One small step...

Sometimes it can be hard to see the progress.

Today, I wiped butts. Just like I did yesterday and the day before and every day for 5 years. There was crying and frustration and lack of communication. We churched, we ate, we played, we got cranky. Not much changes, right?

That's how it feels. But it isn't true.

There were words spoken that we didn't hear even a month ago. Rascal plays in ways that surprise and delight me. Diva Girl is communicating more easily than she has in a long time. When I look back to where we were 6 months ago I am shocked at how different everything is. How could I let the daily drudgery rob me of the joy of that? It's so easy to focus on the deficits and delays and miss all those little steps forward.

Next week Diva Girl moves to the afternoon sessions at BCA and I find myself a bit in awe of that. Yes, that will throw our lives into utter chaos, but who cares?! It is like an acknowledgment of all of her hard work, of all of her progress.

All the little baby steps add up. While their pace may drive me batty at times, this isn't a sprint. It is a marathon, and my kids are hard workers who seem to be settling into a good rhythm. I just need to continue cheering them on and urging them to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The days run together but looking back I can see how far we've come. We'll just keep on going, together.

The apples don't fall far...

I've always been a square peg in a round hole world. Sometimes I look at my kids and think- is it really all that surprising that they are not typical? Goodness knows I'm not. I mean, just look at my choices in life...not too much typical going on there.

Yes, I see "spectrumy" traits in myself. A person can only live in Autism Land for so long before turning the diagnosis criteria on themselves.

Socially awkward? CHECK! 

Look, I know that I talk too much. And I tell people way too much about myself. Yes, I have to remind myself to ask my friends how they are. It's not because I don't care about them, not at all...it's just that the natural give and take of conversation and of friendship has never been my strong suit. It's easier now for me than it has ever been in my lifetime, but I am still an awkward goof. 

Stims or ritualistic behaviors? CHECK! 

Let's face it, we all have stims. We may call them quirks, but I know the truth! I know mine, some of which I hide better than others. No, I'm not telling you what they are because then I'll be paranoid that you are noticing them. But suffice it to say, they are there. And anyone who has seen me eat a rice krispie treat knows that I have some odd little snack food rituals. I'll leave it at that.

Ridiculously stubborn: CHECK!

Ok, ok, so this one isn't in the DSM. But seriously, my kids have some amazing stubborn streaks that I kind of associate with autism. Almost every kid I know on the spectrum has this certain intense determination. It may not always be aimed at the same thing, but it's there. And it's in me. While I may be offended when my husband points out how stubborn I am, the truth is that I'm proud of my stubborn streak. When my kids use this particular super power towards good (such as communication), the results are amazing! I will gladly fess up to being capable of that kind of focused achievement. 

All joking aside, I really do find myself surprised by the ways that I do understand my children. Their need for someone to understand them is so great. I wish I understood more...I wish I could see into their heads and hearts. I wish they could talk to me and tell me their dreams. But for now I'll settle for my little glimpses into myself and into them.

I'm a square peg in a round hole world. I think my kids are star shaped pegs. Just like their mama, they don't quite fit...but they sure do shine.

Yes, Pinterest inspires me...

I had this whole post typed out. The basis of it was a reaction to an article I read, written by an ignorant and hateful woman. But I decided that since she would never read it, it was a waste of time. I'm going to assume that no one who reads my blog thinks that my children ruined my life and that I secretly regret having them. If you do indeed think that, well...you're wrong. Nuff said.

So then, what AM I going to write about? (I'm sure you are just eagerly reading, practically dying with anticipation, anxious to know what pearls of wisdom I will impart on you!)

Today, I write about something that is mot revolving around autism. Shocking, I know. Today, I will write about food.

We all eat. Some of us live to eat, some of us eat to live. When I first got married, I thought I would magically become Betty Crocker. While that didn't happen, I did have fun trying new things and trying not to burn down our kitchen. I've never been a natural with cooking, I'm not the kind of person that can just throw something together. I need recipes, don't give me that "just add a dash of this and a pinch of that!" nonsense. I can't tell the difference between spices and I am still trying to figure out how to get every component of a meal ready at the same time. But in those early days I remember proudly making Nate lemon bars from scratch and trying new vegetables and enjoying myself.

But then life happened. First, a picky kid with food allergies. Then a kid with such strong food aversions that I still don't know how he's been able to gain so much weight. I remember trying to be creative for a while, but giving up once I spent all day on a dairy free, egg free, nut free masterpiece that would just be thrown on the floor without so much as a tentative lick. So I gave up. Which was fine, since I had no time to cook and clean up the mess that cooking made. So for quite some time there has been a lot of microwaving and fast food. And I hate it.

I've decided that cooking is going to happen. I am going to learn and experiment and make meals that make me happy. Even if it is just for Husband and myself and the kids refuse to eat it. It's time to take a step into living the life that I want to live.

So for now I'm taking baby steps. Feel free to share easy recipes with me. I'm especially looking for recipes using whole foods (not just easy casseroles containing a lot of cream of chicken soup) but not a long list of ingredients. Tonight, for example, I made an easy 4 ingredient chicken recipe and it was delicious! I'll keep you posted on this journey of mine. It feels good to do something for me.

I'm just not

People are always telling me that I am something I am not.

"Two kids with autism! And a newborn! Oh, wow, you are so_____!" Go ahead, fill in the blank. Words like "strong", "brave", and "daring" tend to be popular among both those that know me and those that are meeting me. But none of those feel like good descriptions for what I am.

Scared. Tired. A complete and utter mess. Those feel like more accurate words.

Here's a little secret that I want to let you in on...I am not any stronger than you are. I don't subscribe to the belief that God gives special needs children to special parents that can handle it. My patience is not endless, I don't somehow need less sleep than other mortals, and there are many times during the day that I simply look around and have no idea what to do next.

I have pity parties. When I see my friends post pictures of play dates that their kids have I get jealous. I wish they would call me to take the kids to the park, but I know that would be a stressful adventure for all involved. Once I almost de-friended someone simply because she constantly posts all of the cute and funny things her daughter says and it was just too hard to read and compare her little girl to mine. I get petty. I cry. When all three kids are screaming and I realize that none of my children can really communicate with me, my heart breaks. Like I said...I'm not that strong.

Thankfully, some things make me stronger. A friend who opens her home to me while I'm having a breakdown, gives me coffee, and lends an understanding ear makes me strong enough to go back and face the rest of the day. A husband who holds me and tells me that I'm a good mom right after I've lost my temper makes me strong enough to not yell the next time someone hits, bites, pinches, or kicks me. And yes, locking myself in the bathroom with a piece of chocolate sometimes makes me strong enough to deal with a kid that is throwing a half hour tantrum over cookies.

But even those things aren't enough. My friends and husband can't shoulder all of my burdens, and I can't eat my feelings all of the time. While I don't believe God made my children autistic because I'm some sort of super-mom, I do believe that He loves them and He loves me. And that means that He makes me better than I am. He is strong. When I have no patience left to give, I can lean on the one who has grace in abundance. I've seen what I'm like when I forget to do that and it isn't pretty. Not for me and not for my family.

So now you know my secret. I'm completely inadequate for this job. I'm just not strong enough...but I guess I don't have to be.

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.