isaacson and his wife, Kristin Neff, who took their autistic son Rowan to the steppes of Mongolia to seek the help of shaman healers.  The Horse Boy: A Father's Quest to Heal His Son is Isaacson's moving account of that journey and its many</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/zgV-PImjsI8/to-ends-of-earth.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/SlpCbW7J0DI/AAAAAAAAAY8/XnGWVNUE3Fo/s72-c/self_compassion_horse_boy.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/zgV-PImjsI8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/07/to-ends-of-earth.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-5316157686512241518</guid><pubDate>Fri, 03 Jul 2009 14:25:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-07-03T13:09:20.315-04:00</atom:updated><title>The Stakes</title><atom:summary>We "won" Battle: Least Restrictive Setting.  We had our IEP meeting and Sweet M gets to continue at her current school and go on to middle school, entering the sixth grade in the fall.She could not be happier about this.  She worked so hard in the past year — closing gaps in reading and in math specifically because she loves her school and wants to continue there.  Two weeks ago her class toured </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/5GrhZJXPyyQ/stakes.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/Sk47HoNRKQI/AAAAAAAAAY0/ALeXr4LFT58/s72-c/toms1a.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/5GrhZJXPyyQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/07/stakes.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-7307536115826288310</guid><pubDate>Sat, 13 Jun 2009 15:40:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-06-13T14:17:16.142-04:00</atom:updated><title>Iron Mom: Battle "Least Restrictive Setting"</title><atom:summary>Now and again we watch The Food Network's Iron Chef America, a game show that features a celebrity master chef like Mario Batali or Bobby Flay battling a challenger in "Kitchen Stadium."  Their task: to make the best five-course meal in just under an hour using a featured "secret ingredient" such as trout, or flank steak, or parmigiano reggiano.  The secret ingredient must be featured in each </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/_Ny6EzBbgkU/iron-mom-battle-least-restrictive.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/SjPtIP4yYNI/AAAAAAAAAXk/z_6FOa4PP1A/s72-c/ironchefspecialededitionvert.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">9</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/_Ny6EzBbgkU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/06/iron-mom-battle-least-restrictive.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-1805991781683875478</guid><pubDate>Tue, 19 May 2009 18:24:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-22T13:10:32.070-04:00</atom:updated><title>"Whoa - oh, what I want to know, is are you kind?"</title><atom:summary>On Saturday we went to a potluck barbecue at the Woodstock home of a friend who is an advocate, educator and activist and the mother of a teenager on the spectrum.  All sorts of families with kids on the spectrum were there and I was filled with a feeling — such a very rare and delicious feeling — peace and acceptance.The last time I had such a feeling was at the autism and advocacy conference </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/3i8Fr1Q4K5c/whoa-oh-what-i-want-to-know-is-are-you.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/ShbYwp_kCqI/AAAAAAAAAXM/HtcqbanNvsY/s72-c/IMG_0183_2.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/3i8Fr1Q4K5c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/05/whoa-oh-what-i-want-to-know-is-are-you.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-4098827948570406386</guid><pubDate>Mon, 11 May 2009 19:41:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-11T16:38:28.979-04:00</atom:updated><title>On Cultivation</title><atom:summary>About three months ago Sweet M was watching television with a headset on and she turned to me and said, "Hey M___, have you ever heard of a p-alarm?"I said, "A p-alarm . . . not sure . . . what do you mean?""You know," she said, "An alarm that helps kids who have my embarrassing problem?""Oh, a pee-alarm," I said.  "Yes, I've heard of a pee-alarm.  How did you hear about a pee-alarm?""I saw it on</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/CnaqZPPmvc4/on-cultivation.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/SgiMjsej6NI/AAAAAAAAAXE/1JFn8PDwe-I/s72-c/IMG_3227.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/CnaqZPPmvc4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/05/on-cultivation.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-5611630014856383087</guid><pubDate>Sat, 25 Apr 2009 14:00:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-04-25T14:04:54.536-04:00</atom:updated><title>Making It Up as We Go Along</title><atom:summary>Some of you who've been reading this blog for a while know that I can be given to grumbling, griping, kvetching -- as we say in the fair city we've made home.So you would not have been surprised to have heard me muttering about the forty term papers that I was marking for one of the classes I teach at a nearby private university.  On the whole they were a disappointing stack of documents.  The </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/JbXdGVG2IYQ/making-it-up-as-we-go-along.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/SfNOzufIFRI/AAAAAAAAAWk/BH_laGNvcFY/s72-c/IMG_7960.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/JbXdGVG2IYQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/04/making-it-up-as-we-go-along.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-1581735996152951875</guid><pubDate>Sat, 28 Mar 2009 14:38:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-03-28T18:42:23.427-04:00</atom:updated><title>Another Version of Aging Out</title><atom:summary>Last month I went to California to be with my father when he died and to be with my family at his funeral.  The funeral was exactly a month ago today.On the phone from California to New York, I asked Sweet M if she wanted to come out for the funeral and she said, "Uhp-hummm (feigned throat clearing), the school, uhp-hummmmm, the homework.  Remember 'the working hard' and 'the study hard'. I can't</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/pz69-osP48w/finally-aging-out.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/Sc5Q5ZoMFsI/AAAAAAAAAWc/J64Zuw1CBo0/s72-c/IMG_3020.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">7</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/pz69-osP48w" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/03/finally-aging-out.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-5571466279108483128</guid><pubDate>Sat, 14 Mar 2009 13:21:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-05-13T23:39:57.203-04:00</atom:updated><title>Aging Out?</title><atom:summary>When I first wandered into the autism blogosphere one autumn day some three years ago, I was struggling mightily.  Sweet M's school had told me that I should look for another school: that she was not learning to read and might not learn to read more than the most rudimentary of texts, that her meltdowns were too disruptive, and that we should be looking for another school because she needed more </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/Y6x3L6skJ2c/aging-out.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/SbvOcvMUHNI/AAAAAAAAAWU/AP9VU9_GyW0/s72-c/CherryBlossom.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">8</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/Y6x3L6skJ2c" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/03/aging-out.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-4512963656095494423</guid><pubDate>Thu, 22 Jan 2009 01:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-21T21:18:21.708-05:00</atom:updated><title>The Hidden Costs of (Mis)managed Care</title><atom:summary>Being that it's January -- new year's resolutions and all that -- I had decided to do what our culture urges us to do at this time of year: make some health improving resolution.  And I did.  I got a physical from a new doctor since my dear doctor died.  I started a walking program.  Shifted some things in my usual eating.  You know -- all the usual health and fitness resolutions.But instead of </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/-nHaxGjWsOM/hidden-costs-of-mismanaged-care.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_iiEOZFndRbQ/SWgun62HgBI/AAAAAAAAADY/9Ls3S_6ICUs/s72-c/Footsteps_Into_The_Sky_by_oruwu.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/-nHaxGjWsOM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2009/01/hidden-costs-of-mismanaged-care.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-6802976732527666154</guid><pubDate>Wed, 17 Dec 2008 22:53:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-21T21:31:31.075-05:00</atom:updated><title>I am tired of reading about autistic and developmentally different children being abused and tortured.</title><atom:summary>I am tired of reading about autistic and other neurologically atypical kids being abused and tortured.  How do we get this to stop?http://www.cnn.com/2008/US/12/17/seclusion.rooms/index.html?eref=rss_topstoriesUPDATE -- January 13th, 2009The National Disability Rights Network has released a report on the use of restraints and seclusion and has called upon the 111th Congress to ban these practices</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/PVGCmsezMuo/i-am-tired-of-reading-about-autistic.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/SUmEGRqie7I/AAAAAAAAAVc/SrnDL5iX2S8/s72-c/art.SECLUSION-ROOM-DOOR-PIC.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">3</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/PVGCmsezMuo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2008/12/i-am-tired-of-reading-about-autistic.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-3619504432803395997</guid><pubDate>Thu, 04 Dec 2008 01:47:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-12-03T21:08:44.606-05:00</atom:updated><title>Steven Tamarin, M.D.—Memorial Service</title><atom:summary>Just to clarify, the memorial service for Dr. Steven Tamarin, M.D. will be held on:Saturday, December 6, 2-4 p.m.New York Academy of Medicine103rd Street and Fifth Avenue, 2nd floor (enter on 103rd St.)There is a warm remembrance of Steve at the website of New York State Academy of Family Physicians, and in the comments section on yesterday's post.Thanks to the readers who shared this information</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/gpte7ay_hnU/steven-tamarin-mdmemorial-service.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/STc5nIeLY0I/AAAAAAAAAVU/ugMPN3sty5A/s72-c/IMG_2258_3.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">10</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/gpte7ay_hnU" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2008/12/steven-tamarin-mdmemorial-service.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-6419461713442892622</guid><pubDate>Tue, 02 Dec 2008 12:16:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-01-24T00:38:14.692-05:00</atom:updated><title>An Autumn of Eulogies: Steven Tamarin, M.D.</title><atom:summary>Alas, in spite of all medical advances the mortality rate hovers at about 100%. If you don’t die of heart disease you die of something else . . .                — Steven B. Tamarin, M.D.               January 29, 2008 2:05 am      Link  It seems as though I have entered into the autumn of eulogies.  Another great one has passed away, and this time another one who has cared for me, for my family, </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/Vbg52_DMXEY/autumn-of-eulogies-steven-tamarin-md.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/STXOucyPW0I/AAAAAAAAAVE/hCZP2Fr617E/s72-c/IMG_2258.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">97</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/Vbg52_DMXEY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2008/12/autumn-of-eulogies-steven-tamarin-md.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-3108378970543619396</guid><pubDate>Wed, 26 Nov 2008 13:30:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-11-26T09:52:38.576-05:00</atom:updated><title>"Ages 3 and Up" — Or Way Too Many Toys</title><atom:summary>Sweet M's letter to Santa, October 28, 2008In late October, after the Toys R Us catalog arrived with the Sunday newspaper, Sweet M sat down to write her list for Santa. She was trying to avoid thinking about Halloween, a holiday she loathes, by looking forward to Christmas. And unlike any of the other 11-year-olds at her school, she still believes in Santa.Her Christmas list was long — very, very</atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/azdZ2tL1llI/ages-3-and-up-or-way-too-many-toys.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/SS1fehARraI/AAAAAAAAAUs/pmVNH4UgVvg/s72-c/xmas+wtih+border.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/azdZ2tL1llI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2008/11/ages-3-and-up-or-way-too-many-toys.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-8633332221160370215</guid><pubDate>Tue, 18 Nov 2008 13:17:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2009-10-06T22:31:19.562-04:00</atom:updated><title>Post-Paxil, or On Feeling Like Oneself</title><atom:summary>Lately Sweet M has a new expression.  When she's not feeling well, she says, "I'm not feeling like myself."When the horse she likes best at her hippotherapy program tried to buck her off, as he'd done with several kids, she was completely calm as she reprimanded him with a sharp reproach, saying "Tank, don't do THAT.  You scared me."  Later she told me, nonchalantly, that it was okay, that "Tank </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/iVb4GGHHn_s/post-paxil-or-on-feeling-like-oneself.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/SSLRZ61CxwI/AAAAAAAAAUU/chHskFFnTsw/s72-c/IMG_1518.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">8</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/iVb4GGHHn_s" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2008/11/post-paxil-or-on-feeling-like-oneself.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-9122290655362441482</guid><pubDate>Mon, 17 Nov 2008 01:23:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-11-18T11:14:58.797-05:00</atom:updated><title>White Gloves and Party Manners, or Elegy for an Aunt Departed</title><atom:summary>Earlier this week my aunt passed away from complications related to lupus.  She lived a long life, nearly eighty years, had five children, four grandchildren, and dozens of nieces and nephews, friends and in-laws who treasured her in life and now mourn her loss.    We called her Aunt Sissy because she was the only girl in a brood of six siblings, so she was Sis to all her brothers, and Aunt Sis </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/UbPJyU7xBYI/white-gloves-and-party-manners-or-elegy.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/SSDbktq3f-I/AAAAAAAAAUM/mos8pdopw0I/s72-c/whitegloves.jpeg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/UbPJyU7xBYI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2008/11/white-gloves-and-party-manners-or-elegy.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-1129291461669163006</guid><pubDate>Sat, 11 Oct 2008 22:34:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-10-11T19:03:08.861-04:00</atom:updated><title>Bears Everywhere</title><atom:summary>This afternoon Sweet M made this drawing . . . Usually her drawings are of houses, satellites, female figures, cupcakes, treehouses, and butterflies, so I was a bit surprised by this frightening image.When I asked her what it was, she said, "It's a bear."When I said it looked looked cool but scary, she said, "Don't worry — it's just a bear mask."I wish that adults trading stocks in our mutual </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/P_appjZ1kZg/bears-everywhere.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/SPEqGP75EAI/AAAAAAAAAUE/_3dNI78I7o0/s72-c/Snapshot+2008-10-11+18-31-44+bear.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">1</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/P_appjZ1kZg" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2008/10/bears-everywhere.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-2882154137656088724</guid><pubDate>Sat, 23 Aug 2008 12:24:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-08-23T09:06:11.860-04:00</atom:updated><title>Camp: No Longer a Four-Letter-Word</title><atom:summary>


After a series of unfortunate experiences, "camp" had become a four-letter-word for Sweet M.There was that well-intentioned but understaffed day camp in Westchester County.  And then there were the dangerously untrained counselors in an inclusive program at a local youth organization. And finally the camp we dropped out of before we even sent Sweet M when we learned that the camp director had </atom:summary><enclosure type="video/mp4" url="http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=c69cf5ac50b79385&amp;type=video%2Fmp4" length="0" /><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/Chfu7_InM2U/camp-no-longer-four-letter-word.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">5</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/Chfu7_InM2U" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2008/08/camp-no-longer-four-letter-word.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-155218745546884123</guid><pubDate>Sun, 17 Aug 2008 02:26:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-08-18T10:37:50.880-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">neuroleptics</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">psychotropic medications</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">obesity</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">Paxil</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">autism</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">hippotherapy</category><title>The Other Epidemic</title><atom:summary>Sweet M is very, very round, and I haven't known what to do.We are told that there is an epidemic of autism.  The other epidemic that we hear a a lot about is rising childhood obesity.  If one believes that fatness is a disease, and not just another difference, then Sweet M is among the obese.Of course there are a lot of smart people out there who think fat is just fat, not a disease.  But most </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/PgH1dc6VIU4/other-epidemic.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/SKeX77OhjqI/AAAAAAAAAOM/M8nVViLzy9Q/s72-c/IMG_0015+aut+swing.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">8</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/PgH1dc6VIU4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2008/08/other-epidemic.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-2334669876713910963</guid><pubDate>Mon, 26 May 2008 19:01:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-05-26T16:11:34.589-04:00</atom:updated><title>From Autism to Alzheimer's</title><atom:summary>Last week I was in California to visit my father in his new home, an assisted living residence for people with Alzheimer's and other sorts of memory disorders.  I was apprehensive about his move to this facility — a place that I hadn't seen and had heard only a little about, so I just had to see it.My mother had been caring for him for seven years — since he first went missing after dropping </atom:summary><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/YWvyga6gkBo/from-autism-to-alzheimers.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_JmcBVVIxUyE/SDsZVY0u5UI/AAAAAAAAANs/jByoK3NwQJY/s72-c/bird.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">4</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/YWvyga6gkBo" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2008/05/from-autism-to-alzheimers.html</feedburner:origLink></item><item><guid isPermaLink="false">tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-19421951.post-9000189358295626224</guid><pubDate>Sun, 27 Apr 2008 13:08:00 +0000</pubDate><atom:updated>2008-04-27T09:41:54.636-04:00</atom:updated><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">pre-teen</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">friendship</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">entertainment</category><category domain="http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#">autism</category><title>My Little Ponies</title><atom:summary>


A year or two ago Sweet M saw an enticing television commercial for the My Little Pony stage show and begged to go.  Unfortunately it was only on tour in Tulsa, Dallas, and other parts west.  But we put her name on an email notification list for when the show might come to New York and about two months ago we learned it was coming to Madison Square Garden — a good bit closer to us than </atom:summary><enclosure type="video/mp4" url="http://www.blogger.com/video-play.mp4?contentId=77a50a7288982d0d&amp;type=video%2Fmp4" length="0" /><link>http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~3/E5HC4P4uxw0/my-little-ponies.html</link><author>noreply@blogger.com (MothersVox)</author><thr:total xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0">6</thr:total><description>&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/AutismsEdges/~4/E5HC4P4uxw0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</description><feedburner:origLink>http://autismsedges.blogspot.com/2008/04/my-little-ponies.html</feedburner:origLink></item></channel></rss>
