A Bewitchingly Ordinary Life!

This is how I remember you.  I am sure it is how I'll always remember you.  When I'm old, when I can not remember much else, when the world seems bleak or when the end of my life nears, I know I still remember "those" days. You were so young, fresh to the world. A million dreams before you.   (video montage) Those days, they flew by.  Faster than I ever dreamed possible.  And now, the days continue to fleet by.  I try to slow down, slow time down yet it only seems to disappear faster. You both have grown so much.  Young boys to young men.  11 and 13.  So close to 12 and 14. I seem so lost. In "those" days, those young days, I felt like I knew what I was doing.  Time proved me wrong.  Some days we sailed through with laughter, other days the three of us ended it in tears. Not much has changed in that respect. Except I realize I have no idea what I was doing then, nor do I have any idea now. I try though. I fail a lot, yet...

I will never forget that day. I was judging!!! I watched the lady as she absently scanned 2 Lunchables, a carton of Capri-Sun, some individual applesauce pouches, a single serving of some soda product, and a pack of mixed nuts. (do you KNOW how expensive and processed those Lunchables are anyway?? Not to mention juice pouches full of sugar.) Come on, wouldn't it be easier and cheaper to make a couple of sandwiches, and have some reusable cups and portion containers to get virtually the same meal?   Her children were a little disheveled and good god I don't think she ever brushes their hair. They were also not under control but arguing back and forth. To be honest it was rather annoying and I thought why doesn't she intervene? But wonder of wonders, they were on electronics.  And of course, she was paying with food stamps.  No mistaking that debit card anywhere. They have welfare, but still have money for that apparently.   She had some kind of Vera Bradle...

I stood at the sink absent-mindedly doing dishes.   A million thoughts running through my head of upcoming doctor visits, blood draws, back to school shopping, grocery lists.  I'm on auto-pilot as David comes into the kitchen. DAVID: "Mom, have you seen my marble that was on the breakfast bar?" ME: "Yes I put it in the basket when I was cleaning." DAVID: "There it is.  I painted a face on it mom." ME: "Yeah I saw that!  It was cute." DAVID: "I did it because I don't have any friends, so I made one." Then he hurried off back to his room and I began hearing the clank of marbles. I stopped doing dishes and absorbed what he just head.  My heart broke again for him, my eyes filled with tears and all the issues associated with Autism came flooding back, as it does almost daily. A feeling of loneliness and friendlessness is common among ASD children.  David is no different.  His social awkwardness drives many away.  He doesn...

I don't think there is anyone in the USA that has not heard about the terrible tragedy that occurred in Orlando this past week.  No doubt everyone's heart was touched and saddened.  The tragedy transcends beyond politics, beyond religions, beyond differences that divide us [or at least it should and did often!] I was touched and am touched by the outpouring of love and service to the families and loved ones left behind from those who have similarities, from those that have differences, from the most unlikely places.  I have LOVED reading those stories.  We've tried to instill in our sons that we love all, we accept all, we do not judge.  This tragedy has been a door to educate and show them even further, how we are called and meant to love.  As human beings, all connected, it is important, MANDATORY that we love.  We should love! Children have real feelings, they have questions, they want to know why.  I don't hid much from my sons.  W...

I'm talking about my youngest, Aaron Preston.  He'll be 8 in a little over a month and he is so excited. He talks everyday about his birthday, about how he wants a Lorax theme, about the legos he wants, the friends he wants to invite. He's my happy go lucky kid.  My boy with a sense of humor.  He's the one that will go outside early in the morning and come dragging in at dusk, covered with dirt, telling about his fun day out playing. He's my sensitive soul, my very giving child, perceptive, loving, feisty, spirited, and full of hugs. He's always slipping me cards and notes, little gifts he makes out of random beads he finds.  He's almost always so understanding of David and my often preoccupation with him and all the issues. With that, I confess that I'm pretty sure I've failed him as a parent.  I feel like I don't spend as much time with him as I should.  I feel like at times I'm harder on him.  I tend to not realize what he may be feeling ...

The knocks come on the door. "Can Aaron come out and play?" Often, and with joy! But the knocks rarely come for David.  I take that back, occasionally they do come.  Usually preceded first by seeing if Aaron can play.  If he can't, or he's busy, they sometimes ask for David.  Sometimes.  But he's rarely a first thought. And this shatters my heart in a million pieces. I want to say I get it.  I want to say I somewhat understand.  But another part of me wants to say it shouldn't be that way.  He's just a child, and he wants to play and be included as well. That can be the heartbreaking part of children with special needs.  David is quarky, he's loud, he doesn't understand personal space, he has a hearty laugh, he may laugh at inappropriate times, he may add to the conversation, but not in the way one would expect.  He'll believe you if you joke with him and say you're taking over the world.  He's deathly afraid of bugs so he'll get ...

[ David, Dec. 2009, 3 years old ] Lately [and by lately I mean months, and months, and months, and...well you get the picture], David has been singing Opera.  His whole life is in Opera style right now.  If he needs to brush his teeth. It's act one of the morning Opera! Take a bath? Closing act..."BAAATTHH TIMMMEEE!!!!"  Do homework?  Okay maybe he doesn't sing then, he just grumbles like an old man. And as much as it can get on my ever loving nerves, a part of me is so thankful that he does it!  Even at 6am! Christmas Season 2009.  This year will forever stand out to me.  Now I adore Christmas.  It's my favorite holiday, so every year is stands out.  However this one?  This one is when everything changed.  David sang for the first time!  Now I know what you are thinking.  Okay, kids sing, so what made this one special?  It was special because honestly, I never thought he'd sing.  I never even thought he's...

  It is no secret that children with autism quite often struggle with food.  Look, smells, texture, taste, all play a part.  Their scope of what they will eat can be small and concentrated in one group.  Pastas, sweets, salty, etc. Food is an area where I started noticing that David had struggles from an early age.  With purees, I offered a wide variety of foods and often, since it takes an average of 15 times for an infant to acquire a taste of something. No matter how many times over the course of about 10 months in the puree stage, he never would get used to vegetables most fruits, and meats. Mainly he loved oatmeal, applesauce, peaches, and macaroni and cheese purees.  It was incredibly frustrating.  When I tried introducing more textured food as he matured, he HATED them.  He gagged on most things that infants and toddlers love.  Those puffs?  Not so much!  Little crackers.  No way!  He did love the cheese puff...

I've stepped inside a time machine and headed back.  Back in time to the 'overly' romanticized era of stay at home housewives and mothers.  To a time where Donna Reed was busy baking something up, June Cleaver was running the vacuum, and Samantha Stevens was twitching her nose.  I have to admit, there is a part of me that has always been drawn to that era, to being able to stay home, nurture my family, care for hearth and home, wear aprons, put on make up, greet my husband with a kiss and a cocktail! In the beginning, when we had our first child, I did stay home.  And along came our second child just 19 months later.  I stayed home for about 3.5 years then.  Yet that time was such a blur.  Those days were the infancy of discovering that our oldest, David, had special needs.  With the day to day grind of being at a loss, of being in tears many days, of barely getting my teeth brushed, I missed out. I missed out on just enjoying the moment, of look...

Lately, I have been looking at life with stark reality glasses.  Some days are like a beautiful painting.  Many details, brilliant colors, picturesque moments.  I treasure those, wishing I could capture that memory on a canvas to remind myself.  Remind myself of happy moments when the bleak moments come.  And there in is the stark reality viewing.  Not just one thing, but a multitude of thoughts, actions, moments, situations where I have neither the answers nor the strength. I am finding that parenting is becoming increasingly difficult, heartbreaking, and frustrating.  I have slowly begun to understand [since the births of our sons], how deep and unconditional this love is.  How there are not words, no paintings, nothing on this earth to describe what it is like to love your own child(ren).  Until you experience it. Stark reality.  When you're pregnant no one really tells you how much parenting can really drain everything you hav...

This question reverberated through my very being yesterday as I drove David and I to Downtown Disney.  "Mom, what does a bomb do?" The cold stark realization hit me that my child is growing up.  He'll be a  young man in not too many years from now.  Why does innocence have to flee so quickly.  And how do I answer that?  The thought of sharing any information on it with David hurt me.  I feel like it's the beginning of slow dismantle of innocent times of childhood that will never be recaptured. "Well, they go off and hurt lots of buildings and people." He takes a silent thoughtful moment.  His little brain is always working.  "What do bombs look like?" "Hmmm..."  I really hate this conversation.  I suddenly want to be anywhere but there in the car having that conversation.  I don't really want him to know.  I hate the hurt in the world.  I hate war.  I hate that people have to die because someone else thinks the...

Do you ever ask yourself, 'Is this normal?'  'Am I normal?' , 'Does anyone or has anyone felt this way?' Well, that is where I'm at t onight.  Lately I've really had no patience, short tempered, having a tough time de-stressing, blocking out noise, and finding some inner peace.  What happened to th at wanna -be gentle mom?  I'm pretty sure she is lost at sea.  I feel like I'm drowning, working outside of the home, then trying to stay on top of things in the home, getting my CDA to teach preschool...sometimes, I feel like the walls are closing in. I snap at my children much to easily lately, and f rankly, I hate it, and hate myself for it.  And it cuts me to the bone when they know it, notice it, and say "Mom, you can't be mean, you can't yell."  I think I'm in need of an overhaul, a retreat away to regroup, parenting classes, classes to gain back patience and stop letting the little thi ngs aggravate me. Certainly I ...

Yesterday I was reflecting on my own parenting journey and how that journey ebbs and flows with the different paths we take, we choose, we refuse, we reluctantly take, and paths that surprise us.  I began thinking that after making a final choice to step away from all parenting boards and parenting 'cliques' .  With my own paren ting journey and the struggles it has brought with a child facing special needs and another child who is extremely stubbo rn, I felt it was best for my own sanity.  I need support, all mothers need support.  At the end of the day if we can't get past a style or parenting choice and choose to tear down each other , then we have accomplished nothing.  Yet if we can ex tend a hand , offer a hug or encouraging word when another mother is struggling, then we could very well change the world ! Today has been one of the challenging days with David, then adding Aaron who is a typical 4 year old...well it makes f or a less than thrilling d...