One foot in front of the other . . .

So it has been a while since I posted or even visited my blog. A looooooong while. Time is quite precious and while I have a lot to say, I don't have a lot to say. Get it? Anyway, I have decided I've stayed away long enough and it is time to use this blog for it's cathartic purposes.

At the moment I am once again consumed by Autism and not enough sleep. Not the best combination as it has led to plenty of salty episodes in the last 24 hours, if you know what I mean.

Our transition to Kindergarten with Little Bear has not gone nearly as smoothly as I had *hoped.* We knew it wouldn't be easy, and we knew it would be a big change, but we certainly didn't count on 26 other little bodies taking up residence for 6 hours a day in one classroom with one teacher! And while I knew there were bumps along the way with some noisy outbursts and difficulty during circle time, I was a little taken aback when I received a phone call from school to set up a meeting to go over strategies to help Little Bear be most successful at school. I kept reminding myself that it was a good phone call in that they are being proactive in addressing the difficulties that have arisen with LB in the general ed classroom, but at the same time felt super sad and perhaps a tad bit blind sighted that things were going so wrong. Now yes, it could be worse, but this isn't fabulous - lots of noises, attention seeking behavior, inattention at circle time, bugging his peers, with a little dose of stubborn and obstinate thrown in for good measure.

When the meeting rolled around, I showed up unknowingly good and sick with strep throat. Luckily, Dan was sure to attend and I had made sure that our most fabulous ABA program manager, Jennifer, was in attendance too. They both made lots of good points, had great suggestions for strategies to try, and pointed out that a self contained classroom was not an option we would consider. (And, let me say for the record, a shortened school day is not an option in my book either!).

The goal of the meeting was to start the documentation process to hopefully obtain a one-on-one para educator (aide) for Little Bear. The frustrating part of this whole thing, is this is exactly what we wanted for him when starting the school year. We KNEW he would need an aide to help him transition to the big school where his is the minority instead of the majority as was the case in developmental preschool. Unfortunately, in following the law, it is evident that a child must sink and flounder around before the help can ever arrive! So frustrating.

We meet again in 2 weeks as a team to see what strategies have proved helpful, and hopefully to get the ball rolling for a para. I want this kiddo to love school (which thankfully he does at the moment), and I want him to be successful and have the attention and help he needs when he needs it to help him be most successful and lay the groundwork for a successful school career, since he'll be in school for at least the next 12, hopefully, 16 years!!!.

Top all of this worry and frustration off with an utter and complete lack of sleep and it makes for a disaster of a mom every once in a while. Little Bear has decided that he cannot be without me at night. Not hardly for an hour. He wants me to tuck him in and read his story. Me to give him kisses and help him make his nest (he informed me he was a bird the other night and could I please help him make his nest?). And . . . he wants me ALL NIGHT LONG. After several nights of letting him tough it out (read: moan, groan, cry and scream for TWO HOURS at a stretch - "I want Moooooom," progressing to "I want my Mom," progressing to "I want my Mommy!"), and the use of ear plugs by every member of the family excluding the dogs, I decided screw it, I'll just start sleeping with him so at least some of us get sleep! While Squirt is now a 4 year old expert at using industrial orange foam earplugs, it just didn't' seem fair that we were all up and awake in the middle of the night. So now, when he starts his chant of "I want Moooooom," I quickly make my way to his bed and tell him to move over. I tell him that I will stay until he falls asleep and will then need to go back to my [cozy, perfect, beloved] bed, but no dice as when he wakes up to find me gone an hour after I've stumbled back to my bed, we start the process all over again. So far that has been the case until I finally push Dan out of bed for round 3 of "I want Moooom." At least that way I get an hour or two of decent sleep in my own bed. While I've known this for the last SIX YEARS, it's apparent, once again, why sleep deprivation is a key method of torture.

And so it goes today, like so many days in the last six years, and even more so in the last three and a half, I am putting one foot in front of the other knowing a full night's sleep is pretty much topping my Santa list. . . .

Wishy Washy Momma

I just took a screaming child to school, gently detached his desperately clinging little body from mine as his kind and caring teacher took him from me cooing to him gently that he would be ok . . . oh, how my heart breaks. So awful. Did I do the right thing?

See, as a parent I never know if I've done the right thing. When I taught 1st grade in my pre-parent days, I had the vision, this expectation, for how my children would behave, what a "good" mom I'd be, and how our family life would look like from the outside. Blech. What pressure! There is a book out there called "I Was a Really Good Mom Before I Had Kids," and truly, I think it is the absolute truth! I was going to be all of these things that I really am not.

Knowing what to do was one of those great things at which I was going to be quite skilled. Hahahahahahahahaha (I just fell off of my chair I'm laughing so hard - ok, well, maybe not laughing right now, but I should be!). Truly, I am the worst at knowing what to do, especially if I haven't had time to prepare a game plan ahead of time. I'm wishy-washy (no, NOT Mrs. Wishy-Washy), non-commital, and unsure a lot of the time - qualities I do not find endearing, or helpful for that matter.

And, oh, how I struggle with not knowing what to do. Helpless, is the best description that comes to mind, and utter despair in the face of helplessness . . . Once again, not only is this yet another place in which being a parent has magnified my shortcomings to proportions equal to my name in lights on Broadway or plastered on the Megatron in Times Square, but it has also pointed out that I have given in to being a passenger to my life at times. Time to take the driver's seat, Missy!

Yet, as I state this, I still wonder . . . this is the stuff no one ever pointed out b-e-f-o-r-e I had kids or even when I was pregnant. It is like an unwritten pact not to scare off the Mommy Prospects by saying such irritating and quite understated statements such as "be sure you're getting lots of sleep now!" (when pg), or "is he a good baby?" (when baby is 3 weeks and you're sleep deprived worse than jet-lag after a 2 week around the world flight).

No one tells you about the guilt over the big and the little; the constant unsure state in which you will learn to survive; the ache and/or longing in your heart when your kids are not near even though you couldn't *wait* to get out of the house alone; the constant questioning of yourself; how completely inept, unskilled, and illprepared you will feel;and the never-ending re-evaluation of how things were supposed to go.

Perhaps it is this way for most Moms. I can only imagine that it must be no matter the number of children. For me, these feelings are even more magnified by Autism, and the fact that Connor can be more rigid (although to his credit, usually much more relaxed than many kiddos on the spectrum), more anxious and unsure of new and different, and not as able to communicate his feelings to me as say, Gavin. Not that his feelings weren't communicated today . . . he did nOt want to go to school - that was clear.

So here I sit, still not sure if my decision to take him to school late today was the right way to go. I tried to set him up for success by foreshadowing what was going to happen (don't you like my fancy term in reference to a behavior- learned it at my parenting class *pats self on back for retaining something*), but didn't have much success . . .

Mommy: "we're going to have lunch, and then Mommy is going to drive you to school today becasue we're running late so Miss Vicki already drove the kids to school on the bus".

Connor: "No thank you," as he covers his face with his hands and his eyes fill with tears.

Mommy: "Buddy, it will be ok. Mommy will take you into your class and then Miss Michelle (bus driver) will drive you home! We love Miss Michelle."

Connor: still covering face with hands, but letting a little smile slip at the mention of Miss Michelle - "No thank you."

I can sense the anxiety at the fact our day is utterly different, even after my best attempts to prepare him for the fact our day was going to be different, and I don't know how to squelch it for him so that our day can continue on smoothly. It is a busy day which isn't following our typical schedule by a long shot -

1. ABA with Jennifer from 10 - noon (usually on Friday afternoons)



2. lunch in the car at 12:15 (usually at 11:30 at home)



3. late to school at 1:00, driven by Mom and an overly eager Gavin (usually Miss Vicki picks him up on the bus at 11:55ish)



4. home on the bus as normal at 3:00



5. back in the car at 4:00 to head to speech



6. Speech with Kim from 5:00 - 6:00 (usually on Tuesday mornings)
   
   

It's all wrong, and I get it. I debated for days whether to take him late to school or just to keep him home. I reasoned he could benefit from the 2 hours of school he would receive instead of just hanging out at home, and Gavin could get a nap in so as to be fairly agreeable this afternoon/evening as we fight traffic and hang out in the car for even longer than our already logged 3 hours. If I was sure Connor would've napped, as I'm pretty sure he could use one, I would've changed my mind, but . . . I don't know.

Here is what I do know: I know it sucked taking him to school crying, actually screaming. It sucked wondering what the staff was thinking about me depositing a devasted child into their formerly quiet, orderly classroom - were they criticizing my decision thinking instead I should have just kept him home? It sucks, that is all there is to it, and who knows what the right thing was for today. I guess I'll only know when his smiling, tired little body bounds off the bus in an hour. While I worry about how the rest of our afternoon, evening, and night time will go after such a loop in his routine, I also know that in a few days this will be long forgotten in the face of a new quandry, new struggle, and a fresh start.

Not so flexible after all

I tend to think of myself as a pretty flexible, laid back, go-with-the-flow type gal. Groovy.

Oh wait. I'm beginning to see that it might be time to rethink this position. To my credit, I really am pretty laid back about most things, however, I've noticed in the last few years that there are a few things that have made me think maybe I'm not as easy going as I thought.

Having my best laid plans messed up rates high on my list of things that can throw me for a loop, put me in a thunderous mood, and generally take a pep talk from-myself-to-myself in order to recover. I HATE - err, strongly dislike - when I have my day mapped out, and something or someone comes along and pulls the rug out from under my plans. In my mind I know exactly how things will go, and plan accordingly, in my mind. Sometimes the reason for the change in plans rests on my shoulders because I forgot to fill Dan in on how our day was going to go (see above - in my mind). Other times, it is things like cancellations (this morning for example), or having to wait & wait & wait for others to show up or things to get started (which is pretty funny considering I am not always the most timely person - although this has improved in recent years).

Really, I think what it boils down to is dissapointment and unmet expectations. I talked at great lenghts about these two things with my therapist, whom I started seeing after Connor was diagnosed. Seeing her has been wonderful for me, and she really helped to hilight the fact that dissapointment and unmet expectations play HUGE in my life. These two "little" things are also part of what makes it hard to have a son with autism. All of the hopes, dreams, & expectations I had for my child even before I was ever pregnant, while watching my prego belly grow, and when he was a baby have been shattered, destroyed, or replaced with more small, basic, measurable things. Things like looking me in the eye (check), talking (check with room to go), using his imagination (coming slowly but surely), and a whole smattering of other things that come naturally for typical children.

Then in turn is the frustration that comes with the unmet expectations and dissapointments. Frustration, yet another thing with which I struggle. Usually the frustration leads to tears, and/or a conversation with God, which leads to some form, big or small, of enlightenment usually in the form of a pep talk and a renewed "you can do it" attitude. I often walk away from these seemingly disastrous (in my mind) moments with a new approach, or just a better strategy for next time fill-in-the-blank occurs.

What this fabulous new self discovery has lead me to is a whole lot of self-awareness, and even some added self control. This has helped a ton, so that when I talk myself out of my thunderous mood there are not two little boys left as wounded casualties of the storm that is me in my most awful form. Which, really is great as, sadly, that only starts the cycle all over again.

I guess what is most important is to learn from all of the speedbumps I encounter and to move past what isn't going right and instead seek the positive. The whole lemonade philosophy . . . and geez, two "little" things on which I am not so flexible really isn't so bad after all.

So here goes . . .

Anyone who knows me knows I have an opinion and/or thought about most anything and everything - and now a place to share those!! WATCH OUT! I've always thought it would be fun to have a rants and rave column in a newspaper. I could do a dandy job coming up with all sorts of interesting tidbits that either made me happy, made me cry, or really made me mad! For starters, I would begin my rant section with those who don't drive with their headlights on in a torrential downpour. Being from Washington, we have torrential downpours quite often - really during each and every season - and never fail as I'm squinting through the rain on my windshield that my wipers on fast can hardly keep up with, there is THAT car. You know that car. It's grey, some shade of beige or gold, or white. Next time you're driving in a monsoon, take a split second look around and you will see that the visible red, green, or blue car is driving with their headlights on; however, the not-so-visible grey, white, or beige car is toodling along apparently absolutely oblivious to the fact that a grey car + grey pavement + grey sky + grey rain = an accident just inches from happening. People, really?!?!?!? So in closing, let me STRONGLY encourage all of you drivers (I suppose no matter the color, but especially those in light colored vehicles!) to turn on your headlights, especially in a rainstorm. {Kallie steps off of her soap box.}



And there begins my fabulous new place to leave all of my random thoughts, my wishes, my hopes, my rants, and my raves or whatever new thought or debacle is taking up precious space in my over-filled brain!!