My ‘older’ middle son has been having some big feelings lately. He is 9 years old and sandwiched in between two very big personalities and a baby sister. I think sometimes it can be lonely to be the ‘easy’ one. His dad and I are working for hard to make sure he knows how magnificent and treasured he is. And doing our best to navigate some uncharted waters. We want to speak to his heart. Last night a movie on the couch with popcorn and tickles. This morning a doughnut…
My son Cooper knows some sign language. Like many parents, when we realized that he wasn’t babbling, we dove into baby sign language. More. Yes. No. Help. Cookie. Ball. Sit. All done. Thank you. The important ones. As he got older, and his fingers and hands didn’t seem to cooperate in the way we hoped, his signs got less and less. As he aged, we turned our focus to a speech device. A computer that speaks at the touch of a button. I’m telling you this because something beautiful just…
I have four kids. All are very different. Unique in their own ways. And each demand something different from me. That’s the beauty of motherhood I suppose. Last night, my oldest son, had his first therapeutic horseback riding lesson. He is 11 and autistic and was excited and nervous. He got on the horse. He did it. And as I walked alongside him, sweat dripping down my back, I felt joyful and a bit tired. I was the only mom in the ring, which after 11 years, I am used…
I give you permission to rest mama. To set down what you are carrying. I can see the weight of it all. You carry it so well. People call you inspiring. They speak of you as an inspiration. Someone to aspire too. But the weight is no lighter for you than for anyone else. I know that. And so often, the world overlooks and forgets to see the ones who carry the weight well. You are tired mama. So, put it down. I give you permission. Take the day. The…
I just got home from two days away from my babies. When my husband pulled up in the arrivals section of the airport, I practically ran to the vehicle. There is nothing better than coming home. Sawyer, one of my middles, opened the door and jumped in my arms. My other middle, Harbie, screamed….’mommy!! I’ve. Been. Waiting. For. You!’ And my daughter, Wynnie, she was all smiles. With Cooper, he’s more standoffish. A wave. A coy smile. When I climbed back to him, he immediately grabbed my hand and pulled…
“When the professionals first told me about autism, they described it to me as a spectrum. When I pictured that spectrum, the one they described to me, I imagined a long line drawn with a thick black sharpie across a white wall, down an endless hallway. I hated the black and white and the dark, sad, clinical parts of autism. I hated straight lines too. So I started thinking of my son and his autism as a spectrum of color, like I did in the beginning, before the fear and…
I think a lot about what a privilege it is to be able to communicate and be understood. Probably more than the average person. Not always of course. When my son was 1 and 2 and even 3-years-old, and not babbling, I remember crying in worry on the phone to my mom and her saying…’everybody talks Katie.’ I can still here her saying it. The words providing so much comfort at first. Even my dad sneaking in…’I just know he is going to talk sweetheart.’ Well, here we are. 11-years-old…
It doesn’t have to make sense to me. Or you. Because it makes sense to him. My son Cooper loves things. Treasures we call them. DVD cases stacked up tall. The actual DVDs in a bin in the cupboard. Books. Piles of paper. Every color. Train magazines from long before he was born. And a very special pile. A smaller one. Of pages ripped out of certain publications. Each one containing something of value to him. Train Calendars. Postcards. Photos in frames to his back. Every so often pointing to…
“I recently stumbled upon a definition of the word autism. It was different than the clinical one I was used to. The Maori word for autism is takiwatanga. Translated it means, “In one’s own time and space.” I fell in love with it. Cooper. Me. Our family. We all settled into autism in our own time and space. I used to be scared of forever. I’m not anymore. Now I am thankful. Because I get forever, with my boy.” There is so much beauty in this life. We just have…
I heard his little voice before I saw him. ‘Cooper. Cooper. We don’t hurt our body. We love it.’ I peeked around the corner. What I saw made me gasp. The three year old who wants to be 9 like his next older brother. Blonde hair. Bare feet. Scabbed over knees from a crash on his bike. A Paw Patrol costume half on. He was holding a Ninja Turtle in one hand. The other hand was stretched out. Holding his older brother’s hand. Cooper. He is 11 years old. And…
