Free To Change

I've always been a rather opinionated gal about certain things. Opinionated and, um, enthusiastic.

When I first started having kids, I was practically a hippie (not really, but that's what people tend to call us natural minded types.) I think all I could talk about during Diva Girl's first year of life was breastfeeding and natural birthing and vaccines and cloth diapers and baby carriers. I plunged head first into what was essentially a new culture to me.

Then autism came along. And while I was still having babies and caring about all of those things above, my focus switched. I inhaled books and studies and therapy ideas. For a solid three years, my focus was on autism, and early on I formed just as many strong opinions on how to be an autism mom as I did when I was focused on being a good attachment parenting mom.

Oh, how time changes things.

I think I may be both a less and more judgmental person now.

I gave up on cloth diapering with Vlad. When he weaned himself at 14 months, I was relieved. I am even reconsidering my stance on vaccinations (insert gasp here.) My kids eat chicken nuggets more than is possibly healthy. And for a woman who was allllll about attachment parenting and had planned to homeschool, I am more than happy to wave goodbye to all three kids every Monday morning. Getting in the highest  amount of therapy is no longer a priority. I go days without reading anything autism related, and even actively avoid reading the latest "Scientists discover the maybe, thinly possible, not actually proven link to the cause of autism!"

Admitting some of this is hard. Nobody wants to be the person who shouts an opinion from the mountaintops, only to recant later down the road. It makes me feel like a flake.

But the truth is, change is good. Change means that you are a growing, living, learning person. I'm still a judgmental person because I judge the person I used to be, and those who I meet who are like that. The ones who know it all. Who think that being right is better than being nice.

Honestly, I'm still there. I have those moments. You know, when someone says something on facebook and I see it as my duty to let them know just how wrong they are. Ugh, I can be utterly obnoxious.

I am learning. Learning how to change without being embarrassed by it. How to look at how other's are doing things differently without feeling as though it is a statement against what I am doing. I'm learning how to check out of the grocery store without being embarrassed by the dichotomy between the organic baby spinach and dino shaped chicken nuggets. Embracing being a happily public schooling attachment parent.
Learning how to adapt. And how to own up to my shortcomings both past and present.

I'm sure I will be passionate about something again, only to change my mind later on. Feel free to not point that out to me. Just love me anyway, flaws and all. I'll try to give you the same courtesy.

When They Are Well

I've been quiet. Too quiet.

Why?

Well, for one thing, things were chaotic for a bit. I moved a bit growing up and I never considered it to be such a major life event. When we had little enough stuff to throw into boxes in a couple of days, moving was not a huge deal.  Now, however, with three children...it was kind of a massive undertaking.

But that isn't the sole reason for my silence.

See, everything has gone fairly smoothly. The kids transitioned to the new house extremely well. They are adjusting to their new schools surprisingly quickly. And I have found myself without anything major with the kids to worry about.

What am I supposed to do with myself now?

I'll tell you what I did. Took a good long look at myself. And then I had a mini break down.

Guys, it turns out that I have some issues. And when I'm not 100% focused on my kids, these issues decided to pop up and say "Hey there! We're the stuff you've been repressing for a while. We're coming out to play!"

As it turns out, throwing myself into my kids is just another form of escape. I know I'm not the only mommy out there to do this. I mean, there is always something to worry about, to agonize over, to research and implement, when you are a mom. The laundry list of serious concerns for an Autism Mom is about a mile long. And how easy is it to hide behind that? To use that as a reason to put off dealing with your own inner struggles. But if there is one thing I've learned in the past month, it is this: My kids are my world, but they are not my identity. There is a woman behind the Autism Mom label. A woman with a past and a future, hopes and fears, passions and loves. I'd already been working on that woman for a little while, and I think that the stillness of a happier home I found more to deal with than I was quite prepared for.

And yes, I'm being purposely vague. There are some things that are still not fit to be shared with the whole of the internet. But I will say this- don't you worry about me. I'm okay. The thing about taking the time to really look at yourself, is that while it is terrifying...in the end, it leads to a richer life. A muscle, stretched and worked over time, becomes stronger. That is my hope.

So, thanks kids. You're doing alright. And so will I.

Changes, changes, everywhere!

Well, hello there. Did you miss me?

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind. Let's recap:
I went out of town to a conference on 7/24
I came back on 7/28
We commenced moving into our new home on 7/29
Diva Girl's last day at the therapy center that she's attended for three and a half years on 7/31
Diva Girl and Rascal's first day at their new school on 8/1

Guys. I'm a mess.

Now, these changes are all great, grand, wonderful! It's just that they are happening all at once. But, in the end, I'm so very glad things have played out this way. Yes, it's been chaotic and it feels like I can't quite catch my breath. However, the past week has not only stretched my sanity, it's stretched my imagination.

I've never been a big dreamer. I'm practical to a fault. The conference I went to, I have attended once before, and my "practical" side kept me from enjoying it. See, I was surrounded by all of these positive, amazing women...and all I could think was "Yeah right, like I could ever be that successful. Or that happy. They are probably just faking it anyway. And even if they aren't, I don't even want to be like them. So there."

Real mature, right? The green of jealousy does not look good on me.

I ended up quitting my business not too long after that conference, convinced that I didn't have time for it and that it was probably just not for me anyway. Diva Girl was newly diagnosed, and I saw the few simple dreams I already had slipping away.

For the last few years, I've done a lot of focusing on the negative. The challenges faced, the sacrifices, the frustrations. As upbeat as I try to be, the back of my mind is always working on an unhealthy dose of anxiety and pessimism. With the diagnosis of Vlad, my inner voice took a pretty dark tone. All I could really think was- we will never have enough money, they will never have what they deserve, we will have three children who are dependent upon us forever, and poverty and depression will be my constant companions until the day I die. Yes, that was what I thought, behind smiles and the jokes.

And I am ashamed of myself.

That inner voice is bound to whisper again from time to time, but the past two weeks have changed my inner dialog drastically. This time, when I was surrounded by amazing and positive women, I found myself asking "Why not me?" I found myself realizing that I was going home to a new house that I never thought was possible. That my third child would be going to a therapy center that we have never been able to afford, but have been a part of for three and a half years. That week to week, we have people help us and reach out to us. Dreams have been fulfilled before I even knew that I should dream them.

So, why not imagine a better future? Heck, why not imagine a better now? And not just imagine it, but work towards it, sacrifice for it. Why not say "I can. They can. We can." Why not plan a vow renewal for our tenth anniversary (two years away tomorrow!) and a family trip to Disney? Why not plan on three kids going to college? It's all possible. And maybe it won't all happen the exact way I hope it to, but isn't it better to reach for the stars and make it to the clouds, than stay planted to the ground because I didn't even look up? I think it is.

So, here I am. In my new-to-us home. Working harder and dreaming bigger than I ever have before. And it feels pretty good, even if I am still a mess. Don't worry guys- there are some things that never change.

Letting Go

Eight more nights. Eight more nights of sleeping in this apartment, typing from this couch, listening to the whir of this old washing machine. I can't wait.

We will be moving into a house. A real house, no shared walls. Windows on all sides. A yard, a driveway, a fence. All the things we've never had. With the new home, we've been blessed with new (to us) furniture; couches and a dining room set among other things. 

I am terrified.

Why? Well, I'm not exactly a good housewife. I'm a pretty lousy one, at best. I have little to no idea how to decorate a home, how to make a place look....well, like anyone would want to live in it. See, we have been in survival mode for years and years now. I've never considered anyplace that we lived to be a real home. 

In case you didn't already know, this is our past home history:

-Married while in college and lived in what was essentially the "family" apartments on campus. Tiny. We furnished and decorated like college students, which is to say minimally and poorly.

-Hit rough times and moved in with my parents for almost two years.

-Spent several months basically couch surfing...essentially, we were homeless.

-Amazing friends took us in. We lived in their unfinished basement for almost a year.

-Back to the apartments at the university.

-Moved up in the world into where we live now- a two bedroom apartment. Furnished with whatever free furniture acquired over the years.

So, for a while, we've just been happy to have a safe place to lay our heads. We've never had enough room for all of our stuff. We've always had more kids than our space could reasonably hold. And these kids come with so much...so many therapist recommended toys and therapy related tools. Add in our addiction to books and my business products, and we are bursting at the seams. So somewhere along the way, I gave up. The mess always won, so why really fight it? Yeah, I sweep the floors (that I can see) and wipe the counters (some days), but overall I just kind of manage the mess, not conquer it. 

*Sorry Mom, I know this must be killing you to read*

I've known for a while that I have a problem with possessions. It goes hand in hand with my obsession with money. Almost everything I own was given to me. When you are poor and everyone knows it, people tend to give you things. And trust me, I am grateful. But, here lies my problem: It doesn't matter that I don't like jeans with holes in them- they fit me and someone gave them to me for free and I can't afford to go shopping. So, I end up with a closet bursting with clothes that I, at best, like okay, and at worst, don't hate too much. But I can't get rid of anything because I can't afford to replace it if I ever miss it! Go through this same mental song and dance with kitchen wares, kid toys, books, and just about any other item you might find in your home. I've had a tight grip on all of this stuff because I might need it. Or, sometimes, I held on because it fit some expectation I had. As though by possessing a certain toy, my children would show some new magical interest in imaginary play, or by owning an array of cookbooks, I would become a competent cook. 

So, I'm letting go. I'm shedding the drawers full of clothes that only "kind of" fit me. (As an aside: Prepare to see me wearing the same outfits. A lot.) I'm lugging away bins of toys that came highly recommended but have only been chewed up, lined up, or thrown. And the impractical items held onto for some imaginary future need? Gone. 

I feel lighter already.

I'm ready to step into a new home and not immediately clutter up the kitchen counters and dining room table. I'm ready to find a place for every thing. I'm ready to have a home I'm proud of. And bit by bit, I want to work towards replacing things that I loathe but hold on to out of necessity, like our not even close to full set of dishes or our threadbare sheets. I'm ready for my home to not be a place that so obviously stresses out my children and myself. I want to create a haven for our anxiety ridden spectrum family.

I know this won't solve all my homemaking problems. I still will be seriously lacking in practical storage. I still have zero home decorating skills (and a zero budget to decorate on.) And I still have three messy children that always come with plenty of stuff. But this is a start, a step in the right direction.

Goodbye stuff. I won't miss you.

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