Yes, Again

I know, I know. I abandoned the blog yet again, only to return. Quite honestly, I needed a break from writing down all of my thoughts and emotions about my life. There was too much going on, too much that overwhelmed me. And the scary thing about writing these things down is that the very action tends to bring out emotions that may lay dormant. And I just wasn't ready to face that yet, I wasn't able to allow my writing to be cathartic when I was still in the thick of it all.

But I'm ready now.

The reader's digest version of what has happened since I last posted:
- We moved
- We're pregnant with a little boy, due January 2012
- Rascal was diagnosed with ASD

Yeah, see why I just wasn't dying to let out all of my feelings into the blogosphere?

Well, now I have plenty of issues to tackle, and I plan to begin...well, when I have a moment.

The Bath

I had certain ideas of what life with 2 kids would be like. Ok, so they were more like fantasies. They stopped just short of imagining my kids holding hands and frolicking through a field of daisies.

Then Diva Girl spent the first few months of Rascal's life trying to ignore his existence.

At that point, you modify some of your ideas and learn to appreciate every glance, every smile, every gentle touch. Voluntary interactions between them have been downright applauded and rewarded. In fact, on a daily basis I give her favorite foods just for sitting and playing nicely near him. This was an idea that was given to us by our ABA therapist, to encourage some positive interaction between them...at that point in time she had been pretty aggressive with him and there was some talk of getting him a helmet for protection.

No, I'm not kidding.

But lately, we've been seeing some fondness there. Some affection. And dare I say...sisterly love? She has figured out that if she does certain things, he laughs. So she prat falls and jumps and wiggles and watches her baby brother laugh and look at her adoringly. A few days ago they had both gone back to their bedroom and it was eerily quiet, so I went to check on them. I opened the door and they were sitting on the floor playing side by side. They just looked at me as I walked in, as if I were an intruder...I slowly backed away and did a happy dance in the living room.

So last night we decided that the kids had a sufficient layer of grime on them, and filled up the tub for baths. They are always bathed one after the other, with Rascal going first. Well this time she came into the bathroom and starts to complain and say "bath!" and clearly wanted to get in with him. So we put her in, and cringed a bit waiting for the other shoe to drop.

There were giggles. And lots of splashing. And even some getting clean. But no one was hitting, or crying, or attempting to drown one other. It was such a great, classic sibling moment. Rub a dub dub, two kids in the tub! In the end, I think the whole family got soaked....but we were all smiling from ear to ear.

The may not be building forts together just yet, but I have the feeling we'll get there. Next up? Teaching them to high-five!

Forgive me?

I've been feeling rather unsocial lately. Not that I haven't been going out and having my usual mom's nights and whatnot. But I've just not been feeling like talking much about everything that's going on. Hence my blog hiatus. Just sitting here, trying to think of a way to sum up all that has been going on and all the emotions that go along with the events...ugh. Forget it.

So instead, I'm going to tell you about what I did this morning. I took Rascal to story time at the Main library in downtown Nashville. If you've never been there, the place is AH-mazing. Poor Rascal is fairly cooped up at home most days, thanks to my inability to take both kids anywhere by myself, so I'm trying to do some fun things with him while Diva Girl is at BCA in the mornings. So even though I was exhausted and not much feeling like going anywhere (especially unshowered and with a hammering headache), I sucked it up and took him out. When we got to the library and sat in the storytime theater, Rascal started kicking his legs with glee. We've only been one other time for about 5 minutes, but he obviously remembered it and was just brimming over with excitement! Sure enough, when it started he sat there with a big smile and eyes glued to the stage. Oh, then the music started...the music!! My little guy immediately got to his feet and started dancing away. Other moms and kids were looking over and smiling at his little booty dance, and I just felt so proud. Amazing what can bring on motherly pride...even just a little dance. I don't know, maybe it was just a moment of being so happy to have some time with him doing something so simple, so normal. Is it wrong of me to say that?

Of course, he was done with the whole thing way before it was over, he is only 15 months old after all! Then he ran around the hallways and I chased him and he charmed complete strangers just by flashing his 6 teeth at them. It was a boring morning, really. Uneventful. And I absolutely adored it.

I know that having Diva Girl as a sister will make him a better person. Someday, he will learn more from her than just the right way to bop someone on the head. She will make him more compassionate, more accepting, and more outspoken. But he will also grow up having to leave parties early, stay home more, and, let's face it...deal with less attention. So these moments, just the two of us, as so important. And God willing, I will never forget how important they are. So we're making this a weekly date. Just the two of us (and the puppets of course) in one of my favorite places in the world. Little man, I hope you know how much I love you.

Welcome to Toyland

I'm sure you've felt the same way from time to time. Like the toys are forming an ever-growing army and are poised at the edge of outright war against you. You've bitten back swear words when you step on a strategically placed, inevitably pointy, toy in the middle of the night. You've gathered bags of toys to donate, only to feel that it only made a mere dent in the madness. So I'm sure you won't judge me for what you will read, right?

Don't get me wrong, we have some great toys. I'm not a fan of junk, and things that aren't useful in some theraputic manner are often given away. To make life easier, I've even put together a toy rotation. I can even acknowledge that my kids have a pathetic stash, compared to, well...everyone else I've ever met with kids. But hey, when you have our meager earnings and 550 sq feet to live in, you tend to not acquire much. I can acknowledge all of these things....but...

I still feel like the toys are taking over. I put all the toys in the bin and the books on the shelf and I turn around and BAM! They are all out again, spread on the floor and flung about the room. I'm not even sure they are being played with as much as being thrown about. Drives. Me. Batty.

So yesterday I picked up all the toys and took them out of the living room so that I could rotate the stash. But before bringing in the new toys I decided to vaccuum and clean up a bit more. So I did all that and then I guess I just...forgot to bring out more toys. Almost 24 hours later they still haven't been replaced. So right now my kids have some books, 2 stuffed animals, a puzzle, and whatever they can find in the couch cushions to play with. And all I can think is "Look how nice it looks in here!!!!!!"

Bad Mommy.

And yet....

They'll survive just one more day, right? It just looks so nice....

Moving On

Well, it's official. We're looking for a new place to live.

Now, quite honestly, that's a bit insane. Right now we live on-campus and have internet, cable, and water included in rent. It's a fairly safe place to live and everyone here knows us...and more importantly, knows Diva Girl. But the place is tiny. And by tiny, I mean miniscule. At approximately 550 square feet, this place is not big enough for 4 people. When Rascal started walking it seemed like the place shrunk even more.

For a while I felt guilty for being discontent here. After all, 2 years ago we were living in an unfinished basement. How dare I complain about a 2 bedroom place that is all our own? But the more I thought about it, the more I've seen my kids grow frustrated with the lack of space...the more I realize that while I'm grateful for what we have, it's time for us to move on. Wanting more is not wrong. Especially when we see how much difference it makes when Diva Girl is in a bigger space, how much happier she is to be able to move around. A kid deserves to be able to run around in their home. I actually think living here holds her back, it's a source of constant frustration for her.

So now we're faced with a crazy mission. To find a place to be happy in, within our budget. Ideally, this place would be an actual home or duplex, with some kind of yard (Diva Girl loves yards, they make her the happiest little girl in the world). Washer and dryer connections. A kitchen that actually sees a bit of sunshine. Oh, and we'd need landlords that will actually let us rent from them despite our credit and puny paychecks.
Right, so we need a miracle. Good thing God specializes in them.

Heavy Stuff

Sometimes it seems like life gets crazier than I am quite equipt to deal with. Right now is one of those times.
Schoolwork.
One kid who is taking steps back, steps that were hard earned.
The other kid is bounding ahead, getting into everything, and moving at a pace I can't keep up with.
There's never enough time.
My apartment is never clean.
I can't do enough therapy with her as I should.
I'm wishing I had a real home, with a yard and a washer and dryer
And on and on and on...


And then there is that moment. When I'm reading a book to my sweet son, and my girl comes up to me and asks for tickles. And then we're all on the floor, laughing, and tickling each other. We are all completely in the moment, content and full of love. Their little faces are flush and their eyes are bright and I know that to them I am Superwoman. And I'm inspired all over again to live up to how they see me.

In 20 years, I'll miss the chaos.

On life in the Bathroom...

Several people have asked me to share our method of potty training, so here we go. I wanted to wait a bit before posting this, because I wanted to make sure it "stuck". W had one day of regression (but seeing as I was laid up with a back injury, I can hardly blame the child)and she got right back on track the next day. But before I go into the details of What we did, I first want to give the Why's.

We started potty training based on the signs that she was giving us. She was ready, she just didn't know she was ready! We'd been taking baby steps towards it for months. First teaching her how to pull down her own pants, then her pull ups. Teaching her to throw away her pull up and put a new one on. After a while she started to do that herself, without us needing to tell her every time. We decided to definitely potty train when she started to try to take offer own (mushy) poopy diapers. There was an incident with poop on my couch and trailing on the floor. Nuff said. So we knew that even though she didn't seem to understand the words and concepts of pee and poop, she could recognize when she did those things and she finally had gotten to the point that sitting in her own waste was no longer entirely comfortable.

So potty training was scheduled for my Spring Break from my classes, so I could devote my life to it. On the Sunday night before she went to bed, we put her in her last diaper ever. When she woke up on Monday, we sat her on the potty for about 10 minutes. Then we put her in unrwear and drove her over to BCA. See, this is the nice part....I had a few hours every day to spend with my son before entering the world of the toilet. But at 11:30 her shift at BCA was over and I joined her in the bathroom. That first day she spent from morning till night in the bathroom. Ten minutes on the potty, five minutes off. Her five minutes off the potty were still spent in the bathroom, she just played with some toys that we had set up in there. We fed her salty snacks and juice all day so she kept having to pee. The more she peed, the more likely she was to pee in the potty, consisting the amount of time she aaas on it. And when she peed in the potty, OH the big fuss we made! The clapping and cheering and prizes! She caught on pretty quickly- peeing in that porcelain thing is good, it's what makes everyone very excited! Sure there were times she peed on the floor, but we didn't make a big deal over it. Just had her help us clean it up and simply told her that we pee in the potty. We called it quits when she started falling asleep on the toilet.

Day 2 was much of the same. Day 3 was where it got exciting. By this point, you are fairly sick of the bathroom and think that your child is going to never figure this out. I know, you're thinking "oh, that's only a couple of days, what is she talking about?" Spend hours and hours with a kid in a small windowless room and tell me that you don't feel a distorted sense of time. So by this point I'm developing a twitch, but something amazing happens. Diva Girl hits her stride. In the course of the day she pees 8 times....and all of it goes in the toilet. Angels sang! After 6 in a row, she moves to 5 minutes on the toilet, 10 minutes off. Day 4 is successful as well, so we move to the next phase. Leaving the bathroom.

Friday, we allow her to go into the room next to the bathroom. By that point, Diva Girl is so used to her strange new life she seemed almost resistant to leaving the bathroom. But after a while she gets very excited about it. And then she had a bunch of accidents. But fear not! Some of them she had while running towards the bathroom. And sometimes she actually initiated the bathroom trips. Once she was successful 6 more times, we started to let her further from the bathroom and time the potty trips out more. At this point we still initiate 75% of trips to the bathroom, but she is starting to get better about that.

This worked for us. I imagine that it would work for a lot of kids. But I know that no one way of potty training is perfect for every kid out there, so if you don't think it's for you I certainly won't be offended. The main things with this method are that there is no turning back...once you take the diapers away, do not give them back. Because, believe me, you will want to give up at some point. But I know for my kid, if we'd given her her diapers back (and trust me, she wanted them...for days we knew when she was about to pee because she would yell "diaper!! Diaper change!!") she would have thought that if she peed on the floor we'd give her the comfort of her familiar diapers back. Another thing with this method is finding the right motivator and praising like crazy. At first we used all kinds of things, but we actually discovered that praising her while she went and giving her a sticker was the best way to encourage her. No shaming or attention for "misses". And you have to go into it willing to put in the time. We did Nothing but potty train for a week. And I mean NOTHING. I sat with her, in that bathroom, or the adjacent room, the whole time. Oh, and one thing I forgot to mention earlier...when she was off of the potty, we had her check and see if she was still dry. We'd ask "Diva Girl are you still dry?", then have her pat herself to check, then tell her "you are dry, you are doing such a good job!"

Ok, I'm not sure if I've left anything out or not, I'm a bit sleep deprived. But if you have any questions about what we did, just ask! I'm happy to share. Diva Girl is doing great, and even uses public restrooms just fine when we are out. It's been two and a half weeks since we started all this, and she has been considered "potty trained" since day 6!

Say Never...I Dare You!

You folks know the saying, "never say never". Seriously, don't say it. Because before you know it, you will be eating your words.

Or maybe it's just me.

Back before I had kids, I had these ideas. You know, I thought I knew stuff back then. Then I had kids and discovered I was actually a moron. Here are some of the highlights of my claims.

Ideal: "My kids are not going to watch a lot of tv. And no tv before two years old, because that's what the American Academy of pediatrics recommends."
Reality- My daughter knows how to access Netflix on her iPad. she knows every word to every episode of Wonderpets ever made. And my 13 month old baby boy thinks that tv is the best thing ever, and watches it with his mouth hanging open in awe and wonder. I would probably never shower or get any schoolwork done without the magic of tv.

Ideal- "I will never let my daughter become a part of the Disney Princess Cult. I'm a member of the Campain for a Commercial Free Childhood, for goodness sakes! Buying a Made in China, plastic, inporportioned princess doll is just not something I would ever do."
Reality- At this moment, she is playing happily with her mini Belle doll. We also have 3 different Ariel dolls, a bigger Belle doll, princess white boards, a Tinkerbell doll, a weighted blanket with Ariel print on one side and Tinkerbell on the other, a backpack, a lunchbox, and I'm sure many other things that I am forgetting. Oh, and her potty seat. Can't forget that. So yeah, I'm a big sell out. But I am still just thrilled with the fact that it is something that she enjoys that is age appropriate, encourages her imaginary play, and is just so NORMAL. But I draw the line at wall decorations and bedding (I have to draw it somewhere, it makes me feel better).

Ideal- "My kids will not eat a bunch of processed junk. Organic food if we can, plenty of veggies, and homemade all the way!"
Reality- She has collected every toy in the happy meal line up in the last few months. Nuff said. I'm still hurting over the loss of this ideal, I can't talk about it....

Ideal- "I'm going to spend sunny days frolicking outside with my kids! We'll go on walks and have picnics and play ring around the rosie in the grass!"
Reality- Just getting out the door with all of our stuff is exhausting. Within a few minutes outside I'm hot, annoyed, and worried about Diva Girl running away from me. I'm allergic to grass anyways.

Ideal- "I would never force my child to do ______ (fill in the blank here, there are too many things to list). If they're ready, they'll do it on their own. I would never Train a child, they're not dogs!"
Reality- I just potty trained Diva Girl. And it was intense and strict and probably goes against some tenent of Attatchment Parenting. I got some raised eyebrows over the method we used. But I am beyond happy that we did it. My little girl is using the potty!! No diapers at all!! And this method was perfect for her, in all her stubborn glory. No regrets.

So yeah, I should probably never say never. Eating my words doesn't always taste good. But ya know, how was I supposed to know? Maybe I would have been that parent if I had given birth to some angel fairy children. But my kids are a mess and I am a mess and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Awareness

This week I got involved in a little online discussion. I'm on a cloth diapering forum (yeah, I am that much of a nerd, or whatever you call someone who is obsessed with what goes on my baby's bottom) and I usually stay away from the Parenting Talk area. Too much drama, too many "mommy wars"...I like to stick to the cloth chatter. But this week, probably because I wanted to avoid doing homework, I wandered over into that dangerous land. And of course, when I saw the title of a thread that read "Autism?" I had to click. I HAD to. And then, when I read what people wrote...well, I just HAD to respond.

A woman had said that her son has speech delays, and that their speech therapist "randomly" mentioned that she thought the boy may be on the autism spectrum. The mom was suprised, and when she listed the reasons that the speech therapist had given she clearly thought that they were not good enough reasons. So she ended the post "asking" if it seemed like her son has austim, or if her speech therapist is just crazy.

And then there were the responses...

"Does he smile? laugh?"
"Is he affectionate?"
"Does he ever look in your eyes?"

The stereotypes were trotted out. And it made me feel so sad. So I just had to step up and let this lady know that she was being handed a whole bunch of ignorance. I had to let those other ladies know that what they were asking is not only ignorant, it's offensive.

So that's what I told them. I told them that those were stereotypes and that there is this wide spectrum and that those questions were not accurate ways to rule out the possibility of autism. And I also told them that as the mother of a beautiful, happy, affectionate little girl that gazes into my eyes, what they wrote was offensive to my senses. Because the implication is that kids with autism are sad. And you know...I'm sure there are kids out there on the spectrum that don't smile much, but I sure haven't met them. In fact, the kids that I know are a bunch of giggling smiling little imps.

So I started to think about Awareness. That seems to be the thing for any cause or disorder or illness. People post stupid things on their facebook in the name of Awareness. I hear people drop the phrase all the time "trying to spread Awareness of...". Here's the thing- most of the time, when I see people spreading awareness, they are simply stating facts of the prevelance of their chosen disorder. Very rarely do I see anyone spreading helpful information. And what is the result? A society that knows that more boys than girls have autism, but still walk around thinking that these children are all sitting in a corner, crying, and completely cold. They don't even know that they don't have a clue.

I don't care if you are Aware of the existence of autism if you never bother to learn what it is and what it isn't.

So, if you are reading this because you know me from way back when, or maybe Diva Girl is the only autistic child you've been exposed to, you might want to read a bit about autism sometime. I found this page to have a pretty good overview (disclaimer: I haven't read everything on their website, so I'm sure there may be stuff somehwere on there I disagree with, but this page has one of the best overviews that I could find that wasn't completely depressing)

Spread some real awareness! Especially since the ladies responded that those were questions asked to them by pediatricians, so apparently even doctors are spreading misinformation (don't even get me started) It's up to us, folks.

Doing what I can...

I can't seem to keep up with much of anything these days, least of all this blog. Here is the reader's digest version of the past few weeks:
-I got the flu
-Kids got the flu
-We got a minivan
-Eveyone got an icky virus
-Lots of school work

Sounds thrilling, eh? (Well, the new-to-us minivan actually is pretty thrilling!

But in the midst of all this, I have been focusing more and more on my girl and her bright future. In the past few weeks I've been taking strides to get more going on for her. I've stared down my own embarrassment and faced the fact that in order to get her help for her aggression, I'd have to ask for it. So I did.
And now I have found out that if I push, I can get her more speech and ABA therapy. So it's time for me to do the things I hate (getting on the phone, cutting through red tape, and so on an so forth) so that our lives can become even more busy...so that she can have the life she deserves. Well worth my time and effort.

Until we can get all that sorted out, I'm focusing on re-doing her bedroom. For months it has been home to an unused bed, many toys, boxes of diapers, and many other items that we just have no space for in the world's smallest apartment. I've spent the last few days organizing, purging, and creating a toy rotation. Tomorrow I plan on buying shelves and a kid's table and chairs, and completing what will be...her therapy room! I mean, she sleeps on the couch no matter what we do, so we may as well make her room useful for something.

It feels like things are really coming together for my girl. Now all I have to do is convince my hubby that the Ipad will help her as much as I think it will and figure out how to buy one without selling her brother....

My Baby Boy!

Those were the first words I said to him. Yes, my dears, it's been a year since the birth of my sweet Rascal. It seems like the time has flown by! Let's recap, shall we?

His birth. Always a fun story to tell. Short version- contractions, then water broke, then a whole lot of contractions, then I laid down on my living room floor and gave birth. Meant to go to the hospital, whoops! I like to think that God knew I wanted a homebirth and He made sure I got it.



The first month of his life was a bit hectic. It took a while for all of us to get used to being a family of four. But I remember one day it was like we just woke up and it seemed like he had always been around, I couldn't imagine a day without him. And he was just the most perfect little baby...slept well and ate well and was just as happy as could be. I could hardly believe our luck!





And he grew...










I feel like I blinked and he went from being a baby to being a walking, talking (trying, at least!) toddler. He's my Rascal, my Little Man, my Monkey, my Buddy. But first he was, and forever will be, my Baby Boy.

The Benefits

No matter what your situation, there is always a bright side, right? I know I spend plenty of time venting about the hard parts of autism land, but the truth is...there are some times when Diva Girl's autism has been a blessing of its own kind. Curious? Read on, my friends.

1. This weekend, Diva Girl got sick on the day of her birthday party. She ran 103 fever and we had to cancel the whole shebang. And you know what? She wasn't a bit disappointed! So far, Diva Girl hasn't really gotten the whole concept of some fun event happening sometime in her future. The glory of that is that she is never disappointed when things don't work out! We never have to console her because a playdate fell through or an event got rained out. Sure it's a small thing, but let me tell you, I can't imagine how horrible it would have been to have had to tell a kid "Sorry, not only are you sick but that means you can't have your birthday party!" It's called silver lining.

2. I've gotten to the point where I've become fairly confident with my parenting out in public. Because you know, if someone ever gives me attitude about how she is behaving or how I parent, I can just tell them they don't have a stinking clue and continue to ignore them and go on my merry way. I would probably not be that way if I just had typical kiddos, I think I would care more what people thought. Diva Girl gives me the gift of confidence.

3. I get to enjoy so many little victories! Every word she says, every goal she meets, no matter how small, is cause for celebration. For two years I took so many things for granted. Now I take such pride and joy with every accomplishment, and you know what? It's kind of fun! I even find myself celebrating every milestone with Rascal and enjoying his "babyhood" in a way that I didn't with Gabriella. Pride has taken on new meaning.

4. We have yet to hit the "Why?" stage. You know, that annoying typical 4 year old thing. You tell them something and they say "why?", and you answer and they say "why?" and you answer and...you see where this is going. Drives me nuts. But we still live in unquestioning bliss! Sure, I want her to understand questions well soon enough, but for now I really don't mind having that really annoyingly exhausting phase delayed.

5.There is no real deception in Diva Girl. Sure, if I say "no" to something she just goes to someone else and asks...but she does that right in front of me, it's nothing sneaky. The girl can be defiant, but at least I don't have to worry about lies.

6. Autism has opened me to a whole world of amazing people. I've met amazing women that I would otherwise never have crossed paths with. I've discovered that people are tremendously generous. I've seen people be touched by Diva Girl's story, and have been downright shocked by those who have chosen to donate so that she could get the help she needs. Some of the most wonderful people I know are either on the spectrum or related to someone that is.

I'm sure that there are some more "benefits", but I am done for now. My little girl is snuggling up and making it hard to type...and who can resist a 45 pound cat?

Four Years Old

My first glimpse of perfection. She was so tiny and angelic, I could hardly believe that she was mine. I thought to myself- "I get to keep her? I get to take her home? Are they sure I'm allowed?" It was terrifying and amazing, as life with her often is.

But I grew into being a mommy, and watched her grow in awe. Husband and I could hardly believe how lucky we were. Oh, the mountains of pictures we took in those early months! The adorable yawns, the bathtime mohawks, the first smiles...all evidence of the fact that we had created the most beautiful child that ever lived.



I mean, really...doesn't this face just melt your heart?



Then I blinked and I had a cake eating, walking, talking, one year old!



And whether I liked it or not, she grew. She was just pure sunshine.



Who could resist this grin?



Or this wink?



The next thing I knew, it was birthday number two!



That's when life got REALLY exciting!



And maybe just a tad bit messy...



But she discovered her love of all thinks pink and sparkly and fairyish and beautiful.



Suddenly, she was three.



She had to learn how to share, even when she wasn't a big fan of the idea



She's learned more than I can even guess, and she shows us more each day



She makes us laugh every day!



And she blows me away every day with her beauty, humor, love, and her ability to keep me guessing.



Baby girl, I love you more than you love yourself, as hard as that is to believe...


Four years and I'm still thinking "Really, I get to keep her? Wow" Happy Birthday to the most wonderful little girl there is!

Diva Girl ~ January 23,2007

Decisions, decisions

I've started several posts in the past few days, and deleted them all. None of them said anything of real value or importance, and I was trying too hard to say something of some significance. Yes, I'm a perfectionist even when writing a blog post.

Tonight? I've decided to write about something of REAL significance to me.

Recently, I made the decision to stop feeling badly because we can't afford biomedical treatments. I wasn't sure if I wanted them, I just knew that I felt badly that they aren't even an option. I kept thinking "What if somewhere in that lies the key for her? What if I could help her?" But lately, those questions seem to feel just a bit silly. Why? Because I'm seeing the progress right before my very eyes. I'm not worrying about having made the wrong decision putting her in BCA, I'm not agonizing over what we could be doing...I'm just watching her in awe.

We're hearing her say sentences. Real, unprompted sentences! "I want strawberries!" "I see water!" Mama is freaking out!!! Oh, and play...we are seeing imaginative play! She's hitting less, she's talking more, she's on the cusp of being ready to potty train...she could probably jump buildings with a single bound, if she really wanted to.

What we're doing is working for her. It's working for us. I have no regrets.

My only hope is that we can keep her there. As we approach March we will have to decide if we can do another year at BCA. I simply can't imagine life without it, but I have no idea if we can commit to another year. As always, I want the best for our little girl. Now that I'm 100% positive that we're on the right path, I can't stand the thought of it being pulled away from her.

Actually, I have another hope...I hope that other parents can feel the same certainty I feel right now, whatever path they embark on with their kids. I know of no one that has the pocketbook to pursue every treatment out there for their child, and I know how tough it can be trying different things and hoping that it works. And agonizing over what to try next. I know we don't have it all figured out, but I am happy with where we are right now. Wish that everyone could feel the same!

Highly Overrated

Another semester begins, and with it a whole new round of classmates and professors. I'm finding that all of my professors begin their classes the same way in the Education department. "Let's go around the room and say your name, area of study, and why you are in education!" And around the room we go, with the answers all blending together..."I've always liked kids", "I've always worked with kids", and "I've always felt like teaching is my calling" are popular answers. Then we get to me.

"I'm Mama, doing Special Education, and I'm here because of my daughter. She is on the autism spectrum and I want to be her teacher, as well as help other kids who are on the spectrum."

That answer always gets some attention.

I've gotten to have several conversations due to my little introduction, but two in particular have caused some thinking on my part. Both times I was asked the question "Is she high functioning or low functioning?"

I never know what to say to that.

What is high functioning? Someone who barely seems autistic? Someone who speaks well, but has some social problems? Someone who is in a "regular" class in public school? I really don't know what "high functioning" looks like. On the other hand, what is low functioning? Someone who stims all the time? Someone who is non-verbal? To be honest, this always conjurs the image of a child who sits staring off and rocking, completely oblivious to the world around them.

I don't see my daughter in either of these terms. So many people tell me that they know someone who was diagnosed with "high functioning autsim" and that always throws me for a loop...what doctor uses that as a label? It certainly isn't in the DSM-V. No one with any sort of authority has ever told me that she is "severe" or "low functioning" or "high functioning". So when people ask, I always pause and sort of stutter. I want to tell them that it isn't that simple. I want to tell them that high and low are two ends of a very wide spectrum. That I can't look at my smart, funny, headstrong, improving-by-the-day, little girl and say that she is low functioning. But I also know that in the eyes of most everyone, she would not be considered high functioning.

So I chose to say that she is neither, and that those terms are highly over rated. Those terms have no purpose in my life, and do no justice to my girl. They don't mean a darn thing in regards to her future success in life, and they certainly don't change the way I treat her.

Besides, functioning isn't my goal. How about words like "thriving", "shining", and "happy"? Now those are words that I'm ready to label her any day...

Resolving, Evolving

It's been almost a week since a new year began, and like most other optimistic human beings out there, I made a few resolutions. Since I am doing pretty well with them and feel more sure than ever that I am on the right path, I am going to share a few with you today.

First resolution: Stop caring so much what people think of me.
I have had a serious problem with this. Maybe it comes from years of being picked on, picked last, and picked apart. Maybe it comes from the fact that I know that I am not the best in social situations (more on learning to embrace my own autisty traits in a forthcoming post). Whatever the reason, I have always yearned for people to like me, to approve of me (lets be honest- most other people do too). Of course, this habit did not go well with the fact that my face is an open book and I have a tendency to be far too blunt. So I'd say something and then agonize over having offended someone. Or post something on facebook and worry what people thought of me as a mother. What really makes no sense is that I even want people that I don't particularly like to still like me! So this year I have decided to embrace the fact that I am unique and opinionated and sometimes offensive. If you want to be friends...great! If not...oh well, I'm too busy for you anways. If you don't like my parenting style...well, just keep it to yourself.

Second resolution: Be nicer to my kids.
Yes, I needed that to be a resolution. Stop being so shocked, I know I'm not the only one! My attitude towards the end of the year just got plain ugly. I was stressed out and taking it out on everyone, including my poor kiddos. Yes, they were part of the stress, but I just made things worse. Turns out when I yell, it doesn't fix anything. And when I swat Diva Girl, she just gets more aggressive. I knew better, and I swore that I would never parent that way. So I've started turning up the praise, spending more time blowing bubbles and tickling, and what do you know...peace reigns in my household. Sometimes taking a big dose of your own advice can really do wonders.

Third resolution: Start making more decisions for Diva Girl.
This was the hardest one, and the most involved resolution of all. Last year, when Diva Girl was newly diagnosed and I had a new baby, I was completely and utterly clueless. I needed HELP, and I was overwhelmed by the big bad world of autism research. My research was all over the place, and I didn't know what I really thought about the best way to help Diva Girl. After visiting BCA, I knew we needed to put Diva Girl there, and that in and of itself was a very hard decision. But once she was there? I sort of thought "YES!! These people have saved me from my world of clulessness. If I just listen to them and do what they say, everything will be ok." And while BCA has worked miracles...they are not raising my child. I am. Sometimes I need to ask questions and make decisions to move her therapy in a certain directions and not be so afraid. So my next post will be about my first big decision in regard to her therapy. It wasn't easy, but I feel good about it. Consider me ready to jump back into the world of research...on my own terms, of course.

Fourth Resolution: Get back to the things I love.
Dates with my husband. La Leche League meetings. Cloth diapering, greener living, healthier eating. All things that I am passionate about but pushed to the side because I was so stressed with school. Yes, this semester will be even more hectic. But I don't want to spend the next 2.5 years stressed out and miserable. I need to make the time to focus on things I enjoy or I will not only fail in this resolution, but I will fail in all the others as well. Some days I just need to get my head out of the books, my mind out of Autism land, and focus on something like converting my old flat diapers into unpaper towels (and if you understand what I'm talking about, let me know so we can talk about that stuff together!)

So that's it. Or at least, that's all the resolutions I'm telling you. The other ones are far more embarrassing.

All About The Boy

A whole blog post devoted to him, and it's not about the crazy way he came into this world! But believe it or not, this past week I've been much more concerned about my little guy than Diva Girl.

Yes, I'm a bit paranoid when it comes to Robbie. I worry about his development, like all moms who have a firstborn on the spectrum. I remember when developmental milestones were just something fun and new...now I find myself saying things like "He can clap! Good gross motor imitation!" Luckily, Rascal has given me no cause for concern. He smiles at everyone he meets(and I swear he flirts with all the ladies) and claps and says "bubbu" (bubbles) and "up" and is already taking steps at 10 months old. The kid is spot on where he needs to be and I couldn't be prouder (or more relieved).

But then this week happened and got me all stressed out and freaking out. Maybe two weeks ago he started waking up just a bit more in the night. I chalked it up to teething and the fact that he'd started trying to walk, knowing that hitting developmental milestones can actually mess with sleep. Something that I was taking note of, but not something to worry about too much. Next thing I know it's Christmas and we are at my parents house and life is chaos. Not surprisingly, he slept horribly the first night. Second night was no picnic, and third night had me concerned. Then things took an ugly turn after Nate left to be the speaker at a Youth retreat.

Screaming. Top-of-your-lungs, painful, half hour long screaming. He wouldn't nurse, he wouldn't let me hold him close. He arched his back and just wailed and flopped around all over the bed. He did this for the hour or so that I tried to get him to sleep. He woke up ever hour to an hour and a half ALL night long...screaming. Naps even became practically nonexistent. I found myself in the middle of a sleep deprived nightmare.

To say that I was concerned would be a gross understatement. I was freaking out. It was breaking my heart to hear him and not know what was wrong or how to fix it. Over the course of five days I tried to figure out what was wrong. My mind saw signs of food issues, possible seizures, ear infections...but I had no way of knowing. I can't tell you what that last night in Memphis was like. He screamed from 2:20-3:30 AM and I just held him and cried along with him. I vowed to take him to the doctor on Monday. When I talked to Husband about it over the phone, I cried, and said the words that terrified me as I said them "I just hope I wake up tomorrow and he goes back to normal". I said those words about Diva Girl for months, and I felt this panic rising in me as I said them about my son. Totally different situation, but still...I couldn't help but be afraid.

Then yesterday we came home, along with Husband. One of the first things Rascal did was take a nice nap with his daddy. I was dreading the evening, but much to my surprise he fell asleep with very little fuss. He woke up 3 times in the night, nursed back to sleep, and with only minimal crying. Today? Two naps. And only whimpers as I patted his back and he drifted off to sleep this evening. Tears were rolling down my cheeks as I watched him sleeping peacefully. A heaviness has been lifted from me and I am just so glad to see my baby go back to normal.

Best I can tell, he just needed to be home again with his family all together. I don't really understand it, but I'm all too happy to accept it. I pray that nothing like this ever happens again, because I'm not sure my frail psyche could handle it. I'm just glad to have my sweet baby boy back...my sleeping, smiling Rascal.