What do you expect?

This week we had our annual IEP meeting for Rascal. Prior to the meeting, I was nervous. Nervous because I anticipated having to ask for something and I was afraid of a fight. I don't like confrontation. I'm kind of a wimp.

I ended up being pleasantly surprised. Shocked, really, when they already had goals and services added to address the issues that I came in concerned about. I had this moment where I got to look around the room and see, not people I had to fit against, but allies. They aren't perfect (they are people, after all), but they know my child. They love my child.

Earlier in the year I never would have guessed that things would have gone so smoothly. Rascal had a tough time transitioning to his new classroom this year and we even had to call in someone from the district to see if he should be in a different room. Back then, I was hurt. I would have sworn that his teacher didn't like him at all, that she wasn't willing to do the work to help him fit into her class. Honestly, I didn't think all too fondly of her and I didn't expect much of her.

I was wrong.

Looking back, I see that she was a teacher with 20 years of experience who had never had a kid quite like my Rascal and wasn't sure how to help him. She wanted him to thrive and learn, and was worried that he wasn't in the best place to do that. She didn't just look at him and see a problem, she looked at him and saw a little boy who needed more than she knew how to give.

In the end, she got help on how to help him. They learned how to speak one another's language. She grew in her confidence with him and he grew in his trust of her. And oh, I am so glad that he ended up in her classroom, because I can't imagine any teacher doing more. I am almost ashamed of how I used to think, of how low my expectations were and how wrong my assumptions were.

So often I think us special needs parents are in battle mode. We have all seen our kids be treated poorly, we have all had to fight for rights and services, we have all been hurt by the words and actions of people we thought were going to love our kids. I can't help but wonder if sometimes we just get stuck in the mentality that the people across the table are on the other side. And before you jump down my throat with But MamaSab, you don't know what it's like to have a truly awful teacher/team!, trust me when I say that I have.That is where I am coming from and why I had the mentality that I'd had. I've sat in a room and felt like no one in that room had any hope for my child, and it is one of the worst feelings in the world. What I am saying is don't let those experiences color all the future interactions you have with new teachers and new therapists and new teams. Don't always expect the worst and assume you are in for a fight.

Sometimes, you meet people along the way who want to help. Who love your kid. I almost missed out on seeing that. I hope you don't.

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.

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.

The Middle Kid

Rascal. My dear, sweet, middle child. I look at this picture of him, and I smile because I see him rolling his bag like he's ready to go take on the world all by himself. When I think about Rascal, I think about his independent spirit, his love of adventure and diving into life headfirst, and his easygoing nature.

Unfortunately, I took to much of that for granted. I assumed too much.

See, this summer, Rascal has been thrown off his game. At three and a half years old, he has spent about half of his life in a fairly routine schedule, first at a therapy center and then at school. But this summer he has no regular routine, he has no classes. We thought he would be okay, with that. Unfortunately, he is adrift.

This summer seems to have been a perfect storm to create trouble for my little guy. It hasn't just been the lack of school. There has been a lot going on with the other two kids. You know, the less "easygoing" ones. And between the diagnosis of Vlad and the behavior issues of Diva Girl and trying to just survive a few weeks without The Husband, we let a lot of things slide with Rascal. Without even realizing it, I was doing much less with him and expecting less from him. We stopped expecting him to speak his requests because the other two aren't, and we could anticipate his wants and needs for the most part. It was easier, less time consuming. It was also wrong.

And now? Well, we have a little boy who stopped eating anything from the fruits and veggie department. His overall food intake has probably dropped about 50%. You never know when he will melt down over a train track not connecting well, or the expectation that he say "hi" to someone, or the demand that he put something away. He's not as happy.

Oh, the guilt!

I'm trying very hard not to beat myself up over this. I know he will be okay. We calling in some great therapists and we are committing to following through with what we know he needs at home. We've learned from this summer, and we know we won't let it happen again. But it just breaks my heart to know that I failed him. And even worse- that I know it won't be the last time that we make a mistake like this. With three kids on the spectrum, it seems impossible to meet everyone's needs, all the time. They all need so much, and they are all so different. How will we manage to give them all the individual attention they need? Don't even get me started on the financial aspect of providing them with the therapies they each need to be their best...

Deep breath.

Today is a fresh beginning. A new day with three little kids who are more than happy to teach me new lessons in life. Rascal, I will do my best to not let your middle child status and easygoing nature lull me into thinking that you somehow need less. Lesson learned, ok bud? Now...let's get to work.

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.

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?