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.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
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.
"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.
Monday, October 3, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
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!
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!
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
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.
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.
Monday, April 25, 2011
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....
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....
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
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.
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.
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