Wordless Wednesday: 1…2…3…Today

Happy birthday!

To Knit Is To Create

I had the opportunity to have a knitting get together with Stephanie from Adventures in Babywearing last night. How fun to have a friend who is smart and fun and likes to knit too! She also has three boys, so we had plenty to talk about while sipping our drinks at Starbucks.

I look forward to meeting more bloggy friends!

Crazy Talk

We finally returned from our vacation, we’re done bailing our basement out after what seemed like 20 inches of rain, and we finally had a chance to sit and breathe. There are many things over due in our lives, things that we’d rather not ever have to deal with. Why do we let these things haunt us?

We’ve been contemplating the fact that our second son may be on the Autistic spectrum, just like his big brother. Honestly, this is not an unexpected turn of events, because the risk of a male sibling of an Autistic male having Autism himself is disturbingly high. However, we thought Jamie would be different. He talked from the start, and has even had better behavior and social skills than his big brother ever had. But as we watch those skills disappear, and some old familiar symptoms pop up, we can’t live in wonder any longer. Tomorrow I will start the process of getting him formally evaluated, and then we start our journey of therapy and more, all just to help him cope with the world.

We are grateful that he appears to be high functioning, just like his brother. I have been having the most difficult time parenting him lately, so its somewhat a relief to imagine that help is on the way.

Both of my older boys would probably seem typical to outsiders who only see them now and then. They can often hold it together while out in public. When at home, when they can feel safe to be themselves, is when things are the worst. However, I am full of hope. Our eldest has made leaps and bounds in his life, as I’ve already shared before. No reason not to believe and trust that our sweet middle child will have the same success.

The hard part right now is getting through the now. I desperately miss my son, that sweet middle child is not so sweet right now. He’s frustrated pretty much 24 hours a day. He is increasingly intense and almost every day now seems full of fighting. He’s always fighting with someone, and he is just three years old on Wednesday. So much angst, in so little time!

Yesterday I was rocking him and pretending he was my baby again. He seemed to be enjoying it, cuddling up next to me and I couldn’t help being reminded of times gone by. Out of no where, after I had said something to him like “I used to rock you all the time like this”, he said to me, deadly serious, “Are you talking crazy to me?”. It made me laugh so hard, but the truth is that he just couldn’t fathom what I was trying to tell him. It epitomized what we’ve been going through with him lately. We talk, we plead, we yell, we dole out the discipline and the incentives, and nothing gets through to him. He can’t connect the dots. Its like we’re just talkin crazy.

I’ll try to keep this blog updated on the process, on the evaluations and the like. I don’t know if anyone out there is interested, but its so helpful to be able to get my thoughts down on my virtual paper and just breathe.

I try to include a little fun, a little snark, in my posts, however I’m having a hard time figuring out where to fit it into this one. I’ll just end it with a statement of fact. The three month old baby sleeping next to me has the stinkiest farts I’ve ever smelt in my life. Hands down.

Throwback Thursday: That’ll Do, Pig.

This first one makes me laugh because I really don’t remember ever posing with a pig, much less with Babe himself. Judging by my hair and the maternity shirt, it was a little over 5 years ago. You’d think a girl would recall such a monumental event. I’m sure I was forced into this picture by my loving husband because of the fact that I can imitate Babe’s voice pretty spot on. Its not something I whip out on demand, but I do use it as a party pleaser at holiday family gatherings. I can’t disappoint my fans.

This second picture is almost 2 years after the first one, and is one of my least favorite in my entire collection, and I honestly wish I had the nerve to delete it permanently. This picture represents one of the hardest (if not THE hardest) times in my life. Charlie is just over two years old here.

This picture was taken at Thanksgiving, and you can see its not usually what kids wear (or rather, don’t wear) at their Thanksgiving celebrations. What you can’t see is that right next to him is all the men in our family taking a big family photo together. Charlie wanted no part of it. We took this photo to at least have a pic of him on that day, despite the way we all were feeling.

This photo represents a time when Charlie’s Autism had taken over his whole self. His whole world. He refused to wear clothing because (and I can only assume this, because he was not verbal at the time) it hurt his little body just to wear sleeves, tags, waist bands. We could never comb or cut his hair, because he couldn’t handle the sensory aspects of it without total meltdowns. He refused to be in photos, never mind smile. His world was entirely separated from everyone else. He couldn’t tolerate our world, and he couldn’t even speak to express how or why things bothered him, so he’d just scream. All. day. long. Since he couldn’t tolerate our world and we couldn’t get inside his, he was isolated. His sadness, isolation and lack of joy broke our hearts every single day.

We were blessed beyond belief shortly after that Thanksgiving. Through the financial help of both sides of our family, Charlie started intensive therapies. He got the early intervention that so many children don’t. His brain not only healed, but he learned skills to cope with his sensory problems. He isn’t entirely in our world now, but the two worlds are finally connecting. We have finally met the son that was inside that little body all along. He’s passionate, loving, and a comic at heart. He finally found joy.

I realized after writing all this, that its only fair to post a pic of him now, to compare and rejoice. Here’s Charlie this past weekend, almost 3 years after that last photo:

Love.

Tapped Out.

As the summer winds down, I feel like one of those runners finishing a marathon, barely making it to the end. As you watch them finish their insanely long race, their bodies are practically convulsing as they collapse on the other side of the finish line. Sometimes they can’t even celebrate, because they aren’t just tapped out, their unconscious. Has this been the longest, most exhausting summer ever? Or is it just me? Not only am I losing the race, I feel like I’m crawling the last leg on my hands and knees, hoping just to survive.

We leave in a couple days (again!) for California. We’ll be beaching it in San Diego, then back to our old stomping ground, L.A. The good thing about this trip is that we’re just relaxing. No people to go see, no events we’re expected at. Finally we can sorta kinda rest and maybe get a little sleep. Maybe. I keep hearing that line from Happy Gilmore rolling around in my head, “are you too good for your home?!”.

I’m hoping that when our vacation is over and we return home, we attempt to get back into our routines, and we finally unpack for the first time in weeks, we can find some sense of the laid-back-easy-peasy life we so crave. I feel burned out. I don’t get out enough by myself, or with my hubs. We used to get out once a week for a date night, but now its so hard to find a sitter its almost too much work to even try.

I literally thirst for things like a kick boxing class or pilates, never mind a knitting get together. What kind of freak craves an exercise class? Before I had kids I used to yoga (yes, its also a verb) regularly. Now I get excited when I find out I can make it to any class at all (even jazzercise would feel luxurious).

Sometimes I feel like I’m really not successful at figuring out how to schedule myself or my kids effectively. I see some women who seem to be doing it all, and think, why can’t I? I wonder if I should keep trying, or just give in and accept that I won’t get to feel truly organized and pulled together until the kids are much older. Like when I’m 80. I have to admit that I hate driving around in our super cool minivan (that we love to hate and hate to love) looking like I just rolled out of bed, but some days it’s all I can do.

Wordless Wednesday: First Cubs Game