Review: The AMDi iAdapter case for iPad

Over the past week I've gotten a few inquires about Maya's iPad case, so I thought it would be best to do a review here.  (As usual, I am not affiliated with this company.  They don't even know that I exist.)


The Basic Info

Maya's iPad is in a case by AMDi called the iAdapter. (She uses an iPad1, and therefore the original iAdapter. They make an iAdapter2 for the iPad2.)  It is a hard black rubberized case that I assembled with a screwdriver (you don't just pop the iPad in and out, once it's in there it pretty much stays in there).  You can find the full product information and specifications about the iAdapter here.

The Pros
We bought this case for a few key reasons:

1. External speakers: We anticipated that the iPad would be serving as Maya's voice . . . and she deserves to be LOUD!!! From my (extrememly non-technical) perspective, the iPad speakers just aren't all that.  If Maya is in a noisy classroom, restaurant, or grocery store (like we were today) and she says something with the iPad, I want to hear it, loud and clear.  These speakers are no joke.  They have 3 settings (as seen in the middle of the pic below)--HI, LO and OFF.

2. Button cover:   Maya learned very quickly to push the button on the iPad--to turn it off, to exit an app, to pull up the keyboard.  Since there's only one button on the entire thing (and most kids are a fan of pushing buttons) she would just push-push-push-push and drive me crazy.  I had to hold my thumb over the button when we were using the iPad, which was irritating. 

This case addresses that issue with a small plastic sliding piece that can cover the button.  It's challenging enough to move that Maya can't do it. Very helpful.

3. Durability/carry-ability: This is a tough case.  Toddler tough.  I love the carrying handle (although Maya generally picks it up with two hands on the sides) and the fact that it just feels durable.  I don't worry about it falling off the couch (hey, it happens) or getting too banged up in her backpack.

4. The stand: The stand comes with the case and props the iPad up at a great angle.  It's sturdy and doesn't tip or get pushed over.  A long groove in the back of the case lets the stand kind of lock in.  (You can see it in the pic above.)

The Cons
These are the issues that I have with the case.  (Remember, though, I'm not a techie type of gal.  It's possible that I'll list my grievances and someone will reply "Hey, you're kind of an idiot and just don't know how to use the case" . . . if that happens, I'll come back and edit my list.)

1. I wish there was a way to monitor the power level. Because the iAdapter has a speaker system, it has to be charged.  The problem is that I can't tell how much battery life is left.  I basically charge it every other night, but that's just a guess.  I wish there was a way to see how much juice was left.

2. I initially had issues with charging the iPad. Weirdly, when I screwed the case together tightly the fit was so snug that I couldn't get the iPad charger cord all the way in.  I had to loosen two of the screws slightly.  That's annoying because I would like to feel that the case is super secure fitting. *post modified: I was wrong about this.  At a reader's urging, I retightened the screws, and sure enough, the charger fits in---it does take a bit of wiggling, though.  I guess I was being too gentle when I tried to insert it before.  Anyway, I take this one back!

*post modified 1/30/12: I orginally had "#3-I can't turn the screen off" here.  But, sure enough, someone with the same case wrote on my Facebook wall that there is indeed a (very tiny) awake/asleep button.  Big enough for me to use, but too small for Maya to find.  Very clever!


4. It would be nice if the screen was covered. Before this case we had an Otterbox, which felt a little more indestructible because of the hard plastic protective piece that would clip on over the screen.  It would be nice if the iAdapter had some sort of shell that could attach to the front and protect the screen.

5. It's expensive.  But considering that it's a hard core case with great speakers and unique features, it seems fairly priced.  (It's also wheelchair mountable)


The bottom line
I liked the ruggedness of the Otterbox Defender slightly better, but we eagerly moved to the iAdapter for the reasons listed above.  The speakers in particular are a huge bonus.  While the cons are irritating, they are definitely outweighed by the pros (for us, anyway).

 *You can see Maya using her iPad, in the iAdapter case, in many videos on the blog.  This post has 2 videos, and each one shows the iPad (and case) from a different angle: http://niederfamily.blogspot.com/2012/01/progress-report-on-communicating-with.html

Progress report on communicating with the iPad

Watching Maya with SfY has been really amazing.  I've spent a good amount of time reading research and learning things like:

• When starting with AAC, keep it light and fun, no pressure 
• Don't ask her to label items, foster actual communication about the items instead
• In the beginning, a lot of communication will likely be food-driven (or, in Maya's case, milk-driven.  Little milkaholic.)

I've resisted the urge to push, which has been difficult.  We have this amazing thing!  We should dive into it! We should open words and build full sentences and work on grammar and oh-does-she-even-know-pronouns? and should we start showing her the keyboard and how to spell her name and . . . . well, you see.  My brain gets away from me. 

I want to run towards the water and jump in and swim laps and splash.  But Maya is 3.  She wants to sit on the steps with her feet in the water.  And I've been respecting that.  (Well, mostly.  You'll see in one video that I draw a line and make her practice turning on the iPad before we read some books, and in the other I try to show her the "stickers" button.  I'm starting to push, respectfully.)

In this video, Maya shows how she's learned to turn on the iPad, and we talk about reading:



In this picture, you can see one of her favorite things to say (the top sentence bar shows her word history): want-want-want-want-want etc. 

This video shows an exciting development: this week she's started to explore the vocabulary on the app.  She likes tapping her way around, visiting her favorite words and finding new ones.  It's a big step---one that shows she is definitely interested in an unprompted way---and I'm really excited to see it starting. 

Also, at the end of the video I included a clip of how things aren't all perfect. There are plenty of moments that don't pan out all that well. I thought that this is important to see in case any other parents of potential AAC users are watching and thinking "Oh, Maya does this perfectly and my kid couldn't." Well, Maya's not perfect (and neither am I), and we're learning together. 




Also, here's what Maya's teacher had to say on Monday: "Maya has gotten a lot more accurate with pointing to what she wants on the iPad"  Woo hoo!

Maya's story is in Bloomberg News

Today was a big day for Maya--she crashed on to the mainsteam news scene.  She appears rather nonchalant about the whole thing, really.  I asked her if she was excited and she used the iPad to say "milk-milk-milk-milk".  So, I guess that's a no.

Several months ago I was put into contact with a reporter from Bloomberg News who was working on a series of stories about genome sequencing.  At the time, we were still in talks with RGI, planning to meet with a doctor sometime in the future about the possibility of genome sequencing.  We spoke with John many times over the next few months, and he came down from Boston to meet Maya (and brought a camera man to shoot some video of her playing and an on-camera interview with me--eek).  We kept checking in as we went to Yale and shared our story here, and then had the fastest fundraising ever.

I kept it a secret, because news seems fickle to me, and I felt like I didn't want to mention it until it was a sure thing.  A really sure thing. 

Today, the article went up on Bloomberg's website.  The first half of the article addresses the potential that genome sequencing has with regard to curing cancer (hence the title), but the second half is about Maya's undiagnosed story.  There are 2 pictures, and then the aforementioned video sequence (which is slightly extreme-close-up for my taste, but overall well done, and I don't sound like a fool, so . . . win, I think.)

Here's a link to the article.

Here's a direct link to the video (which you can also see on the left side of the article). (Also, the video opens with one of my favorite pictures of Maya---her first "real" smile.  So cute.)

And if you're interested in following the series, here's a link to John's first article (posted last week), which was the first in the series.

 

First time walking in the snow

Welcome to the latest installment in my series "First time walking . . . ".  We had first time walking (back in Feb. '10)---followed by first time walking outside, first time walking at the playground, first time walking at the apple picking place, and now first time walking in the snow.  Others that I haven't mentioned on the blog include: first time walking in the sprinklers, first time walking in New Jersey, first time walking in the lobby of the building, first time walking around the tree on Christmas morning . . .

And I'm unapologetic about drawing out this "First time walking" milestone over the past 11 months, because it's amazing.  I never stop being appreciative about her walk-ability, and I delight in every new experience she gets to have as a walker.

So, today, she got to walk in the snow.  She stood pretty still for a full minute or two, delighted by the snow but unsure of it's walking surface:

(we were just going to the diner, hence no gloves)

But then she became bold, and walked and ran (well, the way that she runs), and yelled at a guy with a shovel (yep.  she's not shy.).  (A little sledding clip is thrown in here, too)

Notes from school, and video from the library

Today's blog update is brought to you not by me, but by Maya's preschool teacher (ok, I'll chime in, too, because I can't help myself).  These are notes from Maya's communication notebook (a book that travels to and from school and contains notes from me-to-the-teacher and vice versa.

From Tuesday:

"I think the app is great & she is doing well.  I def(initely) think you don't need to send in the book anymore.  She doesn't look for it really."

The app is great! She's doing well! I should stop sending the Word Book into school, and she's not looking for it anyway!  Woo hoo!  We had been wondering how to phase out the Word Book, since now that we've found Speak for Yourself (aka the perfect app) we want to focus on using solely that for communication.  As it turns out, Maya's not that attached to using the Word Book to communicate.  It's fantastic . . . and a little sad.  Our feeding therapist looked slightly horrified when I told her today, "Don't mention the w-o-r-d b-o-o-k, it's at home, we're phasing it out."  She was all, "Omg, you put so much work into that thing, and now it's done?!"  Well, yeah.  But we're moving on to something better. (And Maya still sleeps with the Word Book and will play with it at home, it's just becoming relegated to the status of security blanket, not communication tool.)

Today:

This one needs a little background. Maya's boyfriend just moved to the other side of the globe.
She had a major crush on a former classmate, and the feeling was mutual.  They gravitated towards each other, and it was seriously adorable.  Unfortunately, his family just moved clear across the planet . . . and we were all worried that she would take it hard.  She's been asking about him in the morning . . . I talk about who she'll see at school and she says, "Ah?  Ah!!!" (that's what she calls him).  She pulls his picture out of the Word Book.  It's a little sad. 

But then I got this note:

"Maya had a GREAT day.  Did such good listening & following directions.  Her & (blue tape blocks a boy's name) now hold hands while walking down (the hall)."

My girl apparently knows how to work a room.  Her former BFF has been gone for all of three days and she's already found a new partner in crime (well, for this week, at least).  I guess she'll never be lonely :)

And just for fun, here's a video from this afternoon.  After therapy we went to the library (a book of mine had come in).  It was a surprise---she didn't know we were going there.  And wow, was she excited:



You might remember that she's library-crazy, although we didn't know that until she got her hands on the Word Book and had words at her disposal for the first time (in the video at the bottom of this post, about 1 min in). All that she wanted to tell us was library-library-library.

 

Happy birthday to the best dad around!

It's Dave's birthday!  Last year, I wrote this whole big Dave-is-so-fantastic post, which was really nice at the time, but left me with kind of no way to top it this year.  (You can look here to see why Dave is so fantastic, by the way.)

This year I decided that I would teach Maya to sing part of the Happy Birthday song.  She was chiming in perfectly over the weekend, but I guess the novelty wore off, because it was like pulling teeth today.  On the third try, she jumps in (and then goes off on a typical sneaky/naughty tangent):



Happy birthday, Dave!  You're awesome and we love you to pieces.  We're lucky to have you :) 

  
 

It's all happening

I bring to you Maya, this morning, at breakfast:





She's had her hands on the app since Thursday, on and off.  That's 2 days.  The foundation is being laid. 

My tough outer shell is all "This will take time.  She will be slow to attach to this, and she might get frustrated.  Don't force it, don't get discouraged.  Don't get your hopes up."

But the tiny inner excitable part of me, the one that squeals like a little kid when snow falls or I see the ocean, is all: "It's happening, it's happening, she's already saying things, this could stick this could work."  I keep trying to shut her up, so my hopes don't get too high . . . but, well, it's been a good day over here.  At lunch I kept saying "Maya, we're eating broccoli and chicken nuggets." And then she would start tapping to say "cereal bar.  Yogurt."  I guess it's all about food :)

I'm cautiously excited.  It's beginning. 

 
 

Stand Up.

Edited to add(1/14): I've received several emails from people who are friends of CHOP, asserting that this is not the full story.  I agree that the process to determine candidacy for a transplant is probably quite complex, and I am hopeful that the IQ of this girl was not the sole cause for her denial.  However, if "mental retardation" played any part in her denial, then that is despicable.  I'm happy to do my small part to spread the story of another special needs parent who is begging to have her story spread.  But I'm not really interested in engaging in rounds of debate about it-because I simply don't know any more than what is here.  I'm not leading a crusade, I'm just sharing a story that a mom asked for people to share. 

A story popped onto my Facebook feed this morning, and my friend included a tag line about being angry that people judge the lives of people with disabilities as "less worthy" or "having a lower quality of life" than others. 

I didn't open the link.

Sometimes . . . well, sometimes I need to take breaks from all-things-disability. 

An hour later, it popped up again.  And then again.  Finally, I opened it. 

You need to hear this story. 

I think it's best if you go right to the source.

In case you're not in a link-clicking mood, here's the summary: A little girl (Edited: She's 2, nearly 3 years old. Younger than Maya. Her picture is on that link) has a genetic condition.  She will need a kidney transplant in the next 6-12 mos (this is expected, and her levels have been monitored for the past 3 years).  At her appointment at CHOP (Children's Hospital of Philadelphia, known for being an excellent children's hospital) on Tuesday, her parents were told that she will not be eligible for a transplant because she is mentally retarded.

She will not be eligible to get a kidney transplant, which is necessary to keep her alive, because she is mentally retarded.

The end.

When the family (in a rage) said Well, whatever, we'll just find a kidney in the family to donate to her the doctor responded with We will not do her surgery here.  She in ineligible because of her quality of life because of her mental delays.

If you are somewhat horrified and somewhat skeptical, thinking Come now, there must be more to it than that . . . no doctor gets to look at a little girl and say "Oh, you are delayed and you're life isn't worth living, so I will not give you a kidney and you will die" . . . well, you are wrong.  That's the story.

Are you ok with that?

Because you can be damn sure I'm not ok with that.

Stand up, people.  It's time to be counted.  If this were Maya, I know that you would help me rally the troops (and perhaps a firing squad) . . . so help Amelia's family.  I can't imagine the state of her parents.  Let them see their rage against such a gross misjustice spread and affect change.

 Take 45 seconds and do these 3 things. Please.

1. Go to this link and sign this petition, which demands that CHOP grant the transplant (and will hopefully cause a policy change at the hospital):

2. Write on CHOP's Facebook wall to express your disagreement/disgust/other adjectives.

3. Share the story.  Share Amelia's mom's link, or the link to this post, or the link to the petition.  Put it on Facebook, tweet it, email it to friends.


We cannot be ok with this.  And if you're not ok with this, you have to make your voice heard.

The object of her affection

I was just going through some files on my computer and found this gem of a video, taken a few days after Christmas (you'll see the clutter that rapidly accumulates when we're on "vacation").  Maya and Parker were like little magnets---they kept separating only to get pulled back together.  I started filming, and by the end Dave and I were nearly in tears (you'll hear it). 

In fairness, it should be noted that Parker & Maya play like brother and sister (or 2 puppies, whichever analogy you prefer).  In this video, she's playing the role of the instigator, but there are other days when he follows her around, nudging her or bumping her to play.  (He's very smart around her---you can see a few times in the video where he moves slightly away (she has a habit of falling suddenly) and other times when he just freezes and stays still and kind of absorbs her weight.)

You have to admit they're pretty cute together.







If you're new around here, go back to April 2010 and you can read about (and see) when we got Parker.  He's a standard poodle, and we got him to be Maya's service/therapy dog.  Once she started walking, he shifted from training for service dog to remaining a therapy dog.  He's worked with her during sessions, and is just an emotional (and sometimes physical) companion for her, and for us.

Choose to rock

I'm beyond stretched at the moment.  The past few days have been a swirl of figuring out Speak for Yourself, spreading the word about it, and deciding how to start introducing Maya to it.  Oh, and working. And maintaining the homefront (our apartment, I mean, not America). Oh yeah, and taking care of Maya.  Not much time left for writing. 

Today I met with her teacher to demo the app and speak with her about which vocabulary we'll be opening to start with (opening & closing the vocabulary can be seen here).  Tonight I'll be setting it up because it's going to start traveling to and from school tomorrow.  I don't want to be nervous, but I am.  It might take a while for Maya to get on board, and to gain the skills she needs to work a communication app, and I'm worried that if we have a rocky start I will catastrophize that it will never work. 

In lieu of something fun and original, I bring you a little snippet of writing that I did that has yet to appear on this blog.  I wrote this as part of an interview post that I did for Love that Max (go here to see the entire thing) in December.  The last question was a simple prompt: "I rock because . . . " and it was my favorite one to answer:

I rock because…

I choose to.  Plain and simple.

I don’t want to have a child with special needs.  I don’t want my daughter to have to struggle and work hard to do things that come easily to other kids.  I hate watching her struggle to express herself, while other kids can chatter away incessantly. 

It’s not fair. 

So from time to time I get frustrated and have a good cry, and the other 99% of the time we just live life.  We play, we go to the zoo, we do art projects, we go to the dog park.  We make up silly games and silly songs and try to enjoy life as it speeds by.  We drink good coffee and cheap wine and laugh and I watch my crappy TV when Maya is asleep and I don’t dwell on the bad stuff.  I try not to worry about things until I need to. 

In the end, everyone has their own uncontrollable “it’s not fair” stuff . . . the unexpected death of a loved one, sudden unemployment, a cancer diagnosis, a spouse’s infidelity.  Life can throw a game-changing, tragic occurrence to anyone at any time, and in an instant things can go from just-another-day to things-will-never -be-the-same.   And every person who ends up on the receiving end of one of these curveballs has a choice . . . you can choose to mourn forever, to bemoan the unfairness and wish that you could go back to “before”.  Or, you can choose to have a good cry and move on.  To rock on. 

I choose to rock.