Being a piss and ASD

A few weeks ago, my 3.5 year old had an assessment with a pediatric neurologist to determine if he had some for of autism or behavior disorder. Of course, my boy wasn't having anything to do with this new doctor and his activities. He ignored every attempt to get his attention, he used hand gestures to answer questions, and sat sullen in my lap. Somehow the Dr made an assessment.
He said," if anyone questions him or you, tell them you've seen a neurologist and to mind their own business. He's not autistic, he has no behavior disorders. He's a cute kid and extremely smart, but he's a piss. And what do we do with pissers? We give them choices. He can choose to speak or choose to follow directions or he gets nothing. He's stubborn. Just be consistent with him and he will outgrow it."
A- I didn't take offense because he spoke plainly and I liked the honest raw truth. I actually laughed at his statement. B- Wed been doing the whole choice and consequence thing.
  I left feeling disheartened because he was my last hope to figure out what was wrong with this kid of mine. We'd been around in circles and no one could tell me why he is how he is. I have worked with many many young children and I know the difference between a child who is stubborn, and a child who can't cope in social situations. I did schedule a follow up per the Dr's request and hoped that our next appointment would be different.

A couple days ago, we had the follow up appointment. The Dr asked me how it was going with his behavior, but this time I had written down specific examples of the things that concerned me. After sharing those examples, the Dr did another assessment. He got the same results, but more defiance than before. It confused me because on the drive there, my son had said he was ready to talk and play at the office and now he was giving the Dr the cold shoulder.
The Dr decided to diagnose him with ASD- autism spectrum disorder. He said he uses the term lightly because he can't evaluate where my son would be on the spectrum, and also he doesn't like the unsure term( he's more of a either you are or you aren't kind of guy). However he knew in order for us to get insurance approval, we'd need a medical diagnosis. He gave a referral for an ABA therapy assessment that can determine what areas he needs help in.
Even though I felt a weight come off me because I knew we were finally getting the help I knew he needed, I realized that our battle has just begun. We'd fought with the school district and private speech therapy and insurance to get some help. Now we have someone that listened and we get to battle more.
It's worth it though. I long for the day when I can understand his behavior and needs and not have to guess what he wants. I can't wait to see him open his mouth to speak to his friends and to participate in school activities. I hope that whatever is holding him back can be changed so that he can learn to cope with his emotional outbursts and social life.
One step at a time. Deep breaths.

Sunday

I've known many mothers, and even fathers, that have had the same thoughts as I when it comes to getting young kids ready for church. Sunday is the most chaotic day of my week. It's not like I have something hard to accomplish....oh yes I do. Getting kids to church.
In the morning, I get up, race through breakfast, beg the girls to get dressed and ready, and then wrestle, literally wrestle, the boys into their clothes. In the midst of the chaos of complaint girls, pouting boys, and a dog who doesn't want to be left behind, I start running a obstacle course marathon from one end to the other of the house, trying to successfully beat the clock and be at church on time. Somewhere in there, I miraculously don on my own Sunday clothes, slap on some makeup, throw my hair up because there's no time to do anything with it at all and grab the bag of random stuff to keep my kids quiet during the meeting and hustle everyone out the door, leaving the dog behind, whining in his cage about the unfairness of being stuck at home.
  As soon as I get there, I'm hustling kids to their various classes, only to collapse on the couch in the foyer and catch a breath. There really is no point in going to class. Once I sit my butt in a chair, the baby will squeal and wiggle and want to run. So we wait in the foyer. I'm doing the class a service because if I let the baby cry, they wouldn't be able to hear. So really, I'm just being a kind friend. I can hear the bits and pieces of the lesson over baby talk from the couch.
  First hour passes, second goes by. Is there really a point to going? By now, it's naptime, and the squealing has increased to a fussy scream and mainly a time for J to throw himself on the floor. Aa few moms will join me at this point. Our church foyer is baby central.
   Our third hour is the main service all together. My kids are hungry, the baby is restless, at this point L is cranky from being tired and sitting still. Today particularly, we sat in front of our friends, and behind our other friends. The friends behind us, entertained the baby as much as they could until their mom shushed them. In front of us, was L's little girlfriend and the two of them shared snacks and then rolled under the bench, laughing and talking to her. Reverence doesn't happen with little ones.
Sometime in the middle of the meeting, J decided to have a hollering match with his cousin across the isle. Eventually, daddy took him out because he was walking down the isle and stopping to say hi to each person. I inherited the job of getting L to settle down, and the girls both started whining about wanting candy or something to eat because they are starving.
  I'm not sure what was said during church, I'm sure it was wonderful. Most Sundays I wonder why I'm even there. I spend three hours struggling with kids, and I get nothing out of it. Except I do. I'm teaching my kids obedience by example. We need to go to church and letting hardships stop us doesn't show obedience. I, as a mother, am in charge of  teaching my children. It would be easier to stay home, but that would teach my kids that church isn't important when the kids don't behave. They will learn to sit still as they grow and someday I'll be able to hear some great messages. But for now, I'll just be sitting in the back entertaining babies.

Goodbye

How do you say goodbye to someone who's been with you your entire life? The one who listens to you ramble without judgement, who attends every event you invite her to, who has the kindest heart and has always been willing to serve anyone in need?

That was me today. I said goodbye to my granny. She didn't die, but mostly likely our visit today will be our last.

She loves my kids, but can't remember their names. She dresses everyday in her Sunday best because she forgets what day it is. She can't even figure out what she likes to eat. She celebrates her 90th birthday in a few weeks. But she doesn't remember.

Watching her grow old makes me sad. I just can't imagine my life without her. She's always been there. I always assumed she would be there forever. That I would have plenty of time. And now that time is gone.

I'm so glad my kids got to have time with her, making memories and enjoying some of the same little moments I did as a child. Reading to me, singing songs, her gardening hat and gloves that she wore while caring for her rose garden. She always had special treats for the kids, new toys and crayons, fun little trinkets. She sent me Valentines in the mail every year, as well as my children, when they came along. The ten dollar bill in my birthday card.

She always had a way of putting things in perspective for me, experience in relationships, or teaching my children, or trials I suffered. She was kind. She never judged. I was never a disappointment to her.

Tomorrow she leaves for Utah. She can't live on her own anymore and her kids found a home for her there. I've been told it's nice and her room is big and they are taking some of her possessions to make it feel more familiar and cozy. I don't travel to Utah often. I don't know if I'll make it out there before she dies.

Tonight I told her I would miss her. She said she would only be gone a few days. She doesn't understand what's happening. She asked me to come and visit her again soon. I promised her I'd try. I told her I loved her. I kissed her. I told her to be a good girl and try not to give her kids a hard time. She laughed. And now I am home, sitting here with a hole in my heart.

Just in the last few moments have I really realized how precious life is. I knew it already, but what a great reminder for me. As I watched my baby toddler across the yard, listened to my granny ramble nonsense conversations that she can't finish, it will all disappear in the blink of an eye. Time does not stop, use it wisely.
Oh how I love you granny. Till we meet again....

2 a.m.

 I have a love/hate relationship with 2 a.m.

     I love 2 a.m. It's quiet and dark and an even number( I have an obsessions with even numbers). I, however, hate 2 a.m. when I'm awake. And I have to say, it's been quite often lately that I have met up with 2 a.m. And it's all thanks to the teething toddler that won't sleep without his mama.

     Don't get me wrong, I love that boy, even in the wee dark hours of the morning. But, when I'm trying to fight for my mind to be clear and my body needing energy, waking up is not the greatest thing. Frequently, it's been an every hour kind of party for the kid and my mind is out of control. I just need him to sleep. The hours have crept by in the night, 1 am, 2 am, 3:30am, 4:27am...5:36 am. I just can't do it anymore I need sleep.

     I love this story. I think the bad language makes it funnier. And at 2 am, I cannot deny that I haven't thought the same thoughts as this book.

     Now that the kids teeth have broken through, I am hoping he will sleep. I may be running on fumes for a while, but I know when he goes to college, he won't be in my bed at 2 am. It will end eventually.

I hope.

Finding Joy in MY Journey

   I'm terrible at blogging.

    I love to write, I just never have the time to sit and do it. When I was a child I'd write stories in notebooks and think of ways to make sure my characters always had their dream lives. Isn't that what happily ever after is all about? Having everything you've ever wanted?

    Real life is different. It's good and it's bad, it's up and down, it's joy and heartbreak. Sometimes we don't get what we want, we end up with what we need. Just like at this moment, what I want is peace and quiet to work on some photo editing, but instead I have a little boy fake snoring in my face, and interrupting me every thirty seconds with endless questions. I must need to learn patience, endurance, or long suffering. I clearly haven't learned it yet because it's a constant battle. Now the kid wants his nails clipped. He hates having his nails clipped. He's stalling bedtime. Patience, endurance, long suffering...I can do this.

   I suffer from Depression. I think that is the first time I've ever acknowledged it in writing. Or in life for that matter. I've actually had it for quite a while. When I was in college and going through a really really tough time, I started to harm myself and a friend directed me to a leader who could get me help. I was thrown into therapy. Surprisingly, I loved it. She helped me recognize the disease, the symptoms and how to treat them. Since then I've had many ups and downs. For the past year I've been treated for post partum depression. I feel like I've lost my mind. I was doing so well during pregnancy and then after the birth of my fourth baby, my mind has lost it's ability to make sense. At least that's what it feels like. However, now my doctor thinks it's an attribute to another cause. One we are researching and testing for. Really, I don't care what is wrong with my body, I just want it fixed. I want my mind back. I want to be able to function like a normal person and be independent again.

The dog is ruffing. The boy is yelling at him. Go to sleep, kid. This mom is worn out.

    I decided this year that I've been quite the whiner over the past couple years and that needs to stop. I've been listening to Hank Smith's cd collection of talks for LDS youth for the past couple months( if you've never hear them, they are amazing. My kids LOVE them. I highly recommend them). They are very uplifting and have reached inside and stirred something in me. One of his talks is titled, Being Happy in an Unhappy World.  In it, he talks about spinning every negative into a positive. It sounded so easy that I spent an entire day trying to do it. And I failed.

   Why is it so hard to take something negative and turn it into something positive? Am I really that cynical? Is there nothing positive and happy to recognize in my life? What kind of life am I living if I am only able to recognize the bad stuff and not think any good came out of it?

    That's when I decided that this year I wanted to find Joy. Whatever journey I'm on in this life, I want it to be a happy one. I want to be able to recognize all the good inside of the bad. I want my kids feelings to be more important than my need to be right. I want to look at a stranger and see the good side of them. I want to help everyone around me with things they can't do themselves. Because that's how I find joy, in serving others, in filling a need, in being wanted when help is needed.

    I challenged myself to find joy in my journey this week. And yesterday, I found it by being honest with someone that needed to hear it. After holding it back for so long, it was freeing. And I've not been this happy in a long time. Today, my nine year old spilled a bag of cereal on the floor and cried, like literal sobbing in a chair. When I asked her what happened, between sobs she cried, " it was an accident! I got cereal all over the floor!"

     Now, the old me probably would have lectured her about being careful, telling her to clean it up and stop being so messy. Instead, I gathered her in my arms, hugged her tight, and whispered, "it's okay. We'll count it as the dog's dinner tonight because I haven't fed him yet."

     She burst out laughing and I wiped her tears and told her to go make another bowl of cereal, and I let the dog eat the cereal for once because I didn't feel like sweeping it up( he's not usually allowed people food, so really it's his lucky day).

     And there it was. The positive in the negative. No shouting. No lectures. No crazy mean mom losing her cool about the kids messes. Just life and letting the bad go. So that is why I've decided to write it down. If only for me, at least I will see how far I've come when I look back. I'm sure people will just think me a crazy mom that's not in her right mind, and they'd be right. But at least I'm a happy one, finding joy in MY journey.

The three year old is asleep finally. I can actually get some work done.

Nope. The baby is crying. At least he'll keep my lap warm.