motherhood
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Hanging up the cape
I was trying to figure out the best way to break the news to J that this would be his last year trick-or-treating. I know J would be crushed about it, because, as I mentioned last year, it’s only been about three years since the whole trick-or-treating thing has worked out in his brain for him. Where the anxiety and social struggles finally settled to a point where he could function enough to let some stranger’s dog jump up at the glass door and bark its head off at him, to get the words “trick-or-treat” out, wait 30-60 seconds for someone to fish around in a candy bowl to come up with a…
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Character development
I feel like I’m hitting that phase in parenting where all of a sudden, I’m connecting with my kids on a different, more mature level. Some of it (unfortunately) has been because of what’s been going on in the news lately. I’m finding myself having discussions about words like “groping” and “sexual assault” during afternoon pickup times. Usually it’s not a problem having NPR in the car when I have the kids around, but even as unflashy and unsensational public radio usually is, there’s just no way getting around quotes sometimes used by recent public figures. Most of these types of conversations I’m having are with W. But J was…
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The Lindenwood meet
When friends or family ask me who’s going to be J’s running partner for the next meet, my answer is, “I don’t know.” I don’t have an answer for them because I try not to drive the coaches too crazy with too many J centred-questions, and thankfully they take my “helicopter mom” persona in stride (I really try hard to keep out of their hair). Each workout and each meet they have been pushing J toward a little more independence and my gut feeling is they really don’t want to set up a runner for him every meet. They had a runner for J in the beginning, but they’ve expressed to me…
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Firsts are hard: Part 1
The last few nights have been rough. My brain has been playing midnight showings of terrible dream sequences like old men with AK-47s shooting at me while I run for my life, me and J running up an AstroTurf cliff for cross country practice only to end up hanging from the top of that AstroTurf cliff for an “ab workout,” or suddenly finding out that I had mixed up my birth control medication with J’s anti-anxiety medication and consequently freaking out because 1) I just gave a bunch of female hormones to a boy going through puberty for two weeks and 2) I might be pregnant. I don’t think I’ve had a full night’s…
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The transition
Two weeks and some change, J and W will be headed back to school and we’ll be doing that dance again. When J was younger (and I was younger) I would anticipate the coming school year to be “that year.” I would ridiculously hope/expect that in the new school year, miracles would happen. Even though I knew then as I do now that autism has no cure, some part of my heart hoped that this would be the year that J would be “cured” in some way. This would be the year where the speech delays would disappear, his behaviors would disappear, his sensory issues would disappear, and then we could really, really work on…
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Where we are now
A few weeks ago, J was getting his vitals measured by the nurse at Dr. R’s office and she announced: “He’s 5′ 4 1/2.” What? I thought. That can’t be right. I’m 5′ 4 1/2″. And then I realized that the nurse had let J keep his shoes on for his height measurement, because J was wearing his AFOs (ankle foot orthosis) and it’s always a hassle to take the AFOs and shoes off and then put them all back on again for a 60 second measurement. But still, J’s shoes plus AFOs probably add only an inch MAX to his height. For the rest of the day I couldn’t help but realize…
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Boys and men
I’ll never forget that 20 week ultrasound (which was really at 18 weeks based on appointment scheduling). The ultrasound tech pointed to the screen, between what I was assuming was J’s legs and said, “See that right there (referring to J’s boy parts). It’s a boy!” Steve was ecstatic. I was terrified. It was overwhelming thinking about raising another human being and I knew nothing about boys. NOTHING. J’s baby shower was all blankets, diapers, onesies, and soothers, blue and sports. The perfect inauguration for a perfectly happy and healthy baby boy. And for a long time, for almost two years, J was exactly the baby boy we both expected him to be.…
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All My Babies’ Mamas
Mother’s Day is coming up this weekend and all I can think about is all of the women in my life who have helped me “mom.” The beautiful, strong, intelligent women in my village that do all the things for my children and who be all the things for my children that I can’t be. I think of all the women that have been vital to my survival and as I look through our photo albums I realize I hardly have any pictures of any of them. J has had literally dozens and dozens of moms that have come in and out of his life. Mothers I will never be…
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Bittersweet Moments
My sister reminds me all the time that W’s my freebee. The one I don’t really have to worry about. The easy one. W’s patient, kind, smart, and motivated. She’s naturally a good kid. She’s only 11, and she’s an old soul in many ways. Being a special needs sibling has shaped a lot of who she is. She’s responsible by necessity. She’s been forced to be organized because I’m often busy organizing J’s life. She’s the child who I can always count on. Unlike J, I know exactly how to relate with W. In many ways her brain works in the same way as mine. But as we venture deeper…
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Blue Lights
Two weeks ago J and W were in the middle of DSW, patiently waiting for me to decide between five different variations of the same white sneaker. I walked down the aisle going back and forth between the shoes on display, while the kids dragged their feet behind me. “It’s lunchtime mom, I’m hungry,” said J. It was actually way past lunch time. It was 2 in the afternoon. I knew he was anxious, but I knew I still had probably 15-20 minutes until we were in the pre-meltdown zone. The kids had a snack before we left, which was how we gotten to this point, but J has ideas…
