Tomorrow

Tomorrow, two of my wonderful children have birthdays. 

And I am incredibly sad.

Not just the usual nostalgic, my babies are growing up too fast kind of sad. But the kind of sad that comes from handing them over at 8am to school and their Dad. Meaning....I don't get to spend their birthday with them. This is a first, and it is one that I'm not particularly fond of. One could even say that I am being a bit pitiful about it. Because I am.

I want to celebrate. 

I want to celebrate with my big girl. My Diva is turning eight. EIGHT. Am I old enough to have an eight year old?! I don't think so. But what a girl I have. She is so smart, you guys. Scary smart. She has spent the past year growing taller and learning more about how to communicate and how to turn us all into her slaves. I really think she may achieve world domination. It's entirely possible. She is a constant surprise. One moment she will be full on Diva, with her hair flip and her side eye. But the next moment she is a little kitten, curling into my lap and leaning her forehead onto my lips for a kiss. She is giggles and beaded necklaces and painted fingernails and humming happiness. She is my girl.

I want to celebrate my little nugget, Vlad. My baby is turning three. His babyhood has been left in the dust. He can run and jump and he is almost the size of his big brother, which completely freaks me out. He is a man of very very few words, but always lets us know just how he feels and what he wants. Another freakishly smart child, I fear the day he assists big sister in world domination. I constantly feel like he is just sitting back and observing, figuring everything out until he's ready to make his move. Everything he does is decisive, planned. I think this year will be the year he really starts using proloquo and we find out just what's going on in there. I'm ready to hear his voice, whatever voice that may be. He is hopping and jumping and giggling and milk loving and tech savvy. He is (and always will be) my baby boy.

You know what else I want to celebrate? The day I became Mama. I didn't have a clue, not even a fraction of an idea, what that would feel like. Not until she was here. And I stared into those big solemn eyes and understood what love means. The day I realized I had no earthly idea what I was doing. The day I connected with and understood my own mother just a bit more, when I joined this wide network of wonderful women who have come before me. Mama. Mommy. Mother. What a wonderful word, what a wonderfully terrifying role. To be their Mama is an honor.

So. Even though I will want to be sad tomorrow, I will try to celebrate. We deserve that, don't we? To my Diva Girl and Vlad- Mama loves you. Always.

Adjusting

New and different can be good. It can be bad. It can be both. It can be neither.

It sometimes feels like the majority of my life right now consists of new and different. Ever since I came out of the closet it seems like everything has changed. Almost every relationship I have has changed. I have a new job and a new van and new people in my life and a new outlook.

Anyone in Autism World can tell you that change isn't always the easiest on our families. We begin summer break this week and the schedules will be different and the people working with the kids will be different and there will be a whole lot of new. But among the chaos of their new and my new and our new, there are some things that never change.

Diva Girl is still a diva. She was awarded the "Spunky Spirit" award at the end of the school year, which surprised just about no one. She's a head taller than most kids her age. Playing with beads and her ipad while perched on the top of her dresser is still her favorite past time. And, much to my dismay, she still loves to sniff my armpits as soon as I break out the tank tops. She's still my girl. And she knows her mama loves her.

Rascal is still a rascal. He was awarded the "Best Smile" award, and let's face it...that just means he is still a happy little fellow who is about the cutest thing you've ever seen. He loves to climb and run and be chased. He is a cuddle bug who still can't figure out that sometimes other people need to breathe when you are hugging them (especially little brother...poor kid gets loved on a little too much sometimes!) He is my big boy. And he knows his mama loves him.

Vlad is still my little hoppy happy flapper. You can find him with a pillow or pillow case at any given moment. He still isn't the quickest to smile, but when he does the sun comes out and the birds sing and it is worth the wait. He is still content to just sit and watch a movie with you, especially Monsters Inc or Veggie Tales. And the boy can chug milk like nobody's business. He is my baby (always will be, even when he's 50). And he knows his mama loves him.

And me? Well, I'm still the same friend and daughter and sister. I still love to get completely wrapped up in a good book. I still have a serious affection for coffee drinks. I spend a lot of time filling out forms and juggling therapists and worrying about communication and complaining about cooking dinner. I am their mama. And I love them like crazy.

So, some things never change. Some things are worth holding on to. Some things are such a part of who you are that you couldn't change them if you wanted to. And as the years go by I'm sure some of those things about my kids will change. They will grow and they will evolve and they will learn and discover who they are. But I bet more than a few of those things will always be true, they will always be an anchor in the chaos. So whenever new and different starts feeling like new and scary, I can come back here and reread this and remember. Some things never change.

In a Book

I love to read.

I was always a book worm. I was the quintessential nerd by the age of five, with thick glasses and a book in hand. I devoured books by the dozen, bringing home stacks of new material home from the library every week. There was always something new to learn, a new character to love, a new world to discover.

I was a mousy, quiet little girl in the corner of the room, with her nose stuck in a book. But in my head? I was a heroine on an adventure to save the world. Or an orphan child discovering her true identity. The corner of the room faded away and I was whisked away to some far off land.

As I grew up, my love for reading grew up with me. To this day, I only carry purses that can fit at least a small novel in them. I reread my favorites at least once a year (and if you are curious, among my favorites are the Harry Potter books, The Books of Pellinor by Alison Croggon, Ender's Game, and Pride and Prejudice. Yes, I love young adult fantasy and I will take recommendations.) I love walking into a book store and being able to acknowledge that I know so little. That I have only scratched the surface. I still have so many classics that I somehow missed, poetry that I've yet to discover, and up-and-coming authors to stumble upon.

There is something magical about a good story. It draws you in and makes you care. You care about worlds that do not exists, cry over imaginary people, rejoice in victories that never happened. You travel to faraway places and distant times. You fall in love. You have your heart broken. You feel the threads, the common stories, that tie all of humanity together. These fantastical creations become a part of you and shape how you view the world you do live in.

Oh, there is nothing like a good book.

Today, I find myself hoping. I find myself hoping that one day I can introduce at least one of my kids to Harry Potter. Or Lizzie Bennett. Or Anne of Green Gables. And that they would find the same joy and sorrow and rapture in those pages that I do. It may never happen, I know. But today I just hope, for their sake, that it does. It is the thing I want to share with them more than anything else in this world.

Today, I am going to start reading my books from Samantha: An American Girl aloud to Diva Girl. Maybe she will ignore me. Maybe she will come look at the pretty pictures of a girl who looks a lot like her. Maybe I will feel like I'm talking to myself. I have saved these books from my childhood and have held on to them for my own little girl. So maybe, just maybe....she will like it. Wish me luck.

Who You Are

We sat down at the Parent Teacher conference with hopes of hearing good news. What I didn't realize at the time, was just how good the news could be.

They love my girl. Diva Girl has won the hearts of the entire school, it seems. Her two teachers, one regular education and the other special education, were eager to show us her progress but also to just talk about her personality. And let me tell you, the girl has personality. In fact, one of the first things said about her is that "She has such a big personality!" Ain't that the truth. The other words phrases we heard? "I love how sassy she is!"  "All of the kids love her." "She is so full of spunk!" "She is a hard worker, she loves to work." "She is so smart."

Those words just filled me up to the gills with pride. 

Yes, Diva Girl has autism. Yes, she has struggles. But that isn't what we focused on. We focused on these other words, these other descriptors that show every bit of who she is. I felt like they could see her. Not just her disability, but the whole of her. I am in no way ashamed of her autism, but she is so much more than just one label. She has many labels, many words that make up who she is.

All I want are for people to see them. Truly see my kids for who they are. I want them to see Diva Girl's sassy confidence. I want them to see Rascal's sweet heart. I want them to see Vlad's inquisitive mind. There are so many words to describe each of them. Smart, contemplative, beautiful, funny, silly, eager, hyper. She is a daughter and a sister, they are sons and brothers. They have depth and character and the capacity for so much more than one word could ever convey. 

So, when people see what I see in them, I get pretty excited. Really, I think that anytime anyone is truly seen for who they are, that is a beautiful thing. Diva Girl has no qualms about showing her truest self to the world. In her childish honesty, she has won the affection and love of everyone from the kids in her classroom to the vice principal. I couldn't be more proud.

Things I Learn: Field Trip Edition

Today I went on my first public school field trip as a parent. Here is what I learned:

- Calling a friend "Miss Pee Pee" is hilarious, but "Miss Poo Poo" is an insult.

- Kids cheer for all kinds of stuff. Pass a house with cool Halloween decor? YAAAAAY! See a cow? YAAAAAAY! Arrive or leave anyplace? YAAAAAAAAAY!

- Six year olds think I can pass for Diva Girl's older sister.

- Dive Girl rarely eats things that I send for lunch and that she typically adores at home.

-Pumpkin picking is serious business.

-Cows like eating pumpkins.

-Typical children never stop talking. Or asking questions.

- Parents are free to completely ignore the "NO SIBLINGS ALLOWED!!!!!" that was on every bit of field trip info sent home. Or so it seemed.

- Diva Girl's aide is awesome. So is her regular education teacher. We totally lucked out.

- Even Kindergarten kids can tell when you have about zero authority.

- Your appearance is fair game for a discussion topic among a group of kids, right as though you weren't standing there.

-I was not meant to have typical children. Truly, I have no patience for them. So much talking you guys...and they always expect answers! That's just weird.

- My girl has friends. Friends. I cannot even describe how that feels. To hear another child say "Mama, this is Diva Girl and she is my good friend, we play on the playground together!" Words I will never forget.

A Writer?

Everyone keeps telling me that I'm a writer. I've never thought of myself as one. I'm just a girl with a blog, with an "interesting" life.

I started blogging, years ago, to talk about life with Diva Girl. Mostly just out of town friends and family read it to keep up with her, but it was very much for myself. I loved writing about our daily life, knowing that I could look back for years to come on those early days. As the diagnosis came, I went silent for a while. And then? Then, I started blogging to deal with it all. It has been the best therapy I could ask for. 

Over time, we have added more kids. More special needs. And more than just family and a handful of friends read this. 

In the last few months, I've gotten comments from many telling me that they love reading this blog. It always comes as a surprise. And they say "You are such a great writer!" Ever since diagnosis number three, I've even been told that I should start writing a book (HA!)  And I just kind of laugh and shrug. Because I can't help but think they are just being polite, giving a compliment they don't really mean. I mean, I'm not a writer. My husband is a writer, working on both fiction and non fiction, as well as his blog. My dear friend A, who is working on a trilogy- she is a writer. Me? With my little posts on how my daughter is a cat and birthday parties and head colds? Not so much.

But then, I find myself realizing that I really do love to write these little posts. In the last week or so, I've thought of several different things to write about. I just can't seem to get my thoughts organized and written down. I can't seem to be able to get a grasp on how to write about these subjects, since I am feeling rather emotional about them. I thought to myself- maybe I'm just done with this whole blog thing. Maybe I don't really have anything left that I want to say, maybe I just need to keep all this stuff to myself. But I realized that I didn't want to quit, because day after day I click on "New Post" and try again, often writing a sentence and then deleting it immediately. So today, as I stared at the blank space, a phrase came to mind. Writer's block.

Huh.

I guess it's time to stop fighting the title. I may never write a book. I may never write a post that gets pinned or makes the rounds on facebook. Maybe I don't use big words and start to many sentences with "But" and "And" and suck at sentence structure. Maybe I overuse bold and italics. But I love to write. I love to share my thoughts and feelings and experiences with people near and far, friends and strangers. 

Thank you for reading. Thank you for making me feel a little less alone and a little less misunderstood. Thank you to my Autism Moms who read along and commiserate. Big hugs to my friends who read to understand my life and my kids. Many of you know that I've been all about a journey of self discovery lately. Thanks for helping me discover one more thing- Like it or not, I'm a writer.

Fraternizing with Typical Folk

Today I met up with a local group of moms at a coffee house, with Vlad and Diva Girl in tow.

Crazy part of this story? They all had typical kids. It wasn't a meetup of the mom's in my special needs group, or of the ones from the autism therapy center. Just a group of local moms that generally follow attachment parenting. Did you even know that I did that? I'm a homebirthing, babywearing, former cloth diapering, cosleeping, hippie. Believe it or not, I have interests and an identity outside of autism.

Or at least, that's what I like to tell myself.

Honestly, I've stuck mostly with my autism mom friends for the past few years. I have a couple of close friends who have walked through this whole thing with me that have typical children, or no children at all. But in general, I don't go seeking out anyone outside of Autism World.

So, why did I this time? I'm not entirely sure. I guess that sometimes I get tired of my life revolving around autism, especially when there are other aspects of my parenting that I enjoy talking about. This group also meets up to walk/run/hike....all these things I think about doing and want to do, but never actually do. I've been a part of this group on facebook for a good 6 months and still hadn't attended a single meetup even though I had the best of intentions. Why? Because, well, I was scared.

I was scared that I would talk too much and have too little in common with them.
I was scared they would judge my kids. Judge my parenting.
I was scared that no one would talk to me.
I was scared that I wouldn't be able to shut up about autism.
I was scared that they would pity me.
I was scared that I would be jealous of them.

You know what? None of that happened. I mean, I did talk a bit too much about autism. Not sure if I can altogether help that. But I also talked about babywearing and beauty and houses and all these other gloriously normal things. My kids were great. Vlad tottered around and then passed out while snuggling with me in his carrier. Diva Girl munched on ice and crackers and played on her iPad. She may not have seemed social, but she had a blast. Everyone was nice. I laughed, and related, and was only slightly awkward. I didn't just survive that gathering, I actually enjoyed myself!

I can't help but wonder how many times I've deprived myself from going out and enjoying time with others based on those fears. They aren't completely irrational fears, I have good reasons for every one of them. People have been ignorant and hurtful at times. And at other times, I have been too deep in the depths of the grieving process to allow myself to enjoy the company of those who don't understand this journey. But I don't have a good reason to let those experiences stop me from trying again. It's not something that I allow from my children, so why should I push myself any less than I push them? You pick yourself up, brush yourself off, and try again. Today, I'm glad I did.

Now, I have no idea what they thought of me. But I think I will go back. I think I can handle just a bit of life outside of the autism bubble. Here's to hoping that they let me stick around.

I confess: I tried really hard to make sure I at least looked normal today/

The Cat

For those of you who don't know, Diva Girl has another nickname. Cat.

The child is the embodiment of a cat.

Favorite object? String.
Favorite sitting spot? Windowsill.
Favorite position? Crouched.
Favorite way to get Mama's attention? Sit on lap, regardless of laptop.

She is affectionate, but only on her terms, in her time. She is aloof but loving. She likes to rub her face on my arms. No joke.

So, with all of that in mind, I bring you this series of pictures.

This cat sensed its own kind. Or just wanted her spot back. Either way....I adore these pictures.

Finding Balance

I've been a bit heavy on the Vlad focus lately, but I doubt anyone could blame me. I mean, even if it is our third time on this roller coaster, each experience has been different. So yes, I've been fairly focused on him both in what I've written online and what I talk about in person.

Now? I think it's time to find some balance.

Am I still going through the emotional process of accepting the diagnosis? Absolutely. There is no rushing these things. But it's time to take a step forward and focus on the health of my family as a whole.

And boy, there has been a whole lot of life going on that I've failed to mention.

For instance, Diva Girl has been making huge strides recently. We've known for a while that she can read, but it's almost impossible to determine just how much she can read and how much she comprehends. There is one very enthusiastic therapist in her life right now that really felt that there is much more going on than we could see in regard to reading, and he has been pushing for us to keep challenging her in this area. So, we set some new goals. This week, at her therapy center, they pulled up the keyboard on Proloquo2Go and asked her to spell a word. And she did. So they asked her to spell another word. And another. And another.....
She can peck out words. Whoa. Then they handed her a worksheet with directions written at the top. Instead of telling her what to do, as they normally would, they just let her look at it. The directions told her to use the color brown. So she looked at her crayons, picked out the brown, and got to work. She. Read. The Directions. She didn't just read it, she comprehended it.

I want everyone to pause with me for a moment. Let this sink in. Let the possibilities sink in to your brain and understand why I am so excited that I'm practically doing the happy flappy dance myself! If we keep down this path, Diva Girl can open up a whole world of communication. Her inability to access speech doesn't have to keep her silent. For maybe the first time, I am looking towards her going to school and am actually excited, because she may be able to participate in a way that I wasn't sure was possible. All this time we've known, we've been so sure, that this little girl has a brilliant mind. That those stinking test scores don't even come close to measuring the capabilities of our Diva (read: More Than a Number.) Don't let her body language fool you folks, this girl is listening and soaking it all in. She is reading for goodness sakes! Just because she isn't looking into your eyes, doesn't mean she isn't hearing and learning and storing it away in that world within her head.

I wish I could visit that world. For even one minute. I bet it's beautiful.


And Rascal? Well....he's been a Rascal, I can't lie. His toddlerhood is testing his boundaries and testing my patience. But even then, I see sparks of understanding and learning that are fresh and new. Tonight, we played together. Went over to the play kitchen and made a pretend meal and ate a pretend dinner together. Sure, I started it and kept it going, but he joined right in. He was interested and was enjoying playing with me. I wasn't "working" with him or wrestling with him....we played. I'm not sure we've ever truly done that before, not like this. Not with such a bright smile on his face, and a willingness to participate, and an understanding of what I was pretending. Again, I look into his eyes and I see so much behind them. A depth of understanding, a spark of liveliness that shows me that no matter what life throws his way...he's going to be okay. He's a fighter, that kid. And I don't just mean that recent love of tackling people (and why, oh why does he tend to tackle any pretty girl he meets??) I mean that he is tough enough to overcome the difficulties of autism and let the blessings of autism shine through. Yes, that's right, blessings of autism. They are there, folks.

As I refocus on my whole family, I'm liking what I'm seeing. I'm reminded of why I am jumping through the hoops of early intervention for Vlad- because I've seen its results in Diva Girl and Rascal. I'm also reminded that the therapy isn't the be-all-end-all. I made plenty of mistakes in Diva Girl's early days, and she is doing just fine thankyouverymuch. It's about balance. Between the therapy time and the play time. Between one kid and the other. Between the kids and The Husband. It's all a balancing act. Now, let's see just how coordinated I am.

More than a Number

I've been sitting on this post for a few days. Letting it marinade a little bit. Had to change it up a bit, but she's pretty enough to share now.

A few weeks ago, Diva Girl and Rascal had evaluations. Rascal gets a free eval as part of being a guinea pig for research (it's a study on siblings of children with autism, and it has been a wonderful experience!) For Diva Girl, the same team just flat out offered to do out of sheer curiosity, having never evaluated a child with Childhood Disintegrative Disorder. We figured it was worth it, seeing as she hadn't been evaluated in three years. Plus, her diagnosis is about to be absorbed into regular ol Autism, and we didn't want to be left with a diagnosis that doesn't exist- who knows what kind of issues could pop up because of that. 

So, I took her in. Watched her from my side of the two sided mirror. Saw her largely ignore her evaluators, except to try to force them to sit under the table with her. Laughed at how she was clearly running the show, refusing to cooperate but wanting to play HER way. Answered lots of questions about her development. 

I walked out feeling drained and dreading the results. I know that what I saw as funny and charming does not translate so well into a measure of her IQ. I know that her refusal to cooperate and talk means that her language scores would be horrible. But still, I did not expect what I saw in the report.

The report was brutal. Yes, they talk about how sweet and pleasant she is. Yes, they point out that the testing was probably not an accurate measurement of her capabilities. But when I saw the numbers...it felt like a sucker punch to the gut.

Diva Girl is six years and three months old. She did not test higher than 17 months in anything.  In one of the tests (they use several different ones) she came out as below the first percentile in everything. That doesn't even seem possible. I mean, the girl is potty trained! She can spell over a hundred words! She is wicked smart! But that's not how these tests work, I know. They take that 2 hour snapshot and determine where she is lacking and then blow up those problems until they are all you can see.

Yes, I cried. My heart broke a little.

But I know the truth. She's more than a number. She's more than the words in a psychological report. She's my Diva Girl....with a big smile, a big heart, and a penchant for acting like a cat.

I can't help what the numbers say. And I can't stop people from looking at my little girl and only seeing her "faults". But I will do everything in my power to let her shine, so the world can see that she's so much more. And you'd better believe that during next weeks IEP meeting, if they try to act like those numbers are the entirety of her abilities, I will show them that they have another thing coming to them. Mostly, she will show them.

She'll blow them all away.

Should Have Beens

It's graduation day!

My newsfeed is full of pictures of caps and gowns and proud smiles. Some of those faces are people who I had classes with just a couple of years ago. Some of them are my age, most of them are younger. One particular happy face belongs to someone I babysat as a teenager. How's that for feeling old.

Today was going to be my graduation day. Again. This is the second time I've watched "my class" go on without me. 

I am a sea of conflicted emotions about all of this.

When I went to college, I had no idea what I was doing. I had zero direction, the only thing I knew I wanted out of life was a family. I never thought of myself as the kind of person who wanted a career. I was an English major for about one semester. Then I switched to Interpersonal Communications (which is what exactly?!) just because I wanted the nice professor to by my advisor. Really solid reasoning, there.

Most people assume that I quit school because I got married young and got pregnant right away. Fact is, I walked away from school (before I was pregnant!) because I had no motivation. I am a perfectionist, so I was killing myself to make straight A's. And for what? Just to say I made straight A's, studying something I hated? I was miserable. And the stress caused me to have a major panic attack one night, and after that I made the decision to just be done.

I told everyone I was taking a year off, but I'm not sure that I ever really intended to go back. I found out a few months later that I was pregnant with Diva Girl, and I dove into motherhood without looking back. There was that one day, graduation day, when most of my friends walked across the stage and I was wistful. But overall, I was happy with my decision. 

And then more life happened. Diva Girl got her diagnosis. The Husband finished his degree. And then I decided to go back and finish, but this time as a Special Ed major. It felt right. I wanted to homeschool Diva Girl, create a homeschool program for children with autism, I had a PLAN! I had a purpose! 

I also had another kid, Rascal, with a new diagnosis. Oooookay, well, then it was just more important to succeed. And then I got pregnant with Vlad. Okay, kind of shakes up the plan a bit. But onward I trudged, determined to make my straight A's, even with 2 kids with autism at home and a husband working full time and the hardest pregnancy I'd had. I'm not quite sure how we all survived that mess.

Of course, I took a semester off to have Vlad. As the date to return to school loomed closer, I was riddled with anxiety. So, I decided to take more time. I still held tight to The Plan, though things had started to change a bit. It wasn't until I actually started to homeschool Diva Girl that the entire plan came unraveled. Turns out she hates it. Not just hates it- cannot, will not, stomach it. She stopped talking, stopped leaving her room, completely freaked us all out. She didn't even want me talking to her after a couple of weeks. Still, I wanted to stick with The Plan. I mean, I always swore I would homeschool my children. I remember making that decision at the ripe age of 16 (and really, what kind of weirdo is making decisions about their future children at 16? This girl!) It may have taken a small intervention from her therapists, but I finally acknowledged that homeschooling is not for us.

And with that, The Plan died. What's the point in going back and completing a degree I'll never use? That I don't even enjoy? 

I have zero time for finishing a degree. I, to this day, have about as much idea of what I should major in as I did the day I entered my dorm room at 17 years old. But still. I look at the pictures. The pictures of the silly hats and the smiling faces and the proud displays of diplomas. And I want that. I want to finish. If for no other reason than to at least get something out of the thousands of dollars in loans that I have hanging over my head. To cross off one thing on the bucket list. To say I did it.

I just need time. And money.

And a clue of what on earth to major in.

Oh wait, I just remembered. Group projects. Nevermind, I really don't need a degree, do I?

See? Conflicted.

A Day

Today is just a day. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing new, nothing to make it special.

It's just a day.

After last week, I welcome just an ordinary day. Last week was full of evaluations and blood work and stress. It was full of strained conversations and headaches and, to be frank, PMS level overemotional meltdowns. There was an incident where I literally cried over a browned pizza. Not burnt, just a bit more brown than I like it. Yeah.

Today has been simple. Get up, take Rascal to school, come back and eat breakfast with the other 2 littles.  I clean, and despite the futility of it, I feel accomplished. Vlad naps, Diva Girl drives me crazy. I relieve my cramps with chocolate and Pinterest. 

I'm the kind of girl who loves to get out of the house. I love meeting a friend for coffee or taking one of the kids somewhere or, my favorite, Mom's Night Out. In fact, my weekend included an evening event that kept me out until almost 1am and involved dancing. I may have briefly wore a blue wig and ate my weight in blue colored candies. It was glorious. 

So, I tend to pack out my days. That isn't hard to do because I very often HAVE to do a lot. But after a week like last week? Today, I treasure some peaceful moments at home. I smile at Vlad happy flapping as Kaa from The Jungle Book hypnotizes Mowgli. I laugh at Rascal as he uses the mountain of laundry to create a slide from the couch to the floor. I roll my eyes as Diva Girl tries to convince me to give her yet another pack of fruit snacks. 

There was still a To Do list of emails and calls (my recent irritation with Diva Girl probably has something to do with a medication change, and I was desperately calling her pediatrician to get a prescription called in!) But overall, today is a simple day. I could use a little simple in my life right now.

I'm sure tomorrow I will be itching to get out of the house. But today? This couch is plenty comfy and my kids are especially cuddly, and that's good enough for me.

Understand

Dear Folk Who Tell Me I'm Awesome,

I really debated with myself about posting this. A few days ago I had this long, written out draft...and deleted it. Because I'm a chicken. Because I'm afraid that if people really knew what goes on around here, they would judge me.

Well, today I'm putting on my big girl panties and getting real with you all.

On Thursday evening I completely lost my mind.

Yes, you may have seen my annoyed and exasperated comments on facebook or the pictures I posted on instagram. Maybe you pitied me. Maybe you laughed (I tend to coat my reality with a bit of humor to make it easier to swallow.) But you don't know the whole story.

The Toothpaste incident of 2013- Part I

It began with toothpaste. Rascal discovered the joy of coating his hands and the carpet with my toothpaste. He did this as I was having to deal with Diva Girl having turned on the kitchen sink, which is very much frowned upon ever since she completely ruined our dining room floor with 18 gallons of water.

The Water incident of 2013

So really, it began with The Sink. Then it was the toothpaste. Then it was about 5 other incidents involving damage to property or siblings within a few hours, the first few hours of The Husband being away for the weekend.

I was tired and frustrated, but keeping it together. That is, until I tried to put Vlad down to sleep for the night. That's when Rascal and Diva Girl found the other tube of toothpaste (that I wasn't even aware existed.) Without going into too much detail- I couldn't get Vlad to sleep due to all the squealing. I emerged from the bedroom to find toothpaste everywhere. Walls, carpet, doors, hands, hair, noses. There was yelling. A lot of crazy woman, terrifying the children yelling. And, much to my shame, there were swats to butts and rough carries to the bath tub. And of course, they started enjoying the bath so I had to yell some more- "THIS IS NOT A REWARD, MOMMY IS ANGRY!!!"

 By the time the older 2 were clean and on the couch downstairs, they were crying. Vlad was still in the bed, exhausted, screaming his head off. I became aware of all the screaming and crying and become slightly afraid that the neighbors that we share walls with are going to call the cops.

I walk back upstairs. I look around our now minty-smelling hallway. I realize that there is toothpaste all over my sweatshirt and since I'm still furious, I have this ridiculous battle with it to get it off. Once it's over my head, I hold it in my hands and just throw it on the floor. And I kneel on the floor, sobbing in rhythm with my three children, beating my hands against the toothpaste encrusted carpet, until the fight is out of me. Until I'm left with nothing but regrets for how I responded and this overwhelming feeling of helplessness and heartache.

It's not about the toothpaste. I know friends of mine with neurotypical kids will tell me about how their toddler has made a similar mess, I've seen the pictures! But for me...the toothpaste is just another messy incident in a string of them. The lotion, the hand soap, the makeup, the vaseline. They all have at least one story. It never seems to get better and they just get bigger and more able to reach things that I try to hide from them. They never seem to understand that what they did was wrong, which just makes me more angry.

It's the overwhelming feeling that things will always be this way, however irrational that may be. It's the fact that I promised myself the next time that I would react more calmly, and each time I seem to explode a little bit more, and I say and do things I swore I never would. It's the sheer exhaustion of having at least one child awake from 6am-11pm on average. It's the insomnia, when I finally do get to lay down, from the anxiety. It's the filthy home that I can't seem to get on top of and the self loathing that I have from living this way.

THIS is autism parenting awareness.

We need respite care. And more therapy for the kids. And then some more respite care. And a weekend AWAY. Maybe a week.

This is an ugly point to reach, and I know I'm not alone. We are an overwhelmed bunch, and on top of it all we are constantly told that we are doing SUCH a great job. We must be amazing parents, right? Lemme tell ya, I don't feel even close to amazing when my kids are staring at me with tears streaming down their little faces because they don't understand why their latest discovery of sensory play has Mommy yelling like a banshee. 

So, that's it. The ugly truth about me, as a parent of three special kids. I need help, as does every other Autism Mom that I know. But where are we going to get it? Right now I just have no idea, and no time or brainpower to figure that out.

Love,

The Woman Who Must Run And Clean Up The Water From The Leaking Dishwasher

Never Read the Comments

That is my motto. Whenever reading any article or videos about Autism, the first rule is Never Read the Comments. Because it is inevitable that the scum of the earth appear and say horrific things. And then some ignorant people show up and say things that are, well, ignorant. And then different people pop in and point out all the ways that those people are Doing It Wrong. And then my head explodes.

Well, I made the mistake of breaking my rule. Oh boy, do I have regrets. I didn't just read any old generic Autism article comments, no sir. I read the comments to a YouTube video that was a brief piece about my family, Diva Girl specifically. This video was on a few different sites and was viewed thousands of times. So sure enough, with that much traffic you are bound to get some bad apples.

Yes, there were some nice comments and some people who could really relate to our family, which was wonderful. But then there were the people who say things about autism just being a made up disorder for kids who have bad parents. And the people who post to tell me I should stop vaccinating my kids. And the people telling me that I need to stop having a pity party for myself. And the pervy guy who said that my SIX YEAR OLD is hot (if I ever met that guy in a dark alley he would not be making it out alive.) I'm not going to lie, some of those comments can really sting and make me sick to my stomach. They are talking about MY precious children, MY beautiful family. Two minutes of video and they think they know enough to judge my parenting and how I view my children. It's amazing how vicious some people can be behind the safety of a computer screen.

I started out today thinking about the fact that this is Autism Awareness Month. I have mixed feelings about the idea of  "Autism Awareness", maybe because it seems to mean something different to everyone. The Autism community is so fractured and divided (much to my dismay) and because of that, the world gets some very different ways to view autism thrown at them. And really, autism isn't exactly a little known disorder- everyone has heard of it. So, what's the point of Autism Awareness?

But then I read those comments. And now? I can't help but think a little Autism Awareness is exactly what we need. I also think that we in the Autism Community need to step it up and come together. Are we all going to agree 100% on everything? No. But we can stop being so divisive and we can stop pointing fingers at one another and telling each other how wrong those autism folks are. While we are busy slinging mud at each other and refusing to support one another, we miss opportunities to educate people outside of our bubble. We fail to come together to get laws passed to help the people we love. The fact that there seemed to be an almost equal amount of venom from people within the Autism Community as there were from people who are not...well, that says a lot, folks. It's like we're giving people permission to be hateful towards us since we seem to be just fine with being hateful towards one another.

Obviously, I know many amazing people within the Autism Community to whom most of this won't apply. You guys are amazing and I am blessed to call you friends. And of course, there will always be idiots out there who can meet 20 individuals with Autism and still not "believe" in it and spew their ignorance on the interwebs. Tis life. But maybe, just maybe, one person will read this and decides to do their Autism Awareness a little bit differently this year. Maybe he/she decides to support a fellow Autism Parent regardless of if she has a sticker on the back of their minivan that is a blue puzzle piece or one that says "Nuerodiversity Rocks!" I can live with that. I can live with that just fine.

My Loves

Everyone who is facebook friends with me knows that I was ridiculously excited to have fewer kids over the weekend.

My parents took Diva Girl and Rascal for a long weekend, allowing Vlad to be the only child for a while. Since his number one goal in life is to sit in my lap, completely undisturbed, he was thrilled with the change, I assume. Well, he was thrilled until we shipped him off for a night too!

As a dear friend took good care of Vlad, The Husband and I had our very first completely-kid-free night since....well, since the kids came into existence. It was glorious. I took a bath. A BATH. Sat around in my pink fluffy bathrobe, eating Reeses minis, and just enjoyed the quiet.

Oh yeah. It was good.

And I slept. For ten hours. Without any little feet kicking my side. I may have even woke in the middle of the night and thought "Oh, this is so wonderful...why did I ever have kids?!" before drifting back to sleep.

But then the next day we got our little squishy Vlad back and he just held on tight and looked at me with those big eyes and I couldn't help but kiss him like crazy. From there we left to go get the eldest children, and during the three hour drive I was practically wiggling in my seat with impatience. The van couldn't go fast enough.

I missed them. I missed their noise. Their chaos. Their hugs and kisses and high-fives. I almost even missed their horribly annoying stims that involve MY body (Diva Girl digs into my armpits, Rascal fiddles with my ears, and Vlad snaps my bra straps.) I missed them so much that I swear my heart literally ached to hold them. Of course, Diva Girl refused to even let me near her for over an hour, as though resentful of me intruding upon her special time with Grandma, but I digress...

Motherhood is crazy. These kids drive me to the very brink of sanity on a daily basis. But take them away for a few days? Well, I have a blast at first, obviously. But then I remember that I love these children more than anything else in the world. They are my little loves. They give me a reason to get out of bed in the morning, a reason to push to succeed in my business, and a reason to try to make the world a better place.

So maybe tomorrow I can manage to be a little more patient. Maybe I can take a deep breath and remember, when they are screaming and tugging on me and hitting one another, that there was a moment in time where I missed them.

And if I need that moment back, I can always ship them back to Grandma.

After an hour and a half, she forgave me!

Reunited with my boys

We Can Fly!

I did it! I pulled off a fabulous 3 kid birthday party! And I finally recovered enough to show it off!

I'm not normally the kind of mom who does the big, themed party. I'm more of the mom who invites some people over, throws some chips into a bowl, and calls it a day. But this year I felt like I owed the kids a decent shindig. I mean, last year I ruined Diva Girl's birthday by giving birth to Vlad (NOT her idea of a good birthday present, by the way) and the year before they were sick for their birthday party. 

When you have 3 kids and only 2 birthday dates only a couple of weeks apart, you automatically know that you are going to milk the joint-party for as long as humanly possible. But what kind of party could appeal to a one year old boy, a three year old boy, and a six year old girl? That's when I had a flash of brilliance...a Peter Pan Party. It has fairies and pirates and is just a perfect mix of boy/girl wonder! So I began to scour the internet for ideas.

In the end, I think you could safely say that I had a Pinterest Peter Pan Party. 

Here are pictures, along with links to where I got ideas from. Enjoy!

I set up the table by the door with all of the amazing peter pan hats that my fabulous mom whipped up. Thank you Sew in Harmony for this tutorial!

Also on that table I set up a "Wonderful Thought" station, where party guests left scribbles, notes, and general happy thoughts for the kids for us to treasure forever. They were wonderful to read later. 

I basically found these wonderful Peter Pan themed pictures on Pinterest, printed them out, and put them in frames from the dollar store. It's a great way to do cheap decor that doesn't look cheap!

Speaking of decor, how amazing are these banners? I found something similar once while browsing etsy and brought the idea to my Mom. They are made from a Peter Pan book, some scrapbooking paper, and ribbon, and I love them so much that one is taking up permanent residence in the kids' room.

I set up a few stations for the kids. One was "Pixie Hollow" and had coloring pages printed off from this Disney site. The other was "Pirate Cove" and had some dress up clothes and temporary tattoos...because every pirate gets a free tattoo when they sign up with the crew!

The boys were made Peter Pan outfits (again, courtesy of my amazing Mom) inspired by the Make it & Love it tutorial here. They were ADORABLE, if I do say so myself.

Diva Girl wore a Tinkerbell costume (go ahead, guess who made it), minus wings, plus a little bit of attitude.

Peter Pan had just come out of The Vault and we got it a couple of days before the party. Having the movie playing enabled my kiddos to enjoy the party instead of being completely overwhelmed by the amount of people that came. And trust me, I was overwhelmed myself. So many people love these little goobers!

Of course, a party isn't a party without the food! Especially cupcakes! Guess who had his first cupcake...

Ok, I know I should stop now. But here are some pictures I just couldn't leave out!

Thank you to everyone who came (there were lovely people there, but since I do not have permission to post their pictures, you're stuck looking at just my cute kids)! And a BIG thank you to my lovely friend, L, who let us use her beautiful home. You all made this day wonderful, and well worth all the work.

But next year? Back to my old party routine. 

So fast

They all told me. Every parent I met from the day I announced my pregnancy all said the same thing- It all happens so fast.

And you laugh at that saying in the early days. The days feel like they drag. The monotony of feeding and clothing and cleaning, the sameness of every day. Yesterday was boring but busy, and tomorrow will be too. So you don't always notice. The way they lose their baby fat and grow tall and lean. One day you are sure you have a toddler, and then you turn around and realize there is nothing about your child that toddles. And then you realize that while you had been rolling your eyes at the platitudes of those who had gone before you, they were all right. Blink and you miss it.

When your child doesn't develop the way that others do, you tend to notice every milestone even more. For years my Diva Girl has been so very behind that every little step forward has been celebrated with great relief and joy. But even then, I feel as though I somehow blinked and she grew up. In some ways, I think I simply got used to things being a certain way with her- she was a bit wild and unruly and I accepted that. So as she began to tame, when she grew into this calm young lady, I missed it. I still looked at her as my wild woman. There were signs of maturity blossoming and I didn't see them. Or maybe I refused to see them.

And suddenly, I see her. My funny, beautiful girl. The one who sits calmly and looks at a book. Who sits next to me and tries to gently kiss her brother as he nurses. Yes, she still jumps like a bouncing bean when she's excited, but overall her entire demeanor has mellowed. She's growing up. And I am so very proud of the lady she is becoming. I see a more loving, nurturing side of her emerging. She has more consideration for those around her, a greater capacity for learning and following instructions...I'm amazed at how far she has come. To think that just over a year ago she would just as soon hit you as look at you. That is unthinkable now, and I am so very glad.

So, it's true. Those old ladies at the grocery store were right. They grow up too fast.

My Nerves

There are times in life when I feel like Mrs. Bennett in Pride and Prejudice, crying out to everyone around me "Don't you know what this is doing to my poor nerves?!"

Right now is one of those times.

A lot of changes in what feels like a short period of time makes me slightly insane. I have random times when my stomach suddenly hurts and I think of one more thing that I have to do, or buy, or follow up on. Another form to fill out, another meeting to have. I keep waiting for the crazy train to slow down. Maybe I should just accept that it never does, that I'm a permanent passenger. Heck, I guess I'm the conductor.

In twelve days, Rascal starts preschool. In our local school. The one that I swore I'd set my hair on fire before sending my kids to. Oh how quickly things can change! I'm as confident as I'm going to be that this is the right thing to do, the best choice for him among the choices we currently have. But even then, I'm far from confident that this will be easy. There is always that constant doubt, at every turn. Are we doing the right thing? What is best for him? What is best for her? What is best for the family? Is it even possible to do the "best" for each child, or must we accept that no one situation will be perfect? No, I will never be 100% certain of anything we decide to do. I'm not sure it would be wise if I were.

So yes, my nerves are shot. And with us only months away from that all important 15-24 month period for Vlad and Diva Girl entering Kindergarten, I don't see my nerves getting any time to recover any time soon. In times like this I realize that I have to reach out and steady myself. This comes in different ways every day. A dinner with my husband. Coffee with my best girl friends. Diving into a good book. Bible study with my church. These things anchor me, they keep me sane. They remind me that even in the midst of change, some things remain constant: Love, Friendship, Imagination, Faith.

If you don't have some anchor points in your life, you're going to end up drifting in a sea of anxiety. So tell me, how do you handle the stress of change and uncertainty in your life? What calms your nerves?