tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4664865187623498032024-03-14T09:38:45.876-04:00Burlap & Lace, According to me...Random thoughts of Motherhood, Friendships, and Life in generalsimply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-16835184167953217352013-10-18T09:33:00.001-04:002013-10-18T09:33:36.669-04:00The Wicked Step Mother<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> This morning was a horrible morning. I wasn't sure if I needed to bust out in prayer or have an exorcism. Maybe both.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Lil P was in rare form. Okay - not really all THAT rare I guess when I think about the past few weeks. She was so angry. Last night she knew what she was wearing to school today. She has a milkshake bet going with her principle over the Ravens vs. Steelers game this weekend. Her plan was to wear Daddy's Jersey. She even tried on everything last night - knew she looked good and so we were set. Or so we thought. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> This morning was filled with yelling, throwing, slamming, smart mouthing, and pure hatred of everything possible. Nothing was right, fair, or helpful. I will spare all the details, cause I don't care to relive them. The hour of my morning that felt like a week long tirade.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Big sis was headed out the door to the bus and Lil P was still half naked, ranting about the injustice that is her life. Fortunately for her Hubs was teleworking today and was willing to take her to school. If it had been left up to me, I don't think I would have been mentally stable enough to deal with her in a confined space and with all the Northern VA drivers. It would have ended poorly. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> As soon as she left the house I grabbed the dog, and we took a very long walk. I cried, I screamed in my head, I may have even growled. I felt so frustrated, alone, and helpless. I was asking God why? Was this as good as things were going to get? Was it not bad enough I grew up with being yelled at and made to feel less than adequate, now I have a child that evokes these same feelings? After a few minutes I thought about a dear friend of mine. She also rides the roller coaster of the special needs circus. She is always positive, always can be a voice of reason, and yet she can truly understand that my heart loves Lil P beyond words even when I feel anything but love. It took about an hour, but she pulled me away from the cliff. While our daughters deal with different things, the emotions are the same for us. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> So why the title for this blog? </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> While I was talking with her about some of her own situations. I had a revelation. I feel like the wicked step mother. I'm not. I gave birth to Lil P. However, no matter what I do or don't do, it's wrong. At one point this morning I was sitting on her bed. She started to change her clothes (again) and I looked at the ground. I was careful to not make a sound, just diverted my eyes. Lil P watched me like a hawk. She immediately barked. "WHY ARE YOU DOING THAT?" I told her I was just respecting her privacy and looking at the ground while she changed. That if I looked at her, she would yell at me. If I left the room, she would yell at me. If I started picking up the closet worth of clothes that she hates, she would yell at me. So, I thought the safest thing for me to do was simply look down. Turns out I was wrong. Shocker. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> This must be what Step mothers go though. No matter how much they love their child, no matter how much they try... they are still wrong. They are still cast aside and treated like trash. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> I'd like to think that I no longer take it personally, and I do feel rather numb to it in the moment. But my "phone a friend" pointed out to me that I do still take the words personally, at least on a subconscious level. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> We teach our kids that words are hurtful. We use the visual 'words are like toothpaste, once they are squeezed out, you can't put them back in'. The Bible reminds us over and over about how we are to use our tongue, 'to praise, not to teardown'. Lil P hurts me. She breaks my heart in pieces. I know that she doesn't truly feel what she is saying - that she says those things because of deeper issues she has. I try to let the words roll, and I think in the moment I have come a long way. But in the moments after I am broken. When she is calm, she apologizes. She tells me she loves me, and that she is sorry for treating me badly. But while she is at school today, my heart is shattered. This was my last interaction with her today. One of anger, and broken heartedness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> Here's to a better evening. We are supposed to celebrate a birthday tonight. I wish I could feel like this will all go well, but I know something will go wrong, and that will be our 'normal'.</span>simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-33826654534661188782013-10-04T10:55:00.002-04:002013-10-04T10:55:19.744-04:00Indifferent<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The past few weeks have been a roller coaster of emotions. Getting back into the swing of things, adjusting to school, new medication, and drama all around.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yesterday I wanted to believe that everything would go well. The morning started out so great. Then 3:20 came and it all hit the fan. No matter what I said or did - it was wrong. Thursdays are busy for us. Lil P has about an hour to work on homework and then she has Tae Kwon Do. Then an hour after that she has percussion lessons. Last night she only had a worksheet to fill out - it would have taken her 5 minutes to complete. Instead she drug her feet for 45 minutes. Arguing at every prompt. While this was going on Big Sis was complaining about a pencil that Lil P had stuck into a moldable eraser. An eraser that the night before Big Sis was complaining about - calling it junk because it didn't work. Because of the ongoing struggle I was already involved in with Lil P, I asked her to drop it for now. As I walked away she mumbled "not like you care". I snapped back and reminded her that I did care, but it just was not the time. She told me she wasn't talking about me and tried to cover her tracks in front of her friend. As I walked away from her I saw her make a face and throw her arms up - as if she was going all gangster behind my back. Really? As I started to call her out on that, even her friend was saying "come on, don't be like that, your mom is so nice to you". I was floored that she had completely disrespected me in front of her friend. Had it been any other friend, I would have immediately taken her home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Then the phone rang. It was my father who I have a very superficial relationship with. He was an absent father, and about 6 years ago had a car accident that was a huge awakening for him. He had called not to say hi, but to fuss at me for not calling him and wife #4 to wish them a happy anniversary. ARE YOU KIDDING ME????</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Back to Lil P. She reads every evening. Her Language arts class requires her to turn in a reading log - showing how many pages she reads every evening. All week I had asked her about her log, and she promised me she had kept up with it. I stress to the girls that these things (reading and practice logs) are easy A's since they do them all the time. The log is due today. Last night I took it out of her folder and it was BLANK!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am tired. I am tired of caring. Of fighting. Lil P wants out of this special ed class that she is in because it really is not advantageous for her, but yet she will not do her part? How do I fight for her? How do I say she is capable of a certain level of work, when her only hang up is simply DOING IT! I get that it's easy, I get that it's a pain to take the 15 seconds and write down the page numbers, BUT COME ON!!</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So last night I quit. I quit fighting. I quit checking with the girls to be sure they had everything they needed for the next day. I quit. If they don't care, then why am I running myself crazy?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I started to lose it. I couldn't stop crying. Hubs came in the room and I so needed for him to hold me and love me. Instead, he told me he was headed out for band practice at church. Wow. I'm a pile of blub and he's indifferent as well. I yelled at Big sis to go with him. She offered to stay. I told her I was tired of being hurt. She had totally disrespected me and couldn't offer so much as an "i'm sorry", so there was no purpose in her being with me.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It was like I had freed her from the drama.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yesterday everyone was great at pointing out my faults. My failures. Even if the dog has an accident in the house - it's me who gets fussed at. Not the kids who barely walk him long enough to do his business. It's me. I poured myself a drink - and sent a message to my father. It was forward and long overdue. He immediately called and I let it go to voice mail. He was teary - apologized, but then blamed me for not being open enough with him about my life. That he didn't know how stressful the things I deal with are. What kind of apology is that? "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, but if you would call me more and share more, I could be more aware.." SO it's again my fault that he thought his behaviors were okay.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today I didn't jump out of bed and make breakfast for hubs. I didn't pack lunches for everyone. SInce I get fussed at for doing it all wrong anyway - why?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When I spend my mornings directing and get yelled at "I know mom!!", then I guess they know.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today I heard "Why are you just sitting there drinking coffee - why aren't you packing my lunch?" I simply replied that she could do it. That way it was just as she liked.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hubs packed his own lunch. Lil P packed hers. Big Sis made her own breakfast and got ready for the dentist. Lil P had to run to catch the bus. And I felt numb to them all.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Don't get me wrong. I love them. It would be easier if I didn't. Collectively, the people closest to me and even my father managed to hurt me in a matter of a few hours. And not one of them seemed to care.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Today I feel indifferent. Not angry, not revengeful, not anything really. Just indifferent. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Does that make me a bad mother, daughter, wife? Maybe. Maybe the things I wanted to be most are just the things that make me the worst.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I am sure I will pull out of this. But for now - I will be indifferent. Indifferent is comfortable and free from hurt.</span><br />
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simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-16039110222442214612013-09-25T09:29:00.001-04:002013-09-25T09:34:14.501-04:00Glad you pooped,but you're pissing me offTuesday was a tough day.<br />
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(NOTE: from this point forward, D1 will be referred to as Big Sis and D2 as Lil P for consistency with a FB page about my true life)<br />
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Tuesday is the one day a week when we have NOTHING going on. No Orchestra for Big Sis, and no Tae Kwon Do for Lil P. Last week, Lil P joined her friend to work on math homework together. It went well and I was thrilled that she had a friend she could do homework with. <br />
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It had been four days since Lil P had pooped so when she asked how long she could go to her friends house - I gave her an hour. This time frame was not what she was looking for. I reminded her it was day four and she also needed to practice percussion. Hubs and I needed to attend back to school night and were leaving at 6:15. She immediately dropped her things and went to the bathroom. In record speed she pooped. Yeah for poop, but now Lil P proved even more that she was controlling her poop at will. I know this isn't unusual for Aspies to do, but with all the things we have to manage - it just doesn't seem that tracking my 11yr olds poop cycle should be one of them.<br />
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She didn't earn any points for this delivery, but she did earn a few extra minutes at the friends house. I picked up Lil P at 5:45. She gets in the car and informs me that she didn't finish her homework. I looked at her friend and said "Why didn't you two do your homework?". Friend informs me that SHE did, but Morgan did not. I wanted to unload. But I didn't. I stayed calm. Lil P apologized all over the place and took responsibility. I thanked her for doing so, but informed her that she still needed to complete the work. Instead of she and Big Sis watching a movie while I was gone, she would have no TV and would be completing her work. She only had 11 math problems. Then she informed me that she also had Social Studies work. I came close to loosing my stuff, but didn't, yet. As I was forking over her dinner, she asked to watch TV. Um .. no. At her abrupt fit - I replied that I couldn't trust her to turn off the TV and get her work done when she was done eating. <br />
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Lil P argued that she had already apologized and felt like I was being unfair by not "caring or accepting" her apology. I explained that I did care, and thanked her for taking ownership - but the consequence still stood. No TV until homework is done. This didn't go over well at all. Screaming. tantrums. And then Husband, the most passive man I know, lost his crap and let loose on her as well. <br />
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Now we were not fighting about homework - we were fighting about listening and talking with respect. We were seriously yelling about her yelling and not listening to what we were saying before she responded. Irony at its finest.<br />
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I hated leaving last night. Leaving her home with Big Sis. I warned Big Sis not to parent. To do her own thing. I knew that Lil P wouldn't finish her work. I knew that she wouldn't be able to sit at the table, or anywhere, and finish her assignments. I guess deep down I had hoped that she would. That she would just take 15 minutes and knock it all out so she could watch TV. While at the Parent night I got the battery of texts. "Lil P is playing with the dog", "Big Sis won't come sit and help me stay on task".... I began thinking how I wish there was a wine bar I could hit on the way home.<br />
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Arriving home, Husband tells me that she probably doesn't have her work done and not to flip out on her. That he didn't want to go back to the yelling. And that I couldn't even look or sound disappointed b/c even that would set her off. Um, okay.<br />
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I walked inside and could tell she was waiting for me to unload. She told me she had accomplished NOTHING. I simply said "thank you for telling me, it's late, go get your shower". That made her mad because she didn't have her homework done. So in her mind, she should be doing her homework not her shower, since homework comes before shower. Even that took 10 minutes for her to listen. She will not be going to friends house to do homework for a while. She had to wake up early to get ready and work on homework. I was beyond furious.<br />
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Thing that bothered me most is that I KNEW she wouldn't do her work while we were gone. Maybe I was more mad at myself for thinking she actually would do her work? She did build a HUGE pyramid with box of dixie cups. She did make cool designs with plasti-tac. She did play with the dog. She did poop again. But the one thing I had asked her to do, she didn't do.<br />
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Our ABA supervisor has emailed. Seems she MAY have someone in our area that could work with Lil P. I am torn. We have a plan now. Starting fresh with a new ABA means starting again in that honeymoon phase. Where Lil P acts perfect and I appear to be some troll who can't manage her child.<br />
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Autism & ADHD really stink sometimes. I just wish someone would say - Okay - here is what you should do.<br />
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We see her NeruoDevelopmental Dr next week. Boy will he get an ear full.<br />
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Off to control and organize what little of my life I can.<br />
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Mwah!!simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-61352482964865469622013-09-16T09:19:00.001-04:002013-09-16T09:21:23.754-04:00It's been way to long....This weekend I went away to Staunton, VA. It was a beautiful town. To some it may have seemed a bit run down, but to me it was mysteriously lovely. Leading up to this weekend, there were many times that I considered backing out and staying home. After all, I control the heartbeat of this house. I enforce the bed times, the homework, the prep for school, practice of cello, percussion, and TaeKwonDo. I'm not alone, Husband is a tremendous father and helps. However, he has been out of country and would be coming home to just the girls and no marching orders from me. He was probably grateful for that last part.<br />
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While this morning was tough, I think back on this weekend and feel blessed and inspired. I left with two ladies who I have gotten to know through D2's TaeKwonDo classes. I adore these women. They treat me like they have known me all my life, there is absolutely no judgement, and I feel no anxiety about how I should look, think, act, or keep my house when I am with them. I left my house Friday morning with two amazing women and I came home Sunday night with a dozen new friends just like them.<br />
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I've written in this blog (although it was a long time ago) some tough lessons I have had about friendships. How many of my friendships since moving here have been utilitarian. When there is no longer something I can offer to certain friends, I am left confused, standing alone. The other group of impostors are those who take a look into the world of Autism, judge and run as fast as they can.<br />
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This weekend, I was reminded that there are fabulous people out there that not only are amazing on there own, but truly get what I live through. I got to be me. A mom, yes, but was able to share stories about D2 that others could relate to and laugh with me about the craziness that is my life.<br />
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This weekend left me feeling inspired. I've so missed scrapbooking, photography, and blogging. I was reminded that to be a better wife, mom, and friend - I needed to be true to who I am. To take time for me, doing something that I enjoy. It's not only important for me, but for my girls to see me as more than just their mom.<br />
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Last night while I was saying good night to D1, she said I seemed different. That it was interesting to see me laughing with the three ladies that brought me home. To hear one of our funny stories. She said it was neat to picture me having a glass of wine and laughing with a group of friends as we walked through the streets of some town. She was glad I went, and wanted to know when I was going to get to go again. It warmed my heart.<br />
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What I want most from being a mom is to never fail them. I want them to be independent, strong, firm in their faith, and simply amazing. Well, if I don't set that example for them, there is no telling who will fill that role. I'm not just mom. I am also a friend, a wife, and a woman who knows how to laugh with other amazing women. <br />
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I don't know if those women will know how deeply they have impacted my life this past weekend, but they will each be forever cherished in my heart for a lifetime.simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-19033989616605767462012-09-18T09:39:00.000-04:002012-09-18T09:39:02.831-04:002 for 1 specialsSeems I am breaking down inside piece by piece. <br />
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Last year for my birthday, I had my uterus removed. The surgeon was offering a 2 for 1 special so I also had a large cyst taken care of that had developed on a gland in an area that I won't mention. For a few months I felt amazing! Wishing I had my uterus ripped out years ago. Then the pain started in my ovary, and I am part of the less than 1% who have the cyst return! SO, next week, I go back under the knife. It's that time of year again and my surgeon is running the same special. Two surgeries for the price of one. I get to have one ovary removed and the glad that likes to develop the obtrusive cysts is getting removed all together! That'll teach glands to mess with me! Behave glands or I will rip you out! <br />
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Today I have all my pre-op appointments. I am trying to be optimistic about the whole thing. It's such a pain. I have so many other things that I think I would rather deal with. Teeth drilling for example. And if I am going to choose a surgery... lets go with something more beneficial - like a tummy tuck or new boobs. Apparently there was no way to slip either of those things into this surgery. The Dr was only offering these two. <br />
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I know that "it'll be worth it", that "you'll feel so much better"... but that was the lil words of wisdom I was holding on to LAST time. Today I think I may ask the surgeon if there are any other optional parts in my girl region that I don't really <i>need</i>, that she go ahead and take those out as well. Just clean everything out - make it pretty and call it a day. <br />
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At least this surgery will only have me depending on others for a few days. As soon as I am off the pain meds I can drive. From the time I broke my shoulder, I know that I can go w/o pretty easily. I have a pretty high pain threshold. So MY plan is to be back in action by Thursday. I still have to follow Dr. restrictions for lifting and 'activity' for 6 long grueling weeks. But at least I can drive, the girls where they need to be. Think Husband and I will have to plan an early anniversary trip. ;-) <br />
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Alas, I am off to embrace the day of talking about things that make teenagers giggle. (who am I kidding, those words still make me giggle) Getting poked, prodded, measured, and pretty much removing every ounce of conservative from my day. <br />
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Embrace your day lovelies, and if you think your day is odd, remember that mine is pretty awkward today as well. Mwah!simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-40271679603126017402012-08-02T08:36:00.004-04:002012-08-02T08:36:58.172-04:00FaceBook before bed?Last night I had the most Bizarre dreams. One of those dreams that felt so crazy real and yet strangely odd at the same time. Now that I am alert and well into my 2nd cup of coffee, I am laughing because each element of my dream is from FB posts that I reviewed before going to sleep. And possibly the amazing wine I had with dinner on the mini date I had with husband. <br />
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So there I was... I was living in my home town, but not with my mother (whew) and I was not married. I was in a long distance relationship with this amazing man. (who fortunately is now my husband because then this dream would have been very inappropriate and wouldn't be blog worthy). I was feeling a bit stressed because I had not seen him in almost two weeks since we last talked over FaceTime. (which was odd because email wasn't even a thing yet when we dated) He was stationed somewhere stateside and I kept checking my phone to see if he had called. It was exactly two weeks, and I was missing him. For some reason though I didn't want to call him because I knew he was busy and maybe had decided I wasn't worth the effort for the long distance romance. I tried to put it out of my head because I was trying to prepare for the production that our town was putting on at the local theatre. I was singing an opera-ish song and had not a clue what the production was about or even the words to the song. (opera ya'll, seriously?) I was a nervous wreck. This little woman kept telling me to sit so she could prepare my hair. I was looking over the music and my phone rang. The screen showed a picture of my yummy Airman, and I was thrilled. As was talking to him, the little hair lady kept yelling that I needed to warm up my voice, so I had to sing my conversation to my man. Needless to say, he was a little weirded out. <br />
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My friend from high school kept passing me in the hall. She rode by on her bike and shouted "Bike riding 30 minutes 210 calories burned". Then on a pogo stick "pogo riding 20 minutes 410 calories burned". I missed my man terribly and was hanging on to his every word. I loved the sound of his voice and I hated that our time to speak was so limited. He said he was deploying and would be in town for a layover, (again crazy bc there is only a tiny airport in our hometown that the AF would never land a jet). He wouldn't have to much time to see me because he would only have 45 minutes from the time he landed until take off. Apparently he was scheduled to land at the exact time my singing would be over. PERFECT! I ended the call, and stepped out on the stage which was now an open arena in Italy! I sang my heart out! It was so amazing, I surprised myself. I then jumped on my high school friend's scooter and pressed the button that said 'scooter 20 minutes 2 calories burned'. I arrived at the airport and there was a LONG line of people holding Chick-fil-a cups and a sign that read 45 minute wait from this point. There were security everywhere. Apparently my man is a big deal! His parents arrived by limo and were escorted to the front of the line while<i> Chariots of Fire</i> played over the loud speakers. <br />
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As I neared the front of the line, my man was signing autographs (anyone who knows Husband will find that hilarious, he's not an attention seeker at all). Our eyes met. He smiled and waved and then the Air Force people dressed in heavily armored gear, told him it was time to go. He stepped off the platform and walked up to me kissing me like a rock star. His plane took off and I was alone on the runway with an autographed picture of my Airman. I felt so sad and alone. Wondering where this relationship was headed. What I should do. Wondering if he had swoons of fans all over the world. I missed his touch, his smile, and his wowie wow wow kiss. <br />
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Then I woke up and who's in front of me?? In my bed?? HUSBAND!! I was married to this amazing man and I get to be a part of his world. I laid there giggling, thinking back on my dream. I couldn't get back to sleep. Flashbacks of my dream and our relationship over the last 20+ years. Almost 16 of those years as husband & wife. We have had our highs & lows but they have only drawn us closer. I couldn't imagine it any other way. I am crazy about my man and no matter what the day holds, I know I have an amazing husband to turn to.<br />
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So... no more FaceBook before bed. I am very proud of my Opera genius friend who did in fact recently perform in Italy. My friend who posts all her activities and how many calories she has burned. Many had chick-fil-a yesterday and posted about their wait times. Husbands parents don't travel by limo, but I guess they are like royalty to me, and he <i>IS</i> my prince. Chariots of Fire? Obviously the Olympics, but we should all have our own theme music, don't you think?<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FvfdBzrSbQuREE3X-iFDkd3do10N4Qh4GQUa3gp6WshYciJfuc0ejAynFHOgMmFRWv5FyLlZqKyCjyZdyAM4PMwAoMquBlzU899b4-PWsuAmd95THoooXU5fQyQMdOGAZRkEqqJATnbj/s1600/IMG_2682.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0FvfdBzrSbQuREE3X-iFDkd3do10N4Qh4GQUa3gp6WshYciJfuc0ejAynFHOgMmFRWv5FyLlZqKyCjyZdyAM4PMwAoMquBlzU899b4-PWsuAmd95THoooXU5fQyQMdOGAZRkEqqJATnbj/s320/IMG_2682.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
I realize now that I don't have great pictures of him or us. I spend all my picture taking time on our kids and nature. Hmm. This isn't a picture that either of us would delight in, mostly because the sun was crazy bright and blah blah blah, but it's the most current one I have. :-) Where did all the gray hair come from? Sheesh.simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-84073353531060419532012-07-27T13:39:00.001-04:002012-07-27T13:39:50.916-04:00StrengthSometimes - there is only song.<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/5VI0pkRBPZw?fs=1" width="480"></iframe>simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-24966223063628582792012-07-21T22:35:00.003-04:002012-07-21T22:35:59.023-04:00deep breathbreathe.<br />
<br />
Just trying to breathe is some days is to much. The effort to accomplish anything else seems wasted. Regardless of what is said or done, it will be wrong. Hopelessness is all that is felt. No. That's not true. Numbness. Completely numb. Either there is no fight left, or the realization that there is just no point in the fight. Even those that are closest feel like strangers. Those that understand and support begin vanishing. Vanishing from their lack of understanding or lack of caring, leaving emptiness and numbness. <br />
<br />
Numbness and loneliness. At the same time they are both the most painful and damaging emotions that can be felt. The thoughts that creep into the mind are irrational, and yet so freeing. <br />
<br />
Freedom. To break free from this being that has taken over - to revert back to the life that once was, before. Before seems so long ago. Nothing is left now but a carcass of what once was. A body that once housed laughter, joy, fun, and love. <br />
<br />
Love. The very thing that has brought such brokenness. Loving too much. So much that it has caused the heart to break and the mind to isolate. Spiraling in a thought process battling what is logical against impulse. <br />
<br />
Impulse. The energy that arrises to run. To break away. It all seems so easy - but then the logic kicks in. The love surfaces and then the mind engages. Reasoning to return, to stay, out of love. No matter how abusive and lonely. Love. Love that can never be measured. Love that makes logicial choices overpower impulse, despite of the loneliness. The isolation. The numbness.simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-44459332400466814502012-07-12T22:00:00.000-04:002012-07-21T22:32:08.476-04:00Feeling Overwhelmed??The whole parenting thing can be rather overwhelming at times. Parenting a neurotypical child has it's own challenges. D1 is 11 and it running head strong into puberty. The Horror-mones are full throttle and are enough to summon Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hyde. One minute she is all about her momma and the next - she could burry me alive with her looks of disgust at knowing me. <br />
<br />
The last few weeks with D2 have been extremely overwhelming. Her therapist sent me a message asking how I was doing because I looked exhausted. Really? Ya Think? Exhausted...yes, overwhelmed...yes. I think mostly defeated. I have been feeling incredibly lost, low, and empty. I feel like I am running out of options and nothing seems to be working. Basically like a total FAIL. During a rather intense meltdown with D2 on Tuesday evening, I sat down and emailed her therapist a frank email saying here we are - what now? He responded the following evening with an appointment time. <br />
<br />
On my way I had visions of Child Services waiting to take me away. Or maybe the men in white coats. Maybe he would have a large fruity cocktail & a personal masseuse waiting for me in a back room? Okay he knows that would be a bad idea - because I may lock the door and never come out. <br />
<br />
I poured out most of my frustrations. The ones surrounding D2. He listened, understood, and supported. He was very encouraging to my methods. Told me about some research that he was working on for our benefit. Assured me that although I don't see a huge golden nugget of validating success - I am a good mom. That Husband and I were doing a great job with D2 and the different, unpredictable, circumstances that we were presented with on a daily basis. <br />
<br />
Did you know that 85% of parents with Special Needs children divorce? That's a lot. I can understand why & how. It's so very taxing on a marriage. Not for reasons you might think. I find it interesting that this is a topic that is not talked about on may of the forums and books that I read. It's almost the unspoken secret - that if we pretend that it isn't so - then it isn't so. <br />
<br />
I married the most amazing man to walk into my life. He was the first to show me what true unconditional love was about. Having a child with Autism, has not broken us - it has made us stronger. Sure we struggle. But it's a struggle that is one of exhaustion. We each become frustrated seeing the other become frustrated. Some nights when things are so intense with D2, we often have nothing left for each other. We find ourselves numb. Distraught. We are so emotionally spent that we have nothing left for each other. Learning to turn our emotions off and on is a tough thing. If you detach yourself from the drama - you begin to feel cold - and that doesn't seem like good parenting. When things are tough and your heart is wounded - the last thing I want to do is throw on a smile for my husband. How can I be a good wife when I feel like a total fail as a mother and a woman?simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-59661689630625255482012-07-09T11:35:00.000-04:002012-07-09T11:35:02.135-04:00Happiness is...friendship.<br />
friends that know you better than you know yourself.<br />
friends that can listen to you and never judge.<br />
friends that you can go without talking to for days and pick up where you left off. <br />
friends that can answer the phone and know by your tone what you're really feeling.<br />
friends that laugh with you before you even realize you should be laughing.<br />
friends that let you blow things out of proportion and help you gain perspective.<br />
friends that know how crazy you are about your man even when he's driving you crazy.<br />
friends that call just so they don't have to clean their toilets in silence.<br />
friends that cry with you - cause they just love you that much.<br />
friends that are true enough to let you know when you are being unrealistic.<br />
friends will laugh with you so much, your cheeks hurt - miles apart - over something simple.<br />
friends can sit beside you - in silence - and enjoy just being together.<br />
friends can make you feel like the world is yours in the lonely times. <br />
<br />
friends come and go. Some go, leaving you wondering what ever happened. Some stick around forever leaving you humbled and wondering why.<br />
<br />
Today, I am so very thankful for my friends. The pure Joy they bring to my day. The laughter they share. Making me a better person, just by being in my life.<br />
<br />
Thank you friends. I love you.<br />simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-57403371085487763822012-07-03T21:26:00.000-04:002012-07-03T21:52:20.915-04:00Getting ripped off by nosebleeds<br />
Autism is a tricky thing. You go through your day and don't think much about autism until something that makes no logical sense happens and you think "what in the world.." and then you do a head smack and remember - ah THAT's Autism. <br />
<br />
Just yesterday D2 pointed out that her legs were becoming rather hairy. She has been asking for some time to shave. After all, her sister has been shaving her legs and so she should be able to shave as well, right?<br />
<br />
So, we sat on the side of the tub, I explained about getting her legs wet and then lathering up with the cream. Who would have thought about the sensory implications of shaving? Not me. Not at first. I was quickly reminded as her voice quivered and she began to fidget. Inside I was thinking <i>wow, this is just with the cream, this is only going to get worse</i>. <br />
<br />
Then came the razor. She did okay - after we got over the 'tickle', no the 'pain', no guess it isn't pain, it's 'pressure'. <br />
<br />
It was the longest I have ever labored over shaving. EVER! I think it could have been transformed into a short story - "Shaving with Autism". I can not wait till we start shaving armpits. (much sarcasm)<br />
<br />
After our shaving fun, this conversation ennsued, reminding me once again that D2 was a child with autism. <br />
<br />
D2: "did the people that worked in the World Trade Center get nosebleeds often?" <br />
<br />
me: "I don't understand what your getting to"<br />
<br />
D2: "Well, the high seats in the football stadium are called 'nose bleed seats' cause they are so high. The World Trade Center was even higher...so did those people get nose bleeds?"<br />
<br />
me: "'Nose bleed seats' are only an expression - you don't actually GET a nose bleed"<br />
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D2: "I HATE expressions!!".....(thoughtful looks) "SO, just because you sit in a 'nosebleed' section, that doesn't mean you get a nosebleed?"<br />
<br />
me: "no, not a guarantee" <br />
<br />
D2: "What a ripoff!!!"<br />
<br />
After watching clips from the Temple Grandin movie, D2 has started a journal. "me and autism" She wrote later that night, "Apparently when you sit in the nosebleed section, you don't really get a nosebleed. I feel kind of ripped of about this."<br />
<br />
Ah the life of being literal. <br />simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-63048256002607510372012-06-25T22:06:00.000-04:002012-07-03T22:07:06.940-04:00Fresh StartsThe move is over - <br />
Wisteria Lane is a thing of the past.<br />
<br />
A new chapter has begun and things are looking fresh and promising. D1 will be attending an AMAZING middle school next year. She is looking forward to playing cello and taking on the world. I worry a little about the change in schools. I've already seen with D2 switching schools that there are things that maybe were not covered? Things D2 was reviewing for the end of year wrap up - are things D1 didn't have until 5th grade. The work load will be much different. I know she can handle it - the trick is assuring her that SHE can handle all that comes her way. D2 finished up with a BANG! After 3 weeks her new school asked us about reevaluating her eligibility for an IEP. They felt the 504 she had was a joke. The last week of school we signed an IEP and will plan to revisit after the first marking term to adjust for more specific areas such as writing. It was a bitter sweet meeting. Glad that they are so proactive and ready to help. Surreal that after 2 years of banging heads with the old school and practically telling them what they needed to do - have this school say the exact thing I have been saying. They hardly know D2 and know just what she needs. I am excited as she starts next year with a plan in place. I think it will be a tough adjustment, but well worth it in the end. <br />
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We are practically done getting settled in to our new home. We did quite a bit of downsizing. Moving for the 8th time in 15 years has caused us to accumulate a lot of stuuuuuff. When you are only at a place for a few years, you unpack what you need, and then store the rest. The packers come along and throw it all together and you move again. Not fully unpacking or taking inventory of all you have. When you move yourself - after being settled for 3 years. wow. The trash truck was well utilized and never was I so thankful for trash pick up 2x a week! The things that are left now, junk. Stuff you pick up in your hand, look around, and put it back in the box b/c you have NO idea what you are supposed to do. You know you need to keep it - maybe - but where? There are about 7 boxes collectively throughout the house, that have not required our immediate attention. My plan TODAY is to relocate those boxes to the storage room, and we'll take it from there, but at least the rest of the house will be settled and we can resume 'normal'. <br />
<br />
Fresh starts usually start 1 January. For us - fresh starts start now. We will spend the summer being a family. Lounging by the pool. Visiting family. A few camps. Relaxing and looking forward to all things new that are ahead of us.<br />
<br />
We still will have the day to day things that disrupt our lil utopia, but hopefully we will be able to cross those bridges one step at a time. Autism is ever present and I am learning how to cope, how to dismiss judgement, how to stop apologizing, and how to love in a different light. At times I am unsure which is worse, Autism or tweenager horror-mones. My amazing Husband has bought me some cool gadgets that will allow me to better have availability to write more. There is my therapy. ;-) <br />simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-27793957802537326132012-04-17T14:29:00.001-04:002012-04-17T15:29:06.701-04:00The screams of pooBeing a parent of a special needs child carries many emotions. Many I have shared already - but as I sit her this afternoon listening to the screams.... I need to feel less alone.<br />
<br />
At this moment I am listening to the screams of "<i>Mommmmy</i>!!!" D2 has not pooped in about a week now. It's the same routine. We go day to day - then a few days - then a week - and we have even made it past 2 weeks before. It's something that you just can't make your child do. You can't make them poop. You can tell them to poop. You can confine them to the potty. You can bribe, barter and punish all you want to - but at the end of the day you can not crawl in their body and make them poop. No amount of broccoli or Miralax can make her go.<br />
<br />
Whoosh - there goes the toilet paper flying off the wall and down the hall. <br />
<br />
Pleads & promises between the cries. <i>Let me get up - I'll promise to come back when I have to go - you're so mean - it's going to hurt - I don't want to do this - I hate myself - I promise to come back in 10 minutes - please stop making me do this - why can't you trust me - I hate you - I hate that I do this to myself - why do I have to be this way?... </i><br />
<br />
Ear piercing screams.<br />
my head is pounding and I just want to hold her and cry with her. I have to be strong - I have to disconnect emotionally and be firm. ANY emotion I show will cause her to react more.<br />
<br />
<i>When you poop, you can get up..</i>.<br />
<br />
It seems so cruel.<br />
<br />
<i>Don't you love me mommy??? Why are you doing this???</i><br />
<br />
deep breath<br />
<br />
<i>because I love you - and I don't want you to die</i><br />
<br />
I used to spend all this time in the bathroom with her. I can no longer do that. I look at her and she yells to stop looking at her. <i>Stop talking to me</i>, she reaches for my hand, <i>don't touch me</i>... so I become trapped in a small room unable to look, talk, or touch my screaming, hurting child. <br />
<br />
Now I sit outside & pray. Except for today. Today I blog. <br />
<br />
Silence. A calm voice just said, <i>Mommy - could you please turn on the fan?</i><br />
<br />
Success.<br />
<br />
I don't know how such a small lil girl can pack in so much poo. <br />
<br />
Next will be the affection and the apologies. The <i>mommy, I never want to wait that long again. Mommy help me remember to go more often. Mommy, when you see me start to do the things that help me hold my poop, tell me to go. </i><br />
<i><br />
</i><br />
It's the same thing - the same routine - every time. It's the loop and the life of my child with Autism. Just one of the many things that I juggle. <br />
<br />
I keep thinking of the song Blessings, by Laura Story. What if my purpose in life was just this? To keep my daughters safe. To show them love through every painful circumstance. <i>Of course</i> you may say, that's the job of a mother - but these were just not the circumstances that I, nor any parent of a special needs child - every dreamed we'd be faced with. <br />
<br />
The cries are over. The screams have been replaced with giggles and the bathroom fan. In a few minutes, my arms will be filled with snuggles and kisses. These last 30 minutes will have to be forgotten and I will brace myself with prayer for the next unexpected moment. For uncertainty is my constant. <br />
<br />
What if Blessings do come from Raindrops?<br />
<br />
I am one blessed momma.simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-31539619484313000562012-04-05T09:24:00.000-04:002012-04-05T09:24:53.610-04:00Someone somewhere has it much worse... or do they?<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Many times when we are faced with a difficult situation or life circumstance, we ‘comfort’ ourselves by thinking that the situation could be worse, or at least you don’t have it as bad as the other guy. But does that mean our circumstances are any less tragic, or frustrating, or consuming for us?</span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Fairly recently I took a friend for her chemo treatment and was in awe of the attitude that she and the other cancer patients had about their cancer. They weren’t depressed, angry, or even rude. For my friend, she was choosing to let it be her testimony. She wasn’t angry at the Dr who just a year prior had removed her ovaries and gave her a clean bill of health. She knew that a year ago - she could not have handled cancer with all she had going on in her life. She knew that THIS was the time that God intended for her to deal with cancer. Sure she had moments of sadness, and feeling overwhelmed, but it didn’t consume her. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">During our Chemo Date, our talk led to D2 and her Aspergers, ADHD, and Anxiety - how all those things combined were presenting themselves. We talked about the struggles she was having at school, therapy, and at home. My struggles knowing how to parent two completely different children. I interrupted the conversation, saying that I had no right to feel stressed by the situation when she was dealing with cancer. Who am I to complain, after all “<i>it could be worse</i>”, right?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I have another friend who has a special needs daughter, who requires her assistance in everything. Dressing, communication, and many other basic tasks. She is one of the most inspiring women I know. Her Facebook posts are always so positive, and when I see or talk with her - she has it together. I know that she has her moments, that she has her struggles, but she has it in perspective and sees her daily blessings. Her child is physically and mentally disabled. Who am I to complain, after all “<i>it could be worse</i>”, right?</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">My daughter is growing more symptomatic on the Autism Spectrum. Her diagnosis is Aspergers, but I am understanding why the experts are ready to completely included Asperger’s Disorder as Autism Spectrum Disorder. Yes - she is verbal, affectionate on her terms, and super smart, but there is a side to her that many don’t see. In fact when most people hear about her diagnosis, they say “really. I didn’t see that in her”. However, they don’t live with her to see that she struggles with day to day tasks. The ADHD helps so that thoughts don’t stick long in her mind and the tantrums pass fairly quickly with distraction. It hurts in that she can’t focus, which aggravates her when she is trying so hard to ‘make something right’ such as getting her place setting<i> just so</i>. Then there is the Anxiety that completes this perfect storm. The triggered ‘the sky is falling’ response when something so simple becomes so incredibly out of control. Together these things equal a day to day life that just isn’t logical or consistent in any way. Inconsistency IS our only constant. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I heard about a mom whose daughter required meds 6x a day, who had to wear a vest 2x a day to help with breathing and digestion and my first thought was<i> at least she knows what to expect. </i> I felt horrible for thinking that. Until my inspiring friend told me that she thinks about me and is thankful that she at least knows what to expect with her special daughter. That she didn’t know if she could deal with the sudden changes that I face with D2. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">I suddenly felt validated. I felt like there was someone who understood that being a special needs parent was somewhat similar across the board. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">My friend who is treating her cancer... she told me that we all have some issue, some “cancer” that weighs on our heart. Before you send me hate mail, I am in no way calling my daughter a cancer. It’s a metaphor - let me use it here because my daughter can’t understand metaphors, idioms, or any expressions - so this blog is all I have for those. Since cancer is such a bad word for some, I’ll use the word ... <i>flower</i>. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">My Chemo friend, said - her <i>flower</i> is hers, it’s her situation that God planted for her right in this moment. Someone else’s <i>flower</i> is the divorce that they are handling. My <i>flower</i> is having a special needs daughter. I was chosen for this <i>flower</i>- I was chosen for her. Nothing will increase your faith like having a <i>flower</i>. My flower isn’t cancer, a divorce, a terminally ill spouse. My flower is a daughter who can loose her composure over mustard. Who can fall apart by being allowed to pick out ice cream. Who chooses not to poop for 3-10 days. A child who can be laughing one moment and wishing she could die the next. My daughter is loving and compassionate and cares so deeply for others. But my flower knows that there are no others in her immediate garden that ‘get’ her. That she is a different flower, and because of that.. my flower is lonely and scared. As much as I try to help, through therapies, and medications, and schools... My daughter will always be my flower. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">My lesson to myself, is that instead of judging others flowers, thinking that they have worse growing conditions than I... I need to give myself some credit. My flower may not be any different after all. Not worse, not better, just mine. Instead of stacking the growing conditions of those I meet... I need to embrace the common thread - that we all need support while growing our flowers. We all need someone to say “this flower pot really stinks! I know I was made for this <i>flower</i> at this moment, but right now I don’t like how it’s going”. </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Helvetica Neue', Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: small;">Someone, somewhere just has a different flower. </span></span></div>simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-59625631254509571212012-02-06T10:32:00.000-05:002012-02-06T10:32:58.078-05:00Kari Jobe - Revelation Song lyrics<div>I have been wanting to blog for many weeks now. </div><div>My heart is conflicted and the words are amuck.</div><div>Music has been an amazing outlet for me so I thought I would start with sharing the music that has been pouring from my heart first. I know the words will come. For now... I'll let someone else's words speak for me.</div><div><br /></div><iframe width="459" height="344" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/rGgX_oqdib4?fs=1" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes music is better than words.</div>simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-16106106615918333592011-10-05T10:14:00.000-04:002011-10-05T10:14:27.127-04:00A friendWe all have friends. Many different types of friends. Friends in different circles of our lives. Friends that we simply smile and touch in with, and friends that we can pour our deepest thoughts and fears out with. Friends come and go. Some start out as friends, but then you learn that they were just friends for a season. I recently had a friend that I thought would be a real friend. We shared some great times. Then everything came to an end. I was confused, and felt betrayed from things that I had trusted to our friendship.<br />
<br />
This started me to reevaluate relationships I have in my life. It helped me to see those in my life that are true. The friends that truly matter - and whose friendships are unconditional. The friends who know what is important in life. Who understand mental health days. That no matter how mad you are at your husband - you love him like crazy! Who can swap stories about bad parenting. Who's imperfections are exactly what makes them perfect! <br />
<br />
Though friendships that I have invested in have come to a close, I can smile and appreciate those that I know will never close, those that are full of heart when it really matters.<br />
<br />
Today though, I lost one of those rare and amazing friends. Today my heart breaks for the twin brother and sister that will wake up without a mother. For the husband who had such a deep love for his wife that now finds himself a single dad. Today the world lost an amazing woman who had an infectious optimism, that made her someone you wanted to be around. Today my friend Liz died unexectedly from a pulmonary embolism. Liz knew what it meant to live. She did everything 100% and was the most genuine person I knew. She loved with her whole heart. <br />
<br />
Every memory I have of Liz, involves a smile. Even times when tears were shed, they always turned to smiles. From the simple times of drinking coffee after watching our girls do the "ho down throw down" in the school parking lot, to the long meetings planning events for the base. We solved all of the Air Force's problems while drinking coffee at Khul Beans and became expert wine samplers at the Bazaar. Lunches at Isola Bella and the most memorable Dinning In to wrap up great moments in Germany. <br />
<br />
Everyone should be so lucky to have a "Liz" in their lives. I know my life, and those who knew her have been blessed beyond what can be put into words.<br />
<br />
My fellow Dudeldorfer. <br />
Who always had a smile, a hug, or a story.<br />
You have shown us how to love, how to care, how to laugh, and how to be the truest definition of a friend.<br />
You have touched the lives of many - leaving memories that will last forever.<br />
You have loved our children and shown us what it means to be an amazing mom.<br />
May our lives be remembered as fondly as yours will. <br />
<br />
I will miss you my friend. <br />
Thank you for Loving!simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-78112052632375836022011-07-26T07:25:00.001-04:002011-07-26T13:52:31.145-04:00Love renewed from a government email...<div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">On a Friday morning in mid June, Husband received an email letting him know that since it had been a while since his last deployment, his name was being tossed around for one soon. A long one. 365+ days to be exact.</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">He kept this information to himself through the weekend, as we had company and life was pretty much a series of tornados. Or Nor-Tados as D2 calls them. On Monday afternoon he told me about the notice and that USUALLY they notify you within the next 24 hours. No notice was received with direction either way. On Tuesday a notice was sent out seeking volunteers for a few assignments with a deadline of Thursday and non-volunteers would be told on Friday. Again these dates came and went without a word.</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Talk about a mixed bag of emotions. Don't get me wrong here. I am not one of those wives that thinks that marrying a military man will mean we get to live in one place all our lives, next to mom and dad, and we will never be apart. Not kidding, I have met these wives. In the almost 15 years we have been married, we have lived in 7 locations, 2 of which were out of country. I have been happy to follow my man around, setting up house where ever and with whatever circumstances we had. I was 5 months pregnant when I moved to Italy to an Italian base only to leave 2 years later with 2 babies. I have always been happy to follow Husband, because I knew when I married him that he was a military man.</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">While this potential news of him being gone for over a year was sad, I knew we were not the only family making this sacrifice, that although we have had separations that we measured in months and not years, we survived those. We are a military family and we can do anything for a year!</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">The biggest impact was that I realized just how much I take Husband for granted. The day to day stuff. The things that seemed so important - suddenly we not important at all. The thing that seemed most important was simply TIME. Our American lifestyle of activity leads us to a lifestyle of captivity. While STUFF seems important, camps-clubs-sports-volunteering-parties, what we fail to prioritize is family. Simple family time.</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">It was important that the girls have time with Daddy. That Husband knew that I truly loved him with all my heart. In those moments, we started dropping some commitments that were taking us away from each other. We made plans to go places and do fun things as a family. We started putting the four of us first.</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">I think the biggest change was me. I had this renewed motivation to be certain that Husband knew without a doubt that I was thankful for him and all he does for our family. I wanted to be sure that he looked forward to coming home every day. That he knew that he was a priority. Our conversations seemed to have more meaning to them. Our times of just being in the same room reading became more precious. Our relationship has grown deeper and refreshed all because of a government email reminding us that it could all be uprooted in a moment.</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">It's been over a month and just yesterday someone approached me and said sine Husband wasn't deploying he could come back to (an activity he prioritized as excess) this Thursday. Person even emailed Husband reminding him. The internal struggle began in me - was I being too selfish with Husband? This activity didn't take THAT much time, and it took place during the week when the girls were getting into bed anyway... and then it happened.</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">ANOTHER email.</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Uncle Sam sent Husband an email letting him know that his name was being tossed around for a 365 day deployment. AGAIN.</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Cattle prod to the booty. Zowie!</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Yes Husband, your weeknights are filled already. For now the girls need their daddy and I need my man. When the email comes that you will have to be away from us, then we will put on our big girl boots and let you go. We will love you from afar, through tears because we're girls and we cry. We will support you with all our hearts reminding you of the awesomeness you have waiting for you at home. We will do those things because we are a military family and that's what we do!</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Until then... Husband is busy. His social calendar is carefully planned with family having first pick. His children are growing aware of how blessed they are to have such a great daddy. I am renewed and madly in love with my man. Taking each day as a gift and being sure that no matter what the day brings, that he and I end it on a very happy note. Making even the simple things special. Doing all I know how, to be certain he knows he is loved and appreciated.</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;">Don't wait to let your spouse know that you love them. Don't take the days for granted. You may not have the government looming with their emails, but life can change without any warning. Does your spouse know that despite all the "grrr" in the day to day, that you love them? Doesn't hurt to check.</span></div><div style="font: 16.0px Didot; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 24.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 16px;">I love you Husband!</span>simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-33316848844485719402011-07-21T10:59:00.001-04:002011-07-21T11:00:25.537-04:00Today I am the snake!!<div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Is your glass half full or is it half empty?</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">We are all familiar with the different perspectives that we can have about things in our lives. Recently a friend of mine traveled to the city with friends and dented her van, got a ticket, lost a wallet, and had a child vomiting - all in one afternoon. Many of us would just think - this day is NOT going well, and would have been completely derailed. Not her. She viewed those events as “hiccups”. Really? Hiccups? </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Perspective. </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">It’s all about perspective. Well, that and whether or not you are a complete control freak like myself. When things are going as I planned, or as I can manage - my glass is full. When things start spinning out of control - my glass is not only empty - it’s shattered and I fall to my knees picking up shards of emotions trying to figure out which one I can use. </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Am I sad? hacked off? defeated? mad? emotionally constipated? Does that situation even matter? </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Perspective.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">When your glass shatters - do you waste time on the crumbling emotions or to you simply reassess the situation? </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Depending on the situation - I believe that you should always just look where you are, and figure out what you can do from there. I also believe that you are allowed to take a few moments and just feel stale. Not long though, just enough to get a new set of big girl panties on and freshen up your attitude. God created all those emotions, so the emotions are not the problem. It’s what you choose to DO with those emotions that can be dangerous. </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">My </span><i><b><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">very</span></b></i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> talented friend took this picture. Apparently her home has turned into a NatGeo reality show with mice, snakes, and frogs. I myself would not handle things with the calmness she does. I’d be shooting me some rodents. (yes, I’m from the country)</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Not the point, but take a look at this picture. </span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Glass half full or half empty?</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKV1MNq1XbtqnX0HITWcKpZ9FaLBNfMc8gwrqoF7v9szfhzKxrqdyi-GGIq_eWNIWbqJ_jGAh8HeVBaq1zx-vXxCinlDJ88d72pxGerT3LS6s15P8TsVOK26s5XnRQCKqpNqVAJ55GoEHD/s1600/snakeandfrog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><img border="0" height="424" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKV1MNq1XbtqnX0HITWcKpZ9FaLBNfMc8gwrqoF7v9szfhzKxrqdyi-GGIq_eWNIWbqJ_jGAh8HeVBaq1zx-vXxCinlDJ88d72pxGerT3LS6s15P8TsVOK26s5XnRQCKqpNqVAJ55GoEHD/s640/snakeandfrog.jpg" width="640" /></span></a></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Depends if you’re the frog or the snake</span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Perspective.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Yesterday I was the frog. No matter where I hopped, someone somewhere was ready to chomp my head off. I felt all that I could do was lay there and flail about while I was being devoured. So, I had my day and today I am choosing to be the snake. Taking todays frogs head on. My kids are thrilled about this already! and no - they are not the frogs.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Who will you be today?</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px; min-height: 14.0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"></span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">PS: the Snake is obviously the control freak here. He went for the head, leaving him in complete control - the frog, bless his heart, doesn’t stand a chance.</span></span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
</span> </span></span></div><div style="font: 12.0px Helvetica; margin: 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px 0.0px;"><span style="letter-spacing: 0px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">PPS: the frog was indeed injured in this battle. the photographer was not.</span></span></span></div>simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-22471630942975034512011-06-17T22:35:00.000-04:002011-07-17T22:36:06.536-04:00No more pencils No more books!!!!<div class="post-body entry-content" id="post-body-3236017358077628610" style="font-family: Molengo; font-size: 15px; line-height: 1.4; position: relative; width: 676px;">Today is the day.<br />
Screams will be heard across the world at 11:45 EST when my children get off the bus. The loudest screams will be mine. I am so thrilled to have my girls home for a few weeks. Yes, you read that right. I am thrilled to have them home.<br />
<br />
This year has been a fast one, but yet a tough one.<br />
<br />
I cling to hopes of a better year for D2 next year. The teacher that she is supposed to have should be perfect. We'll see, but I have hope. Yes I know, last September I also had that same hope, but that was when we didn't know about D2 and all that would soon be changing her world.<br />
<br />
The Movies are filled with great Kid flicks, Oriole Park is calling our name, Six Flags for a Jars of Clay & Mandisa concert, VBS, Music camp, Swimming with the cousins, trips to the library, Weeks with grandparents... YES!! Who wouldn't love summer?<br />
<br />
This morning when I woke D2 up I said "it's 7:30, time to get moving" She replied "On Monday I don't even want to know that 7:30 am exists!" Perfect, cause I don't either. It's going to be tough to wake up for Husband's coffee making and lunch packing! Tough, but I will be glad to do it, and then run back up to snuggle with my girls and sleep!<br />
<br />
Ahhh, summer... you don't know just how welcomed you are in our house!!</div>simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-9097809673142952382011-06-07T08:58:00.001-04:002011-06-07T08:58:58.262-04:00My life is RUINED!!!The difficult trials of being ten.<br />
The even more difficult trials of being ten and having a sarcastic Mother and a sister with Aspergers.<br />
Poor kid doesn't stand a chance!<br />
<br />
Our morning went something like this...<br />
<br />
D2 is singing her heart out about whatever pops in her mind. Having a great morning.<br />
D1 is stomping and screaming...<br />
After 20 minutes of everything being wrong the conversation went like this;<br />
D1 "This is the worst day EVER"<br />
Mom "Well, just think how good this day is making the last 'worst day ever' look"<br />
D1 ** growls and screams **<br />
Mom "What is the problem"<br />
D1 "my life is RUINED!!!!"<br />
Mom "wow, well, the good news is you figured this out at 10 and you can accept that and move on"<br />
D1 ** stomps off **<br />
<br />
Proud mommy moment? no.<br />
But, I am secure enough to admit that I am so not equipt for the emotional drama. I can barely handle the emotions of Aspergers let alone pre-puberty! Yikes! Funny thing is I can understand when D2 is having a typical Aspie morning and D1 is irritated, but today - today everyone woke up happy. Was there not enough drama? Was that it? D1 felt that she needed to create her own? Who knows. <br />
<br />
Maybe it's carryover emotions from the day before? D2's therapist called us both in because D2 had something to share. Not uncommon. When we walked in, I think we walked into a firing range. Nothing was really said. D2 was extremely angry and began yelling, hitting, rocking, biting... totally tantrum. Sad & scary stuff. I was embarrassed that the therapist was seeing this, but at the same time was glad. I was helpless. I had D2 flipping out and D1 covering her ears and crying. <br />
<br />
Commit me now.<br />
<br />
I thought of how just 9 hours earlier that day, D2 woke up and curled up in my lap while I rocked her. Such a precious way to start the day. She was so sweet and loving. Now here we were - full throttle tantrum and I was lost. <br />
<br />
My heart was shattered in an instant. Our time was about up and we were all falling apart. Then, with the flip of a switch, D2 delivers an apology and all was good. With her. I was about to choke on the lump in my throat from holding in a breakdown. <br />
<br />
The ride home was a long silent one. <br />
The evening was fine and life went on. <br />
<br />
The images of that 20 minutes have been burned into my mind. The sounds that erupted from my baby girl are still piercing through my ears. The feelings of failure, loneliness, and loss are just below the surface. <br />
<br />
My role as mom - to keep it all together and press forward. Everyday is a new day. Right? Except I can't wait that long. I have to live moment by moment. Thing blow up - they end - clean slate - next moment.<br />
<br />
If I, a grown woman, still have all these emotions... then certainly my 10 yr old does too. I know what to do with those emotions - sort of - she doesn't. <br />
<br />
Extra serving of love and attention coming up. We will come through this. Stronger and amazing.simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-66977616926671810272011-06-01T08:45:00.000-04:002011-06-01T08:45:45.730-04:00Why I like Starbucks...or any coffee place....<br />
<br />
The atmosphere is wonderful. Most of the time. <br />
<br />
You see all sorts of different types of people. Moms in need of caffeine, business people talking shop, writers pouring their souls into their next big book. People like me, looking for a few moments of solace, to read, relax and sometimes gain perspective. I use these moments no matter how few, to look over email, read, catch up on blogs, and write. <br />
<br />
While we were in Germany I fell in love with the coffee place on base - Khul Beans. It was great. It was like the show Cheers. The Baristas were the same, they knew your name, your beverage of choice, and when you were looking for something new to try, they never let you down. You could kick back in a comfy chair between meetings and relax. You would certainly see someone you knew that would pull up a chair and visit for a few. I loved it there. SO much that my farewell inscription made reference to my "Khul Beans Office". <br />
<br />
When we returned to the states, I was thankful to have a Starbucks a mile from my house. It smells great in here and although the population is vastly different here, I still know a few faces, and enjoy the people watching. It's relaxing, and I like that after I drop the girls off at school and have an hour before I need to be back at school, I can slip in, grab a cup of Joe and take time to breathe. <br />
<br />
Coffee houses everywhere seem to break down barriers between strangers. Everyone there has a common interest. Everyone will say hello and share a smile. People use their manners at the fixin bar, and the Barista is often friendly. It always smells fabulous - just the smell alone is relaxing. Think they could make a soy candle that smelled like Starbucks?<br />
<br />
Husband and I often talk of how great it would be to have a coffee house of our own. Just a no name place in a town just big enough to support business. When we travel to St. Michaels Maryland, we always make sure we have time to stop in the St. Michaels Perk. It's a great spot to grab a coffee, visit or read a book. We have become rather spoiled, because we get so used to the wonderful flavors here that coffee at home can often be boring. Coffee with friends though - is priceless.simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-25613586212109656992011-05-11T16:07:00.000-04:002011-05-13T16:39:59.623-04:00Come on Summer....The countdown has begun and soon school will be over and Summertime will be upon us! I can't wait. I was so optimistic at the beginning of the year, but then things changed. Now we are just getting through. <br />
<br />
I have the two year itch. Feel like we should be moving. In the past 14 years we have moved 7 times. So to be staying put seems a bit unsettling. It doesn't help that things at school are winding down and the dynamics of certain friendships are dwindling. I seem to find myself in these situations where everything is going fine with friends and then suddenly something changes and it just becomes awkward and I am not quite sure why. I guess it falls under the friends for a season category?<br />
<br />
I like getting to know people. Some I hit it off with, others not so much, but that's okay. Some people I get to know a little to well. I see how they treat others and then when I get that treatment I kick myself. It makes things clear, and I then realize that I have been too open with my life and begin to feel like a fool. So, a good lesson in privacy. New friendships form out of the blue and life goes on.<br />
<br />
My goal is to simplify. Simplify life. Enjoy the little things, celebrate the small stuff, and end each day knowing that time was used well. I look forward to spending time with the girls this summer. Building a stronger relationship with them. Today is so beautiful outside and I couldn't be happier sitting outside, loving the soft breeze, and relaxing with the girls. Now if only someone would come over here and cook dinner. THAT would make the day perfect.simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-630706636262833222011-04-26T22:09:00.000-04:002011-04-26T22:09:05.727-04:00The down sideLast week we went on a family vacation with very close friends of ours. The are the kind of friends that only exist on sitcoms. Where the husbands, wives, and children all get along with each other. Really get along. We are the next best thing to family. Given some of our family experiences, I could say better than family. There is no judgement, only love and understanding. Neither of us have the answers to all life's problems and neither of us pretend that we do. It' truly a Divine friendship that began over 10 years ago in a small town in Italy. <br />
<br />
So what is the down side I am referring to? Well, not the friends, not the children, but the fact that my daughter has Asperger's and all the things that define her as an Aspie were in our face all week long. There were many variables that contributed to the increased struggles. Change of routine, well more aptly a lack of routine, and constant social interactions. D1 and our friends two daughters are like the three stooges. They play together very well. D1 takes charge and they follow her like little lemmings. They will play together for hours, something that D2 is incapable of doing. There were many times when D2 would become overwhelmed and just leave the situation upset. Sometimes she would stay and argue. D1 knows how this works, she is used to her sister and knows her struggles, but this week she seemed to have forgotten all those things. I constantly heard complaints about D2. "When she doesn't get her way she leaves". "I was kidding and she got all mad". "She said I was making mean faces but I wasn't". "She always has to sit on the end and have her own space".<br />
<br />
This made me realize just how much she struggles socially. If there was ever any doubt about the need for therapy in her life - last week cured all those doubts. I found myself constantly in a state of apologizing. Adding to my feeling of failure as her mother. Then the biggest moment - the most piercing comment "I know that D2 has somethings going on with her, but I just wish she could be normal so everyone would stop fighting." Wow. This lil angel did not intend her words to be mean or hurtful They were exactly how she felt. How many of us felt at any given moment, but wouldn't dare speak out loud. Just hearing these words through her tears made my heart stop, my through tighten, and at that moment I couldn't breathe. I wanted to scream out "I wish she could be normal too!" "I wish that little things like personal space, and flexibility, and food, and bowel movements were not issues." Instead, I left the room. I had to remove myself as far away as I could. I wanted to leave the house and just walk until I was too tired to walk anymore. I made it to the top deck of the beach house and curled up in a chair and sobbed. I sobbed like a small child, crying out to God asking why it had to be so hard. Why did it have to hurt so much to have a child who to those who don't understand seems like a spoiled brat. This child who is amazing in so many ways has to struggle with such simple things that come naturally to her peers. I felt ungrateful. I know that there are children on the Autism Spectrum that are not as high functioning as D2, parents who have children with disabilities far worse, and knew that God had chosen just the right parents for them. I had to believe that God also chose Husband and I for D2. And she for us. It was at this moment I think I finally grieved the loss of the perfect dream that every mother has for her children. It was at this moment I came face to face with the reality that D2 was indeed on the Spectrum. Not just in all the quirky funny ways, and all the positives, but that there were real issues there, real struggles, and real consequences. <br />
<br />
Later that night D2 was again in a situation where everyone was upset and frustrated with her. She was so overwhelmed and frustrated with herself, she had gone into a full fit. Hitting herself, growling, and pulling away from everyone. She finally broke from anger to crying and said "it's nice that I am so super smart and good at math, but I just wish my friends could get me. I wish people other than you and dad could really get me." <br />
<br />
My heat broke. Again I felt overwhelmed and thoughts of losing friends because they couldn't handle D2 crept into my mind. Who would love her if something happened to Husband and I? Would someone be willing to raise her, to take her and her issues on? Or would she be left on her own? Will she learn the skills she needs to be independent and successful? Will she fall to the statistic of Aspies that earn high level degrees but because of the lack of social skills can never get past the interview? Will others see the magnificent potential in her that Husband and I see? My heart breaks for my little love. <br />
<br />
The week came to a bitter sweet end. Our friends are still our friends, and even answered the phone when I called. The truly are a blessing to us, and D2 is just wild about them.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Es4lmUVopIElSLB-tPMlajV9k1EH7-bJA5Qw4jtoUUfQuNdkJ2DL8LkSHXLMzfZYDlLKXjaNWdK3a9wukIzX1pL2uy9Ee9tamzuC-AvlewfGrmRrZTBi4jxTYi8d6rhZ3RI-mzWiIGUA/s1600/IMG_8615.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="266" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8Es4lmUVopIElSLB-tPMlajV9k1EH7-bJA5Qw4jtoUUfQuNdkJ2DL8LkSHXLMzfZYDlLKXjaNWdK3a9wukIzX1pL2uy9Ee9tamzuC-AvlewfGrmRrZTBi4jxTYi8d6rhZ3RI-mzWiIGUA/s400/IMG_8615.JPG" width="400" /></a></div><br />
I know that I can only take one day at a time. To live each moment in the fullest. To let the simple giggles and moments when I watch her and fall even deeper in love with her - be the moments that I focus on. To let those moments creep in when the world seems alone and without hope. I used to judge people who would talk about the "sucky side of Autism" and would focus on all the bright spots, and little quirks that were manageable. The truth is there are times when Autism stinks big ones, but D2 is not defined by her diagnosis, She is much much more. Her diagnosis is only a part of who she is - a part that we are learning about, and learning how to cope with, and adapt to. People tell me that D2 is so lucky to have a mom like me... truth is, I am the lucky one. I am humbled by her unconditional love and I pray that she will know that same love 10 fold.simply mehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15240334579124249265noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-466486518762349803.post-89351883684087334962011-04-25T22:34:00.001-04:002011-04-25T22:54:23.516-04:00Where I have been...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Just a taste of the 1200+ photos taken while we enjoyed our spring break at the Outer Banks.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpe-118LkFcvpvH8jRDsZ-eLfZNaaPKKYextx640i1cptDowRj1acX8ahKyS4BXkToKlydBHvnkuFGph_vrBqI2SyykisSXaDcuXFq-7I7CTlHOb_3bDxLFgU6m2TubgtGnwhlzpvGjDUg/s1600/IMG_8413.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="426" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpe-118LkFcvpvH8jRDsZ-eLfZNaaPKKYextx640i1cptDowRj1acX8ahKyS4BXkToKlydBHvnkuFGph_vrBqI2SyykisSXaDcuXFq-7I7CTlHOb_3bDxLFgU6m2TubgtGnwhlzpvGjDUg/s640/IMG_8413.JPG" width="640" /></a></div><br />
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Roanoke Island.. Amazing to stand where the first settlers landed...<br />
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