I know in the broad scheme of things, 7 years is not that long. But looking back now on 7 years of my son's life...whew...that's daunting. Like any expectant parent out there I had a head full of dreams, wishes and expectations as I counted down the months...then weeks...then days until my little one came along. Granted, he was not exactly little...ever!
Little could I then have guessed what path we'd wind up treading, but at the time I had some fairly clear ideas on what I was looking forward to:
~weekend picnics on kite-flying days
~backyard romps with the dogs and the kids (yes, note I said kid(s))
~cozy, cuddly reading sessions hunkered down in the winter by a cheery fireplace
~camping trips full of fresh caught fish, marshmallows and enough spooky sounds to bring those kid(s) scurrying in
I'd bore you silly with more, but clearly the point is, I had these idyllic little fantasies swirling around in my head as I awaited the birth of my son.
Maybe it's all those crazy hyped up hormones coursing through the bloodstream, but something about pregnancy makes you think that you're but a step away from the dream life. As though parenthood will become this nostalgia-driven way of life the moment Jr. pops out.
Obviously (if you've read any of my other posts) that is not the way things went down. And yet, these past 7 years have not been without dream-building, nostalgia-creating, life-living...joys. They've just been different than my idealizing past self thought they would be.
While these days my Mister Man is often part of the dreaming process as we imagine up new goals for our little family, there are still some lingering hopes from all those years past just hoping and waiting and wondering when they might have a chance to come true.
As you might have guessed already given this post's title, one of those dreams is made by Disney. I want, rather desperately, to get there before it's 'to late'...'to late' being that time and age when Mister Man is less than impressed with the old Disney magic...and I swear I can hear the clock ticking down. At one point my goal was to spend his 5th birthday there. When that date came and went, it was on to the next one.
And now here we are in October of Mister Man's 7th year, still not having gone. I wonder...am I putting unreasonable pressure on myself? Would he enjoy it as much at 10 as he might have at 5?
Of course the real question is...why am I so fixated on going? Is it really just that fabulous that everyone should experience it? Or am I just desperately clinging to the notion that it's the expected thing to do...have kids-go to Disney-become a soccer mom. All I know for sure is that I'm yearning to add to our photo album the standard childhood shot with Mickey Mouse!
While you and I both ponder life's greater mysteries...I'll keep slipping a few bucks here and there into the 'take my son to Disney' fund. Maybe I'll even get lucky and the those interest rates will decide it's time to rise! :)
28 October, 2010
23 October, 2010
...ghosts in jammies...
Not that you'd really have any reason to suspect it based on the content of this blog, but Mister Man and I are pretty darn crafty. In our previous home, the walls bore an ever rotating art installment. And this proud Mami spent a small fortune on frames for countless masterpieces. At one point I started photographing each picture, painting and miscellaneous craft and pieced together photo albums of Mister Man's creative prowess. (Hint-it's a bit time consuming to do so, but it is a great and space-effective way to 'hold onto' each and every last scribble!)
Now we deal in folders, boxes and patchwork giant envelopes to consolidate our ever-growing collection. And Mister Man has learned the value in 'sharing' his artwork also...whether it's destined for his grandparents' homes or off in the mail to a penpal or packed in with cookies for the local nursing home...
The upshot is, we like to create. And getting icky, oocky and just plain dirty is a major perk!
With Halloween mere days away you can bet we're theming right now...ghosts, goblins, pumpkins, bats...you name it, we're making it. And this morning was no different. When Mister Man was done with breakfast he claimed the right to remain in his pajamas based solely on the fact that 'It's Halloween month and ghosts wear theirs the whole month long..." True that, Mister Man, true that...no use in arguing perfect logic like that.
So ghosts in their jammies it is:
To start you'll need some supplies. I tend to retain every scrap and schnibble for future use, but I think you'll agree that in this case the bigger the paper, the better. Grab some construction paper (orange and black) and some WASHABLE white paint. The scissors and string will come later.
Now for the fun! I use cosmetic sponges for arts'n'crafts a lot. There cheap and available just about anywhere in bulk packaging. Using the sponge apply paint to those paws. (I did mine first as a reference so Mister Man could mimic.) And then go SPLAT!
A warm bowl of water and a washcloth are a quick fix to painty fingers.
And yes, Mister Man, we're doing the piggies also! Sponge to apply and this time step fully onto the paper. The print won't come out right if you don't actually stand up.
While that's taking its sweet old time drying, why not make some pumpkins. Orange paint, pointer fingers and away we go. I tried to make mine stripy...Mister Man made his lumpy!
So depending on how many people are involved, your print number may vary. (How disturbing is it that Mister Man's 7 year old feet are not that much smaller than mine!?!)
Get out those scissors and cut out your ghosties! I tried to switch it up a bit from shape to shap. Mister Man could have easily done this with his children's safety scissors (lefties no less!) but he was showering for soccer.
Jumbly skeleton bits!
Time to give those ghosties a personality all their own. Again I varied it from print to print. Admission: we tried to use the fun glitter glue pens to do this the first time but learned the hard way that they're not good for much but mess. So I switched them out for permanent markers. Mister Man directed the look, I did the draw.
This brings us to admission two: see those cute orange alphabet stickers spelling out 'Happy Halloween'? Yeah, they didn't feel the need to stick so much...so we had to make do with stenciling around them and letting them fall off. Perhaps hoarding the craft supplies for 7 years should not apply to stickers and adhesives?!?
Using a long length of string and festive beads we picked a simple pattern and prepared our line. (Tip-count out all your beads, string them all on the line...then make the knots. So much easier!)
I used plain old clear tape to string those babies up and hang them out to flutter.
Can you guess which fierce ghosty is Mister Man's fave?
Season's greeting peeps! :)
Now we deal in folders, boxes and patchwork giant envelopes to consolidate our ever-growing collection. And Mister Man has learned the value in 'sharing' his artwork also...whether it's destined for his grandparents' homes or off in the mail to a penpal or packed in with cookies for the local nursing home...
The upshot is, we like to create. And getting icky, oocky and just plain dirty is a major perk!
With Halloween mere days away you can bet we're theming right now...ghosts, goblins, pumpkins, bats...you name it, we're making it. And this morning was no different. When Mister Man was done with breakfast he claimed the right to remain in his pajamas based solely on the fact that 'It's Halloween month and ghosts wear theirs the whole month long..." True that, Mister Man, true that...no use in arguing perfect logic like that.
So ghosts in their jammies it is:
To start you'll need some supplies. I tend to retain every scrap and schnibble for future use, but I think you'll agree that in this case the bigger the paper, the better. Grab some construction paper (orange and black) and some WASHABLE white paint. The scissors and string will come later.
Now for the fun! I use cosmetic sponges for arts'n'crafts a lot. There cheap and available just about anywhere in bulk packaging. Using the sponge apply paint to those paws. (I did mine first as a reference so Mister Man could mimic.) And then go SPLAT!
A warm bowl of water and a washcloth are a quick fix to painty fingers.
And yes, Mister Man, we're doing the piggies also! Sponge to apply and this time step fully onto the paper. The print won't come out right if you don't actually stand up.
While that's taking its sweet old time drying, why not make some pumpkins. Orange paint, pointer fingers and away we go. I tried to make mine stripy...Mister Man made his lumpy!
So depending on how many people are involved, your print number may vary. (How disturbing is it that Mister Man's 7 year old feet are not that much smaller than mine!?!)
Get out those scissors and cut out your ghosties! I tried to switch it up a bit from shape to shap. Mister Man could have easily done this with his children's safety scissors (lefties no less!) but he was showering for soccer.
Jumbly skeleton bits!
Time to give those ghosties a personality all their own. Again I varied it from print to print. Admission: we tried to use the fun glitter glue pens to do this the first time but learned the hard way that they're not good for much but mess. So I switched them out for permanent markers. Mister Man directed the look, I did the draw.
This brings us to admission two: see those cute orange alphabet stickers spelling out 'Happy Halloween'? Yeah, they didn't feel the need to stick so much...so we had to make do with stenciling around them and letting them fall off. Perhaps hoarding the craft supplies for 7 years should not apply to stickers and adhesives?!?
Using a long length of string and festive beads we picked a simple pattern and prepared our line. (Tip-count out all your beads, string them all on the line...then make the knots. So much easier!)
I used plain old clear tape to string those babies up and hang them out to flutter.
Can you guess which fierce ghosty is Mister Man's fave?
Season's greeting peeps! :)
09 September, 2010
...compromise is a dirty word... (back dated post)
No. Really. It is.
The very act of compromising is based on giving in, giving up, or letting go.
Yeah, yeah, I know...it's all for the greater good and all that. Compromise is touted as the great mediator, the final resolution to end all disputes. People seek it out when conflict is getting the better of them. Corporations pay big money to hire fancy lawyers to make it happen at any cost. Even friends and families find themselves living in a flux state of day to day compromise.
Face it: In this 'modern age' of ours, we're handing in our wishes and dreams for a daily dose of compromise and not even counting the losses.
(Let me be clear. I'm not completely knocking it. There's plenty of dirty words out there that can be quite useful, possibly necessary and maybe even a little fun!)
Anyhow, getting back to the point...
Compromise is definitely another tool in our arsenal of social interactions. It's in there with all the other communicative devices: tone and eye contact and proximity. It's a way of making someone else feel heard, and understood and validated. Unfortunately, unlike some of the other tools like laughter and smiles...the implications are not so obvious. Honestly, the darn thing should just come with a warning label. It's got some major consequences after all. Something along the lines of:
"will directly cause some degree of disappointment"
or
"grand potential can become diminished by frequent use"
could be helpful. If people only knew that compromise is just a fancy way of saying 'trade in your high hopes for mediocre ones' I seriously doubt they'd be so eager to reach it.
The reality though is that we are raised to be compromisers...not fighters. We chasten the bickering toddlers and tell them to share the coveted object. We harp on the teenager to at least complete half of the assigned task. We cajole our employees or employers into giving in to constraints or expectations. We even strive for the 50/50 in our relationships.
When did it become ok to stop scrapping for what we really want out of life?
And when did it become ok to trade in hard work-planning-saving-education (or whatever the groundwork may have been) for only half of the dream?
Go ahead: 'google' it...I'm not the only one who thinks so...
The very act of compromising is based on giving in, giving up, or letting go.
Yeah, yeah, I know...it's all for the greater good and all that. Compromise is touted as the great mediator, the final resolution to end all disputes. People seek it out when conflict is getting the better of them. Corporations pay big money to hire fancy lawyers to make it happen at any cost. Even friends and families find themselves living in a flux state of day to day compromise.
Face it: In this 'modern age' of ours, we're handing in our wishes and dreams for a daily dose of compromise and not even counting the losses.
(Let me be clear. I'm not completely knocking it. There's plenty of dirty words out there that can be quite useful, possibly necessary and maybe even a little fun!)
Anyhow, getting back to the point...
Compromise is definitely another tool in our arsenal of social interactions. It's in there with all the other communicative devices: tone and eye contact and proximity. It's a way of making someone else feel heard, and understood and validated. Unfortunately, unlike some of the other tools like laughter and smiles...the implications are not so obvious. Honestly, the darn thing should just come with a warning label. It's got some major consequences after all. Something along the lines of:
"will directly cause some degree of disappointment"
or
"grand potential can become diminished by frequent use"
could be helpful. If people only knew that compromise is just a fancy way of saying 'trade in your high hopes for mediocre ones' I seriously doubt they'd be so eager to reach it.
The reality though is that we are raised to be compromisers...not fighters. We chasten the bickering toddlers and tell them to share the coveted object. We harp on the teenager to at least complete half of the assigned task. We cajole our employees or employers into giving in to constraints or expectations. We even strive for the 50/50 in our relationships.
When did it become ok to stop scrapping for what we really want out of life?
And when did it become ok to trade in hard work-planning-saving-education (or whatever the groundwork may have been) for only half of the dream?
Go ahead: 'google' it...I'm not the only one who thinks so...
27 August, 2010
...the shape of things to come...
This week one of my facebook posts asked the question: "Which came first, the autistic 7 yr. old or the insomniac mom". I was referencing our current homefront struggle with sleep issues that has spun a bit out of control this week.
(A little backstory: Mister Man has, throughout his life, gone through periods of time where he won't sleep for days on end. Usually these time periods are also fraught with hyperactivity and hypo sensitivity. It happens sporadically, maybe every three or four months. And I've never yet been able to predict it or tie it down to any one cause.)
At any rate, we're in of those periods now. And let me tell you, having a very active boy still needing your attention and assistance at 4am after an already long day can be a bit hard to take.
I've had to modify my old approach from when we lived alone in Ohio, to suit where we're currently at...but feel free to picture us camped out on a stack of fluffy blankets, sipping 'Sleepytime' tea and watching 'quiet' movies into the wee hours. For added accuracy colour in the ever increasing purple-black circles under my eyes when I drag myself off the blanket-bed in the morning and grouse my way to a cup of coffee!
I've noticed this week that my former bounce-back-edness is fading. Used to be, I sort of just rolled with the punches. Sure, three days of wakefulness and trying to sleep on the floor wasn't fun by any means, but I could do it and still function.
This time 'round though...ain't a-happenin'! My whole body is feeling the lack of sleep and cushioning! Muscles ache and burn, my head is dull and roary, I'm clumsy and forgetful. Ugh!
Meanwhile, Mister Man is a veritable ball of energy and life running circles around his speed-aging Mami. :(
-----
Cutting to the chase here and actually breathing life into this blog post's title...this week's sleeptime shenanigans have me wondering about this whole parenting thing. Who's doing the shaping and molding here? Is it the parent who consciously chooses to direct and guide her child....or is it the child's very existence that alters a life from one course to another?
Certainly I can look at my own experience and find examples to support both hypotheses here...but my question goes deeper than what I am able to offer up. Who is being germinated here...the baby/child/young man/adult that I am raising, or the mother/employee/friend/woman that I was/am/will be.
(See? Confusion! Hence the need for backslashes!)
Used to be that the subtitles under my name were defined by what I had been working towards. Singer. Dancer. Actress. My young years and even my young adulthood were spent in a whirlwind of activity...every moment working towards what I wanted to become.
Little did I imagine at the time that something as simple as meeting my now ex-husband could knock me so far off course as to change my final destination completely.
Fast forward through all the grim and gruesome (and sometimes glorious) to the present and you'll find me a woman whose main focus involves her identity as a parent to a special needs child. Certainly I owe a great deal of credit (for my self-perceived success in my current role!) to those skills I cultivated as a young person. My creative side is the sole basis for how I approach challenges. And my love of the arts helps bring joy to the direst of circumstances. But all that acknowledged, I can say without a doubt that this is not the life I envisioned when I was young.
Motherhood has changed me. Therefore my mothering has changed. The parent I might have been is not. And it's not a static existence in this mothering aspect. It's as though the parameters are malleable...outside influences wend their way in, causing minor changes here and there, and further down the line I am something else.
Just as important...motherhood has changed me...in all areas of my life. I am a different friend/employee/person than I was.
My real curiosity is this...having noted the changes that have already occurred in these 7 years, who am I becoming? What other changes loom on the horizon?
And...how much of it can I hope to control? Do I have some hand in my own future self? Can I take in the reigns of destiny and declare who and how I want to be?
(Note: I believe I can. Let's see what happens.)
(A little backstory: Mister Man has, throughout his life, gone through periods of time where he won't sleep for days on end. Usually these time periods are also fraught with hyperactivity and hypo sensitivity. It happens sporadically, maybe every three or four months. And I've never yet been able to predict it or tie it down to any one cause.)
At any rate, we're in of those periods now. And let me tell you, having a very active boy still needing your attention and assistance at 4am after an already long day can be a bit hard to take.
I've had to modify my old approach from when we lived alone in Ohio, to suit where we're currently at...but feel free to picture us camped out on a stack of fluffy blankets, sipping 'Sleepytime' tea and watching 'quiet' movies into the wee hours. For added accuracy colour in the ever increasing purple-black circles under my eyes when I drag myself off the blanket-bed in the morning and grouse my way to a cup of coffee!
I've noticed this week that my former bounce-back-edness is fading. Used to be, I sort of just rolled with the punches. Sure, three days of wakefulness and trying to sleep on the floor wasn't fun by any means, but I could do it and still function.
This time 'round though...ain't a-happenin'! My whole body is feeling the lack of sleep and cushioning! Muscles ache and burn, my head is dull and roary, I'm clumsy and forgetful. Ugh!
Meanwhile, Mister Man is a veritable ball of energy and life running circles around his speed-aging Mami. :(
-----
Cutting to the chase here and actually breathing life into this blog post's title...this week's sleeptime shenanigans have me wondering about this whole parenting thing. Who's doing the shaping and molding here? Is it the parent who consciously chooses to direct and guide her child....or is it the child's very existence that alters a life from one course to another?
Certainly I can look at my own experience and find examples to support both hypotheses here...but my question goes deeper than what I am able to offer up. Who is being germinated here...the baby/child/young man/adult that I am raising, or the mother/employee/friend/woman that I was/am/will be.
(See? Confusion! Hence the need for backslashes!)
Used to be that the subtitles under my name were defined by what I had been working towards. Singer. Dancer. Actress. My young years and even my young adulthood were spent in a whirlwind of activity...every moment working towards what I wanted to become.
Little did I imagine at the time that something as simple as meeting my now ex-husband could knock me so far off course as to change my final destination completely.
Fast forward through all the grim and gruesome (and sometimes glorious) to the present and you'll find me a woman whose main focus involves her identity as a parent to a special needs child. Certainly I owe a great deal of credit (for my self-perceived success in my current role!) to those skills I cultivated as a young person. My creative side is the sole basis for how I approach challenges. And my love of the arts helps bring joy to the direst of circumstances. But all that acknowledged, I can say without a doubt that this is not the life I envisioned when I was young.
Motherhood has changed me. Therefore my mothering has changed. The parent I might have been is not. And it's not a static existence in this mothering aspect. It's as though the parameters are malleable...outside influences wend their way in, causing minor changes here and there, and further down the line I am something else.
Just as important...motherhood has changed me...in all areas of my life. I am a different friend/employee/person than I was.
My real curiosity is this...having noted the changes that have already occurred in these 7 years, who am I becoming? What other changes loom on the horizon?
And...how much of it can I hope to control? Do I have some hand in my own future self? Can I take in the reigns of destiny and declare who and how I want to be?
(Note: I believe I can. Let's see what happens.)
20 August, 2010
...small words...
What a blessing today was.
In the midst of some great tumult in my life, my son and I were able to take today to refocus in on what is most important and really, truly be happy for the moment.
I'm proud of myself tonight as I reflect on where I was 10 years ago, who I am today and what I may become. With all this comfort of time passed by, I now find it easy to see the shining moments more clearly than the dark. The sorrows and heartbreaks and fears of the past have indeed faded with time...receding in the face of minor triumphs and major glories.
It really is a matter of (as I told the Mister Man while kissing him goodnight) never, ever forgetting to dream bigger and better than what you dreamt last.
I know the hard knocks will keep on coming. And I know sometimes I'll stumble, sometimes I'll fall...sometimes I will fail. But I know that pushing onward and upward is the only satisfying way to get through life. And in years to come I know we'll have a great story to tell.
In the midst of some great tumult in my life, my son and I were able to take today to refocus in on what is most important and really, truly be happy for the moment.
I'm proud of myself tonight as I reflect on where I was 10 years ago, who I am today and what I may become. With all this comfort of time passed by, I now find it easy to see the shining moments more clearly than the dark. The sorrows and heartbreaks and fears of the past have indeed faded with time...receding in the face of minor triumphs and major glories.
It really is a matter of (as I told the Mister Man while kissing him goodnight) never, ever forgetting to dream bigger and better than what you dreamt last.
I know the hard knocks will keep on coming. And I know sometimes I'll stumble, sometimes I'll fall...sometimes I will fail. But I know that pushing onward and upward is the only satisfying way to get through life. And in years to come I know we'll have a great story to tell.
19 August, 2010
...oh happy day...
Mister Man and I are having a blast today...celebrating our annual Family Anniversary Day!
Born of the necessity to take the negative power out of my wedding anniversary date and create a special way of honoring who and how we are now as a family, we recognize this important date each year. It's the day I take off work, Mister Man takes off 'work-school-etc' and we indulge in every whim and whimsy we can come up with to build fun memories that will last a lifetime.
The truth is...had I not made that all important decision to marry my ex...this imperfectly perfect family of mine would not exist. And that is definitely worth celebrating!
On this day I can look back on the road to here and now and look forward to all the years and celebrations to come!
Mister Man and I wish you all an oh-so-happy day and want to remind you to embrace every day for the gift that it is!
Born of the necessity to take the negative power out of my wedding anniversary date and create a special way of honoring who and how we are now as a family, we recognize this important date each year. It's the day I take off work, Mister Man takes off 'work-school-etc' and we indulge in every whim and whimsy we can come up with to build fun memories that will last a lifetime.
The truth is...had I not made that all important decision to marry my ex...this imperfectly perfect family of mine would not exist. And that is definitely worth celebrating!
On this day I can look back on the road to here and now and look forward to all the years and celebrations to come!
Mister Man and I wish you all an oh-so-happy day and want to remind you to embrace every day for the gift that it is!
15 July, 2010
...the rewards of a good education...
With the soundtrack of 'De-Lovely' on repeat, and his Mami singing along over a sink full of dishes, Mister Man is busy at the kitchen table this morning...having set a new challenge for himself regarding the completion of his math workbook. Yesterday, I'm so proud to relate, he raced to the end of his reading comprehension workbook and won his reward. Today he's going for gold again and I've no doubt by the end of the day his 'Bank of J-Bug Vault' jar will be overflowing with all the new rewards "bucks" he's been earning for himself.
Our summer-homeschool session is well underway, having begun the Monday after his Kindergarten year ended. And it's been going exceptionally well. I asked for a lot of input from Mister Man himself in creating the structured program and that seems to have added another motivational factor into his completing each task. He's taking more of an interest in the work because he had a say in what that work would be. Now wouldn't that be nice to see translated into an adult real-world workplace? Hah! Of course, I'm not negating the impact of a handy rewards system to perk up the student when boredom strikes or energy lags!
And having the rewards envelope present at every school-session serves as a visual reminder that it's enclosed treasures are ripe for the picking...Mister Man need only stay focused and complete the task assigned and he'll be able to add to his stash!
So far, so GREAT! At the rate we've been able to manage, we may well get into a good deal of 2nd grade curriculum before Mister Man's 1st grade school year starts in the fall.
Our summer-homeschool session is well underway, having begun the Monday after his Kindergarten year ended. And it's been going exceptionally well. I asked for a lot of input from Mister Man himself in creating the structured program and that seems to have added another motivational factor into his completing each task. He's taking more of an interest in the work because he had a say in what that work would be. Now wouldn't that be nice to see translated into an adult real-world workplace? Hah! Of course, I'm not negating the impact of a handy rewards system to perk up the student when boredom strikes or energy lags!
And having the rewards envelope present at every school-session serves as a visual reminder that it's enclosed treasures are ripe for the picking...Mister Man need only stay focused and complete the task assigned and he'll be able to add to his stash!
So far, so GREAT! At the rate we've been able to manage, we may well get into a good deal of 2nd grade curriculum before Mister Man's 1st grade school year starts in the fall.
13 July, 2010
...sorry and the single mom...
When I found my self preemptively apologizing for my son...for the millionth time...to a girlfriend we were out with some nights ago, it gave me pause. What was I doing? Was this just another facet of my 'cover all the bases' mindset? Was it guilt that I couldn't be totally focused on her, my friend? Was it a defense mechanism kicking in? Was it an attempt to dissuade her from thinking to herself that Mister Man is a handful...a terror...a brat?!?! What was going on that fired off this rapid 'I apologize in advance' response?
And it got me to thinking...in this mixed bag of friendship with Mom-friends, Guy-friends, Married-friends, Single-friends...where do I fit comfortably? It is, in fact, completely natural for us to seek to define ourselves by the traits of our friends. A 'well she and I have that in common but I'm more ___ and she's more ___ ' mentality. And let's just toss the special-needs parent thing into the mix while we're at it, shall we? After all, it can be a great divider.
Certainly there is great value in having a wide variety of people in one's life. I'm a firm believer in friendship as a growing mechanism. Why seek out only people similar to oneself...what can one truly learn from a mirror that one didn't already know, right? So I tend to surround myself with people who are very different from myself and I feel as though that helps me learn all sort of new things...music, culture, techniques, lifestyles, etc... In essence, being friends with people who are different from me enriches my life and leads me to try new things and open up to new possibilities.
Now, that said, it also means I'm not friends with my 'twin' (if she exists)...I don't have a girlfriend who is single parenting an autistic child...whose life story mirrors mine, whose daily struggles and triumphs are second-nature to me.
And so, there is some sense that I go about apologizing for the life I don't have to the friends I do have.
~ 'I'm sorry' to the single friends who want to go out on a Friday night...'I don't have a babysitter'.
~ 'I'm sorry' to the married friends who want to host a dinner 'I don't have a date to keep the numbers even'.
~ 'I'm sorry' to the mom friends 'Mister Man can't handle group activities'.
~ 'I'm sorry' to the guy friends 'I can't hit the bar tonight and be hung over tomorrow'.
~ 'I'm sorry' to everyone 'But Mister Man is part of the package deal'.
It's an overwhelming amount of apologizing to do on a regular basis, right?
Of course the real question is 'why do I keep apologizing'? After all, in this day and age, it's passe to apologize. Ever. For anything. This is the era of reaction...positive, negative...it's all good. As long as there's a reaction people feel validated. And yet, here I am, making countless apologies for the very life I lead.
The only real bit of insight I can offer is this. I apologize because I realize that what works for me wouldn't work for most. I apologize because I want you to know that I find merit in your choices and your lifestyles, while still knowing that mine is the best for me. I apologize because I don't want you to feel that I'm not sensitive to your annoyances, or discomforts, or desires. I apologize because some of you just don't get it yet. I apologize because I want you to know that those other parts of me still exist. I apologize because a huge part of who I am in the here and now is the single mother of a special-needs child...and that responsibility trumps all my minor roles.
And sometimes I even apologize to myself...cause I'd love to take the night off and be the fun, charming single gal I think I once was.
Now, I'm waiting...who is going to let me off the hook and say 'quit apologizing already'?
And it got me to thinking...in this mixed bag of friendship with Mom-friends, Guy-friends, Married-friends, Single-friends...where do I fit comfortably? It is, in fact, completely natural for us to seek to define ourselves by the traits of our friends. A 'well she and I have that in common but I'm more ___ and she's more ___ ' mentality. And let's just toss the special-needs parent thing into the mix while we're at it, shall we? After all, it can be a great divider.
Certainly there is great value in having a wide variety of people in one's life. I'm a firm believer in friendship as a growing mechanism. Why seek out only people similar to oneself...what can one truly learn from a mirror that one didn't already know, right? So I tend to surround myself with people who are very different from myself and I feel as though that helps me learn all sort of new things...music, culture, techniques, lifestyles, etc... In essence, being friends with people who are different from me enriches my life and leads me to try new things and open up to new possibilities.
Now, that said, it also means I'm not friends with my 'twin' (if she exists)...I don't have a girlfriend who is single parenting an autistic child...whose life story mirrors mine, whose daily struggles and triumphs are second-nature to me.
And so, there is some sense that I go about apologizing for the life I don't have to the friends I do have.
~ 'I'm sorry' to the single friends who want to go out on a Friday night...'I don't have a babysitter'.
~ 'I'm sorry' to the married friends who want to host a dinner 'I don't have a date to keep the numbers even'.
~ 'I'm sorry' to the mom friends 'Mister Man can't handle group activities'.
~ 'I'm sorry' to the guy friends 'I can't hit the bar tonight and be hung over tomorrow'.
~ 'I'm sorry' to everyone 'But Mister Man is part of the package deal'.
It's an overwhelming amount of apologizing to do on a regular basis, right?
Of course the real question is 'why do I keep apologizing'? After all, in this day and age, it's passe to apologize. Ever. For anything. This is the era of reaction...positive, negative...it's all good. As long as there's a reaction people feel validated. And yet, here I am, making countless apologies for the very life I lead.
The only real bit of insight I can offer is this. I apologize because I realize that what works for me wouldn't work for most. I apologize because I want you to know that I find merit in your choices and your lifestyles, while still knowing that mine is the best for me. I apologize because I don't want you to feel that I'm not sensitive to your annoyances, or discomforts, or desires. I apologize because some of you just don't get it yet. I apologize because I want you to know that those other parts of me still exist. I apologize because a huge part of who I am in the here and now is the single mother of a special-needs child...and that responsibility trumps all my minor roles.
And sometimes I even apologize to myself...cause I'd love to take the night off and be the fun, charming single gal I think I once was.
Now, I'm waiting...who is going to let me off the hook and say 'quit apologizing already'?
30 June, 2010
....my hands are small I know...
I may indeed spend more time apologizing for breaks in posting, than I do in posting itself. Oh dear!
So let me just take the easy route here and say...
I've Hit The Wall.
It's not often I find myself overwhelmed. In fact I think it's usually a point of pride with me that I can usually 'cover all the bases'. My friends view me as the 'gets the job done' gal, employers know I'm the queen bee of efficiency and multitasking, and my son believes (and rightly so) that this Mami can do anything!
Lately though, I've been breaking the rules...and maybe breaking down just a wee bit here, there and everywhere. To say my cup is full is pure idiocy...that darn thing's been overflowing for years...and now it's spilling over into every aspect of my life. I *might* have taken on more than I can handle...but Ssssh...don't tell! ;)
I know I'm usually pretty open-book-y here in regards to a lot of what is happening in my life but I don't feel like that's appropriate right now because of who might read what I'm writing. So in that regard I'm taking a huge step back and processing through entirely on my own.
That said, I fully intend to get a few new posts up here over the course of this week. I'm a debtor at this point...owing back postings of pictures chronicling Mister Man's final school days, pictures from the last month or so, cheap chic finds, and some insight into what's filling my days right now.
So for those of you still checking back in for the highlights of this 'single Mami life', for pics of and vignettes about Mister Man, for moments of fashion and fluff, or for whatever other random drivel I tend to feel the need to write about....thanks for your patience and apparent hopefulness that I'll be back in full-force at some point.
So let me just take the easy route here and say...
I've Hit The Wall.
It's not often I find myself overwhelmed. In fact I think it's usually a point of pride with me that I can usually 'cover all the bases'. My friends view me as the 'gets the job done' gal, employers know I'm the queen bee of efficiency and multitasking, and my son
Lately though, I've been breaking the rules...and maybe breaking down just a wee bit here, there and everywhere. To say my cup is full is pure idiocy...that darn thing's been overflowing for years...and now it's spilling over into every aspect of my life. I *might* have taken on more than I can handle...but Ssssh...don't tell! ;)
I know I'm usually pretty open-book-y here in regards to a lot of what is happening in my life but I don't feel like that's appropriate right now because of who might read what I'm writing. So in that regard I'm taking a huge step back and processing through entirely on my own.
That said, I fully intend to get a few new posts up here over the course of this week. I'm a debtor at this point...owing back postings of pictures chronicling Mister Man's final school days, pictures from the last month or so, cheap chic finds, and some insight into what's filling my days right now.
So for those of you still checking back in for the highlights of this 'single Mami life', for pics of and vignettes about Mister Man, for moments of fashion and fluff, or for whatever other random drivel I tend to feel the need to write about....thanks for your patience and apparent hopefulness that I'll be back in full-force at some point.
13 May, 2010
...how to recover...
You know that expression "hindsight is 20/20"? I'm here to tell you, it's correct.
It's so difficult...maybe impossible...to see past an emotional view when you're actually in something (whatever the something or situation may be) and get to the over-it stage.
I consider myself a pretty savvy chick. I'm generally exceptionally good at helping others in and out of situations. I'm a good listener, and a good brainstormer...I can offer sympathy, or constructive criticism, or just a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on. And for the most part, I'm the one my friends go to for all those things. But is it a two-way street? Not hardly!
Now before you get all up in arms and protest...let me be clear...the street is one-way, cause that's how I paved it.
I have to admit, I have an independent streak a mile wide. Friends have known me to quote "if you can't stand on your own two feet then you're just taking up space" more than once...but only about myself and my need to take care of myself. I can't explain it fully (gosh, if I could I'd probably be a motivational speaker making millions off this dreck...instead of just your kaffee-klatch blogger!) but for as long as I can remember, I've kept my inner sanctum people-free. Sort of a 'if no one gets in then I don't get hurt' policy. Which is not to say I'm some cold-hearted you-know-what. It's more a matter of not relying on anyone else when I'm vulnerable in any way. And it came about as a result of lots of damage...physical, emotional, you name it. More often than not, I've referred to myself as 'damaged goods'...a sad statement when I step back and look at it, as though I'm that unsellable item with the shattered corners and gaping holes. I let those things that had happened in my life take on a life of their own and shape who I was, taking off 10% of my value for this event, 20% for that...
Motherhood, specifically this fabulous journey of self-discovery in mothering Mister Man, has definitely rocked my core more than once. Becoming a single parent was a huge wake up call...all of a sudden I was it. If Mister Man was going to grow up healthy, happy and well-adjusted, I needed to become the person he would emulate in those patterns.
Not an easy task!
Someone asked me after a church meeting one Sunday if I thought I'd ever get married again. I'm fairly certain my answer involved the 'damaged goods' line in a 'no-one should have to take on me' sort of a way. I know my answer was a definite no. And for the most part I still feel that way. Marriage was a huge leap of faith for me...and it blew up bigtime. I don't know if I have it in me to ever attempt to trust like that again. But that's a story for another day. The real story here is how I so easily blocked myself. I mean, in one fell swoop I basically said "Don't worry about me. I'm not worth it." I let events in my life that I had little or no control over define who I was being and who I was letting others see. Here was this individual reaching out and saying it's ok to move on and I was replying with a definitive "No, I won't allow myself to".
Oh dear.
That's the thing...if you don't let others in then no one is there to point out when you're just wrong. And now looking back, of course I see the wrong-ness of all those years spent beating myself up for the way others had beaten me down.
So here's where I'm at today. I want to be a great mother. I want my son to grow up right. I want him to look back in the future and remember a childhood of joy, discovery, security and big dreams. But more than that, I want to let myself finally grow up right. I want to be the healthy, happy and well-adjusted woman who at some point was able to recover. I want to pick up the dreams I had for myself when I was 8 and 10 and 12 and finally make them come true.
And today is the day to start.
At some point you just need to say "Ok, I'm done with that now. I can move on"
...and allow the healing to happen.
It's so difficult...maybe impossible...to see past an emotional view when you're actually in something (whatever the something or situation may be) and get to the over-it stage.
I consider myself a pretty savvy chick. I'm generally exceptionally good at helping others in and out of situations. I'm a good listener, and a good brainstormer...I can offer sympathy, or constructive criticism, or just a cup of coffee and a shoulder to cry on. And for the most part, I'm the one my friends go to for all those things. But is it a two-way street? Not hardly!
Now before you get all up in arms and protest...let me be clear...the street is one-way, cause that's how I paved it.
I have to admit, I have an independent streak a mile wide. Friends have known me to quote "if you can't stand on your own two feet then you're just taking up space" more than once...but only about myself and my need to take care of myself. I can't explain it fully (gosh, if I could I'd probably be a motivational speaker making millions off this dreck...instead of just your kaffee-klatch blogger!) but for as long as I can remember, I've kept my inner sanctum people-free. Sort of a 'if no one gets in then I don't get hurt' policy. Which is not to say I'm some cold-hearted you-know-what. It's more a matter of not relying on anyone else when I'm vulnerable in any way. And it came about as a result of lots of damage...physical, emotional, you name it. More often than not, I've referred to myself as 'damaged goods'...a sad statement when I step back and look at it, as though I'm that unsellable item with the shattered corners and gaping holes. I let those things that had happened in my life take on a life of their own and shape who I was, taking off 10% of my value for this event, 20% for that...
Motherhood, specifically this fabulous journey of self-discovery in mothering Mister Man, has definitely rocked my core more than once. Becoming a single parent was a huge wake up call...all of a sudden I was it. If Mister Man was going to grow up healthy, happy and well-adjusted, I needed to become the person he would emulate in those patterns.
Not an easy task!
Someone asked me after a church meeting one Sunday if I thought I'd ever get married again. I'm fairly certain my answer involved the 'damaged goods' line in a 'no-one should have to take on me' sort of a way. I know my answer was a definite no. And for the most part I still feel that way. Marriage was a huge leap of faith for me...and it blew up bigtime. I don't know if I have it in me to ever attempt to trust like that again. But that's a story for another day. The real story here is how I so easily blocked myself. I mean, in one fell swoop I basically said "Don't worry about me. I'm not worth it." I let events in my life that I had little or no control over define who I was being and who I was letting others see. Here was this individual reaching out and saying it's ok to move on and I was replying with a definitive "No, I won't allow myself to".
Oh dear.
That's the thing...if you don't let others in then no one is there to point out when you're just wrong. And now looking back, of course I see the wrong-ness of all those years spent beating myself up for the way others had beaten me down.
So here's where I'm at today. I want to be a great mother. I want my son to grow up right. I want him to look back in the future and remember a childhood of joy, discovery, security and big dreams. But more than that, I want to let myself finally grow up right. I want to be the healthy, happy and well-adjusted woman who at some point was able to recover. I want to pick up the dreams I had for myself when I was 8 and 10 and 12 and finally make them come true.
And today is the day to start.
At some point you just need to say "Ok, I'm done with that now. I can move on"
...and allow the healing to happen.
17 April, 2010
...always aware...
By now, reader, I'm sure you are more than well aware that April is Autism Awareness Month. After all, I've been mentioning it left and right, haven't I?
I'll be honest...I'm going to keep bringing it up. Yup, I am. Over and over again. And you know what? When April ends and Autism Awareness Month draws to a close, I'm still going to be mentioning it.
Because in my home, in my family, in my life, it doesn't end.
It just is.
and it's my blog! :)
Mister Man is autistic. He's plenty of other things as well...many of them fantastic and wonderful, some of them less so. But whether or not he's in creative mode, playful mode, tantrum mode, etc... - he's always without fail autistic.
It's not like an article of clothing he can put on or take off as he pleases.
It's not like a choice he can wake up making.
It's not even like a mood he can be coaxed out of.
It just is.
And it colours everyday of our life a different shade than it otherwise would have been.
Our mornings look different than yours. Our phone calls sound different than yours. Our meals taste different.
Now, I have countless times talked about how having a special needs child has brought out the best in me...it's made me into someone I never would have guessed I could be.
But gosh darn it, it's hard. Really hard. To wake up day after day and steel yourself for the challenges that you know will come at every turn. To be always prepped for every possible outcome in every situation. To feel like leaving the house requires a checklist...even just to go on a walk.
And it's exhausting...switching hats seamlessly from loving mother to demanding therapist to challenging teacher...even playing doctor and experimental scientist.
Making sure I'm always hyper aware of what's going on around us...noises, colours, lights, movement, scents...it's all important.
Like any parent of a special needs child, my strongest wish is for understanding.
Do you see us walking down the street...my firm grasp and constant directives...his stimmy-fingers and apparent oblivion? Understand that we're enjoying ourselves. Do you see us at the local Target as I clutch him hard against my chest while his whole body flails and tears pour down his face. Understand that this is a meltdown of sensory over stimulation. Do you see us at the playground, in the cafe, in church? Do you wonder at that child and his mother? Do you think he's bratty or spoiled or disobedient or scary? Understand that we want your friendship. Understand that we are trying to be in the world. Understand that we have great things to offer. Understand that we do things differently. Understand autism.
And then...move on. Come say hi! We'll be glad to meet you...
I'll be honest...I'm going to keep bringing it up. Yup, I am. Over and over again. And you know what? When April ends and Autism Awareness Month draws to a close, I'm still going to be mentioning it.
Because in my home, in my family, in my life, it doesn't end.
It just is.
and it's my blog! :)
Mister Man is autistic. He's plenty of other things as well...many of them fantastic and wonderful, some of them less so. But whether or not he's in creative mode, playful mode, tantrum mode, etc... - he's always without fail autistic.
It's not like an article of clothing he can put on or take off as he pleases.
It's not like a choice he can wake up making.
It's not even like a mood he can be coaxed out of.
It just is.
And it colours everyday of our life a different shade than it otherwise would have been.
Our mornings look different than yours. Our phone calls sound different than yours. Our meals taste different.
Now, I have countless times talked about how having a special needs child has brought out the best in me...it's made me into someone I never would have guessed I could be.
But gosh darn it, it's hard. Really hard. To wake up day after day and steel yourself for the challenges that you know will come at every turn. To be always prepped for every possible outcome in every situation. To feel like leaving the house requires a checklist...even just to go on a walk.
And it's exhausting...switching hats seamlessly from loving mother to demanding therapist to challenging teacher...even playing doctor and experimental scientist.
Making sure I'm always hyper aware of what's going on around us...noises, colours, lights, movement, scents...it's all important.
Like any parent of a special needs child, my strongest wish is for understanding.
Do you see us walking down the street...my firm grasp and constant directives...his stimmy-fingers and apparent oblivion? Understand that we're enjoying ourselves. Do you see us at the local Target as I clutch him hard against my chest while his whole body flails and tears pour down his face. Understand that this is a meltdown of sensory over stimulation. Do you see us at the playground, in the cafe, in church? Do you wonder at that child and his mother? Do you think he's bratty or spoiled or disobedient or scary? Understand that we want your friendship. Understand that we are trying to be in the world. Understand that we have great things to offer. Understand that we do things differently. Understand autism.
And then...move on. Come say hi! We'll be glad to meet you...
15 April, 2010
...spring cleaning...
Over the last week or so my home has been undergoing renovations. No, not the large scale construction projects or one-room-at-a-time remodels. Ours has been much smaller and yet, at least in my eyes, just as major of a change. I even posted about it on Facebook! Now if that's not major... :)
So what's the change you ask?
Why, dishes, of course.
Dishes?!?
Yup, dishes.
Part of this single mom journey I'm on has meant holding on to things I might otherwise have wanted to get rid of, out of pure necessity. Things that emphasized the broken part of what has made my family. Things that held significant memories of a toxic marriage. Things that someone else had chosen. One of the good changes that came out of our move two years ago was the letting loose of some of those things. We had a huge garage sale. We listed things on Craiglist and on Freecycle. We found new happy homes for useful belongings. We filled the dumpster...several times over. And in the end I locked the door and walked to the U-Haul full of things we still needed.
So every morning for years now I've made my coffee and poured it into a blue mug...added water to instant oatmeal in a blue rimmed bowl...and shared dinner with my son on a blue plate.
Mind you, I like blue. I like blue a lot. I even joke that when people ask me what my favourite colour is I always say purple, but I should say blue...because that's what I generally buy.
But these blues...these tangible unyielding surfaces of blue...they belonged to a past I've struggled to grow out of. They were a symbol, of course, of a marriage that failed and that hurt me deeply. But more than that, they were objects that held memories...of a 'he and I' and how he chose them for 'us'. Even here in a new place all these years later I could go to take a sip and have a clear memory of him lifting the very same mug to his mouth. I could remember setting the table for dinner and how I hoped he'd like what I had prepared. And that little moment so easily could overpower me with images of how bad it became...the fear, the anger, the sorrow...
And yet, here in this new place I had made room in the cupboard for those dishes. I continued to reach for them in the morning...making my son's breakfast on a plate that the father he doesn't know chose. And finally, I just had it. The dishes had to go.
And GO they did...first onto the floor to smash into smithereens, then into the kitchen garbage...and soon thereafter to a dumpster. Gone. Just gone.
I can't explain how or why that little rebellion of disposal just freed something in me. But it sure did.
Of course, now I had thrown out the dishes. The DISHES!
Which meant...I needed to go buy dishes! Within a few days I had gone here there and everywhere in pursuit of new dishes. We ate a lot of takeout during those days! I finally settled on Bed Bath and Beyond and Mister Man assisted in the choosing. After all, these are the dishes that we are choosing for our family.
That night after Mister Man was tucked safely into bed with his own mis-matched pajama choice and his stuffies round about him, I went to work. I cleaned out the cupboard and scrubbed it bare. Carefully I lined up the new dishes and bowls and mugs and glasses. And then I stepped back. I'm fairly certain a sigh of contentment came next. There, in front of me, was a fresh start. A highly symbolic one, but oh so important.
The following morning I poured my coffee into an oversized mug...quite well suited to my caffeine addiction. I made my son's breakfast and plated it on a dish...with raised edges that help prevent some of his spills. I poured juice into a glass...with a heavy bottom that's hard to tip over. And I admired our choices as the Mister Man munched, crunched, slurped and gurgled before school.
I know it's crazy to put so much into a few simple dishes. But to me, just this once, the object was important. It's one step at a time, as it's always been. One change or lack thereof. One discard or one acquisition. But gradually, with the help of one opinionated little boy, I'm making a new life for us full of things and people and choices that are well thought out...
Curious? In the end we went with white...clean, pure white...in all kinds of funky, structural and free form patterns and pieces. We opted to mix and match among the pieces he liked and I liked. And I LOVE that we can keep adding in new things whenever necessity calls. After all, this life of ours is constantly changing...who knows what we'll need further down the line.
Besides...everything goes with white!
So what's the change you ask?
Why, dishes, of course.
Dishes?!?
Yup, dishes.
Part of this single mom journey I'm on has meant holding on to things I might otherwise have wanted to get rid of, out of pure necessity. Things that emphasized the broken part of what has made my family. Things that held significant memories of a toxic marriage. Things that someone else had chosen. One of the good changes that came out of our move two years ago was the letting loose of some of those things. We had a huge garage sale. We listed things on Craiglist and on Freecycle. We found new happy homes for useful belongings. We filled the dumpster...several times over. And in the end I locked the door and walked to the U-Haul full of things we still needed.
So every morning for years now I've made my coffee and poured it into a blue mug...added water to instant oatmeal in a blue rimmed bowl...and shared dinner with my son on a blue plate.
Mind you, I like blue. I like blue a lot. I even joke that when people ask me what my favourite colour is I always say purple, but I should say blue...because that's what I generally buy.
But these blues...these tangible unyielding surfaces of blue...they belonged to a past I've struggled to grow out of. They were a symbol, of course, of a marriage that failed and that hurt me deeply. But more than that, they were objects that held memories...of a 'he and I' and how he chose them for 'us'. Even here in a new place all these years later I could go to take a sip and have a clear memory of him lifting the very same mug to his mouth. I could remember setting the table for dinner and how I hoped he'd like what I had prepared. And that little moment so easily could overpower me with images of how bad it became...the fear, the anger, the sorrow...
And yet, here in this new place I had made room in the cupboard for those dishes. I continued to reach for them in the morning...making my son's breakfast on a plate that the father he doesn't know chose. And finally, I just had it. The dishes had to go.
And GO they did...first onto the floor to smash into smithereens, then into the kitchen garbage...and soon thereafter to a dumpster. Gone. Just gone.
I can't explain how or why that little rebellion of disposal just freed something in me. But it sure did.
Of course, now I had thrown out the dishes. The DISHES!
Which meant...I needed to go buy dishes! Within a few days I had gone here there and everywhere in pursuit of new dishes. We ate a lot of takeout during those days! I finally settled on Bed Bath and Beyond and Mister Man assisted in the choosing. After all, these are the dishes that we are choosing for our family.
That night after Mister Man was tucked safely into bed with his own mis-matched pajama choice and his stuffies round about him, I went to work. I cleaned out the cupboard and scrubbed it bare. Carefully I lined up the new dishes and bowls and mugs and glasses. And then I stepped back. I'm fairly certain a sigh of contentment came next. There, in front of me, was a fresh start. A highly symbolic one, but oh so important.
The following morning I poured my coffee into an oversized mug...quite well suited to my caffeine addiction. I made my son's breakfast and plated it on a dish...with raised edges that help prevent some of his spills. I poured juice into a glass...with a heavy bottom that's hard to tip over. And I admired our choices as the Mister Man munched, crunched, slurped and gurgled before school.
I know it's crazy to put so much into a few simple dishes. But to me, just this once, the object was important. It's one step at a time, as it's always been. One change or lack thereof. One discard or one acquisition. But gradually, with the help of one opinionated little boy, I'm making a new life for us full of things and people and choices that are well thought out...
Curious? In the end we went with white...clean, pure white...in all kinds of funky, structural and free form patterns and pieces. We opted to mix and match among the pieces he liked and I liked. And I LOVE that we can keep adding in new things whenever necessity calls. After all, this life of ours is constantly changing...who knows what we'll need further down the line.
Besides...everything goes with white!
07 April, 2010
...take a memory...
In what feels like a long distant past, Mister Man and I were walking back home from the park near our Ohio home. Every few moments he would stop dead still, drop to his knees and stare intently at the ground. "Mami, Mami...look, look, look!" And so I did. I too dropped to my knees and stared as the minuscule march of ants wound in and out of sidewalk canyons and over twig mountains. I stared as the petals of a small purple floweret trembled in the gush of wind from Mister Man's breath. I stared at the marbled pebble reflecting millions of rainbows onto the asphalt.
And so we made our slow way home, stopping and kneeling and admiring Nature's handiwork wherever we found it.
The following day we headed to the door to start out on another walk. As I put key to lock, Mister Man started and exclaimed "Mami, bring the camera." So off we went, I holding the camera in one hand and a small sweaty boy-hand in the other.
No sooner had we strolled out of the complex then Mister Man tugged hard on my hand and dropped to the now familiar observer's stance. I bent over to look at the gushing river of water making it's way down a crack in the concrete piling. Mister Man's whole body was tense with concentration, his eyes brilliant and wide as he focused so keenly on this little, minor, insignificant moment. He reached up blindly for my hand, dragging me down closer to his marvel and whispered so as not to disturb Nature herself "Mami, take a memory...make a picture for me."
Nowadays, others laugh at my photo fixations. They roll their eyes when I grab my camera and start clicking. I don't pretend to have talent or skill. I just want to take a memory...
And so we made our slow way home, stopping and kneeling and admiring Nature's handiwork wherever we found it.
The following day we headed to the door to start out on another walk. As I put key to lock, Mister Man started and exclaimed "Mami, bring the camera." So off we went, I holding the camera in one hand and a small sweaty boy-hand in the other.
No sooner had we strolled out of the complex then Mister Man tugged hard on my hand and dropped to the now familiar observer's stance. I bent over to look at the gushing river of water making it's way down a crack in the concrete piling. Mister Man's whole body was tense with concentration, his eyes brilliant and wide as he focused so keenly on this little, minor, insignificant moment. He reached up blindly for my hand, dragging me down closer to his marvel and whispered so as not to disturb Nature herself "Mami, take a memory...make a picture for me."
Nowadays, others laugh at my photo fixations. They roll their eyes when I grab my camera and start clicking. I don't pretend to have talent or skill. I just want to take a memory...
02 April, 2010
Autism Awareness Month: an old crosspost
I'm resurrecting an old post...way back from my days on LiveJournal...on this second day of Autism Awareness Month.
an old crosspost...
There are days, few and far between, but there nonetheless when I feel as though I can't handle all this on my own. It's hard enough being a single parent, but then you add in a special needs child and throw into the mix that there is no extended family close by to help out. And what comes out....frazzled frustrated me! Ugh!
For the most part we've gotten things down to a system and we manage to get through the day to day without too much difficulty. At this point I feel as though I've adjusted fairly well to his needs and emotions and there's almost a sense of intuition or predictability to it. I can judge a room before we enter and know what will set him off: whether it's the crowd, the lighting, the smell, the feel of the floor...
And then there are 'THOSE DAYS'....the ones where I have 1 in 100 odds of preventing imminent disaster. I still don't know what set him off today. But my jaw bears testament to his inner turmoil with a fresh bruise. Foot on jaw with force = very bad thing!
My own frustration really lies in the fact that there is sometimes very little I can do help him because the sensory integration disorder that is part of his autism won't allow him to accept comfort when he is in meltdown mode. Tactile defensiveness can manifest as a pain reaction to a hug or a gentle caress and something as a soft as a whisper can bombard his ears like a siren. It is those times when I feel adrift and helpless and useless even. It is those times when I wonder if there is any 'getting better'. And then there's the guilt in my heart that says 'if you can't accept that he is perfect as is, how can you possibly expect others to do so?". In the maelstrom of stimming or meltdowns it can be so easy to forget the sense of wonder and perfection that he brings to my life.
What interests me most on a daily basis is all the autism research that seeks a cure or a solution. So far, there isn't any one fix. There's therapies, essentially limitless....ABA, Occupational, Speech, Physical, Fine Motor, Gross Motor, Social Skills, etc... But what I wonder in my heart of hearts is why am I sometimes so desperate for a cure? Why do I feel my son needs to be 'fixed'? Is it simply because society has imprinted on me it's rules of what is acceptable and what is not and I am imposing them on my child? The thing is, I know that compared to your average mainstream child, my son is different. But what I don't know, what I don't necessarily believe, is that his autism is a bad thing.
He sees the world in ways I can't even imagine. His senses take in things I don't even notice. And his mind works around puzzles and mysteries until he finds a suitable answer, whereas I would just accept the standard opinion. The changes he has wrought in me and my use of my talents and God-given creativity would probably never have occurred were he not autistic.
So does he need to be fixed or programmed or therapied until he fits into society, or does society at large need to once and for all realize that true beauty lies in each person's difference....
an old crosspost...
There are days, few and far between, but there nonetheless when I feel as though I can't handle all this on my own. It's hard enough being a single parent, but then you add in a special needs child and throw into the mix that there is no extended family close by to help out. And what comes out....frazzled frustrated me! Ugh!
For the most part we've gotten things down to a system and we manage to get through the day to day without too much difficulty. At this point I feel as though I've adjusted fairly well to his needs and emotions and there's almost a sense of intuition or predictability to it. I can judge a room before we enter and know what will set him off: whether it's the crowd, the lighting, the smell, the feel of the floor...
And then there are 'THOSE DAYS'....the ones where I have 1 in 100 odds of preventing imminent disaster. I still don't know what set him off today. But my jaw bears testament to his inner turmoil with a fresh bruise. Foot on jaw with force = very bad thing!
My own frustration really lies in the fact that there is sometimes very little I can do help him because the sensory integration disorder that is part of his autism won't allow him to accept comfort when he is in meltdown mode. Tactile defensiveness can manifest as a pain reaction to a hug or a gentle caress and something as a soft as a whisper can bombard his ears like a siren. It is those times when I feel adrift and helpless and useless even. It is those times when I wonder if there is any 'getting better'. And then there's the guilt in my heart that says 'if you can't accept that he is perfect as is, how can you possibly expect others to do so?". In the maelstrom of stimming or meltdowns it can be so easy to forget the sense of wonder and perfection that he brings to my life.
What interests me most on a daily basis is all the autism research that seeks a cure or a solution. So far, there isn't any one fix. There's therapies, essentially limitless....ABA, Occupational, Speech, Physical, Fine Motor, Gross Motor, Social Skills, etc... But what I wonder in my heart of hearts is why am I sometimes so desperate for a cure? Why do I feel my son needs to be 'fixed'? Is it simply because society has imprinted on me it's rules of what is acceptable and what is not and I am imposing them on my child? The thing is, I know that compared to your average mainstream child, my son is different. But what I don't know, what I don't necessarily believe, is that his autism is a bad thing.
He sees the world in ways I can't even imagine. His senses take in things I don't even notice. And his mind works around puzzles and mysteries until he finds a suitable answer, whereas I would just accept the standard opinion. The changes he has wrought in me and my use of my talents and God-given creativity would probably never have occurred were he not autistic.
So does he need to be fixed or programmed or therapied until he fits into society, or does society at large need to once and for all realize that true beauty lies in each person's difference....
01 April, 2010
Autism Awareness Month Kicks Off
How much do I love that the official start of Autism Awareness Month shares a date with April Fool's?
Particularly since, in raising my own spectrum son, I'm daily challenged in explaining all that is not literal. Part of the challenge in communication with individuals on the autism spectrum is the tendency to not conceive of emotional language or read facial communication appropriately.
Of course, throw into the mix my own 'extreme sarcasm levels' and this little boy of mine is officially in the school of hard knocks when it comes to effective incoming and outgoing communications.
The interesting realization though is that my primary mode of outgoing communication tends to the melodramatic in both tone and facial expression. (Blame it on the Musical Theatre major in me.) I tend to think that because my son daily gets my emotional communication in full effect he's more able than most spectrum kids to read those expressions and intonations in others.
Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong...but gosh darn it, I'm patting myself on the back all the same!
At any rate, for this month, expect a lot of Autism Awareness focused blogging. Show your support for our little family with comments directed at the Mister Man himself. And feel free to ask me any questions about Autism and our journey through it all. Worry not...I have no shame! :)
Particularly since, in raising my own spectrum son, I'm daily challenged in explaining all that is not literal. Part of the challenge in communication with individuals on the autism spectrum is the tendency to not conceive of emotional language or read facial communication appropriately.
Of course, throw into the mix my own 'extreme sarcasm levels' and this little boy of mine is officially in the school of hard knocks when it comes to effective incoming and outgoing communications.
The interesting realization though is that my primary mode of outgoing communication tends to the melodramatic in both tone and facial expression. (Blame it on the Musical Theatre major in me.) I tend to think that because my son daily gets my emotional communication in full effect he's more able than most spectrum kids to read those expressions and intonations in others.
Maybe I'm right, maybe I'm wrong...but gosh darn it, I'm patting myself on the back all the same!
At any rate, for this month, expect a lot of Autism Awareness focused blogging. Show your support for our little family with comments directed at the Mister Man himself. And feel free to ask me any questions about Autism and our journey through it all. Worry not...I have no shame! :)
22 March, 2010
...when Mami's break down...
Oh readers, as my facebook status states, I am muddling through this morning...though hobbling might be a better word choice. Last night on 'When Refrigerators Attack', the Man of the Hour and I were having a moment of good natured fun in the kitchen, blissfully unaware that the fridge was, even then, plotting my demise. Somehow, a little bit of push coming to shove ended with me getting my foot stuck under the door and bent in half. My dancer's feet stood me well on that point, as it bent and arched instead of snapping bone. Unfortunately, that didn't help one little bit when the door was pulled back abruptly, caught on the back of my ankle and cut down right into my achilles tendon.
I am so thankful for the miracle that is the shock effect! The pain didn't set in until I was halfway bandaged up...but oh my gosh, it bled like a head wound! This morning I saw all the dried blood pooled on the kitchen floor...ugh, so gross...and what a pain to clean up later!
So the Man of the Hour had to rustle up a pair of crutches at midnight while I tended to the first aid component of my wound.
And this morning? Ugh! Trying to make breakfast, pack lunch, help the Mister Man get dressed...even making coffee...ten thousand times more difficult!!! I never realized how much I usually get done (I'm a total caffeinated multi-tasker) until I had to do only one thing at a time and with only one hand!
I am so thankful for the miracle that is the shock effect! The pain didn't set in until I was halfway bandaged up...but oh my gosh, it bled like a head wound! This morning I saw all the dried blood pooled on the kitchen floor...ugh, so gross...and what a pain to clean up later!
So the Man of the Hour had to rustle up a pair of crutches at midnight while I tended to the first aid component of my wound.
And this morning? Ugh! Trying to make breakfast, pack lunch, help the Mister Man get dressed...even making coffee...ten thousand times more difficult!!! I never realized how much I usually get done (I'm a total caffeinated multi-tasker) until I had to do only one thing at a time and with only one hand!
....new week, new inspiration...
I'd love for any of my non-commenting readers to leave me a comment...and yes, I know you are out there...see, at the bottom...Live Feed! :)
And if you really want to wow me...go ahead and suggest some other topics for Inspiration Point!
This weekend my son was in an extra cuddle-bug kind of a mood...which made for some lovely extended storytime snuggles on the sofa. We're reading our way through a compendium of fairytales...he reads one page, I the next. And so, straight from our sofa to you, I'm stuck on Snow White this week. Ya know, she of the rosy cheeks and charcoal hair...the great beauty sleep...the fairest of them all...
Who wouldn't want to go down as the fairest of them all?!?
And if you really want to wow me...go ahead and suggest some other topics for Inspiration Point!
This weekend my son was in an extra cuddle-bug kind of a mood...which made for some lovely extended storytime snuggles on the sofa. We're reading our way through a compendium of fairytales...he reads one page, I the next. And so, straight from our sofa to you, I'm stuck on Snow White this week. Ya know, she of the rosy cheeks and charcoal hair...the great beauty sleep...the fairest of them all...
Who wouldn't want to go down as the fairest of them all?!?
27 January, 2010
...as time goes by...
I know, I know, I've left you in the lurch...I've been in full-on-blog-neglect mode. And let me tell you, when you've gone this long...it's so damn easy to just keep it up!
Anyone out there want to hold me accountable? I might need a little reassurance or, ya know, a firm shove back into Blogland!
Anyone out there want to hold me accountable? I might need a little reassurance or, ya know, a firm shove back into Blogland!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)