Make new friends but keep the old....

And anyone who was ever a Girl Scout (or has a daughter who is) knows the end of that.

....... one is silver and the other gold.

I had just about the best Mother's Day surprise I could have asked for yesterday. One of my best friends from college was in the area and stopped by for a visit. Okay, it wasn't a *complete* surprise - she'd called me Thursday night to ask how close we were to the Boy Scout camp she would be at for the weekend with her son. Turns out they were maybe a half hour drive away. So I got to spend about 2 hours on Sunday afternoon catching up with her.

Wow. Time warp. This is the woman who was my Maid of Honor in my wedding. I was Matron of Honor in hers. We lived in the same dorm for 3 years - I met her when she moved into the room next door to mine when she was a freshman and I was a sophomore. She was my clown partner in the college's clown troupe that we both joined that year. We worked together at the campus' library. Spent countless hours hanging out in each other's rooms - late night study sessions, gab sessions, planning sessions for the various groups we were both part of.

Since we both belonged to several of the Christian groups on campus we also shared a large group of friends. I don't think a day went by in those 3 years that we didn't see each other - it was like having a sister (which for me, as an only child, was very cool).

Now, even though we live in separate states, we still share a bunch of things. Our sons are only a year apart (but they're both 1st year Webelos in Cub Scouts), our daughters the same age (both Daisies - little Girl Scouts). Both of us dealing with the educational issues of our sons - my oldest being autistic and hers in the process of figuring out what IEP/diagnosis fits best (most likely ADD, they think).

It's amazing after all these years the things I remember about her - she tells me casually that she's in charge of her daughter's Daisy troop.... and I just stare at her. Herding little kids never used to be her thing (either of ours, actually) *You're* in charge - of how many little girls? Sixteen, she tells me. Then she rolls her eyes. Ah, I see - another of those things us mothers get roped into for the sake of our kids. It was supposed to a shared thing, you see - only her co-leader's been "busy" lately. Mind you - I'm sure she's sensational at it - her organizational skills were always waaay better than mine. But it was cool to see that underneath the "mom" facade she's still the same person.

There's a "Rose is Rose" cartoon that my husband cut out and gave to me years back. It shows Rose looking through her photo albums, re-meeting herself at different ages, and all of them joining her on the couch to look at the pictures together. Then she gives them all a hug - and her husband finds her hugging herself and says "you look very together". That's kind of how yesterday made me feel....

What she said....

Having been "off the air" for some time - and sitting here waiting for the coffee buzz to take effect, I stumbled upon one of my regular bloggers who took the words right out of my mouth (or brain, whatever). Thanks, Sherry...

http://sherryantonettiwrites.blogspot.com/2010/05/what-is-required.html

What a long, strange winter it's been...

I'm starting to feel like I want to go and reread Laura Ingalls Wilder's The Long Winter again. Granted, we're not on the South Dakota plains, and have received much less snow than they did that winter. But it would help, as my children (and cat) go cabin fever crazy, to remind myself of how much better I have it.

You would not believe that one simple blizzard could shut down an entire tri-state area. But this is not Chicago or New York - this is Washington DC. You have to see it to believe it. They closed school on Friday before any snow even fell. And while I'm grateful my husband didn't have to drive home on the slippy roads, the Pennsylvanian in me found it all a little Chicken Little-ish, watching people clear off store shelves like Armageddon was approaching.

To be sure, we are some of the lucky ones - we kept our power (so far) and so mostly have to deal with lots of shoveling and digging (hubby) and laundry (me, stocking up in case of loss of power) - oh and cabin fevered small creatures. Though at one point at the height of the blizzard we did marshal all our available flashlights, blankets and sleeping bags in case we had to weather the storm with no heat. And figured out that if we set up our camping tent in the living room we could make ourselves an emergency shelter.

Between 2 blizzards, a bunch of snow days, and 2 rounds of illness I've spent a lot of time this winter behind these 4 walls. I'm starting to feel like a hermit - but not by choice. And it's wreaking havoc on our schedule - doctor's appointments, scout meetings, and school have been set, canceled, rescheduled, and canceled again. My kids may be going to school in July. My littlest - who just started preschool 2 weeks ago - doesn't even know what a normal week of school looks like yet. My husband is chopping out our cars in hopes of making a cautious run for (what else?) milk, eggs, and toilet paper. I saw a story on the news of a Humvee getting stuck on the snow covered city streets - a Humvee! Trees are bent over or broken in half. There's 2 piles of snow on either side of our walk that are as tall as me (I'm 5'2"). If I wanted to get creative I could carve out some nice ice lions or gargoyles or some such.

I'm starting to look longingly at the pictures of summer posted by bloggy friends in Australia. They say it's 70 degrees in Florida where the Superbowl is taking place today - I'd take a road trip, if only I could get out of our neighborhood.... anyone got some sled dogs?

Not your (neuro)typical household

Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to have "normal" kids. Those of you who know me are saying "ha ha" right about now. How normal can kids be who grow up in a house where the parents don't want cable TV, read obsessively, and who have discussions on theoretical physics around the dinner table.

Since it is my oldest who has autism, I have never known what it is like to parent only "normal" children. And I have reason to suspect that even my neurotypical children have leanings towards that end of the brain spectrum. They are all 3 very sensitive to certain foods, over-stimulation, picky clothing tags, uncomfortable fabrics, etc.

What is it like to get children ready for school without having to suddenly clip out a tag, change a shirt for a more comfortable one, not have to worry about sock seams being just right? What is it like to not have to negotiate afternoon peace treaties between 2 over-stimulated kids when one is an autistic introvert and the other is an ADHD-leaning extreme extrovert? What is it like to actually have time to finish one's laundry, housecleaning, grocery shopping, cooking without having to navigate a crisis every 5 minutes? What is it like to have children who actually need the 10 hours of sleep recommended for their ages? What is it like to not feel compelled to discuss personal family matters in stores with strangers so that people don't think your kids are merely being brats? What is it like to not have to wonder every day that some doctor is going to want to force strong medicines on your beautiful child to make them behave in a "normal" fashion in school? What is it like to not have to worry about whether the world will accept your children and their unique gifts?

Most of all, who is it who gets to decide what "normal" is anyway? I wonder....

Rekindling an old obsession

On Saturday Dec. 12th my oldest son, Christopher, turned 10. That afternoon, after returning from the pancake breakfast we went to for his Scout troop, he surprised me by going to the bookshelf in our bedroom and pulling out all 3 of the photo albums that house the pictures of little baby Christopher. He brought them down to the living room and he and his sister had a great time looking at them. It occurred to me as I peered over their shoulders that I hadn't seen Charlotte and Connor's wee little baby pictures in a while.

So began the photo quest. One of the main places I knew I would find them was on my scrapbooking shelves in the basement (for all you scrapbookers, it is a nice *dry* basement - not finished (yet) but not a repository of mildew). Some years back - about 2 babies ago - the ladies in my church were heavily into scrapbooking. I got caught up in the frenzy and fell in love with it. Even became a consultant for a while - but then after 2 more kids and a move, life happened and it went by the wayside.

Well, I started rummaging through all my crop bags and came up with not just the baby photos, but a lovingly half-finished scrapbook that I'd forgotten I'd been working on. And then I stumbled upon a passel of pictures I'd rescued from my mom's house - photos of my teenage years, and our house, and....gulp....my Daddy - gone almost 5 years now. Standing beside a snowman we'd made.....posing in front of the house on a summer's day. And pictures of the things he loved - his old '69 Ford that he called Big Blue, and the outdoor Nativity he set up so carefully every Christmas. Ohhhh, boy. The memories.

I really don't need something else to do right now. Between Chris on the cusp of puberty, Connor getting developmental testing for a speech delay, trying to not lose Charlotte in between them, waiting to see if Brian has a job next year (school budget cuts), an aborted attempt at a church hunt, and a lot of annoying (but thankfully not serious) winter illnesses I have my hands quite full.

But - maybe - in the few spare minutes I hardly have, maybe I could also dig out some pages and adhesive. You know, for the kids' sake (wink, wink).

Between a rock and a (frightening) hard place

For the last 6 years my son, Christopher, has been successfully navigating the isolating waters of autism. He has had an excellent program at school, and has made leaps and bounds in speech, reading, communication, and social matters. Of course, he has always had good and bad days, like anyone. Usually these "bad" behavior days were egged on by tiredness, illness, hunger, or over-stimulation (or some combination thereof). Always before, there was a cause.

Now, however, since the beginning of this school year, his usual 1-2 week blip of a bad spell has turned into a 3 month bad spell - with no apparent known cause. I wait on pins and needles for his behavior book to come home each day. We haven't gone more than 2 days at a time without serious infractions. And yet - at home, he is normal (well, as normal as normal gets around here).

I have my suspicions, of course. He is soon going to be 10 years old. He has recently had a enormous growth spurt. He's gained about 3 inches of height and at least 15 pounds since maybe last spring. And according to my husband, he himself began puberty right around this age. So I probably have testosterone-fueled aggression in my normally pretty mild mannered son. Who has autism. Who doesn't understand what's happening to his body. Who by the very nature of his condition has difficulty dealing with uncontrollable changes in his world.

There has been talk of counseling (expensive) and medicine (expensive and possibly dangerous). I have been trying to get him in to his pediatrician to get some answers and advice. Meanwhile, it feels like his teachers are telling me to please "fix" him and then send him back.

I am doing my research - and I know one thing for certain - I will do anything I have to in order to avoid giving him those powerful drugs. They are not the cure-all that doctors and Big Pharma would have the public believe. There are alternative methods. I will find them. I have to. Nobody else will fight for the health and well being of my little boy.

Autism is a very lonely road for anyone whose life it touches.

A string around her finger

My daughter is a very "in-the-moment" kind of girl. I liken her to a little butterfly flitting and floating about. She's very happy-go-lucky with intense quicksilver emotions. The only problem is that the objects in her world are very loosely attached to her too. If it's not needed in-the-moment, off it goes - flung off carelessly into the stratosphere - never to be thought of again until the next time it occurs to her to look.

This morning, it was her backpack. Unlike days gone by where it was a child's choice whether or not to carry one, now it is required by the school. When we got to the bus stop this morning, there she stood - 3 little ponies and a stuffed cat in hand - innocently asking "Mommy, where's my backpack?" Me, I hadn't noticed it wasn't there, as I had grabbed both kids' umbrellas in case the gray skies actually opened up on us.

Sigh - of course the *right* thing to do is send her back for it. Except, she won't learn the lesson, and I'd be stuck driving her to school. Meanwhile, Chris's bus is due any moment. I tell him to hand his stuffed tiger to his sister when it arrives. Off to get the backpack. I get halfway down the block to see his bus pull up. After making sure he got on, I continue on toward home for the backpack. (Incidentally, she was waiting with her best friend and best friend's mom). I get back and ask her if Chris gave her the tiger. Well - Responsible Son didn't want to leave it in the wrong place, so he took it with him. Turns out the bus driver is holding it for him. Thank you, Considerate Bus Driver - you must have kids too.

Yesterday I had made the mistake of sending her to school in layered shirts. It was picture day, and I'd grabbed a cute, inexpensive shirt at Walmart because it was a pretty color on her. Like many of the current fashions it was actually two pieces layered together. Because of picture day, I forgot that this is always a bad idea. I'd braided her long hair into pigtails as well, in hopes of keeping it looking nice for the picture - along with a stern warning to Leave Them Alone until afterwards. As she got off the bus her hair was flying loose, she handed me the hair elastics, and the top shirt was flying free, left dangling by the little plastic hang tag joining it to the shoulder of the shirt underneath. My wee little snake, constantly shedding her "skin" everywhere.

My mother loves to buy my kids these cute 3 piece outfits - pants, shirt, warm-up jacket - or pants, shirt, vest, etc. Yeah, not a good idea for Little Miss. It took me a while to catch on, but after numerous calls, emails and notes to teachers to "please send Charlotte's sweater/jacket/gloves/hat home again" I've come up with a system. All her school jackets have hoods, all her school gloves are dollar store cheapies, and in winter (when Little Miss is cold all the time) she wears a strappy camisole under the appropriate weight shirt or sweater - she's not allowed to run around school in that so she can't take her shirt off.

Now if I can just fasten her backpack to her coat I'll be all set...