If You Give a Mom a Muffin

If you give a mom a muffin, she just might want hot tea with it.  

And a quiet moment to enjoy them, but well, kids.

Upon opening the microwave to heat up the water, she sees the microwave really should be cleaned.  She goes to the cleaning cabinet for some cleaner.

When she reaches for the cleaner, she realizes she's out of cleaner, along with a few other household items.  Soooo she heads for her computer to add those items to the shopping list.  

On her way to the computer, she notices the floors really could use a good vacuuming (dust bunnies and duck feathers everywhere while Jeeves the Robot Vacuum is still on Christmas vacation!).  She takes a detour from the computer to the closet for the vacuum.

When she opens the coat closet for the vacuum, she notices several coats on the floor.  The coats the kids were supposed to hang up.  *Sigh*  After hanging the coats up--

"Hmmmm.  What was I doing?," she thinks to herself.

Unable to remember, she heads upstairs to tackle the laundry.  

From the stairwell, she hears children fighting.  Changing course, she heads to break up the fight.

While breaking up the fight, she notices how awful the boy's room looks.  

"Okay!  Let's tackle this room," she shouts.

She gives the children their marching (cleaning) orders, and exclaims, "Let's do this bathroom while we're at it!" 

Boys are sooooo gross.

It's time for dinner and with everything else she didn't do today, she forgot to prepare something for dinner!  Frozen pizza it is!

Okay, a little bit of TV before bed--but only a little, okay?  Hoping to just flop on the couch and completely zone out with her kids, instead she notices the blankets that need folding and pillows that need picking up.  Ah yes, and the wee one has a lot on his mind and it allllll needs to come out before bed!

Time to put the children to bed!  But the middle has so much to tell her about his book and his prayers, and the small one keeps coming out for one more hug.  

Hugging her children with all her might just one more time, she tucks them, kisses their sweet foreheads and reminds them how much they are loved.

Ahhhhh, the moment she's been waiting for--bedtime!  But her brain is buzzing and refuses to settle down.  Too many thoughts.  Oh, and the dog wants to go potty. 

After letting the dog out, she hears the pet water fountain beginning to buzz, signaling it's low.  Down to the basement to fill it, she goes!

On the landing, she spies the paper plate her muffin had once sat upon.  The dog had eaten it, wrapping and all.

"Might as well check the cat food bowl while I'm down here," she says to herself.  

After refilling the cat food, she lets the dog back in and realizes her brain is still oh so very busy.  

Sitting down to write a blog, she wants a cup of Bedtime Tea to sip on.  Opening the microwave, she finds the mug from that morning, still full, just waiting to be warmed up.

And, wait just a minute--do you hear that?  

Nope, she doesn't either.

Bittersweet

Preface: I have hesitated with posting this one.  I've had it in the queue for about three weeks as I've continued to tweak, delete, rewrite and delete some more.  It just felt preachy, pretentious, brag-y.  However, Avery had such a thoughtful, mature and profound conversation with me the other morning about 2020--speaking all of my own thoughts back to me nearly word for word--and I realized--maybe someone needs to hear this (also, maybe I've done my job with him concerning 2020 after all!).  He shared with me that while multitudes seem to concentrate on how awful 2020 was, he really wants to remember the good stuff.  He said he's learned a lot and God has opened his eyes and he doesn't want to live in the negative.  Whoa, right? 

I also changed the title to this.  Originally it was entitled, "The Upside of the Downside."  I thought it was a good title, but it sounded, well, Pollyanna-ish at the same time.  After receiving a heartfelt gift from a friend however, and given the toll so many events in 2020 have taken on our hearts, "Bittersweet" just seems more apropos.  Remembering the good in spite of the bad--and recognizing that even in the midst of utter chaos, it's still okay to acknowledge the good.    

(Please bear with any grammatical errors.  I've tried to find all the tenses and change them, but I'm certain I missed at least a few!)

So, here goes.

It’s certainly no exaggeration 2020 was an absolute shitshow. A real dumpster fire of a year.  A dumpster set on fire as it careened downhill during a disastrous flood kind of shitshow.

For so very many people, it was exceedingly worse than for others. For those individuals and families, my heart is continually broken. 

I'm not even talking just politics and Covid; there were hurricanes literally on top of hurricanes, wildfires, deaths of celebrated athletes and celebrities--deaths of beloved family members--the stock market crash, shocking worldwide events--the list could easily go on.  Oh, and let's not forget the murder hornets!

Shawn and I rung in 2020 in the ER when I had a heart attack, then life as we personally knew it in February came to a screeching halt in March, as it did for the majority of the entire world, when Covid became a scary reality.  The original projection of only two weeks to 'flatten the curve' turned into nine incredibly long months, and the timeline continues to be in a constant state of flux.  At the time, I thought to myself not much would change for us--we're a homeschool family, after all!  And then--everything and anything changed.  One week we were at co-op; the next week, co-op was officially canceled for the remainder of our school year. Just as happened for kids around the globe, our kids didn’t get to say goodbye to tutors and friends, there wasn’t any closure for them (or us parents). We--co-op parents--scrambled to master apps like Marco Polo and Zoom, hoping to give our kids any sort of contact with each other, clinging to any semblance of normal for them, even holding socially distant playdates in our driveways.  The teachers from Avery's independent co-op finished classes through Zoom, but there still wasn't any tangible sort of school-year ending for the kids (even homeschooled kids still expect end of the year parties!).  On a high note, while social media and the news overflowed with those lamenting missed vacations, special events and various parties, Avery was able to have his first ever (and autism-social anxiety-sensory friendly) birthday 'party' this year, thanks to a few socially distant driveway visits from friend!  Nearly all of our own specialist appointments transitioned to telehealth (yay for not having to drive into the city!), the boys’ various therapies were deemed nonessential (best to not get me started on that one) and church moved to our living room, live streamed from YouTube.  Extracurricular activities were discontinued, and as masks became mandatory, even just going to the grocery store became dangerous. We could no longer eat in restaurants, and ridiculously long drive thru lines are now a sign of the times.  Having misunderstood the Stay at Home orders, Avery became anxious about playing outside in our own yard, fearing he would be arrested.  His anxiety skyrockets each time I have to go to the hospital or the doctor, more so than it typically would, and he's filled with dread over the environments and people Shawn and Noah are exposed to through work and errand running.  No longer able to foray through Target, play in parks, peruse the library stacks, attend our co-ops, and visit museums and with friends, we struggled with how to fill our days.  "What to do over Easter break," became, "What to do with all of our free time at home for the next nine months."  I’ll be the first to have some strong words with anyone judging another mama for allowing “too much” screen time. We were in survival mode, y’all.  Oh wait--we still are!  Whoops.   

My introverted self became perilously apathetic while my extroverted children downright withered to their cores. My own already fragile grief and depression worsened even further.  I burrowed deeper into my hole, nearly shutting down--and wishing I could.  While the lockdown was exactly what my damaged mental health craved, it dangerously conflicted with what I really needed, with what was truly best for me. 

But this isn't at all how I want my kids to remember 2020!  They will no doubt look back and remember this year as a difficult one which certainly tested us.  They will most likely tell their own children tales of the TP Shortage of 2020.  I hope they will also tell stories about their mom dressing concrete animals up in masks, Halloween costumes, Christmas displays, and different arrangements around the front yard.  But here's what I want my kids to really remember--we persevered.  In spite of everything that happened, and is still happening, we have not thrown our hands up and just quit (even when I've wanted to).  

We are surviving. 

As it happens, we aren’t just surviving, we’ve thriving--I mean, we're doing okay. 

In many ways, we're better off than we were in February. 

Though many days it feels like an uphill climb, we're still actively forging that climb.

We are one of the fortunate--blessed--families who are making it through this.  We’ve been reminded of what—and even more paramount, Who (and who)—is important.  With the majority of our lives on hold, we haven't had to hurry or rush; we've been able to really slow down and take stock of everything, and everyone, around us.  We’ve able to spend more time together as a full family and as a result, we’ve grown closer.  We’ve healed in many ways, growing individually and as a family unit.  We’ve been able to pour into each other.  We have learned new things (this is where I'm supposed to brag about a new hobby developed, but here's the honest truth--there's not even an old hobby, although we are all--Shawn included--trying our hands at knitting, perhaps in vain, in order to help both littles learn!), cultivating little projects here and there.  Our learning surpassed the concrete, as we've all had too much time to think, journal, pray and talk with each other. I’ve clung to gratitude and hope, desperate to find my joy again.  I'm still not okay by a long shot, but I'm getting there.  Much to my delight, I've watched as friends have added to their families.  With a grateful nod to social media, I've been able to share in joys across the country (that said, I've also been able to comfort friends in their grief and sadness).  I've read countless stories of people making the best of postponed weddings and canceled receptions, stories about new non-profits--and just plain old individuals striking out on their own--popping up to fill the needs of others, stories about anonymous benefactors who just want others to be okay.  Look for the helpers.  Shawn’s work from home schedule has given him valuable time, sweet moments, and special memories with the boys, many of which he would not have had if working full time in the office.   Even considering 2020's many bumps, we did successfully finish last school year and excitedly begin this year; and though it seemed unlikely, we were able to resume our co-op days in person!  Noah has decided to start cooking twice a week, Avery is working on gaining independence around the neighborhood, while Ezra learned how to ride a bike.  Particularly on the hard days, we’ve pushed ourselves to find the humor and the good.  We’ve coined our own phrases, shouting things like “Mask up, Buttercup!” as we exit our car, even while Ezra bemoans how much he hates the "nonavirus".  Avery's specialists have all finally 'met' Elijah, and all the cats have made appearances in various appointments and classes as well.  We've tried to spread fun and laughter by dressing up and arranging my lawn statues in the front yard, putting our Christmas lights up early, writing notes to friends and neighbors and even strangers, and writing chalk messages in the driveway.  We've done more for others because we can.  We are still attempting to be the good.

Bear in mind we are still very firmly and extremely far out, waaaaaaayyyy out, in Left Field, but it's our Left Field.  It's right where we belong.

So yeah, 2020 has been a mess, but man, we’re coming out of this, and we’re going to be just fine. 

However, just in 2021 gets any ideas, here's a reminder....

Defeated

It's been a Monday today--a full-on autism kind of Monday--but I don't want to just sit here and whine.  I want my genuine gratitude to come through my writing, while at the same time successfully relating my entire thinking process in addition to the autism experience.  I strive for constructive outcomes to my blogs (most of the time), but you need to understand my Point A -----> Point C road trip. 

Yes, it was a full-on autism kind of Monday--all before 9 am.  Before I'd showered, before I had my tea, before my eyes were fully open and my brain was thoroughly ready to begin working (let's be honest... is it ever, though?), before I could process a single word being said to me, before before before.  To digress for a moment, even as I write "it's been a Monday," this really could be, and typically is, any and every day for us.  It's never relegated to just Mondays.  In fact, we'll most likely repeat the majority of this tomorrow!  Yeehaw.

One child was throwing some major attitude my way.  Recently, he's been pushing boundaries more; what he thinks is funny and fun, often is straight up disrespectful and rude.  We've always given our kids leeway when it comes to our relationships with them, but this is more than leeway.  It's hold onto your hats we're skidding into the preteens way.  I'm calling him on his behavior, and I'm being harsher than I typically would.  I want to stop this sort of thing before it truly gets off the ground, you know?  He was also wound tighter than a spring, despite having had his meds, and that takes a toll on everyone in the house.

Ezra was just having a plain old rough day.  He is by far my "most" autistic, if that makes sense.  I'm not entirely certain what happened, but it began when I told him he would need proper clothing in order to go out to the store with me--so it most likely had something to do with learning he needed to put pants on (Frankly, if we hadn't just run out of milk, I would've called it and just stayed home.  My kid just really needed a break).  Ezra hates--HATES--clothing (many of you already know, naked is the norm!).  Because it was so cold this morning, I explained if he wanted to wear short sleeves, he would need his heavy coat; if he wanted his lighter "most comfiest coat," as he refers to it, he would need long sleeves.  I have to continually remind myself, he is not giving me a hard time, he is having an incredibly hard time.  I tried redirection, I tried positive re-phrasing, I tried our anxiety/calming techniques, I tried just sitting with him until he would allow me to hold him.  I tried everything in my little bag of tricks, using my most upbeat voice (which I even despise!), even though I wasn't feeling it at all.  

With regard to the preceding matters, it is emotionally fatiguing to watch your kids flounder--even when, especially when, they're making every effort.  Especially when their brain gets in the way of every effort.  As taxing as it is for me, I know it's more so for them.  But as their mama--it's freaking heartbreaking.  

As if the emotional heaviness of all of the above wasn't enough, we were scheduled to get back on track with our school year, and head back to co-op tomorrow.  Truthfully, we simply just were not ready.  We've had a five-week break and oh my gosh, do we need to be back on schedule and routine and back into life--but good grief, thinking about everything that needed doing to have us ready sent my brain right into an anxiety-laden spiral.  Yes, I've known about tomorrow for the past five weeks, but good grief, these past five weeks have been filled with so much, it really just kind of slipped away from me. 

I was just feeling utterly defeated--deflated--so when Ezra retreated to his room, I retreated to my closet for a quick cry.  It was completely warranted.  Even as I pushed forward with all my autism tactics with Ezra, I kept up those same tactics with my own inner thoughts.  I continued making efforts to corral my gratitude and maintain a positive attitude, all while just wanting to toss in the towel.  What my kids don't understand--and I can't quite expect them to understand--is when they've had a day, it means Mama has had a day as well.  As much as they need a break, so do I.  As much as they need space, I do also.  So frequently, as the day wears on, it wears on me.  

So, here's what happened...

My child with the attitude apologized on his own, and I recognized (and acknowledged) a genuine effort to improve.  Ezra and I finally agreed on clothing and we made it through the store, his little hand clinging to to mine the entire time.  He stopped shutting down and began perking up.  We even had an OHMYGOSH THAT REALLY JUST HAPPENED moment while watching tv: there was a a shuttle launch on the show and as they counted down, Ezra began to count by twos.  It was pretty exciting and earth shattering, and all kids need encouraging, but in the autism world you learn to not react, or at least keep it to an amazingly low, dull, nonchalant roar.  Putting him to bed tonight, I told him I enjoyed our time just the two of us at the store and he replied, "I love you too, Mama."  Music, sweet music.  At lunch time, we received notice that our return to co-op has been delayed until next week.  That's another week to prepare ourselves (*ahem*, myself), clean up the office and classroom, ease back into routine and start back with the easier things.  To round things out, Noah received the full time position he's been coveting at work! 

Tonight, I'm filled with gratitude for co-op community leaders who are full of wisdom and obedience.  I'm encouraged by the progress Ezra made today, even when it felt like two steps forward, five steps back.  I'm relieved my preteen (still?) responds to correction from me and apologizes with heartfelt regret.  I feel indebted to the many specialists we have who are guiding us and teaching me.  Most importantly, tucking my kids in tonight, telling them I'm glad we had a good day today (as opposed to our standard, "Tomorrow's another day!"), I'm reminded once again how absolutely providential it is I get to be Mama.

Be all of that as it may, I'm ending the day still feeling absolutely defeated, but furthermore, immensely and wholly grateful.

What's WRONG with him?

Aside from the jokes we make within our family as coping mechanisms, any form of "What's WRONG with him/her?" causes me to cringe.  There's a strong possibility it even induces visible smoke to flow from my ears as my face turns tomato-red.  There's also a high probability I may or may not (have) use(d) many tactless comebacks for nosey strangers who ask such questions.  He has autism.  What's wrong with you?  Hey, they're the ones who ask.

It's been several years, yet there's an old scenario which still plays over and over in my head: A family member who was visiting with us loudly asked Shawn that very question, referring to another child at church, within earshot of the child's mom (and many others).  At the time, Shawn was shocked into silence.  We were absolutely mortified.  For weeks afterward I guiltily contemplated how to handle it with the other mom, finally settling on letting it go and hoping maybe the mom didn't hear after all.  I think it still takes up space in my brain because I kick myself for not dealing with our family member right then and there, and because I know how that particular question makes me feel.  We did tackle it later that day with our family member, carefully explaining all of the following...

Please, for the ever-loving love, don't ever ask a parent, caregiver, anyone else related to caring for the child, any family member--and especially not the child--what is wrong with the child.  There are countlessly better ways to handle what can be such a sensitive topic.  I learned much of this while still in college, working as a child advocate and in-home educator for children with special needs.  The rest of it, I've picked up over the years mom to my own kids with special needs.  Yes, God does indeed have a sense of humor!  Also, perhaps most importantly, please bear in mind there is nothing wrong with the child.  I personally hate (yep, that's a strong word for a strong feeling) the idea of allowing my kids to believe they are sick or there is something wrong with them.  Neither are they disabled.  I also hate the idea of the general public mistakenly believing this about my kids or anyone else's.  Their brains simply (well, complexly) work differently.  I appreciate this is a delicate matter for many, and respectfully understand other parents feel differently than I do.

One caveat (I'm sure I'll think of others later, so just hang on to that thought)--before you venture into any sort of conversation concerning another parent's child, please please PLEASE be absolutely certain the parent/other person is on the same page as you, i.e., fully acknowledging (the need for) her child's diagnoses.  I'll never forget when a friend asked me if Noah's doctor would consider increasing his meds.  I was so confused!  What doctor??  And even more--what meds?!?!!?  

Begin the chat by asking the parent to tell you about her child.  Most of us are willing to help educate others and provide examples of various diagnoses, behaviors, strategies, therapies, specialists, and so on.  And like most parents, we typically enjoy talking about our kids!  One of my good friends asks questions, admitting she knew next to nothing about any of it before meeting us.  Honestly?  It's one of my favorite things about her.  A good method to further develop the conversation is to ask specifically about her child's diagnoses.  Both of these are excellent ways to learn not only about the child, but about the parent.  A parent's passion for her child comes across as she talks about him!  Ask about our experiences, listening with your heart.  Remember, you want an open, friendly, genuine heart to heart, not an inquisition.  Please also bear in mind we are usually not looking for advice or your cousin's uncle's goldfish's experience.  We just want someone who will listen and wants to learn. 

Don't be afraid to ask the child either (again, keeping in mind only if the child is on the same page as you--and you have permission from the parents).  Most of us parents make efforts to fully educate our children so they understand what's going on inside their brains.  My own kids can answer questions about autism, ADHD, SPD, anxiety, therapies, meds and specialists in general, as well as how they all pertain specifically to them (my personal favorite is Ezra explaining perseveration... hehehe).  

Consideration and compassion really are key.  If it's something you wouldn't want said to you or to your child or about you or your child--it's just best to not say it yourself, you know?