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.

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.

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/

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.

Officially Official

Yes, it's happened. I have the diagnostic report to prove what I announced almost two months ago (read: On The Road Again) Vlad is, just as I predicted, Autistic.

I've written and deleted and written and deleted different posts today. Did I want to talk about how Vlad is still the same awesome child? Did I want to talk about how, regardless of that fact, I am still heartbroken? How about talking about why having three kids with autism is either ridiculously hard or ridiculously awesome? About how I didn't want a typical kid anyway, because how boring would that be? I could even talk about how a part of me feels like I am mourning for the neurotypical child that we will never have.

None of that felt right.

Instead I am going to tell you three stories.

Story 1:
I was five months pregnant with Rascal, walking down the aisles of Publix, debating the merits of store brand cereal versus name brand. My phone rings, a local number. I answer and the nurse from my daughter's pediatrician's office greets me. Then she begins to give me the dates and times for an appointment with a local neurologist. Confused, I ask her what on earth she's talking about. Her reply? "This is for your daughter, Diva Girl. You know, the one with Childhood Disintegrative Disorder? Dr. Psychologist called and asked us to set up this appointment for you....." Maybe more was said, I'm not sure. I think I may have politely thanked her and hung up. Then, I sat on the floor, in the middle of the aisle, and sobbed. See, my meeting with the psychologist wasn't until the next morning. This poor clueless nurse was the first one to tell me my daughter's diagnosis. And let me tell you, hearing the words that I most feared, connected to her name...I was beyond devastated. I remember people looking at me as they rolled their carts on past. Someone asked if I needed help, if the baby was okay. I think I called The Husband. After that, it's all a blur. Days, maybe weeks of crying on and off. I couldn't talk about her diagnosis without tears being involved for some time.

Story 2:
I was four months pregnant with Vlad, nervously rubbing my growing belly while answering the psychologists questions. I kept saying "Well, he does that, BUT...." It felt like everything I said was being weighed and just one little word could tilt him into a diagnosis that I didn't want. When it's all said and done, they have some intern playing with Rascal while pulling me aside to a table. "Mrs. MamaSab, Rascal is an amazing, adorable kid with a lot of good skills. But he does qualify for an Autism Spectrum diagnosis today..." I remember feeling like I was going to panic and I tried to keep it all together. I remember asking how sure they were and the sympathy in her eyes as she responded that they were very sure. A little tear may have betrayed me then.  And maybe a few more times over the next week, but this time the tears were brief and hope was plentiful. We knew what we were doing, he was already receiving therapy, this time I didn't feel so adrift and lost.

Story 3:
I was greeted like an old friend. They asked about Diva Girl and Rascal, and couldn't believe how much Vlad is looking like Rascal these days. The evaluation is almost a formality, and everything about this was oddly casual. In the end, she pulls up a chair and says "Well, you already know this, but we can confirm that he has a diagnosis of Autism. No point in going through the whole spiel, you probably know more about what to do from here than I do." There were no tears, just a sigh of resignation on my part. We chit chat for a while and I leave with a smile on my face. The tears come later, while I lay in bed. And honestly, they were more for myself than for the bright, loving child sweetly sleeping next to me. And since then? There are twinges of sadness, but even a few days out they are fewer and further apart.

If someone had told me three and a half years ago that I would have three kids on the spectrum and that I wouldn't cry for days on end about it, I would have been shocked. But boy, does life has a way of changing you. For me, these stories are their stories, of how they came into their diagnoses and telling, in a strange way, how different they all are. But it's also my story. The story of becoming a mother. The story of learning acceptance, strength, and joy.

His Story. My Story. Our journey together is what matters. And you know what? He's going to be ok. And so am I.

It's Time

Well, this week is finally upon us.
I knew it was coming. It's been scheduled for two months. The date and time (May 30th at 9am) are burned into my brain at this point.

It's evaluation time for Vlad! Yep, this is the big one. Diagnostic evaluation. The One that will give him the official title of Kid With Autism. How can I be so sure? Well, read The Questions if you want to know the reasoning behind my absolute confidence of what the results will be. Nothing has changed since I wrote that, not really.

This week is all about coping mechanisms for me. Tonight we will watch the new Arrested Development season until my eyelids can't stay open anymore. Tomorrow The Husband and I are having a wonderful date.   Tuesday and Wednesday are looking a bit fuzzier, but I'm pretty sure I'm going to fill my time with friends, frantic cleaning, and funny movies. If you'd like to hang out with a somewhat manic version of me, just say the word.

Yes, the anxiety (read The Line) will reach its pinnacle this week. But I'm more concerned about the aftermath. Even though I know what's coming...how will I feel on the other side? I knew with Rascal. I kind of knew with Diva Girl. But there is a difference between "knowing" and seeing the diagnosis, under your child's name, in black and white. So final.

How will I cope then? I'm not entirely sure. If I can get the funds together, I'd love to get a tattoo. No puzzle piece for me, thank you. Just a little something to remind me to be strong, to remind me that I'm not alone and even to remind me that my kids are amazing.

There is something that many of us say, that I have always said, about the act of getting a diagnosis. We say "It doesn't change the child, they are the same today as they were the day before the diagnosis. Now you just have a label that gives you access to services and a way to better help them." And it's true. It won't change him a bit. But here's the thing- It changes me.

Maybe it shouldn't. Maybe there are some parents who bounce back just fine, armed with the knowledge and ready to celebrate. But for me, it's the beginning of a path. Truth is, until the professional sits me down and tells me that it is Autism, there is a part of me that still lives in denial. The moment that back door of "Well, maybe it's just...." closes, I begin the real path to acceptance. I can go through the stages of grief (yes, grief is an appropriate word.) And I can help him discover his strengths and his joys, and begin to see a whole new future and world of potential that awaits for him.

What will happen on that path? Not entirely sure. It may involve a tattoo. A little overeating. A night with one of my best friends, sitting at Sonic, sucking down an Oreo Blast. A coffee date with a couple of girlfriends who have been here before. Maybe a few coffee dates (I really love my mochas and lattes.) Probably most importantly, it will involve holding hands with The Husband. Crying with him and laughing with him.

Coping. Accepting. Embracing.

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

The Questions

As expected, my last post (which, if you haven't read it yet, please go here and read it first!) has created quite the buzz. I have been blown away by the outpouring of support and love. Thank you so much, my dear friends.

There have also been plenty of statements and questions. Some of which I anticipated...some others, not so much. So I'm going ahead and answering some of the main things I've been asked, because I'm sure some people are wondering the same things but don't want to ask me.

The first question, which is completely reasonable and I 100% expected-" How do you know?"
Yes, he's only 14 months old. Yes, I know that 14 month olds are too young to be diagnosed. But trust me, I know what I'm talking about here. If there is one thing that I know after 2 kids on the spectrum, it's the warning signs and red flags. And there are an abundance of them, bright and red and staring us in the face. SOME of these things are still within the range of "normal", but the string of them together is what leads us to be sure. Just a quick list of things we are seeing (or not seeing):
-No pointing
-No waving
-No clapping
-Not walking
-Does not respond to name
-Only says "mama" and "dada"
-Wants to be held 24/7. Cries a LOT otherwise.

Ok, that's enough to make the point....I'm getting bummed out by that list, I'm moving on...

"Are you sure you're not just paranoid? Because of the other two?"
I really, really wish that were it. I've discussed this child, at length, with several professionals. I begged them to tell me that I'm crazy. They spent a bit of time with him. They told me they can't tell me he is fine. They can't tell me that I'm wrong. This isn't in my head. I mean, I'm kind of crazy, but that has nothing to do with this.

"What are you going to do?"
I don't know. The best we can, with what we have. We're gonna love him and fight for him to receive therapy that he needs and deserves. And we're gonna kiss him and cuddle him. A lot.

"Is there anything I can do?"
A few amazing people have started a donation fund for his therapy. I'm still in shock about that. I won't post it here, but you can ask me about it. Other than that? Pray. For Vlad, for Diva Girl, for Rascal, for all of us. We need it.

"Does this mean you're done having kids?"
Honestly? Not an appropriate question, folks. Better phrased than that lady who said "They're gonna start handing you some condoms, or birth control or something!" But still....if I feel like discussing my reproductive decisions with you, I will. I'm actually pretty much an open book about it. Just don't ask me and I might tell you!

"So, do you think it's genetic?"
Well, we're three for three here. I'm not saying that in every case of autism, ever, it was 100% genetics, but clearly we've got something going on with our genetics. However...while all three kids are on the spectrum, Diva Girl has a very distinct diagnosis that makes all this interesting. I've been told that we are the only known family with a child diagnosed with Childhood Disintegrative Disorder AND a child diagnosed with Autism. We have no idea what that means.

"Are you devastated/sad/shocked/freaking out?"
Sometimes. And sometimes I'm surprised by how calm I feel and how little I've cried. Like I said in my previous post, this is a journey. And while I've done this before, it is still just the beginning of the journey with Vlad. I think there are many things I have not yet allowed myself to feel, because I'm just not ready yet. There are other emotions that I may never feel, because I have learned from the other two. My kids are amazing you guys. They are bright lights in a dreary world, they are honest and beautiful and I love them like crazy. I just can't bring myself to be in despair about this. But I have my moments.

I think that about covers the most common ones. I'm laying it all out there for you guys. I don't really mind answering questions, it's natural for people to ask them. The non-rude questions, at least.

I had one freak out moment last night where I thought
What if I just told the whole world that he is on the spectrum and it turns out that he is just fine? What if in the next two months he completely catches up? I will feel horrible and stupid for telling everyone he has autism!
When I talked to The Husband about it, he pointed out that in the 14 months that Vlad has been alive, he's been "behind" for half of it. As of right now, he is on the spectrum and we know it. So if he suddenly catches up by his evaluation in May, that would be a miracle.

If that happens, I will very joyfully announce it from the rooftops. I love a good miracle.

On the Road Again

We're on the road again!

Oh this road is so familiar to me. I remember that little side street that we got lost on the first time. And that tree! That's the tree I desperately clung to when I didn't want to move anymore! Ohhhh, and that pond. We sat there and had a little denial picnic once. It was lovely.

Wondering what kind of strange road I'm talking about? A road that is familiar to many of you- the road to a diagnosis.

Yes, we're going public with this. Vlad seems to be on the spectrum. And we find ourselves traveling this road yet again.

It is slightly different than it was. There are new bumps and detours in this road, because each journey has been different. This time around there has been no regression, no terrifying halting of skills. It started with a feeling. A worry. By 8 months old we could see delays. And as time goes on we just see, more and more, almost every red flag there could be. Now, at 14 months old, we are sure. And he has an appointment for an evaluation at the end of May.

This is the hard part. The waiting. Even though I'm sure, I can't help but be anxious. I just want it over with, official, so we can move on with the business of accepting it and getting him the therapy he needs. And dealing with the inevitable emotional fallout.

So, why am I putting this out there? Without an actual diagnosis even? Because this blog is a form of therapy for me. And I feel like maybe this needs to be public. That people need to see what this is like, this long and often lonely road. Yes, we've been down it twice before, but that doesn't make it any easier. In fact, that may make it even harder.

When we first had kids, I never thought in a million years that we would take this road once, never mind three times. But I'm blessed, because I was taken under the wings of other women who walked the road before me. And now they walk beside me, hand in hand, supporting me. That's the only way to make this journey and maintain a scrap of sanity. So, join with me now. Hold my hand. I need you. He does too.

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

The Last

Vlad is my last baby.

I always thought I would have a big family. I remember, the day after having Diva Girl I was shuffling down the hospital hallways and a group of people laughingly asked me how many kids I wanted now. Much to their surprise, I joyfully exclaimed "SIX!"

But things change. When I was pregnant with Vlad and Rascal was diagnosed with autism, I thought to myself- that's it. I'm done. I haven't changed my mind since then. In the past few months I've been more and more sure. This is our family, and it is complete.

So with every milestone, there is a bit of bittersweet mixed in. There are a lot of "Last Firsts"

The last first word.
The last first crawl.
The last first food.
Each time I clap with joy and then sigh with wistfulness.

Yesterday marked something different- a Last Last. It was the last time I would ever breastfeed one of my kiddos. This is so emotional for me, more so than I expected!

On the one hand- relief! Our nursing relationship has been rocky, to say the least, and has caused me a lot of pain. I've struggled with it for months, but couldn't bring myself to wean him. And then you consider the fact that I have been nursing and/or pregnant for six years and nine months. Yeeeeeah. That's a long time. So there is this part of me that feels freedom. The freedom to choose clothes without thinking about how I can nurse in them. The freedom to go away for a weekend! (Now I just need the cash to do so)

On the other hand- it's the end of an era. No more sweet quiet moments of holding a baby in my arms. No more magic way to fix a boo boo. Babyhood has left our home forever. Oh, here I go crying....I hear that sudden weaning can cause some hormonal swings....

And please don't tell me I'm young and I can change my mind, yada yada yada. Trust me. I'm sure. Let me have my moment of happiness and heartbreak. Let me have my Last Firsts and Last Lasts.

Bye Bye Baby!

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. 

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?