I haven’t always been comfortable in my own skin. Truthfully, I’m still not. But I’m trying. Trying to silence the voice which says… You used to be thin. You used to be beautiful. You used to be brave. All those things. I am grappling with the truth of a life that is far from what I expected. Autism has thrown me a curve ball and I’m still fumbling the catch some two years later. The ghosts of perfection still haunt me. But. I’m stronger now. I’ve learned to raise a…
Last night I took Sawyer to pick out gift bag goodies for his birthday party. He had so much to say. Riding in the car produces some of my favorite memories with Sawyer. ‘Which is more mom? 16 or 14?’ 16 bud. ‘What is 6 plus 4? It’s 10 mom. How did you not know that?’ I did know that Sawyer. You didn’t let me answer. ‘What friends are coming to my birthday party on Saturday? Wait, let me say their names.’ ‘Lucas, Derek, Braden, Kellen….pause. Mom, did you know…
As I was driving somewhere the other day with my kids, I saw a fully intact door sticking out of a dumpster. The dumpster was full of rubbish, and sticking out of the top like some kind of afterthought was this door with hinges and doorknob still attached. Something about the picture this made had me slowing down as we passed. I thought about The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe and Monsters Inc. and wondered about doorways to other universes. I wondered about doors that allow you to time…
This week was a mixed bag. Or maybe, a grab bag. I guess I don’t really know what it was but I’m confident the word bag should be included. Maybe. It was hard and good, happy and hopeless, hopeful and unrelenting, energized and bone-weary. It simultaneously flew by and seemed like it would never end. In short, it was a normal week. Our new normal, anyway. On any given day I felt that our life was certain to be filled with nothing but trying to push our sweet boy up…
I was in line at the doctor’s office not very long ago trying to juggle my son James with one hand and my purse and clipboard of endless insurance and medical forms in the other. And that’s when I saw her standing in the line beside me wearing a pink sweatshirt, leggings, and her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Like me, she had her hands full with her toddler, stroller, and loaded diaper bag. We made eye contact seconds before my little Houdini wiggled himself out of my arms…
I live in Florida where the Stoneman Douglas school shooting happened. I have four children. Ranging from 22 to 3 years old. My four year old son Asher has autism. He is high functioning. Friends and family tell me how lucky he is to be so. I don’t always feel that way. Asher started in public school pre-school just last October. I was very nervous about the little things. Will he hit another child? Will he run away from the teacher? Will he take all his clothes off to go…
To my precious first born, I’ve been thinking for several days about the one person who I could write about and thank for being a blessing to our family. We are incredibly blessed, because I could write for weeks about our family, friends, church, as well as the amazing teachers and therapists who work with Austin, all of whom have gone the extra mile for us. I didn’t know how I could choose just one person. This afternoon, Austin got into the fridge and took two packages of shredded cheese…
You will forever have hope that the next year will be when they begin to talk, then you realize it been almost 18 years since the diagnosis. Many years ago, right after Jake was diagnosed, my heart hurt, and I was seeking how to express who my sweet boy was. So I wrote this poem. Looking back on my writing, I truly had no idea the journey ahead of us, but it’s played out just like I wrote, so many years ago. A poem for my son. My boy, Jake…
As I write this post you are sound asleep. You are curled up in the fetal position and breathing softly. Although you are now 10 years old, as I gaze down at you, you are still my baby. It seems like yesterday that I first held you in my arms. Tonight, before you fell asleep, you pulled me close for an ‘eye hug’. You nuzzled your right arm under my left shoulder and then pulled my face right in front of yours with your left hand. When our faces met,…
One of the pieces of advice I have received over the years from therapists, educators and even parents of adult autistic children, was to make our home sensory friendly. In my mind that sounded overwhelming. Did that mean more stuff in my living room? Did that mean spending more money on stuff my son wouldn’t use or even try? I already felt like our house was kid friendly. It was covered in toys, Legos, balls, and Nerf Gun bullets. We had kid size chairs, blankets and fidgets every where. Wasn’t…
