Don't be scared of the unknown. Remember how scared you were when you found out you were having twins? I know you're smiling now because you know I'm about to tell you to look at how wonderfully that turned out. Your boys are loving and sweet and beautiful and they bring you so much happiness.
Remember how scared you were when you left your ex? Oh, yes. You remember. Do you remember how determined you were to make a better life for your little ones? You did it. You are living in a much better situation where you know you'll have money to pay bills and food on the table every night because you KNOW how much money is in your bank account.
You took those leaps and you made a better life for yourself in the process. I know you're scared now. You like the comfort of routine and knowing what you're doing and being confident in the job you do. I know you're afraid of going from a bad situation to a possibly worse one. You know what though? Even if you do, you don't have to stay there either. You get to choose how you will live your life. You get to choose if you want to work at another job that makes you miserable or if you want to look for something new that might make you happy.
Your children are young. They are resilient. They will recover from whatever changes have to occur for you to find a job that makes you happy. They will flourish in your care if you are happier when you're away from them at work. You know a happier you makes a happier home.
It's time to stop being scared and go for this. What's the worst that can happen? You'll leave a job where you haven't had a raise since you started working, you are never thanked for anything you do, everyone around you gossips constantly, and you are forced to change offices and other things without notice and without your input? It's time for you to go. You know it is. You know you aren't happy anymore.
Dust off that beautiful resume that you worked so hard on. Refresh those references. Update those skills you have listed. You are ready for this. You know you are a valuable employee. You also know that you will be happier when that value is recognized and a good employer is grateful for good help.
You can do this. You've done this before and you are older and wiser now. It's time to take the leap again. I'll be right here when you need me, pushing you to do your best, giving you the strength you need to face an unknown tomorrow. You got this, girl! You have got. this. Now go find your bliss.
All my love,
Me XOXO
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
Thursday, February 2, 2012
One more second...
At 2 years old I could take both of you to a movie and you would sit through it, actually watching with your eyes on the screen, and paying attention almost the entire time.
When you were babies, I could put you in your car seats and take you to restaurants. As long as I was either rocking your seat or had you faced to where you could see people milling around, you were fine. Your attention was rapt to the world moving around you.
When Noggin was a baby, he didn’t like to be carried around or held too much. He would rather lie on a blanket and watch the ceiling fan spin slowly or lie on the play mat and watch the lights in the top flicker. He loved to be naked, would almost fall asleep during a bath and liked to try to turn his head upside down to see the world from a funny angle. He paid no attention to anything loud and my brother’s big dogs didn’t bother him at all.
When Screech was a baby, I couldn’t put him down. He wanted to be carried, sleep on or against me, and constantly be moving. He liked to bounce, rock, swing, wiggle, kick his legs and be wrapped tightly in hugs or blankets. If you held him away from your body at all he would tense up and scream bloody murder. He hated to be naked, take a bath, or get his diaper changed. Loud noises brought tears and screaming and the vacuum terrorized him.
Feeding was a projectile vomit fest for a long time until you could both sit up unsupported. I fed you bottles loaded with rice cereal to try to keep the special formulas down. I had to keep a mop bucket right next to where you were eating so you would have something to barf in. It was a guarantee that you would need it. There would be nights of screaming from reflux and no medicine we gave you helped. I spent nights holding you so you could sleep because even laying you on a wedge in your cribs didn’t guarantee that the reflux wouldn’t come to haunt you. I practically had to hold you in a sitting position those nights. All I have to say is Boppy pillows are a life saver.
When we started solids life was turned upside down. Gagging, spitting, more projectile puke than I care to remember were the norm for a long time. Spoons were a nightmare. Anything with more texture than a beginner’s puree was not staying in your mouths and if it wasn’t sweet or had a bright color, you would spit or refuse to open your mouths almost immediately.
There have been speech therapists, occupational therapists, physical therapists, pediatricians, pediatric surgeons, neurosurgeons, neuro-developmental pediatricians, pediatric gastroenterologists, allergists, radiology technicians, ENTs, emergency room doctors, children’s hospitals, ambulance rides, NICU nurses, pediatric eye doctors and specialists that I can’t even spell who have all had a hand in helping me get you to this point.
There have been isolettes, incubators, jet ventilators, feeding tubes, otoscopes, endoscopes, surgical drapes, micro-preemie diapers, suction machines, inhalers, nebulizers, vaporizers, synthetic gloves, syringes, sponges, lead wires, bandages, emesis basins, nasal cannulas, catheters, culturettes, tongue depressors, probe covers, lumbar puncture trays, tourniquets, paper tape, speculums, stethoscopes, pediatric face masks, humidifiers, electrodes, lancets, blood sugar monitors, heart monitors, EKGs, EEGs, ultrasounds, an iPad, an iPod, a shunt, mesh retainer walls, and other medical equipment I can’t name.
There have been inhaler meds, vitamins, eye drops, ear drops, allergy meds, antibiotics, anti-nausea meds, blood transfusions, Alimentum formula, Neosure formula, muscle relaxers, pain meds, asthma meds, breathing solutions, sterile water, ointments, butt goo, and tons of other medications that I can’t spell, name, or remember.
I’ve spent days and nights beside your beds begging God to keep you alive. I’ve spent hours listening to make sure you were still breathing. I’ve shaken your arms and legs and rubbed your backs vigorously when your Bradicardia monitors would start blaring. I held your head and tried to keep you from biting through your tongue through a febrile seizure in the backseat of my car. I’ve held you as you puked down the front of my shirt. I’ve paced emergency rooms waiting for doctors to see you because you were having trouble breathing. I’ve squeezed cold rags full of water over your heads and bodies during high fevers that couldn’t wait for medications to bring them down. I’ve held you so doctors could poke you with needles, feed catheters into the worst places, look at your ears, eyes, noses, mouths, stomachs, backs, butts, feet, and listen to your heartbeats. I’ve fed you barium applesauce, given you bottles with barium in juice, and soon I’ll have to stand by as a doctor puts a barium enema in you to check your intestines.
I’ve worried and called doctors in the middle of the night. I’ve taken you to countless pediatrician appointments to see why you’re coughing, spotty, feverish, snotty, lethargic, underweight, not pooping right, crying, in pain, not eating, not potty training and just plain not acting like yourselves.
I’ve watched you miss milestones, cross milestones, do things I thought were impossible, not do things I’ve asked you to, do things I never asked you to, smile at strangers, wave at family, blow me kisses, run to me for hugs, run to me in tears, sleep on my chest, drool in my hair, color pictures, tell me stories, and tell me you love me.
I’d do it all over again if it meant getting one more second with you…
When you were babies, I could put you in your car seats and take you to restaurants. As long as I was either rocking your seat or had you faced to where you could see people milling around, you were fine. Your attention was rapt to the world moving around you.
When Noggin was a baby, he didn’t like to be carried around or held too much. He would rather lie on a blanket and watch the ceiling fan spin slowly or lie on the play mat and watch the lights in the top flicker. He loved to be naked, would almost fall asleep during a bath and liked to try to turn his head upside down to see the world from a funny angle. He paid no attention to anything loud and my brother’s big dogs didn’t bother him at all.
When Screech was a baby, I couldn’t put him down. He wanted to be carried, sleep on or against me, and constantly be moving. He liked to bounce, rock, swing, wiggle, kick his legs and be wrapped tightly in hugs or blankets. If you held him away from your body at all he would tense up and scream bloody murder. He hated to be naked, take a bath, or get his diaper changed. Loud noises brought tears and screaming and the vacuum terrorized him.
Feeding was a projectile vomit fest for a long time until you could both sit up unsupported. I fed you bottles loaded with rice cereal to try to keep the special formulas down. I had to keep a mop bucket right next to where you were eating so you would have something to barf in. It was a guarantee that you would need it. There would be nights of screaming from reflux and no medicine we gave you helped. I spent nights holding you so you could sleep because even laying you on a wedge in your cribs didn’t guarantee that the reflux wouldn’t come to haunt you. I practically had to hold you in a sitting position those nights. All I have to say is Boppy pillows are a life saver.
When we started solids life was turned upside down. Gagging, spitting, more projectile puke than I care to remember were the norm for a long time. Spoons were a nightmare. Anything with more texture than a beginner’s puree was not staying in your mouths and if it wasn’t sweet or had a bright color, you would spit or refuse to open your mouths almost immediately.
There have been speech therapists, occupational therapists, physical therapists, pediatricians, pediatric surgeons, neurosurgeons, neuro-developmental pediatricians, pediatric gastroenterologists, allergists, radiology technicians, ENTs, emergency room doctors, children’s hospitals, ambulance rides, NICU nurses, pediatric eye doctors and specialists that I can’t even spell who have all had a hand in helping me get you to this point.
There have been isolettes, incubators, jet ventilators, feeding tubes, otoscopes, endoscopes, surgical drapes, micro-preemie diapers, suction machines, inhalers, nebulizers, vaporizers, synthetic gloves, syringes, sponges, lead wires, bandages, emesis basins, nasal cannulas, catheters, culturettes, tongue depressors, probe covers, lumbar puncture trays, tourniquets, paper tape, speculums, stethoscopes, pediatric face masks, humidifiers, electrodes, lancets, blood sugar monitors, heart monitors, EKGs, EEGs, ultrasounds, an iPad, an iPod, a shunt, mesh retainer walls, and other medical equipment I can’t name.
There have been inhaler meds, vitamins, eye drops, ear drops, allergy meds, antibiotics, anti-nausea meds, blood transfusions, Alimentum formula, Neosure formula, muscle relaxers, pain meds, asthma meds, breathing solutions, sterile water, ointments, butt goo, and tons of other medications that I can’t spell, name, or remember.
I’ve spent days and nights beside your beds begging God to keep you alive. I’ve spent hours listening to make sure you were still breathing. I’ve shaken your arms and legs and rubbed your backs vigorously when your Bradicardia monitors would start blaring. I held your head and tried to keep you from biting through your tongue through a febrile seizure in the backseat of my car. I’ve held you as you puked down the front of my shirt. I’ve paced emergency rooms waiting for doctors to see you because you were having trouble breathing. I’ve squeezed cold rags full of water over your heads and bodies during high fevers that couldn’t wait for medications to bring them down. I’ve held you so doctors could poke you with needles, feed catheters into the worst places, look at your ears, eyes, noses, mouths, stomachs, backs, butts, feet, and listen to your heartbeats. I’ve fed you barium applesauce, given you bottles with barium in juice, and soon I’ll have to stand by as a doctor puts a barium enema in you to check your intestines.
I’ve worried and called doctors in the middle of the night. I’ve taken you to countless pediatrician appointments to see why you’re coughing, spotty, feverish, snotty, lethargic, underweight, not pooping right, crying, in pain, not eating, not potty training and just plain not acting like yourselves.
I’ve watched you miss milestones, cross milestones, do things I thought were impossible, not do things I’ve asked you to, do things I never asked you to, smile at strangers, wave at family, blow me kisses, run to me for hugs, run to me in tears, sleep on my chest, drool in my hair, color pictures, tell me stories, and tell me you love me.
I’d do it all over again if it meant getting one more second with you…
Thursday, January 26, 2012
I stop...
I stop. I’m standing in front of my mirror, the one with the very bright lights. I try on my sexy face. I look constipated. Duck face be damned.
I shift, first to the left, then to the right. I roll my shoulder. I don’t step back. Stepping back means I have to look at more than what’s above my shoulders and I can only take so much disappointment at one time.
I’m trying to let my hair grow back out. This time I think I mean it. I long to feel my daughter run her fingers through my hair, learning to braid. I want to tell her about how she helped her brothers give me those gray hairs. I want to give her back my beauty. I look like a Beatle right now. Don’t ask me which one, I don’t know their names.
Back to my shoulders. They are covered in freckles. Tiny light brown spots that my pale white skin threw out there to try to protect it from the vicious sun. I want to walk barefoot across soft, cool grass, or shag carpet. I have a need to feel the earth under my feet. It’s winter and cold outside. No soft grass to be had for a while. I want to buy a beautiful sun dress. Something that criss-crosses in the front and floats in the breeze so my babies can hide their faces in it and giggle in the sunlight.
I have a need to feel something deeper than myself. I pressed my hand to my brother’s cold tombstone this past Sunday on his thirtieth birthday. It’s almost been 10 years since we lost him. I could feel the time seeping from my skin to wrap itself around his headstone like a ghostly fog on a wet night. I can remember laying my hand on his back. The feel of his soft, tan skin just before I scratched his itches away. He loved for me to scratch his back. I have sharp nails. For a moment I could feel his heartbeat again through that cold stone, his ribs were smooth bumps under the soft tan skin of his back that my finger tips raced across like speed bumps when I scratched just close enough to his side to get a chuckle. I miss scratching his back and petting his soft hair, chatting vacantly about anything that came to mind.
He was wonderful with children. Kids of any age flocked to him. When I stopped in front of my mirror, I realized that I couldn’t see his eyes anymore. We both had brilliant green eyes. Mine are beginning to turn blue for no apparent reason. I wonder if his eyes would have turned blue, too. They will always be green to me.
I can’t see who I am anymore when I look in the mirror. I always just look tired. I think it might be time to quit stopping in front of the mirror so much.
I shift, first to the left, then to the right. I roll my shoulder. I don’t step back. Stepping back means I have to look at more than what’s above my shoulders and I can only take so much disappointment at one time.
I’m trying to let my hair grow back out. This time I think I mean it. I long to feel my daughter run her fingers through my hair, learning to braid. I want to tell her about how she helped her brothers give me those gray hairs. I want to give her back my beauty. I look like a Beatle right now. Don’t ask me which one, I don’t know their names.
Back to my shoulders. They are covered in freckles. Tiny light brown spots that my pale white skin threw out there to try to protect it from the vicious sun. I want to walk barefoot across soft, cool grass, or shag carpet. I have a need to feel the earth under my feet. It’s winter and cold outside. No soft grass to be had for a while. I want to buy a beautiful sun dress. Something that criss-crosses in the front and floats in the breeze so my babies can hide their faces in it and giggle in the sunlight.
I have a need to feel something deeper than myself. I pressed my hand to my brother’s cold tombstone this past Sunday on his thirtieth birthday. It’s almost been 10 years since we lost him. I could feel the time seeping from my skin to wrap itself around his headstone like a ghostly fog on a wet night. I can remember laying my hand on his back. The feel of his soft, tan skin just before I scratched his itches away. He loved for me to scratch his back. I have sharp nails. For a moment I could feel his heartbeat again through that cold stone, his ribs were smooth bumps under the soft tan skin of his back that my finger tips raced across like speed bumps when I scratched just close enough to his side to get a chuckle. I miss scratching his back and petting his soft hair, chatting vacantly about anything that came to mind.
He was wonderful with children. Kids of any age flocked to him. When I stopped in front of my mirror, I realized that I couldn’t see his eyes anymore. We both had brilliant green eyes. Mine are beginning to turn blue for no apparent reason. I wonder if his eyes would have turned blue, too. They will always be green to me.
I can’t see who I am anymore when I look in the mirror. I always just look tired. I think it might be time to quit stopping in front of the mirror so much.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Crisis mode...
Too much noise. Too much movement. Too many people.
Eyes wide and I can’t seem to make them quit. Heart racing. Hands shaky. Foot constantly bouncing.
Agitated. Restless. Confused. My mind won’t focus on a single thing for more than just a few minutes.
People keep walking past my desk and asking me ignorant things that don’t pertain to my job or anything even remotely relevant. They keep making me lose what little attention I have left. I’m hearing the girl in the office beside me. Her radio, her phone conversations (on speaker sometimes, no less), blowing her nose, rustling papers, walking, opening and closing filing cabinet doors (or should I say slamming shut), and looking at me every time she walks by.
My boss’ boss who keeps randomly yelling at me just to get me to look over in his office to see what he wants just because he knows I don’t want him to do exactly that. He is yet to ask me anything constructive or relevant to my job. (Or even work related really…) I’m sitting here with my ear buds in my ears with a song blasting because I just needed to fill my head with something less scattered. I’m so far past it being helpful. My nerves are frayed to a fine edge from trying to keep from saying something inappropriate to someone because I’m frustrated with the constant interruptions.
I want nothing more than to go outside to my car and grip my steering wheel tightly and catch my breath. This is insanity to me. These are the kinds of things that make my day feel unbearable and they’ve put me exactly where I can’t handle being. I was in an office where I felt like things weren’t crowding in on me, people only came in it when they needed something directly from me, and most of the time the phone was quiet.
This is too much noise, too much chaos for me. Heaven help me to keep from getting fired soon because I am sooooo going need some Ativan if this keeps up. Maybe the excitement of having a new person over here will die off soon? I hope so. I REALLY hope so…
Eyes wide and I can’t seem to make them quit. Heart racing. Hands shaky. Foot constantly bouncing.
Agitated. Restless. Confused. My mind won’t focus on a single thing for more than just a few minutes.
People keep walking past my desk and asking me ignorant things that don’t pertain to my job or anything even remotely relevant. They keep making me lose what little attention I have left. I’m hearing the girl in the office beside me. Her radio, her phone conversations (on speaker sometimes, no less), blowing her nose, rustling papers, walking, opening and closing filing cabinet doors (or should I say slamming shut), and looking at me every time she walks by.
My boss’ boss who keeps randomly yelling at me just to get me to look over in his office to see what he wants just because he knows I don’t want him to do exactly that. He is yet to ask me anything constructive or relevant to my job. (Or even work related really…) I’m sitting here with my ear buds in my ears with a song blasting because I just needed to fill my head with something less scattered. I’m so far past it being helpful. My nerves are frayed to a fine edge from trying to keep from saying something inappropriate to someone because I’m frustrated with the constant interruptions.
I want nothing more than to go outside to my car and grip my steering wheel tightly and catch my breath. This is insanity to me. These are the kinds of things that make my day feel unbearable and they’ve put me exactly where I can’t handle being. I was in an office where I felt like things weren’t crowding in on me, people only came in it when they needed something directly from me, and most of the time the phone was quiet.
This is too much noise, too much chaos for me. Heaven help me to keep from getting fired soon because I am sooooo going need some Ativan if this keeps up. Maybe the excitement of having a new person over here will die off soon? I hope so. I REALLY hope so…
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
Blending in & being nonconfrontational...
So, I'm an Aspie. I'm a master at trying to blend into the wall and not be noticed. *see entire middle to high school educational years followed by years of college spent trying to NOT be seen by anyone. Ever.*
Well, my son Screech isn't as big on blending in as I am. He is a unique little drummer who wants to play his own brand of music for all the world to hear...and see...and smell...and feel...etc, etc, ad nauseum. Let's just say he's loud and he's proud and he talks a lot...at a volume that can be heard from space. *Hello, up there! How's it going at the space station, Russian dudes? I know you can't understand him but trust me when I say you probably wouldn't want to even if you could. He's loudest when he's complaining.*
The point in telling you all of this is to recount a trip we recently took to the Giant Retail Store and ask some advice. My little man did not to do well in the Giant Retail Store on this trip. He stimmed, melted down, yelled, screamed, cried, and had to be carried all in the span of about 20 minutes.
Now if you know me in real life, you know that I probably had a few issues with this because of some issues of my own. (I hate retail stores. I hate the public in general. I don't like lots of noise. I hate for crowds of people to be looking at me. Lord, please give me an invisibility superpower?!? Please???) Once I get past my own issues with the screaming, staring of strangers, and craving for a giant blanket with which to cover myself, I am left with trying to mother a child in full-blown meltdown mode in the middle of the Giant Retail Store. I know this is nothing new to those of you who have been doing this for a while but I'm kind of a newb at dealing with the strangers all around aspect of parenting a child with Autism when the autistic traits are so blatantly laid out for all to see.
I think I mostly handled the situation well. I hurriedly got the last couple of things I needed and got the hell out of Dodge while simultaneously not losing my shit with my baby, myself, or a random stranger within cussing distance. I even kept it together when we made it to the car and I was able to strap kids into car seats and myself into the driver's seat and take some deep breaths while telling myself that it wasn't as bad as it could have been.
I'm going to tell you about a trait of mine that made this incident hard for me. My sweet little boy who doesn't know any better removed the tag from something he wanted immediately while we were still in the store before I had paid for the item. This bothered me immensely because I am a strict follower of "The Rules". This was a breaking of one of "The Rules" and I barely handled it. I know that it was "no big deal" and that I did indeed pay for the item and explained the entire thing to the poor cashier, who just looked at me like they couldn't give a shit less about it, in way more detail than they really wanted to hear. To tell you how bad this type of thing bothers me, I took one of my kids in a store to find Benedryl one time because they were having an allergic reaction to something that was spreading fast and I still wanted to pay for the Benedryl before I used it. *Thank God my mother was there to talk sense into me about going ahead and medicating the child and worrying about the paying for it after I was sure we weren't going to have an anaphalactic reaction in my baby.*
Anycrazymommy, I'm looking for suggestions on how you lovely parents, grandparents, and friends of kids with Autism help your children from becoming too overwhelmed going into Giant Retail Stores when you have no option but to take them with you. Do you use noise cancelling headphones? Blinders? Duct tape? Please feel free to share any and all secrets no matter how weird they may sound because I will do anything to keep from having the "anxiety monster" put me in a choke hold in the middle of another Giant Retail Store, ok?
Also, I plan to discuss this on Friday with my psychologist about how to handle my own issues but I'd love to hear your ideas on how to help my little guy deal with being in public with me when we have no other option but to go in the dreaded store.
I love y'all bunches!
XO,
Forgotten
Well, my son Screech isn't as big on blending in as I am. He is a unique little drummer who wants to play his own brand of music for all the world to hear...and see...and smell...and feel...etc, etc, ad nauseum. Let's just say he's loud and he's proud and he talks a lot...at a volume that can be heard from space. *Hello, up there! How's it going at the space station, Russian dudes? I know you can't understand him but trust me when I say you probably wouldn't want to even if you could. He's loudest when he's complaining.*
The point in telling you all of this is to recount a trip we recently took to the Giant Retail Store and ask some advice. My little man did not to do well in the Giant Retail Store on this trip. He stimmed, melted down, yelled, screamed, cried, and had to be carried all in the span of about 20 minutes.
Now if you know me in real life, you know that I probably had a few issues with this because of some issues of my own. (I hate retail stores. I hate the public in general. I don't like lots of noise. I hate for crowds of people to be looking at me. Lord, please give me an invisibility superpower?!? Please???) Once I get past my own issues with the screaming, staring of strangers, and craving for a giant blanket with which to cover myself, I am left with trying to mother a child in full-blown meltdown mode in the middle of the Giant Retail Store. I know this is nothing new to those of you who have been doing this for a while but I'm kind of a newb at dealing with the strangers all around aspect of parenting a child with Autism when the autistic traits are so blatantly laid out for all to see.
I think I mostly handled the situation well. I hurriedly got the last couple of things I needed and got the hell out of Dodge while simultaneously not losing my shit with my baby, myself, or a random stranger within cussing distance. I even kept it together when we made it to the car and I was able to strap kids into car seats and myself into the driver's seat and take some deep breaths while telling myself that it wasn't as bad as it could have been.
I'm going to tell you about a trait of mine that made this incident hard for me. My sweet little boy who doesn't know any better removed the tag from something he wanted immediately while we were still in the store before I had paid for the item. This bothered me immensely because I am a strict follower of "The Rules". This was a breaking of one of "The Rules" and I barely handled it. I know that it was "no big deal" and that I did indeed pay for the item and explained the entire thing to the poor cashier, who just looked at me like they couldn't give a shit less about it, in way more detail than they really wanted to hear. To tell you how bad this type of thing bothers me, I took one of my kids in a store to find Benedryl one time because they were having an allergic reaction to something that was spreading fast and I still wanted to pay for the Benedryl before I used it. *Thank God my mother was there to talk sense into me about going ahead and medicating the child and worrying about the paying for it after I was sure we weren't going to have an anaphalactic reaction in my baby.*
Anycrazymommy, I'm looking for suggestions on how you lovely parents, grandparents, and friends of kids with Autism help your children from becoming too overwhelmed going into Giant Retail Stores when you have no option but to take them with you. Do you use noise cancelling headphones? Blinders? Duct tape? Please feel free to share any and all secrets no matter how weird they may sound because I will do anything to keep from having the "anxiety monster" put me in a choke hold in the middle of another Giant Retail Store, ok?
Also, I plan to discuss this on Friday with my psychologist about how to handle my own issues but I'd love to hear your ideas on how to help my little guy deal with being in public with me when we have no other option but to go in the dreaded store.
I love y'all bunches!
XO,
Forgotten
Monday, January 9, 2012
Busy, busy, always busy...
Well, didn't I just be an asshole and leave you guys hanging with that last post?
Update: Some things have been shaken up at my job. They have me moving around and it has my anxiety at work through the roof. I'm surviving though. It felt like the end of the world but I will get through it, hopefully with my dignity intact (no promises there though, I may cry).
I ended up with a massive sinus infection which left me with vertigo and sick as a dog for 24 hours until the medicine had time to kick in. I'm feeling much better now though so don't panic.
Now that most of the shit has stopped hitting the fan, it's almost time for report cards to come out. There will be more PALS testing. My two Pre-K autistic boys will be tested to see what they know at that particular moment in time. If they participate in the testing at all, I will consider it a small miracle. Here's to progress and the things I'm noticing at home because at the moment recognizing their colors aren't as important to me as the ability to tell me if they are hungry, thirsty, or feeling sick. So far I'm finally getting two out of the three of those. Woohoo! Progress!
When they were originally tested for Pre-K, Twin A could put together 2 pieces of a 4 piece puzzle. He put together a 30 piece puzzle in my living room floor this past weekend. He couldn't tell you what a kid with a kitten in picture were in July. Now he will tell you about what he sees in the picture. When school started, Noggin had very little (if any) pretend play. Now he will make car sounds as he runs through the house with a matchbox car in hand or dinosaur sounds as he chases me up the hall with his giant dinosaur. He talks about playing "castle" and he pretends to need help from his brother if he's under the kitchen table and wants to play like he's being rescued. He can tell me when he wants a drink and he can specify if he wants milk or juice. Noggin tells me when he's hungry and he tells me when he needs to be changed. He is peeing in the potty but hasn't mastered number two's yet. He sings! He never sang a single song before school started. Now, he sings to me in the car, at home, and at his mamaw's house. He knows nursery rhymes and songs that I play frequently in the car.
Twin B would point at pictures and tell you tall tales about what he saw in them but if he was asked to point out the bigger of two objects, he would just stare blankly at you. Now he can pick out the bigger of two objects and he can count to 6 before he starts mixing up his numbers. He recognizes a few colors when he couldn't pick a single color during his testing. Screech can match colors and shapes of objects and he can stack a massive tower of blocks. He can ask you questions more easily and can understand multiple step instructions. He loves to tell you stories about what he sees in pictures and he can recognize people he knows in photographs. Screech sings at the top of his lungs and loves to snuggle on the couch. He is still terrified of being picked up but he is doing so much better transitioning between activities.
I'm proud of all the progress my boys are making. I'm making progress myself in recognizing when my little guys need a sensory break, when they are getting overstimulated, and in discovering the amazing talents that they each are sharing with me. Noggin has an amazing ability to pick up on things on the computer or iPad after just seeing you do them a few times. Screech can do some amazing physical feats with all the energy he has and he loves to show off his dance moves.
My little girl has been amazing me more and more. She can tell you all her colors. She knows her full name. She can follow multiple step directions and ask for almost anything she wants. Grabby is growing in leaps and bounds (she's already wearing some 4T stuff and she will be three in March!). She is such a girly girl, too. She loves dresses and having her hair ponytailed. She loves hair clips and bows and frilly skirts. She likes bright colors and wild patterns and of course anything pink. She still follows me everywhere and is a total mama's girl but she is developing a fiercely independent streak. She's very opinionated about her clothes, hair, toys, and anything else she can state an opinion on. :)
As for their newly diagnosed Aspie mama, I'm still going to therapy. It's helping me to see a lot of the behaviors I need to work on and some that I can help my kids with. I'm seeing myself in a new light and realizing that I need to stop letting all my fears of basically everything stop me from living. I'm still busy with the day to day of life but I'm actually getting on the ball and accomplishing some things that have been piling up while waiting on my attention for some time. Getting things done at home and organized is helping to ease my anxiety about things there quite a bit. I am relieved to have the occasional hand around the house now. I'm dating someone and he's nice and he's good to my babies so I'm taking my time and seeing where it goes. My automatic response to anyone interfering with my routine and changing things has always been to push them away and this one understands me well enough not to let me get away with it. When I push he pulls me out of my comfort zone and points out exactly what I'm doing. He's learning to deal with my quirks and sensory needs and I'm learning to share my routine with someone who really wants to help. I guess I'll see how it goes for now.
Once things has settled down at work and I can get my head screwed back on straight, I'll update a little more. Until then, everyone have a great Monday and don't forget to stop and breathe when your sensational kids are pushing your nerves in a sensational way! :)
XO,
Forgotten
Update: Some things have been shaken up at my job. They have me moving around and it has my anxiety at work through the roof. I'm surviving though. It felt like the end of the world but I will get through it, hopefully with my dignity intact (no promises there though, I may cry).
I ended up with a massive sinus infection which left me with vertigo and sick as a dog for 24 hours until the medicine had time to kick in. I'm feeling much better now though so don't panic.
Now that most of the shit has stopped hitting the fan, it's almost time for report cards to come out. There will be more PALS testing. My two Pre-K autistic boys will be tested to see what they know at that particular moment in time. If they participate in the testing at all, I will consider it a small miracle. Here's to progress and the things I'm noticing at home because at the moment recognizing their colors aren't as important to me as the ability to tell me if they are hungry, thirsty, or feeling sick. So far I'm finally getting two out of the three of those. Woohoo! Progress!
When they were originally tested for Pre-K, Twin A could put together 2 pieces of a 4 piece puzzle. He put together a 30 piece puzzle in my living room floor this past weekend. He couldn't tell you what a kid with a kitten in picture were in July. Now he will tell you about what he sees in the picture. When school started, Noggin had very little (if any) pretend play. Now he will make car sounds as he runs through the house with a matchbox car in hand or dinosaur sounds as he chases me up the hall with his giant dinosaur. He talks about playing "castle" and he pretends to need help from his brother if he's under the kitchen table and wants to play like he's being rescued. He can tell me when he wants a drink and he can specify if he wants milk or juice. Noggin tells me when he's hungry and he tells me when he needs to be changed. He is peeing in the potty but hasn't mastered number two's yet. He sings! He never sang a single song before school started. Now, he sings to me in the car, at home, and at his mamaw's house. He knows nursery rhymes and songs that I play frequently in the car.
Twin B would point at pictures and tell you tall tales about what he saw in them but if he was asked to point out the bigger of two objects, he would just stare blankly at you. Now he can pick out the bigger of two objects and he can count to 6 before he starts mixing up his numbers. He recognizes a few colors when he couldn't pick a single color during his testing. Screech can match colors and shapes of objects and he can stack a massive tower of blocks. He can ask you questions more easily and can understand multiple step instructions. He loves to tell you stories about what he sees in pictures and he can recognize people he knows in photographs. Screech sings at the top of his lungs and loves to snuggle on the couch. He is still terrified of being picked up but he is doing so much better transitioning between activities.
I'm proud of all the progress my boys are making. I'm making progress myself in recognizing when my little guys need a sensory break, when they are getting overstimulated, and in discovering the amazing talents that they each are sharing with me. Noggin has an amazing ability to pick up on things on the computer or iPad after just seeing you do them a few times. Screech can do some amazing physical feats with all the energy he has and he loves to show off his dance moves.
My little girl has been amazing me more and more. She can tell you all her colors. She knows her full name. She can follow multiple step directions and ask for almost anything she wants. Grabby is growing in leaps and bounds (she's already wearing some 4T stuff and she will be three in March!). She is such a girly girl, too. She loves dresses and having her hair ponytailed. She loves hair clips and bows and frilly skirts. She likes bright colors and wild patterns and of course anything pink. She still follows me everywhere and is a total mama's girl but she is developing a fiercely independent streak. She's very opinionated about her clothes, hair, toys, and anything else she can state an opinion on. :)
As for their newly diagnosed Aspie mama, I'm still going to therapy. It's helping me to see a lot of the behaviors I need to work on and some that I can help my kids with. I'm seeing myself in a new light and realizing that I need to stop letting all my fears of basically everything stop me from living. I'm still busy with the day to day of life but I'm actually getting on the ball and accomplishing some things that have been piling up while waiting on my attention for some time. Getting things done at home and organized is helping to ease my anxiety about things there quite a bit. I am relieved to have the occasional hand around the house now. I'm dating someone and he's nice and he's good to my babies so I'm taking my time and seeing where it goes. My automatic response to anyone interfering with my routine and changing things has always been to push them away and this one understands me well enough not to let me get away with it. When I push he pulls me out of my comfort zone and points out exactly what I'm doing. He's learning to deal with my quirks and sensory needs and I'm learning to share my routine with someone who really wants to help. I guess I'll see how it goes for now.
Once things has settled down at work and I can get my head screwed back on straight, I'll update a little more. Until then, everyone have a great Monday and don't forget to stop and breathe when your sensational kids are pushing your nerves in a sensational way! :)
XO,
Forgotten
Friday, December 30, 2011
Hackles raised...
Something’s just not right. I can’t put my finger on it. I can’t figure out what is off but something is just not right.
I get these feelings occasionally right before something bad happens. I don’t think I’m psychic. I don’t think I could even remotely tell you what I think might be about to happen. I just don’t feel quite “right”. It’s a dark cloud lingering on the peripheral of my vision, a specter haunting my thoughts. (And no, I’m not depressed. It isn’t like that.)
It’s a foreboding feeling, a sense of unease, that thing that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck. It’s the thing in the woods on a windy, moonless night. The echo of your steps in a dark alley that might not be just your steps, the empty parking structure after everyone else has gone home, and the dream that wakens you with a silent scream caught in your throat as you tug at blankets trying to escape it’s grasp.
It will hurt you. It will bring you pain. It will make you cry.
I hate this feeling because it’s never wrong. I had it before my Papaw died, before my brother died, before every car accident I’ve ever been in, and before I lost my baby. It lingers, leaving its taint on everything until you can look back and see when it started. I’m in the beginning. I can’t look back. My hackles are raised because it’s there waiting and I know it.
Soon enough there will be a story. For now, there’s the waiting…
I get these feelings occasionally right before something bad happens. I don’t think I’m psychic. I don’t think I could even remotely tell you what I think might be about to happen. I just don’t feel quite “right”. It’s a dark cloud lingering on the peripheral of my vision, a specter haunting my thoughts. (And no, I’m not depressed. It isn’t like that.)
It’s a foreboding feeling, a sense of unease, that thing that makes the hair stand up on the back of your neck. It’s the thing in the woods on a windy, moonless night. The echo of your steps in a dark alley that might not be just your steps, the empty parking structure after everyone else has gone home, and the dream that wakens you with a silent scream caught in your throat as you tug at blankets trying to escape it’s grasp.
It will hurt you. It will bring you pain. It will make you cry.
I hate this feeling because it’s never wrong. I had it before my Papaw died, before my brother died, before every car accident I’ve ever been in, and before I lost my baby. It lingers, leaving its taint on everything until you can look back and see when it started. I’m in the beginning. I can’t look back. My hackles are raised because it’s there waiting and I know it.
Soon enough there will be a story. For now, there’s the waiting…
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