The 7th Year

I cannot believe it has been that long, but this marks the 7th year of my mom's passing. I think all the time about what this means to me- as a daughter- as a wife and as a mother. Not just her death, but her life. Some days I am enraged at the way she left us. How could she? This especially hit me after I became a mother- because I could not imagine leaving my children willingly to live a different life somewhere else, and one that would be the literal death of me in the end. Some days I am sad- because she is missing this. What I have and who I have grown into- and I like to think that she would be proud of me. Some days I just don't even want to think about it because I have 4 children who need me all of the time and the struggles we face as a family are hard enough without this stuff contributing to it. Today, though- I am glad. Because the life she led, pushed me to lead a different life. Because I know she regretted ever leaving so much that she couldn't forgive herself, I know that giving up is NEVER an option. I know that my husband is the only person who can be here with me to raise me up and remind me of OUR purpose and step in to love our children when I need a break- no one can replace him or our bond.

So, this year- the 7th year- I say goodbye to putting Christmas off until the last moment- I say goodbye to boycotting Christmas music and just barely getting through the day. I say goodbye to tears in the morning and tears just before bed. I say goodbye to the dread and the anxiety that fills my heart as November rolls into December.

Thank you, Mom, for blazing the trail before me- for being the thing that pushed me in a different direction- for being the person who set a clear example that I could look to when I needed to know which way to go. Thank you for making me strong and for making me pick up and move on. I hate so much that we didn't get to spend our lives together- when you were here and after you were gone, but I know that sometimes God has to teach us lessons through hard things.

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

God knows...

This isn't one of those creepy "I know what you did" notes in your mailbox (everyone gets those, right?), I promise. This is just me taking an opportunity to remind myself (and all 2 of you who read this) that God knows us. Not us, as in our family and God hang out and we know His favorite food, but rather, He knows you and me. I think, sometimes, at how impossible that sounds and how crazy I am to believe that God, who has so many BIG things to deal with, even blinks in my direction, but this weekend I saw Him blink a few times and that reminds me of every time He has looked at my family and done something unbelievable. So, God knows... He knows that we get down and that autism is a nasty unfun situation to find yourself in, He knows that having children is tough, period, but that having a few (yes, we have 2 on the spectrum now) that will likely NEVER think like you can sometimes feel like a mountain is mounted on your shoulders, He knows that there are times when we all feel like we don't have what we need to do our job, as though He's asked us to chop down a tree and handed us wet spaghetti to do it with, He knows that what He is asking of us is unfair.

And, equally important, He cares. He loves for the choices we make and despite the choices we make. He guides us when we are lost and gives us strength when we are weak. He finds the right person at the right time to lift us up, or He simply reaches down and lifts us up Himself. He always knows what we need, because he always knows our struggles.

So, while I am not so super excited to get "picked" for the job I do, I can completely acknowledge that God gives me every thing I need to complete the task, as long as I am willing to look to Him for those items. Recently, I have felt so low and completely alone and God took time out this weekend to remind me that He gave me everything I need to feel uplifted and surrounded by love. He gave me a husband and He gave me His word. I have taken these things for granted in the past, and have allowed myself forget them and abuse them, and ultimately, came very close to losing both. But God blinked in my direction and set afire and new determination to love the gifts He gives me and to recognize them as the gifts they are.

God knows... He knows what we need, all the time... And sometimes, we need something big and scary to shake us up, as much as we would love to stay bundled in our secure little worlds. I just can't figure out if I am especially stubborn, so he feels like He needs to shake me up more than most, or if He uses me to show others "Keep acting like this one and I'll shake you up the way I shook her..."

Either way, God has never failed me- so I'm on board for the ride, bumps in the road and all.

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

Craptacular and Other Fun Words

I love the word crap. Which is interesting because I spend so much of the day dealing with crap. Either feces or otherwise. I will say "Oh, crap!" when I forget something or, "What the crap?" when I don't understand something or "Craptacular!" when I am being sarcastic about something being great. The other day, as I was helping L go to the potty, I was literally shouting "Crap!!!" and no one came to my rescue- this is a sign that I overuse this word. I was being literal and they thought I was being figurative. Suck (another awesome word). So, L was standing there, peeing in the toilet, and suddenly he wasn't just peeing anymore. And like a dummy, I tried to catch it! Are you grossed out? I am. Anyway, I thought it a cruel joke that, because of his delays, potty training has been such a task for L because, it is only fair that when a kid can produce adult size crap they should be able to deal with it in an adult way. But then, I wasn't being very adult about it either.

I tell you this because it will give you some real insight into how much crap is too much crap for one person to handle. L is 5 now. C is 1 so I have her crap as well. J is 3 and her crap, for the most part, is handled (even if she does have to name it and talk to it) but sometimes there is crap to deal with. M is 6- so check that one off the list!

Anyway, so enough about actual crap. Here is some figurative crap. Tomorrow, I go in to see the psychologist about M. Not fun. I had a panic attack when this day happened last month and God granted me a little reprieve because the doctor had to postpone. I am still not 100% that this is something I prepared to deal with, but it is the next step. The problem with this kind of crap is, once you know it, you can't "unknow" it.

The crap of it is, I am not sure what, if anything, we can do to help him, no matter what the doctor says. We try everything we can to help him navigate the world and control his impulses, what more could we do?

So, tonight, I am having a hard time sleeping because of this crap. But there is good news! Yesterday, L dealt with his crap in an adult way!!! And that, my friends, is some crap worth celebrating!!!!


Other fun words:
J- Mommy look! It's flying!!!
Me- What is?
J- Look over there!
Me- Where? I don't see it!
J- There Mom! It's a butterdragon!!!

Dad- L get out of the kitchen!
Me- L get out of the kitchen!
J- L get out of the chicken!


-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

Don't Say That...

I really have a hard time hearing "You must be a wonderful mommy for God to have picked you to have such special children" or anything that resembles this statement. It isn't because I don't want to think I might be special or because it is hard to hear that God CHOSE this situation for me (though I will admit, if that is how it all went down, I hope He'll one day tell me how He came to this decision), but because it is insulting to parents of typical kids. When I tell people about our situation (which gets more complicated daily) I don't want them to fall all over themselves to make me feel better and I CERTAINLY don't want them to do so by insulting someone else. It is so... Petty. I really hate how much of parenting is now a competition to be better and do better and have better looking, smarter, better behaved kids. What a crock. First of all, who cares. Your kids are your kids and you love them. That's enough. You teach them what you know and learn together the things you don't know and do your best. I know there are parents out there who don't but I am pretty certain it isn't because they just don't care enough. You can't meet the basic needs of someone else if your own needs are not met- it is that simple. But the vast majority of parents try and in this scenario that effort has to be enough.

Guess what else. You can't judge someone else for their decisions until you've walked down the path they've walked. I don't care how you *think* you'd respond or what you *think* you'd do- you don't know. To say "This is what I would do if I were in your shoes" is a waste of breath, because you can't know that. And what makes you think they want your advice so much anyway.

Of course, there are situations where you see someone has made a mistake and you could certainly point it out for them, but chances are, they don't need your help with that. They probably feel bad enough. Just a short while back I saw a mistake- I felt terrible for them- I worried over how to say the right thing without adding to the guilt- in the end I just said "I'll help." Duh.

Lately, I've been feverently praying that God would help me develop a tougher skin. You see, autism and asperger's are basically invisible which means, unless you are putting your kid in a t-shirt that says "I have ASD- You are just a jerk" or some other very obvious announcement, you are going to get a few comments. The last few weeks I have felt this immensely. And it seemed like this outspokenness was a virus spreading to people I didn't know as well as those I knew and trusted. I put a bit too much emphasis on how other people judge my parenting- it is one area that I have little to no self-confidence, so I have been slowly building myself back up after these hits. It is hard to do.

I think I put a lot of effort into parenting my children. I push them to give 100% even if that 100% looks like 25% to the rest of the world. I am almost militaristic when it comes to manners- 3 of my 4 kids learned "please and thank you" before they learned their own names. I really want them to be successful and courteous and I try to impress that on their little brains.

M is on the verge of being diagnosed with... something. The psychologist thinks Asperger's, others think ADHD, I think- I can't handle whatever it is because some days I feel like the last 6 years have been tougher than I ever imagined parenting could be. Asperger's/ADHD on the outside it looks like bad behavior, lack of discipline... Autism looks much the same.

So, here I sit- thinking it all through. Writing it all down so I can remember the blessings in these moments. I have seen articles about Tiger Moms and Dragon Moms and Velveteen Moms, which is better, which produces better kids, and I just think to myself- maybe it isn't what kind of mom I want to be but what kind of mom my children need me to be.

M needs me to be forgiving- he is impulsive and easily frustrated and he needs me to remember where we were 2 years ago, a year ago, 6 months ago and see the progress he's made, before we've even embarked on the journey to name the issues he faces.

L needs me to be silly- he needs to laugh and play and be little because that is who he is and who he may forever be. I can't change that, but I can embrace it.

J needs me to be cuddly- she needs to be coddled and loved no matter how tough she looks and acts. She is a spirited girl who is the first to yell "I'm okay" when she hits the ground, but sometimes a Dora band-aid really is more important than telling her to rub some dirt in it.

C needs me to be alone with her- because my aunt said it just right "She wishes she were an only child." My poor baby girl really just wants some attention just for her and rather than demanding it she is happy to wait until I have that time. I need to make sure I am making that time.

So, forgive me world, if I ignore your comments and just go about my day. Forgive me if I snap at you to mind your own business or tell you "that it's a good thing my hands are full b/c I don't have a spare one to flip you off." I really am sorry I won't live up to your standards, because up til now I thought that was something that really mattered and it is hard to let that go. I know there will be comments and looks and sighs and they will probably get under my skin like a splinter some days, but avoiding those things by not going out won't do us any good and stressing over those things only makes me grouchy to my kids. I am officially entering the phase of "I don't give a crap," so be warned and try not to cross me.

Funny for the day:

M: What day do we leave for the beach?
Me: Friday.
M: Have I ever been there?
Me: Yep, just before you turned 2.
M: Do I remember it?
Me: I don't know. If you do it probably isn't a very good memory. You knocked your front tooth out there.
M: Where did I lose my tooth?
Me: At the zoo.
M: I wonder which animal got my tooth fairy money- I bet it was a monkey and I bet he lost the money because he doesn't have any pockets. We should ask him.
Me: Um- yes.

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

And yet, I am laughing...

Yesterday, I made a stupid mistake. I was already emotional and battling through some stuff personally and here at home, so I knew better, but sometimes I get in a situation where I can't help but look. And looking is dangerous. I read a story about a family with two sons with autism. The boys are adults, they still live at home and they won't ever be able to care for themselves. I was okay until the article said "I try to never think past dinner." Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. Our first inclination as parents is to plan for the future lives for our children, to talk about college and weddings and babies, even before we've moved them out of the house. For plenty of parents it never works out the way they planned it, and that is a tough cookie to swallow, all by itself, but I realize that I am now in the category of people who won't dream those dreams for at least one of my children. That is not to say that I am resigned that L will live here until we die, but I know for certain, that even when joking about his charm and looks that I am, deep down, cautioning myself not to get my hopes up. Which is kinda crappy. Or rather, extremely crappy.

But there is another side, a lighter side, if you will, of being in this position. I don't have to stress about things like "will he take high school seriously and not make the mistakes that I made and will he love God and go to college and explore the world and marry a girl I like and will she let me plan some of the wedding and will he still love me when he's a teenager and will he talk bad about me in therapy and will I be a good grandmother to his children and will he have a good job and so on and so on and so on." I won't encourage you to analyze the questions you have about your children's future- it is time consuming and frankly, kind of boring from my side of the fence, just know that I know that you worry and fret and pray and seek on behalf of your children and that is amazing and wonderful and special. I, though, am not going to put much effort into these flights of fancy, not because they won't come true ever, because, who knows, they might, but rather, because it is a waste of my time to worry about these things when there is no promise whether L is autistic or typical.

That's right typical parents- your kids could stay home forever too. There is no promise, despite our best efforts and heartfelt parenting strategies, that our kids will ever be self sufficient. And, this time, it doesn't necessarily have to do with crappy parenting or poor values (although, face it, it does play a part, sometimes). Your kid may just be lazy. Your kid may just decide that whining and crying and freaking out will make life easier than actually doing the work. And, dollars to donuts, they know EXACTLY how to break your will so you step in the solve the problem.

I am not laughing at your situation, I am in the same one, though mine has less uncertainty (with one of my kids- the other 3- totally up for grabs). I'm simply pointing out the fact that, for once, we are on the same playground. This is probably the first time ever I have WANTED to comfort the parent of a typically developing cookie cutter kid. I am not being mean- it's just hard to do when I am in my own head. I am a big fan of "whatever your emotion is you are allowed to have it, despite the circumstances others find themselves in." It's a long drawn out way of saying "it's my party and I'll cry if I want to."

My point? I guess it is to realize that I can stop feeling sad about "losing something" that no one has anyway. Promise of a future. None of us have it.

To end the post, I'll give you some more insight into my life.
Conversation with M:

I was in the bathroom cleaning myself up after having spent 20 minutes sobbing because my emotions are CRAZY right now (I am not pregnant) and M comes in.
M: What are you doing?
Me: Having a moment...
M: Why is your face all red like that?
Me: It was a tough moment.
M: Did you need to go to the bathroom and it was really hard?

Yep.

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

I am AWESOME...

Some days I look around and think "I suck." Some days I look around and think "eh- I'm not so bad." Then there are days, though few lately, that I look around and realize "I am AWESOME!" Anytime I come across one of those days I need to celebrate it. Today- was that day. I was productive today. I gave my husband advice for a situation in the REAL WORLD and it worked! Yep, I still have the ability to communicate with other grown ups. This is exciting. M and I finally found a way to break through the barrier of frustration with his reading. I called a bunch of people, I cleaned out my car, the garage, I did a puzzle with J and she identified 17 letters correctly, I prayed my heart out for a family, I shared J's story with a family to give them hope, I made my grocery list, I made some important appointments, I emailed some people, I worked on more fund raising stuff. Come on! Get on this bandwagon! I am awesome!

And yet...

I will still have bad days. I will still not forgive myself for the pile of laundry in the laundry room. I will still worry about this thing or that thing. I will still ignore a phone call I should have taken, spend a dollar I shouldn't have spent, yelled when I should have whispered, talked when I should have listened, taken when I should have given, and run when I should have walked. I am human after all.

Today is a day that I say "I am awesome." But also a day when I realize how much grace I need from God. Sometimes I don't lean on Him because, hey, I'm amazing, but today won't be that day. I lose my temper, I cry, I get frustrated, and I need to remind myself to say a prayer and take a moment rather than react out of anger.

So, right now, while I feel amazing and my day has been pretty spectacular, I am giving it to God and acknowledging that I need Him now, when I am doing well, and not just when things are bad or hard.

Because, as awesome as I can be at some things, God can be unbelievably awesome at everything.

And because every post needs a laugh, I leave you with this:
Me: "J, what do you have?"
J: "Candy."
Me: "Is it smarties?"
J: "Yes"
Me: "Can I have some?"
J: "Yes, you can have a fartie!"
Me: "Now that you mention it, it does kind of taste like a fartie."
J: "Yeah."
-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

Lonely Days Are Here Again

I am sure MANY moms ran across this article at some point in the last few months:
http://www.parentdish.com/2007/05/24/what-do-stay-at-home-moms-do-all-day

I read it and thought, wow, she must just not know. I felt a bit sorry for the girl writing the question (and also, thought a bit of self-reflection might be needed- who wants to hang out with someone who doesn't want to hang out with you?)

Today, though, it hit me a different way. Being a stay at home parent can be incredibly isolating. Being a working parent can be very isolating. Something about parenting, in general, pushes us back to our homes rather than social situations more often than not. I choose not to do things because I'd have to haul four kids out with me. I am one of the more active mother's of four out there. My calendar is full of appointments and I try to do field trips for homeschooling on top of it. So, there it is. At some point all mothers feel isolated (dads too).

Now, let's throw a kink in the equation. What about mothers of special needs children? I thought about all of the going and doing we don't do with others because of social integration issues and thought of the many instances we haven't been invited because the behaviors exhibited are not among the social norm and thought about the amount of judgement we face when we do go out (everyone judges, even people with special needs kids of their own- society has turned motherhood into a competition, which does a major disservice to our children, but I digress) and realized that a lot of my stress and feelings of being overwhelmed comes from isolation. Not just isolation imposed by me because it is easier, but also, isolation imposed by others because what I have to offer isn't the right thing.

I find myself feeling jealous of facebook posts bragging of a night out or an afternoon spent with just friends. I am downright loathsome of mom's who go on annual retreats with a group of friends. I find myself wondering just what I am missing that keeps me from being a part of a community of friends. Crap, even Denise Richards (ex-wife of Charlie The Warlock- Sheen) has a group of friends that meet up monthly to support each other. Come on! She's a husband stealing back stabber! (She maintains that Richie Sambora and Heather Locklear were already separated, but I get my facts from Dlisted.com and Michael K says otherwise) So, what is it?

Some days I wonder if having a special needs child really separates me that much from the general population? Sometimes I wonder if my effort to stay mainstreamed rather than seeking out a parent standing in my shoes is a HUGE mistake. Before I knew that I had a special needs child or children, I never felt so alone. I felt like I had something in common with every mother I met, simply because we both had children. Sometimes I can't help but get the feeling that I am viewed as one rung less on the ladder of motherhood because my child is "broken." I cannot compete with mothers of children the same age as mine. Theirs will likely be better behaved, have better social skills, have abilities mine may never learn, etc. I don't try to compete. When I hear about a friend's child doing a great job at something, I applaud that. It's great that little Jr. can jump 6 feet though my child can hardly take 10 steps without tripping. I actually do like hearing that little Dolly can recite all of Hamlet though my child can't say his own name. I don't want pity. I am the same as the other mothers out there. I don't want people to withhold news about their children. I can handle the disappointment that comes with it.

There are not many perks to having a special needs child. People might say "you are special because God gave you that job," or "What a blessing to see a child so innocent." I don't feel special, but I don't feel crapped on either. God gave me what was mine. They are all mine. And I don't think it will be a blessing that my child remains innocent when I am gone and his innocence is left in the hands of others, who may not look out for his needs as I have. There aren't a lot of words that can be said, except "He's adorable." I never tire of hearing that.

I run into isolation, depression, anguish, worry, doubt, fear, anger, jealousy, just like any other mother. I don't want to be shielded from the harsh realities of life
because I am having a bad day or a bad week or a bad month or a bad year or a bad life. I am still an adult on equal footing with other mothers. I deserve more than I am giving myself. I know there are people in my life already who genuinely care for me, but who do not understand my life. That's okay. I love them anyway and don't wish a moment of my day upon them. (Though it's their loss because we have some pretty awesome moments) I just want to reconnect with the world at large, but mostly with someone who I can cry to and not have them feel bad for me, just have them understand me. I want someone who laughs with me about cleaning up poop at 2 am for the 4th day in a row. I want someone to see that my finding a bright side doesn't mean that I consider everything else a dark cloud. I want someone who will stand by my decisions when it comes to my children and not question them. I have enough worry that I'm screwing up. Maybe this is what all mothers look for in a friend. I don't know. I just know that if I were in 1st grade and the teacher asked me to draw a picture of my best friend this is what she'd look like.

And, because I know you are curious, the perks associated with having special needs children are as follows (I am sure there are more but these are the ones I've experienced so far):
1. I have awesome problem solving skills
2. I almost always have a witty comeback for judgmental comments
3. I don't take smiles, giggles, laughs for granted
4. I can accept par or even sub-par as the best someone can do (even if they aren't special needs) because I know that sometimes that really is the best they can do.
5. I have a better sense of humor than you. I can prove this one, because you barely laughed during this whole post and I laughed at least 1 time per paragraph.

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

School's In!

Almost. Next week M starts 1st grade. And I start teaching 1st grade. Coincidence? Nope. M keeps referring to his teacher (me) as if he has no idea what she'll (I'll) be like. We homeschooled last year so it isn't like he doesn't get the concept. I may don a wig and call myself Mrs. CopperBottom or Mrs. Habersham or even better Mr. Tomnus to keep up this charade he seems to have created in his head. I am also going to homeschool J. Yes, she's only 3 but it is never too early to get started AND she is desperate to "go to school." We'll just learn colors and numbers and letters and see what happens. L goes back to pre-k for the fall. I am excited for him but I miss him so much when he goes to school all day, unless it is one of THOSE days, then I'm happy for a break.

The beginning of the school year always prompts a lot of late nights and even more introspection. I have to look back at our summer and think of how we spent it. What did we learn? (a pinecone throwing ceremony is still not a reason to misuse your slingshot- a horse rib is, in fact, 2 inches long- some kids can levitate and unlock things- learning to walk is difficult when you get too many hugs- dora makes some people so excited!!!!!- if you even so much as blink someone will be into something somewhere)? Did the kids have fun? (I'm going with yes here, but every other day was punctuated with I'm bored) Did I yell too much (probably) Did I give in too little (no- I definitely gave in as much as I could handle/afford) Will my kids look back and wish for this summer? (Maybe, maybe not- hopefully it comes up in their future therapies as a Happy Place) We did a lot of swimming, some playing, some firework shooting and a little bit of birthday celebrating (my baby girl C is 1!!!) so overall I think it was pretty successful.

So, as we begin our new school year I pray that we will learn what God wants us to learn, live as an example to everyone we meet and be successful in all of our endeavors. I leave you with a smattering of photos from our SUMMER!

















-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

Potty Training Family Style

I am potty training one 2 year old- J. I was trying to potty train a 4 year old too, but I am NOT cut out for dual potty training and L is not quite ready. Yesterday was rough. SEVERAL accidents, some for attention. Annoying to say the least, but all part of the process. We are well past the halfway point so there is no turning back. J is staying dry through the night 5 out of 7 nights and having 1-2 accidents a day, typically, unless she's mad at me (she's like a dog that chews shoes when you leave, except she just ruins my carpet). Anyway, there was a point to all of this rambling. J is into the mommy daddy baby versions of things. For example, if there is a big rock and a little rock side by side one is the mommy and one is the baby. Imaginative I think since she can find a mommy and a baby for everything and often asks where the daddy is. And until today I thought "this is normal." But we really don't do normal so somewhere the weird had to come. Here it is. J has to potty. # 2. She goes and out comes something not small, then I say "are you all done?" She responds "No, that was the mommy, next is the baby." Me "Do you have a baby in there?" J- "Yes, it is in my booty." A few minutes goes by- she is grunting and working so I say "Maybe you don't have a baby one in there." J's response: "Yes I do! I have a baby one in my booty and I not getting up til it gets out of there! Gosh Dangit!"

Okay- weirdo.

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

Getting a lot of action!

Well the blog is, anyway. It's 12:20 am on a Wednesday. I didn't stay up this late to usher in the hump day, I assure you, but nevertheless it was greeted with a smile. Today was a hard day for me. I had a FAB U LOUS weekend with friends and came home so ready to enjoy my family. FAIL. My children stayed up far to late (my plane was delayed so everything was delayed) and were so very grouchy, crabby, mischievous, and all the other words that fit here and mean PUNKS. We are potty training J, and having some mild success and even greater amounts of laundry. We had hopes of dropping C's pacifier this week, but my nerves cannot handle that. I am trying to paint our house, get M's homeschool curriculum sorted, learn more ways to help L transition throughout his day, train for CASA volunteering, plan a baby shower, be a wife to my husband, a friend to my friends and a contributing family member to my family (extended and otherwise) and today it just got the best of me. Some days do that. Some days I look around and wonder just how I'm going to manage this chaos and still give my kids a good memory about that day. Some days I just cry a little extra.

The good thing about these days is that my husband will talk with me about it. He'll listen, try to help if he can and let me cry if I need to. He'll apply logic to my emotions and remind me that today isn't forever. He's pretty amazing that way.

So, even though my week already flipped upside down, even though I, at times today, wished I hadn't gotten off that plane, even though I wonder if I've ever done even one single moment of motherhood correctly, today was good because I do know, above everything else, that my husband believes I am the best wife for him, the best mother for his children and the best looking hottie on the block!

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

All superheroes hide their true identity

A friend of mine got a psuedo-diagnosis today for her little boy. They are calling it provisional ADHD ad ODD. ADHD- Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. ODD- Oppositional Defiance Disorder. I have heard these labels tossed about for a long time. My own son has been called one or the other of these by strangers and family members alike. At one time it would have been really painful to hear. At one time, knowing that people who had hardly spent a full day with my son could so acutely identify everything that was "wrong" with him angered me.

At first, when I read that my good friend was now standing in a pair of those very same shoes I was sad for her. She knows what I know. That though my son may not fit into the norms of society, he can be extremely loving and affectionate. No one but me and his daddy ever see that side of him. And today I'm happy to not have to share that with anyone else. It takes a long time to get to that place though.

M does not have a formal diagnosis. Part of me scolds myself for taking so long with this, but the other part of me is happy and proud that we let him grow into himself before attempting to push him one way or the other. Today, though, I have realized the truth. I was writing a reply to my friend about her precious boy and it hit me. My son is a future superhero. Not in the laser eyes kind of way, but more in the pave the way for the rest of us to follow kind of way. He doesn't take no for an answer, he finds a work around for everything, he is a future leader. But, much like superman, he will have to hide is true identity from the world and only ever use his powers for good. It is my job and his dad's job to teach him what that means.

To my precious friend and her beautiful boy, I know that the path from where you are to where you want to be will be long and difficult but I also know that only a few in this world are perfectly equipped to make the journey.

Loving my superhero!!!

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

I smell something....

You do not want to sit up suddenly in your bed with this thought in your head. I was taking a well deserved nap today while my children all slumbered soundly in their own beds, or so I thought. I drifted off to sleep and then remember sitting up so suddenly that I choked on the insane amount of saliva that had accumulated during some very heavy open mouthed napping. What was that smell? I got up and could hear the sounds of play from behind the closed door of the playroom. J and L. Oh. No. Anytime these two get together trouble is sure to follow. I dreaded opening that door. I knew it wouldn't be good news. The smell was so strong from where I was. And so familiar. I really was hoping for a poop incident or something within the realm of "normal" around here. Well, I guess almost anything is normal for us, so scratch that, I really meant normal for someone else.

I slowly turned the knob... I peeked my head around the door and L and J immediately drop what is in their hands and put their hands behind their backs. On the floor is laundry detergent- liquid laundry detergent. On the little blue table is floor shampoo, also a liquid. I take a deep breath and then instantly regret it. Coughing I usher them out of the room and into the bathroom. They are already crying and I haven't even been able to speak (Thank you God for a coughing fit... the words that were filling my head...). They know they are in trouble. They knew it wasn't okay to climb on top of my washer and grab all the soaps and things they could find. They knew that pouring them out would eventually result in my wrath, but they did not care. I strip them down and sit them in the tub, still coughing, and rinse them until their skin is no longer slick with soap. I wash their hair and make sure to rinse their eyes well. I put clean diapers on them and put them to bed. They are still asleep.

My own nap, interrupted by their shenanigans, is now completely over. A mere 15 minutes. Sigh. I go into the playroom and begin the ever difficult task of cleaning the soap out of the floor. I open the windows upstairs and the doors downstairs to air out the smell. I can hardly breathe and wonder to myself 'just how many brains cells did they kill while breathing this stuff in?'. I am crying while using the carpet shampooer to vacuum up the soap and water. When will I get a break? At what point will someone look around and say "she's done her time, cut her loose." I just wanted a nap for crying out loud. Really, even that is too much to ask?

I finally get the majority of soap out of the floor and decide to revisit the issue tomorrow. I get the baby out of her bed and head downstairs. Now I sit on the front porch, enjoying a cool breeze and a glass of ice water, breathing fresh air and watching C jump for joy in her bouncer.

I can't say it's been a stellar day for me, but I am thankful for the opportunity to enjoy the fresh air and have semi-clean carpet in the playroom. And eventually, it will smell "just after a rain fresh" once the room airs out a bit. :)

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

It's raining....

You know the old saying. "When it rains, it pours." Around here if we feel a drop of rain we prepare for a monsoon. This time it took me by surprise though and I did not have my rain gear on, or my boat inflated, or a life vest and I was swept away in the flood. There are lots of times in my life where I have felt knocked off of my feet and disoriented when I finally stand up again. I really wish for one of those times because at least I got right back up. These last two weeks I have been knocked down and I am struggling to find purchase to drag myself back to standing. I am determined, though. I will find a way to get back up and on solid ground.

You know what's really great about being knocked down? Where else can you look but up? So I can definitely see the upside to everything. Or is it the underside of everything? Either way, it's much easier to set a goal from this view point. The goal of the day? To enjoy a dr. pepper while my kids play with their cousins and I work a bit more on next year's homeschool curriculum. Not a bad plan. It's not the zoo we originally planned, but it IS raining, after all.

So where is the satire? Where is the comment that makes all of this worthwhile? Why did you read this post? I have no idea. I'm only human. Good grief.

Okay, okay. I'm reminded that I committed to using this blog to count my blessings, so here is something good. Everything that has happened this week has renewed my resolve to do the best I can for my kids, despite the obstacles I face. Just try and stop me.

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

A Queen Sized Bed

60" X 80" of what I consider most days pure bliss. And surprisingly you can fit ALOT of people in that amount of space. Last night my children were determined to test the theory and 3 of the 4 of them ended up in our bed by 2 am. If you do the math that's 5 people which leaves roughly 12" X 80" per person. I guess this might have worked out considering the relatively small widths of the 3 extra individuals IF and only IF all 5 people were lying straight and still. However, knowing that 3 of the individuals were small children completely rules out the possibility of anyone being straight or still in the bed. As a result, at least one person from the group of 5 did not get much sleep. I'll raise my hand now if you were having trouble arriving at the logical conclusion. I'm sure my husband didn't sleep well either, but I honestly can never tell because he sleeps through EVERYTHING! So, here I am sleepy and tired on a Tuesday. I have coffee and believe me, I'm trying to wake up but it will take herculean effort to drag my eyelids fully open before 10 am. Quite honestly, sleep is my most treasured activity. I could sleep for days on end and wake up happy and refreshed. I love to sleep. So it is more than just a cruel joke that it is the most allusive creature to a mother of four. I know all moms lose sleep and remain in a state of overtired oblivion until their kids move out (or so I've been told) but honestly, I loved sleep even before it was so savagely ripped from me. Finding a silver lining to this one is tough because a) I'm still not quite awake, b) C is in my lap slapping at the keyboard and c) sometimes I just don't feel like looking. But I committed to only putting the upside in this blog so that I can better count my blessings, so here are the upsides:

1. My husband sent me to the guest room for 30 min of extra sleep while he wrestled with the baby to get her back to sleep.

2. Mornings like this have justified the purchase of my very expensive coffee maker already.

3. Nap time will get here soon b/c the kids are as tired as I am.

Look at me! I can make the best of ANYTHING!

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

L and the Hat

Full weekend to say the least. L is now signed up and ready to play Tball with the Miracle League. It will be awesome. I hope. We attended orientation on Saturday morning and L met his hat. Not his coach, I'm sure he/she was there somewhere, not his uniform shirt, they weren't ready yet, and not his teammates, they were engrossed in hat love too. L met his hat. The current LOVE of his life. I'm not sure if it's autism that makes his love for inanimate objects so all encompassing or if it's just his personality (it could be argued that the two are not exclusive, seeing as how autism affects his personality and his personality greatly affects the manifestation of autistic tendencies, but I digress...) L LOVES this hat. I mean adores it! He is for all intents and purposes a little guy of few words, but he said "hat" every 20 minutes on Saturday and again on Sunday. On the one hand I am FILLED with joy. My little guy has a friend! Something that he has a true connection with and is willing to share parts of himself with! On the other hand, it's a hat. Not a person, or even an animal. A hat.

It occurred to me this morning as I put his hat on his pillow for after school that it didn't matter so much. He loved his hat the way he loves cars and all things hot. He can say the word, which, hopefully will instill a sense of the power of words and be the catalyst for more attempts at speech. He is freaking ADORABLE in his hat and it makes him happy. There wasn't necessarily a downside here, except maybe the existence of autism as a whole, but there is ALWAYS an upside.

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

Nighttime Mopping

Do you ever have one of those nights where the kids just won't give it up? Last night was one of those nights for me. L was up LATE. He kept getting out of bed, bothering M and doing all kinds of mischievous things. It was exhausting. Up and down the stairs I went putting him back in the bed after he got up. Over and over and over again. Then, finally, it was quiet. Maybe too quiet. I was watching Law and Order: SVU (my favorite) and not really listening out for the "silence." I eventually went upstairs to make another quick check of the kids and I could hear the sound of water draining in the kids' bathroom. I stepped in to turn the sink off, no doubt left on by someone getting a quick sip of water before bed. The tile floor is surprisingly slick when there is half an inch of water on it. Thanks to my cat like reflexes I was able to catch my self seconds before my head and the counter top had a violent encounter. I flipped on the light and took a look around to assess the damage. Inwardly, I groaned. L had managed to dump water EVERYWHERE. He had also managed to track it into his room with his footie pajamas and at that moment was soundly sleeping with his soaking wet pj's all over the clean sheets I put on just that morning. Sigh. It took me a few minutes to drum up the upside to this one because I HATE cleaning the bathroom and more than that I HATE doing anything late at night. But eventually the silver lining started to shine through. Not only would this bathroom be pristine by the time I was done cleaning it, but it would stay clean for a much longer stretch than it normally does because all of the tiny grubby hands and feet that mess it up would be tucked away in their beds! And so, with a merrier heart (not so merry that I was smiling, but slightly more merry than I had been moments before) I mopped the water off of the floor, wiped down the counter top and the sink and cleaned the toilet. And thanks to Netflix I didn't miss a single moment of Law and Order: SVU!

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

Story Time!!!

I hate story time at the library. Absolutely hate it! The songs, the clapping, the really unfunny stories that my kids tell and retell. But, my kids LOVE it! So that was our only goal today (besides more laundry). And yet, here it is, 11 am and we aren't there yet. In fact, it will be over before we get there. Why? Well, J decided to take a shower with me and once I got out she stayed in for a minute playing in the spray and applying about 50 gallons of conditioner to her hair. C is clingy today (another bottom tooth coming in) so I can hardly put her down to get dressed. M just plain "forgot" to get dressed. This is a new thing for him. It's not that he didn't get dressed after I told him to, he simply FORGOT. Kid has the memory of an 80 year old.
Anyway, right this moment the kids are in the car buckled in and waiting for me to make a mad dash to the library so they can sing a few songs. But I know we are already too late, so I thought I'd sit down for a moment and collect my thoughts. The garage is nice and cool at the moment so I know they aren't sweating to death.
Basically, it all boils down to this. No matter how hard I try to take the kids to the places they want to go, they somehow manage to throw 2 or 50 obstacles in my way. Normally this frustrates the heck out of me and I get all bitter and crabby. But today, I am choosing to find the upside once again and say "Oh well, I didn't want to go to the library for story time anyway." Gonna drop the books in the book drop outside and drive through Starbucks. Lovely Tuesday!

-LL
"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

Everything Has an Upside

Today, I attempted to 1) homeschool my 5 year old, 2) potty train my 2 year old, 3) play with my 10 month old, and 4) bond with my 4 year old, all while cleaning the house, buying the groceries, putting the groceries away, and doing the laundry. Thanks to 4 Dr. Peppers I am awake enough to write this.

It occurred to me this afternoon that I had become an expert at finding the silver lining. Of taking the upside down and hanging on to only the upside. The event that spawned this though? It plays out like this:

I made the grocery list last night and asked my husband if he had any requests. He said "Cream cheese for the olives. You should probably get a few bagels too, because we can never eat all of the cream cheese with just a can of olives." I rolled my eyes at this because I know we can never eat all of the bagels in a package before they go bad either. Somewhere down the line something was bound to spoil. So, off grocery shopping the kids and I ventured. I only had 3 of the 4 (my 4 year old goes to school all day), so I hoped this might be a breeze. And it was, if by breeze I meant hurricane force winds knocking the very breath from my lungs. 3 hours. That's how long it took to get in and out of the store. $200 dollars poorer and not even remotely happier, I trudged home, kids and groceries in tow and began the arduous task of putting everything away. Now, J, my 2 year old, is the MOST helpful little girl on the planet. She unpacked every single bag before I was able to get the baby in a new diaper and down for a nap. J put most of the groceries under the sink. Not a single grocery item belongs there. 45 minutes after I have had a lovely egg hunt (and ham hunt and bread hunt and cheese hunt), I get J and M, my 5 year old, some lunch and run upstairs to get some laundry done. After this the day passes pretty quickly. J enjoys a movie and M and I buckle down on reading. At 3:15 L gets home from school and C wakes up from her nap. Chaos begins. Something about the hours from 3 pm to 7 pm wreaks havoc on my otherwise docile and obedient children. (If you could see my mannerisms as I type this you'd recognize a lie somewhere in that sentence.) Surprisingly, the kids were playing rather nicely so I ran upstairs to move some clothes from the washer to the dryer and in that moment an upside was born. J and L decided suddenly that they were hungry. Off to the pantry they went. It only took a little digging to unearth the bag of everything bagels, and only seconds passed before they had half of the bag dumped on the table and ripped to bits. They must have heard me coming down the stairs and scattered like ants and I happened upon the mess. My first thought, "Well, at least none of the bagels will go bad." Yep. There is an upside to EVERYTHING!

"profiter de la doublure d'argent"

-LL