Hello... My Old Friend!

It feels like it has been a while since I last blogged. Life is crazy as always. Living with 4 boys can make you lose track of time. Days blur into weeks and before you know it Thanksgiving and Christmas happened and you are standing in the middle of January wondering what in the world happened! But here I am with another blurb about my journey for you all to read. My hope for this post is that it reaches a Mom out there who is struggling to wrap her head around her child who seems different. I hope my words can just reach out and whisper 'You are doing great. It will be okay.'

I have always been very open and honest about Eli's struggles. I feel no need to hide them. His diagnosis have never hurt him. If anything they have opened doors to amazing things for him. Through each evaluation he underwent I was handed a piece of paper with a professionals name on it. Many of those names became conversations over the phone that turned into first office visits. Those office visits are what formed the village around my boy. They became MY village. The people that I automatically go to when I have a question. The people that I feel comfortable talking to about the odd things we experience. I am very open about my son's challenges. He has many. But he also has many many strengths. Today he was re-evaluated. He was diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome around 5 years ago. Today he was diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder, Impaired Speech Articulation, Coordination Impairment and General Anxiety Disorder. Guess how many of them surprised me? Zero. They are pretty much the same diagnosis he already had just in different text. All this means is that the school and insurance company will recognize his need for therapies and accommodations.

But for me this day felt like a victory. I left the building with a feeling of peace washing over me. This was what I needed for so long. When I would call and argue with the insurance over covering speech therapy and I kept hearing 'but his diagnosis is not coded as ASD' over and over. I needed this piece of paper to throw at them. Even though nothing about my child actually changed. He is the same child with the same exact needs, but now it is coded correctly. The crappy part is now the health insurance system is so broken that we probably will not benefit much from getting this. We will still have to meet a sky high deductible before any coverage is offered. BUT let's go ahead and count those therapy sessions that you are paying full price for off of your annual 20 visits. Tell me how that is even remotely fair? But I digress. I am moving on. I still needed this piece of paper for other reasons.

What I really want to talk about is the journey getting here. How it was challenging and seemed impossible at times. I remember days where I did not think I would ever see my son succeed in a classroom. I remember going to birthday parties and seeing my baby completely fall apart because the party did not go in the correct order of how he had in his mind. I remember holding him wrapped in a heavy blanket and rocking him in an empty room of a church because he didn't get a green piece of paper. I can still feel the stares of adults in the movie theater when  he had a sensory overload. I remember holding him when he was falling apart and had no control over it. I remember the look in his big blue eyes when things got too heavy and too loud and too busy. I could see the explosion building. I tried to calm him in those moments the best I could. I wish I could go back to my 23 year old self and just hug her and tell her how amazing her little boy was. How brilliant he would turn out. I wish she knew that most people that know him now will compliment his manners. That most adults find him absolutely fascinating. I wish she knew that all those moments had a purpose. All of those judgmental stares and shaking heads helped build a rhino skin she would need to keep fighting for her little boy. I wish she knew that the meltdowns, while hard to endure, were there to teach her and that she would one day recognize exactly what caused them. I wish she knew how strong they both would become over the next 5 years.

I know our journey is far from over and there will be some very hard days ahead for Eli still. I hope that I can just remember to keep fighting. Keep fighting mamas! Your babies need you to be their voice in all the chaos they are experiencing.

It costs HOW much to send my child here?!?!

Can I just start out by saying that I am exhausted. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. Exhausted. There were a few weeks ago where I felt like I had my shit together and life was going OK. But like all good things that came to an end. Life is still OK. It's fine. I am just processing everything. Life is moving fast and things need to be planned and I feel like I am drowning. I don't even know where to begin. The past 2 weeks have been so full of information and unsettled feelings. I just don't even know how to process it all.

Eli has been miserable this year at school. He knows that he is different. We didn't tell him. We have never sat down and  said 'you have a condition called Asperger's Syndrome oh and ADHD and SPD and OCD...' Nope, we have never done that. Mainly because I have never wanted him to feel like something is wrong with him. Because nothing IS wrong with him. He is exactly who God intended him to be. Nothing caused all that he is. No vaccine or medication or something I ate while pregnant. He is exactly the individual that he was meant to be. But he is different than most 9 year old little boys. And his peers are noticing. Now, I cannot be too harsh on his peers. My child is not the easiest kid to get along with. He can be downright rude at times without even realizing it. A lot of his reactions he cannot control. He often feels so bad about his inability to control his impulses that he will just cry over what he has done. It is heartbreaking at times. It is also challenging as a parent to not box him up and ship him to china during some of his meltdowns. So, a lot of the negative feedback he gets at school is just how the kids react to his negative words and behaviors. I have never said my kiddo was a saint. He is a very sweet boy who has challenges every single day. What comes easily to most kids is an on going battle for him. It takes effort for him to just stay in his seat during class. It takes medication to even make that achievable. So all of his comments about school made me start looking into other options for him. It has been a daunting task to say the least.

I started with a tour of a small private school. I could see my son excelling there. I can also see some downsides to it as well. I haven't told him about this school yet because I don't want him to get his heart set on going there. There is already a waiting list. So onto school #2. This school is different. It's a 30 minute drive from our house and out of state. It also comes with a price tag of $11,000 tuition per year. I flinched a bit when the price was laid out in front of me. But I was not ready to mark it off the list just because of that. This school is not just a school. It is a place where he would receive ABA therapy. He would would,instead of receiving accommodations, learn to do the difficult things. He would get OT in school. There would be trained therapists on site to help him during a meltdown. The facilities were almost brand new and so nice. The kids there were very bright. The academic program was challenging. Eli would be challenged in so many ways. I could see it as a place that would prepare him for life, not just to get through school. I was not completely sold on this one either. I want him around typical peers too. And he would be here. But the majority of the students here were all over the spectrum. This was a school that was designed for those who learn differently. His education would be tailored to his grade level. It was structured and strict. The rules were not made to be bend. I could see him doing well here and I could see a whole shit storm of meltdowns too.

So with the realization that moving him into a private school may be the best option at this point, I had to look at the financial side. A friend of mine told me about the IDEA IEA act. This is basically a program that gives families with kids who have qualifying disabilities funds to attend a private school. There is more to it than just that. But in a nutshell if your kiddo is in a public school and you don't feel like their needs are being met you have the option of putting them in private school, and the state will help pay for it. That made that $11,000 tuition seem a little more attainable. When I got to digging more into the details I learned 2 things. #1 the school could not be out of state. #2 Eli's diagnosis of Asperger's does not qualify, because that is no longer an actual diagnosis. His pediatrician has already referred him for a full re-evaluation to get his diagnosis updated to 'High Functioning Autism". But the appointment will be several months out. I need something done sooner to apply for this grant from the state. I view things like this at road blocks. And they make me want to scream. But we must move forward.

Can I talk about the interview I took Eli to? I feel like this needs to be put out there. Most days I feel like Eli appears like any other kid. I mean he is my normal. I know nothing else. What looks awkward and weird to others is just what I think is normal for my child. But when I took him for this interview at this school his challenges were on full display. We were walking in and he said 'I AM NOT GOING TO THIS SCHOOL! I REFUSE TO GO TO A SCHOOL IN A DIFFERENT STATE THAN I LIVE!' I know not to challenge him at this moment. I told him we were just exploring all options. We get in the office and sit down across from the headmaster. She was very nice, polite and professional. She talked to me for a while. Then she turned her focus to Eli, who had sat quietly for quite some time. She asked him to tell her about his friends at school. And his response was hard to hear. He said 'Well, sometimes they laugh at me because I am not good at the stuff they are good at. Like soccer.'  She asked him if he enjoyed playing soccer and he said 'I used to. But no one ever passes me the ball so I quit.' She then asked him who his best friends were at school. He perked up and said 'Adam is my best friend! But sometimes I get mad at him. So I have 2 back ups. Austin is my first backup, he lives in Georgia. And Audy is my other backup and he lives in Florida.'  I instantly felt my throat tighten and my eyes sting. Adam lives down the street from us and comes to our house after school. And Eli does see him occasionally at school. But Austin is a child that he has met maybe 3 times in his whole life. We see Audy once a year. These are not kids he sees very often. It just broke this mama's heart. I thought he was doing better and things were getting easier for him. The headmaster loved Eli and expressed how much she would love to have him attend their school.

I have not toured any others yet. I don't know if I am mentally prepared for it just yet. I know I need to. I need to make a plan for him. I need backups in case he doesn't get in our first choice. And it is an unbelievably exhausting thing to do. I spent most of the day today talking to psychologists and counselors about his diagnosis and how to get it changed. The $6,000 from the state could help us tremendously with tuition costs. His diagnosis being re-coded could help him get back in some therapies that he NEEDS to be in. While he is in public school he needs things added to his IEP. He needs social stories to learn to interact with other kids. He needs to have his IQ tested. There are so many things that need to be done. I am tired. The past 2 weeks have me beaten down. I know I'll find the energy somewhere but not today.

Monday, Monday all day long.

It has been one of those days, where nothing seemed to flow exactly right. I mean just turning this crazy laptop on took FOREVER. I had to completely reboot it, I had about 900 tabs open, so that was probably why. Anyways, back to my Monday. I had to have my littlest at the dr at 8:30 for his 2 yr checkup. So that meant my hubby had to take my other 2 to school. I have to admit our morning went pretty well. We all got out the door on time. That in itself is a miracle. I was early for Warren's appointment, and he happily sat in my lap while we waited to be taken back. Again...miracle. God must have been saving my energy by allowing all this to just fall into place, because I sure needed to be in a good mood to get through the next few hours.

So just to backup a tad to my last post about Warren. He was checked out by a neurologist who told us to be watching him for signs of Autism. His toe walking is a red flag and from his evaluation he seemed to think he was doing it because of an OCD or sensory thing. So we were told to just watch him closely and follow up with our pediatrician and get our little guy into Physical Therapy to help his heels find the floor. He is now doing OT and PT weekly. And I kind of thought this "wait and see" journey would be longer. I thought I had some time to just sit back and coast through this stage. Yeah he walks a little funny, he is a tad clumsy, but overall he seems pretty typical.

About a month or so ago I saw his right hand flap. It was in a moment of frustration. I wasn't doing what he wanted me to do and his little hand just flapped in my direction. I didn't really react. I just thought 'did that just happen?' 'that has to be a one time thing. I have never seen him do that before.' So I made a mental note to pay closer attention to his hand. I didn't see him do it again for a few days, but I saw him do it again. And again. And again. And again. Then I saw him do it with both hands when he got excited. I saw him rise on his toes and flap his hands and squeal "BIG TRUCK!" I felt that feeling in my gut...this isn't good. This is what we are supposed to be watching for. So I texted my friend and told her to watch him next time we got together and see if she saw him do it. Maybe I am imagining it. Maybe I am seeing something that isn't there, or something that all kids do. This could mean nothing. Calm down. Breathe. Nothing is definite from a few hand flaps. He was just upset or excited.

While filling out his papers for his checkup I had to circle 'No' on a few questions and write "Hand flapping and Toe Walking" under "Concerns". I glanced at the paper. Knowing the questions well. I have done this before. I know what they look for. I knew the ones I had to say 'No' to were ones that threw up a red flag. I smiled at my boy who was inspecting the exam table, that was a large Lion, he kept saying "Tiger!" and tracing the eyes. He is simply a beautiful little boy.

I knew how it sounded when the doctor walked in and asked how things were going. I blurted out that he has started flapping his hands. Blurted it out. I had held it in for a while. I hadn't really said it out loud. I rambled saying 'I know it can mean nothing, but he seems to be doing it more and more. And now it's both his hands. And look see how his right arm is bent and higher than his left? He has been holding it up higher too.' I am sure I sounded paranoid and crazy. Luckily, my kids have a wonderful pediatrician who is kind and never makes me feel like a psychopath. She said that hand flapping isn't typically 'normal', but that alone it doesn't mean anything. She then looked at him and said 'But in his case, we are already concerned about Autism. He is showing a few other concerning signs. Please don't get hung up on labels. Love him the way he is. Continue to do what you are doing. Keep him in therapy. You are doing everything you can right now. A diagnosis does not take away from him."  In that moment I sighed. Warren was trying to get me to open his diaper bag and find him a snack, and he flapped his hands at me when I didn't do it right away. And she said 'Oh I seen that.' We chatted about his speech and other developmental things. I bragged on how his vocabulary has seemed to explode. And how he can put 2 words together. I told her how smart he is, and how much he loves to look at books and hear a story and dance. How well he is doing at preschool. We talked about the possibility of future evaluations when he is older, and what that will mean.

And just like that the 'wait and see' season seemed to end. I feel like now we are just waiting to see what else develops. Will his speech continue to progress? I think it will. How will he do socially? Right now he is doing well. Will that change? I hope it doesn't. Will his hands flap more and more? They might. How will other people react to that? I hope they tell me that he is beautiful.

Plastic Surgery

I really meant to blog about this more often and do short little updates on my healing. But I just never took the time to do it. This past year has been amazing, but challenging. There were days that I did not want to deal with. There were emotions that at times felt too big to sort through. Despite all that, I survived! And I feel amazing on most days.

A year ago I had just started on my weight loss journey. And gaaah that sounds so cheesy, weight loss journey, give me a break! But really it honestly has been a journey, not just about losing weight, but about self acceptance and growth. It literally took me making the decision every day to keep going. And a lot of days the hard decision wasn't to get up and exercise, or stick to my food journal, it was the decision to face the hard things I had to sort through. The feelings of self worthlessness that I battled. My insecurities that threatened to tear down my entire world. It sounds a tad dramatic, doesn't it? In reality it isn't. I just saw an article today on my facebook feed about a new mom who took her life, as a result of Post Partum Depression. Your mental health is just as important, if not more important, as your physical health. And it took a complete overhaul of my mental state to get to where I am now. There are days that I still struggle with feeling like I am good enough, like I deserve to be loved. But I know that I am enough on most days.

I say all that to say I did feel better once I lost my weight. But I hated, no loathed, the body I was left with. The number on the scale looked better, I however, did not. My stomach was so stretched out and hung so low. The aftermath of carrying 3 babies and having 3 c-sections was very evident. My abdominal muscles were so far apart. I was left with severe diastasis recti, and a tummy that laid in my lap. It was depressing. I hated to catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror when I got in and out of the shower. Every time that I had to lift my stomach to dry under it after a shower it felt like a chisel chipping away at my self worth. I tried so hard to love my new smaller sized body, but I hated it. My clothes fit better, I could wear a smaller size, but I wanted to cry when I was forced to look at my stomach. I would pick it up and squeeze it in my hands. I would shove it all in and imagine how my body would look if it was tight and firm. I would trace the stretch marks with my fingers, and tell myself how I earned them. But I hated them. I hated how deep they were and how my entire finger could fit the width of them. I read article after article about loving the body you have and being proud of the marks of child bearing. I was blessed to carry my babies, no matter what it did to my body, I am supposed to be happy and grateful. And I am grateful. I love what my body accomplished.

So, after much thought, I made an appointment with a plastic surgeon. I went back and forth on whether I would actually go to the appointment. I didn't know if I would ever go through with plastic surgery. But then I got the news that I needed a hysterectomy. It was like I was given an extra shove in making my decision. If I already had to have surgery, why not just do it. I discussed having it all done together with my doctor. I even asked the plastic surgeon about it. One plastic surgeon agreed, and the other did not. I ended up going with the surgeon who suggested I wait 6 weeks in between the hysterectomy and tummy tuck. And I am grateful that I waited. The hysterectomy was terrible. The tummy tuck was uncomfortable for about a week. I healed pretty well and I was back on the treadmill 2 weeks out. Not once have I regretted my decision to fix my stomach. I don't break down and cry when I see my stomach anymore. The first real shower after my surgery, I almost cried because I didn't have to lift anything to dry under it. My stomach was flat, there was no overhang. I cannot even put into words how that moment felt.

I am now 5 months out from my tummy tuck, and I feel like I have gotten my life back. I slowly built back up to lifting weights and doing cardio, and now I am trying yoga. If you would have told me a year ago that I would have a tummy tuck, I would have thought you were nuts. But here I am :)

A For Real Blog Post

It has been quite a while since I have sat down in front of a laptop and typed a blog. Phones and tablets have pretty much replaced my old laptop these days. It is a bit odd to feel keys under my fingers, instead of a slick smooth screen. I guess this is how people used to feel sitting down to a type writer once upon a time. You know I don't blog just for the thrill of hitting keys. Most of the time my blogs are an outlet for me. A type of therapy, a way to process the unprocessable. I'm pretty sure that isn't a word. But let's just go with it.

 It's been one of those weird days where I have had so many emotions cycle through my brain that I cannot decide which one to grasp onto and which one to let fly loose. They are all just lingering in my mind and in my chest. My chest has felt tight and constricted on and off. There have been tears stinging my eyes, and my breath catches every little bit as I fight back the reaction I need to feel. Sometimes a girl just needs to cry, ya know? Men don't really understand this, it seems to baffle them. All they seem to want to do is try and fix whatever is making your eyes leak. It's sweet, but sometimes we just need a good cry. When life seems messy and unpredictable a good cry can make your entire perspective change.

Today we took our nearly 2 year old to a neurologist. We waited a while for this appointment. It was the appointment to rule out some things. You know, you go in and they look at your toddler and pat you on the back and say 'you are doing a great job! He is perfect.'  That's what I always want to hear. That's the response all of us parents who are in the trenches of special needs want to hear. I don't know how this will come out. Probably in the form of word vomit. So brace yourself...or close this article if need be. I get it. These things get quite lengthy at times.

My crazy pants toddler is into everything. He is talking and he loves interaction. He loves trucks and the color yellow. He loves to throw a ball. He repeats stuff back to us amazingly. He just mastered the word "YES", and this pleases him immensely. He can climb all over the place. I mean you cannot take your eyes off this child. His hugs are my favorite. They can melt this mama's heart in an instant. He is my baby. But....there is always that damn but....he walks on his tip toes. He falls a lot. His little chubby legs have scrapes all over them. His shoes are so worn out from his tumbles and from his constant toe walking. It doesn't sound like a huge deal. I have heard so many people tell me about their cousin's kid who walked on their tip toes until they were 5 and golly gee they are completely normal. No big deal.

Except to this mama, it is. To a mom who has already navigated through the evaluations and checked the box next to 'Toe Walking', it is a very big deal. It is a red flag. When he started walking at 15 months I immediately noticed it. And in my head it was blaring lights and loud horns in my mind. That word. The word that no parent wants attached to their child, because it is so misconceived by others. It is a scratchy word, it doesn't come smooth when you say it. It squeaks out like a loose wheel on a bike. Autism. That word. The one that has already been such a huge part of our lives. It came with schedules and routine, medications, meltdowns, weighted blankets, appointments, therapies, counseling, battles with insurance. It isn't just a word. It is a monsoon of information and a spectrum so broad you can get lost just by a single google search. I have already been there. I have sat in a white room with a doctor we waited months to see and heard his voice squeak out Asperger's Syndrome. I have sat across from the pediatrician as she conducted the ADHD evaluation and discussed the medications available. I have been here before. I have felt this itchy scratchy word against my skin before.

Today was different. He is so young. The doctor just told us there was a high chance his toe walking is related to Autism, given our family history. Given that he has an older brother on the spectrum and that his other brother didn't speak until he was 4. He said it was very likely we would end up with a diagnosis for him in the future. I was prepared for this I thought. In the back of my mind I have known this was a possibility. I have watched him since birth for signs. I have said so many times that he reminds me so much of his biggest brother. They are so similar. His emotions are so passionate at times. But this hit me hard. I instantly felt my chest tighten and I felt the pressure under my eyelids. I could feel my reaction building up. Immediately I blinked my tears back, I repressed it all. I smiled and nodded and made a remark about how amazing his brother is doing now. How smart he is. It gave me a second to bring my emotions back into check.  The doctor seemed to be finished with his spill. Get my toe walking toddler into physical therapy, and watch him closely for signs of ASD. Follow up with his pediatrician. High functioning autism isn't a grave prognosis. In fact, in this office it's probably one of the best ones to get. I gathered our stuff and folded up the report the doctor scratched up and crammed it in my goldfish littered bag. My husband, my rock through all of this, scooped up our toddler and we followed the nurse to check out. And that was that. We saw the doctor we had waited for. We came out without a diagnosis. We don't even need to come back unless we notice any regressions or signs of Autism. So why was I still holding my breath?

I texted my close friends who knew we were going to the doctor. My tribe of people know what we have dealt with in the past. They know how I have been called out of church because my child was freaking out because everyone else got a green crayon and he got a yellow one. A few have heard me try to calm him in the wake of a meltdown triggered by the busyness of a crowded room. Instantly, my phone started dinging with words of encouragement. It was encouraging to feel the support from my fellow moms. The ones who said they would pray for our family as we continue down this path. They tell me how well I have handled our other boys, this will be no different. But it feels different. It feels suffocating and unfair. When Eli was diagnosed I was a fresh new mom. I was ready to face whatever was thrown my way. Although, I was lost and had no idea which way to turn first. I had my adrenaline and enthusiasm to propel me through the muddy waters. Eventually, I found my way. And along that journey we fought for our other son. We had therapy appointments nearly every day of the week. They were filled with meltdowns, tears, power battles, arguments, and bargaining. It was exhausting. But I made it through them. We are down to almost no appointments now. The school takes care of a lot of things for my big boys. I just came up for air. I can finally feel the bottom of the ocean floor. For a while I had lost my footing and I was floating along, grabbing whatever floated by me to get me closer to shallow water.

And now here we have been thrown back into this deep sea of unknowns.

Birthday Parties Suck.

Seriously. There is not one thing I hate more than planning a birthday party. Let me explain...I have 3 boys. Yep 3...go ahead apologize or make that 'awww you poor thing' face. I get it all the time. I actually enjoy my boys. They are loud, crazy and make me laugh constantly. I am pretty sure my middle son is going to be a professional fart noise maker one day. (super proud of his ambitions so far) So, I suck at planning. I'm so not Type A. Which reflects in the birthdays of my kids. I have July 14, August 24 and September 18. Yes...I really did not plan that out well. And do you know what is just a mere 3 months after all these birthday party paloozas are over....CHRISTMAS. Yep. I.am.awesome.

So my fun began in July. My middle turned 6 and asked for...wait for it...LOONEY TUNES. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find Looney Tunes in 2015? I think they stopped making that crap back in 1996. I did manage to find some discounted plates and napkins on a no name party website. I was able to coordinate the balloons and cups around that. The cake was the real challenge. No one...I mean NO ONE makes a Looney Tunes themed cake. And by 'NO ONE' I'm talking Walmart, Sam's, Ingles, Food City. I am too cheap to pay for those fancy fondant cakes. $35 is my cake budget...if your wondering why please re read the previous paragraph. So I explain to the poor girl, who was lucky enough to be working in the bakery 2 days before the party, that I needed a cake that they do not actually make but that I needed them to make. She looked terrified. I ended up saying just make a teal and orange cake. She still seemed a tad confused but I left 85% sure I would have a cake ready on the day of his party. So I still had to find cake toppers. Once again...I stress LOONEY TUNES is the hardest freaking theme. I paid $25 for 5 plastic Looney Tunes characters on Amazon. Yeah that so put me out of my 'cake budget'. GO ME. *sigh* Anyways, this party ended up being super cute. It looked like I totally knew what I was doing. Party #1 was done.





Moving onto Party #2. After begging my almost 8 year old to NOT have a pool party...we had a pool party. I offered everything. Chuck E. Cheese, Wallabies, Hands On!, anything so that I did not have to wear a bathing suit in front of people and expose my pale skin to the sun. I failed. The child who really doesn't even LIKE to swim wanted a pool party. And his requested theme, Pokemon. I admit this party was an easier one to find things for. Which is ironic seeing as it didn't really match AT ALL. I really dropped the ball on this one. I had way more options for plates, cups, napkins, cakes. But I ended up buying 2 packs of small pokemon plates and small cups and 1 pack of napkins. I thought I could just coordinate the colors of red and yellow for the large plates and cups. Can anyone tell me what 2 colors should do for Pokemon? I bought Red and Yellow. WRONG. SO COMPLETELY WRONG. My 8 going on 18 year old informed me that I was supposed to get RED AND WHITE.  But this was the day of the party, so red and yellow it is. I did find pokemon candles that looked much much larger on Amazon than they did when they arrived. I also for some unkown reason ordered an ORANGE AND GREEN cake. Not even close to the colors of anything I bought. I don't even know why. I must have been really stressed out that day I called. I'm pretty sure it was sitting in car line with the baby singing me the song of his people at glass shattering pitches. All that mattered to the kids was that there was water to swim in and cake to eat. BOOM...Party #2 was a mismatched success!

I am currently planning party #3. It is in 4 days. Guess how much prep work I have done...not much. I did purchase a printable download pack on etsy that goes with the theme I wanted for the baby's 1st birthday. I am currently wondering why I do this time after time. This is a party that this child will not remember. I know what your thinking...PICTURES! Yes we all want pictures of these parties. I have exactly 8 combined of the 2 parties I just described. #1 Mom! But seriously I have cut out decorations for about 2 hours. It cost $8.88 for the download, that seems reasonable right? It took me 3 DAYS to figure out how to get the download to actually download. I thought I could do it on my phone or tablet. Nope...has to be a computer. And my laptop had to update when I opened it. Hear that? That's me banging my head on the table and asking why I do this to myself! So downloaded the pack and go to print. The printer is upstairs, and is jammed. I won't go into detail about the things I muttered on that long journey up the stairs. I think I shaved 2 years off my life trying to find the jam inside this printer. I finally gave up and closed all the openings, and as soon as I shut the bottom drawer it started printing. I literally did not DO ANYTHING except open all the possible port things. I didn't unjam anything. But I had my decorations and I headed down to hunt scissors. I found LEFT hand scissors. Why in a house of all Right handed people do we even have these? I don't even have the energy to try and figure that one out. So I get to looking through all these printed pages and I see there are treat bag tags with cute little sayings. And I debate back and forth for a good 10 minutes on whether or not I even want to cut them out and do treat bags. I am pretty opposed to 'goody bags' in general. But since I had already decided not to serve a meal I thought I could throw together some snack bags. I mean I have an entire pantry full of food that my kids tell me the LOOOOVE and HAVE TO HAVE, and then decide 90 seconds later that they don't like it anymore. So after some digging I have enough random snacks for 20 bags. So far....that has been the prep for this party. I haven't decided if I am going to make the cupcakes myself or outsource that. I'm about 99% sure that Walmart will be doing them.

Seriously though, as stressful and unnecessary as this is, I would regret not doing it. Even when my kids pick the most difficult themes, their day only comes around once a year. And it isn't their fault that their mom sucks at planning or that I am not the best at decorating. All the color coordinating and stuff is irrelevant. All that matters is that they are surrounded by their family and friends, and that we get to eat cake! I can't believe that my boys are now 8, 6 and almost 1! I hope they look back and have fond memories of mismatched balloons and cakes and smile a little!

Summer is Upon Us!

I took a hiatus from blogging it seems. Completely unintentional. Life has just kept me busy. It is rare that I am at home sitting at my laptop. I have been living out of my car doing drop offs, pickups, dentist appointments, etc. It is that magical time of year when all the kids are getting out of school and I start to panic. My kids are going to be home every day. All of them. And this is my first summer with 3. 2 bored kids at home was rough last summer. So this should be interesting.

With that said, I am ready for them to get a break from school. They both have worked hard this year. Zack has made some great strides in his writing skills. I am so proud of that boy. If I could just rewind 2 years ago and post a short clip here you would be as amazed as I am at how far he has came. Zack graduated Preschool a couple of days ago, and was such a cutie in his little cap and gown. It was really awesome to have the experience of watching him up on stage with his friends. Eli always had a hard time with things like that, so this was brand new for me. I loved every minute. I tried to soak it in as much as I could. Warren was wiggly and fussy during the program, but we managed like we always do.

Eli has had such a great year in 1st grade. He is such a bright kiddo. He loves to learn and spends his down time at home researching things. He has such a love of knowledge. I hope that continues and I hope the stresses at school do not take away his love of learning. But I can tell that he is agitated and ready for some days spent in his comfort home. He is really getting into sports, not playing them so much, but just liking to talk about them.  He came home from school the other day and was so excited telling me about playing soccer with some friends at school. He got really into it and was passionate giving me details of what happened! He ended it with saying 'It was AWESOME.'  I felt my heart jump a little. I was happy to hear that he was playing with other kids. That other kids let him play with them without the taunting and bullying. But before that feeling could sink in he said 'It would have been REALLY awesome if they would let me kick the ball...just once.'  And there it was...the kick in the stomach. The same one I felt when I enrolled him in art last summer only to have the teacher call me after 1 class and tell me that he couldn't attend unless I stayed in there with him because he was too energetic and wanted to touch everything. These kicks absolutely shatter my heart for my baby. I wish the world could see him the way I see him. Yes, he is challenging and rigid. But he is also one of the sweetest kids on the planet.

So, I am ready for him to be home for a bit. I am planning on keeping us pretty busy though. Because Warren seems to do better when we are on the go. He gets pretty bored sitting at home. He is growing up so fast. I just love this baby. He is content and happy. I love his demeanor. He is fascinated by his brothers and love when they talk to him. He loves for people to smile at him. It just makes his whole face break out in a large grin. He is such a blessing in our house. I could not be happier with my little family. We are complete. I love that feeling. The feeling that we are all here and we can watch our kids grow and enjoy this season.

These Days are Numbered

I realize that I am way behind on blogging. These days I feel overwhelmed more times than not.  And surprisingly it is not from the stress of a new baby or the stress from having 3 kids to take care of. It's more from the realization that the days that I have with these little creatures are fleeting.  The days that I thought were never ending quickly slipped through my fingers.  They left without warning and left me wondering how I ended up with a 7 and 5 year old. Weren't they just babies? Wasn't I just asking for advice on potty training or trying to wean one from a pacifier? How did they grow up so fast on me?

While in the thick of sleepless nights, colic, tantrums, doctor appointments, colds, stomach viruses, potty training and first days of preschool somehow my babies grew up on me. And it all happened when I wasn't looking. It happened when I was trying to keep the house organized or trying to get one more thing done for work.  The times I shoo'd them away to go play and let me have 5 more minutes, it all happened so fast.  The times I promised myself that I would be a better mom...tomorrow, but tonight they need to go to bed 30 minutes earlier. The nights I promised I'd read another book...tomorrow night.  Those promises were quickly forgotten the next day and the story was never read or the cookies went unbaked.  Those days seemed endless, stressful and just overwhelming. There were days I would sit and cry with them both, wondering if I would ever get the hang of this Mommy thing.  I would go to bed feeling guilty because I had put them off all day, promising to play in a few minutes.  "Just let Mommy get this last thing finished..." I didn't do it on purpose or because I wanted to hurt their feelings, it's just life happens and things come up and sometimes the important things get pushed to the side.

I'm being so completely raw with this post.  I'm exposing some of my biggest failures as a mother.  I have put meaningless things above spending quality time with the most precious gifts that I have ever been given.  But I think it is something that almost all parents are guilty of.  It is hard to balance life sometimes.  And I didn't even realize I was doing it, until I had Warren. When I held his tiny body and I looked at my big boys it hit me.  They are so big now.  I didn't savor the time I had with them as babies.  I'm not soaking in the time I have with them now like I should.  I am not enjoying them the way I should be.  I need to unplug, hang up and go play legos.  I need to grab another book at bedtime and read it like it's the first time, not the 900th.  I need to not rush the bedtime prayers and let Zack thank God for every single person he has ever laid eyes on. I need to go see that picture he drew, because if I keep saying 'just a minute...' he may stop asking.  If I keep putting off that 2nd book at bedtime he may not ask me to read them tomorrow night.  There is a last time for every single stage of parenting, and many times we don't even realize it was the last time until it's over.  I don't remember the last time I rocked them to sleep because I was too busy trying to get them to fall asleep on their own. I didn't savor and relish that last rock, or smell their hair and drink in the sweet sweet smell of baby before they turned into little boys.

So I am officially making a New Year's Resolution. It isn't to lose this pregnancy weight, or start eating healthier.  Although, I need to do that too. But instead my resolution is to try and appreciate these days, no matter how stressful or overwhelming they may seem.  I want to play battleship with Eli and drag out 900 socks with Zack, because one day they won't want to do these things with me anymore. I will sit and hold Warren if that's what it takes for him to get a nap.  And I won't complain about getting up with him through the night, because these days are numbered. They are fleeting...slipping through my fingers like grains of sand never to be gotten back.

The New Normal

I have been a mom of 3 boys for 8 WHOLE WEEKS! It's been a little crazy at times, but I have to say this has been a smooth transition for us.  I have gotten more sleep that I was anticipating, so that is a nice surprise.  Warren has just fit right into our little house of chaos.  I should have a really long thought out blog post about his birth and first days.  But I don't really. His birth was a C-Section that was planned, and it all went smoothly.  So no crazy water breaking crazy story there.  I wanted to blog about how amazing the first few weeks of his life have been, but to be honest it's been so busy that I don't even know what to type.  I may ramble.

 He was born on September 18th.  He was a perfect 6lbs 8 oz and 18 inches.  I was pretty shocked at his small size, since my older boys were well over 8lbs.  There were 2 knots in his umbilical cord, which was the talk of the OR for a few minutes. I was too caught up in the moment to pay attention to the chatter going on.  But we were told more than once that we were lucky to be holding him, as knots can cause some serious complications.  I had my tubes tied while they were cleaning him up, which my doctor informed me was a good thing because my uterus was so thin he could see through it.  Having my tubes tied was a decision I wrestled a little bit with.  I worried I would regret it, but I feel very confident in that decision now knowing another pregnancy would be risky.

I had such high hopes of breastfeeding this little guy.  But after attempting to breastfeed my other boys and failing, I knew there was a chance it wouldn't happen.  But none the less, I proclaimed to the doctors and nurses that I was breastfeeding.  So when he was born we did the whole skin to skin thing in the Operating Room.  Which I did not get to do with my other boys, and it was amazing.  I loved being able to touch him and feel him when he was just minutes old.  Once I was moved into recovery we got right down to nursing.  He latched right on and we were doing great.  He wanted to eat pretty often and I was tolerating it well.  I had horrible pain with my others, but not with Warren.  Friday evening I mentioned to the nurses that he was wanting to nurse ALL.THE.TIME.  Like I could not put the boy down.  I also noticed that I was not able to express any colostrum like I had before. The nurse assured me that he was getting all that he needed.  So I let him nurse as much as he wanted.  As the evening went on we noticed that he became very jittery.  After his circumcision the pediatrician came in and told us that his sugar had dipped down into the 40s, which was 'borderline'.  She wanted to keep checking it throughout the night.  It didn't seem like a huge deal, so we nursed on.  After a couple more sugar tests we were informed that his sugar was not coming up at all.  I had told the night nurse my concerns with not getting any colostrum out, and she said he is getting it out even if I wasn't.  But after 3 failed glucose tests the pediatrician said to start supplementing.  So I started feeding him with a syringe first then I would let him nurse.  The supplementing seemed to be working.  So Saturday we were told that we would most likely get to go home.  We were hoping to be discharged around 2pm.  But Warren became very jittery and his sugar dropped to 34.  3 different pediatricians came to talk to me in a span of about 15 minutes.

They all wanted keep an eye on his sugar.  But before they even got a chance to check it again we were visited again and told that they were moving him to NICU so they could figure out what was going on.  Of course, I kind of lost it at that point.  I was a hot mess.  Dustin wasn't even in the room when I fell apart.  I had to call him to come back to the room.  We walked with the nurse as she wheeled our little boy up to the NICU and I sat in a chair while the team worked to try and get an IV in.  I was asked several times if I wanted to come back later once they had it in.  But I was pretty insistent that I was staying with my baby.  Every vein they tried failed. After what seemed like an eternity they finally got an IV going in his head.  By this point every bit of my pain meds had worn off. I was alone up in NICU at this point.  I had stayed as long as I could because of my pain.  I somehow walked back to my room, but I was hunched over by the time I made it to the nurses station and asked for my medicine.  I collapsed into my bed and cried.  I hated being in that empty room.  It was too quiet. After I rested and ate dinner we went back up to NICU to see how Warren was doing.  The nurse told us what all was being done for him.  He was severely dehydrated and his sugar was slowly coming up.  They had put him on a high calorie formula and started him off at 30cc's.  I wasn't able to nurse him because they wanted to keep track of how much he was getting for his glucose tests. So I was told to pump every 2-3 hours.  I stayed and held him for a long time.  I finally went back to my room for the night.  I didn't like it. But I got some much needed sleep. When we went back the next morning we were told that his sugar was staying in the 80s and he was doing much better. We were moved to a transition room later on Sunday evening and we were discharged on Monday around 12.

I was still wanting to breastfeed but at this point I was mostly pumping so we could make sure he was getting enough.  But my milk had not fully came in so he was still just getting formula. I was getting less than half an oz of breast milk from pumping.  I was just excited to see any milk to be honest.  I never had milk with my oldest and with my 2nd I got sick after having him and my milk dried up really quickly.  So once the pediatrician gave me the OK to try breastfeeding again we were back at it. I quickly found out that I was not producing enough for him.  He was not satisfied after nursing for what seemed like forever. I was having to give him a bottle after he nursed.  I read online how to increase my supply.  The next 4 weeks were insane. I tried everything.  Fenugreek, Mothers Milk Tea, Fennel Oil, Reglan, More Milk Plus....Power Pumping. You name it I probably tried it.  At 5 weeks PP I was only able to pump 2 oz at the most and that was only if I didn't nurse him.  If he nursed I wasn't able to get any extra out.  I had started just pumping and giving him formula and breast milk.  Pumping had taken over.  I spent more time with the pump than I did with my family.  When I realized how much time I was spending attached to a pump I decided to just stop. I have been grieving giving up the whole breastfeeding thing for a few weeks. I had really high hopes this time, as I knew it was my last time to try.  But I am finally getting out of this funk and moving forward.

Aside from the failure of breastfeeding, things have gone really really well.  He is a very chill baby.  He does like for me to hold him and just stare at him.  I try to soak every bit of him in as I know that this stage does not last long at all.  His big brothers are crazy about him and he is just such a wonderful little addition to our family.

The Things They Don't Tell You About Parenting.

I'm sitting in bed with my youngest little boy and watching disney jr.  Part of my heart feels like it's been ripped open, while the other part is happy that I get to snuggle with him.  Today was his first day of Kindergarten.  It's not even 2 p.m. and he's home.  His first day didn't go as well as we hoped.  He got so homesick and cried and cried to go home.  Which just rips my heart out.  Knowing that my baby was crying for me and I wasn't there cuts me to the core. Especially when this little boy has not had the easiest time in school anyways.

I'm pretty sure I could be the poster mom for having imperfect kids.  Neither of my boys have been what you would call 'typical'.  With my oldest having Asperger's and ADHD and my youngest being non verbal until he was 4...I have been through all the channels of special education and resource teachers and therapists.  It's been one crazy ride with these little boys.  When your pregnant for the first time no one warns you that you might have a child who is born completely healthy but struggle as they get older.  When people see my family out at a restaurant they see what appears to be a completely typical family.  They have no idea the challenges my babies have faced.  My boys appear to be like any other typical little boys.  They don't know that we have sat in therapy offices for multiple reasons. They aren't aware that for a good chunk of time we communicated with our youngest through sign language, or that my oldest can meltdown if the conditions change too quickly for his brain to process.  We appear to be typical.

And just when I think we may have crossed the hurdles that have challenged us for so long, something else is thrown into our path.  My oldest really has improved and while his days are far from perfect, he is doing pretty well.  He just started 1st grade and we are hoping that he has a great year.  We have an IEP in place for him with things put in place for him if he has a difficult time.  And then here sits my baby, who isn't really ready for Kindergarten, but we decided to try it anyways. He had 2 years of PreK, what else was there to do? I had him enrolled in a full time PreK for this year, it was a typical classroom.  He has never been in a typical classroom.  Because of his speech issues he was in a developmental preschool.  Which was AMAZING for him.  I fell in love with the school he attended and the teachers he had.  But I knew he wasn't really prepared for regular Kindergarten.  And today when I had to go get him early  my fears were confirmed.  I know a lot of people may say 'it was his first day...give it time', but even the teacher agrees that he isn't really ready.  He just turned 5 last month.  He has only been speaking for 1 year.  And in my heart I knew he should have had an extra year to mature a little.

So we had originally planned on him going to a PreK that was in with the City Schools.  I had even paid for his first week and they had him on their list. I met the teacher...toured the school.  I was informed before school let out of the summer that the School Board had changed the rules regarding PreK and kids who meet the cut off for Kindergarten can no longer attend City Preschools.  I was pretty upset at first.  But after a lot of venting and tears, I registered my baby for Kindergarten and told myself that everything would work out.  If he had to repeat Kindergarten then so be it. But now we are faced with deciding what to do with him for the rest of the year. Do we keep him in Kindergarten but opt for 1/2 days and without a doubt he will have to repeat Kindergarten. Or do we pull him out and put him in a private PreK.

These decisions no one tells you about. No one sits you down when your carrying your precious baby in your belly and tells you how unbelievably hard parenting can be.  They don't tell you how you will doubt the decisions you make or how much you'll regret ignoring your gut feeling.  They don't tell you that there will be days when your heart will feel absolutely crushed and nothing that anyone says will make it better.  Today seems to be one of those days.  These crazy pregnancy hormones are not helping at all.

Hello 3rd Trimester!

I am so thankful to be into this trimester! I must admit this whole 3rd trimester really came up quick.  Things have been going really great on the baby growing front. My belly is growing every week.  My heartburn seems to have calmed down as long as I don't eat huge meals at one time.  The only real complaint I have right now is the hip pain.  My hips feel like they may fall off at any given moment.  It's worse at night when I try to sleep.  But compared to the horrible symptoms of the 1st trimester...this is a walk in the park!

 I am loving my pregnant self right now.  I always grow a pretty big belly during pregnancy, and this one is no exception.  I am very round and I love it.  My belly isn't as pretty as it was with my boys, it's covered in stretch marks and hangs a bit lower this time. But this belly has grown some awesome little boys and I love it for that.  I may never wear a revealing bikini ever, but that went out the window after I had Eli.  :) Most days I feel pretty massive and I am getting to the uncomfortable stage, but I know how quickly my due date will come up, so I am trying to enjoy every moment.  I love feeling this little guy kick and move.  It's kind of bittersweet feeling it all. I know that this is our last baby and I won't feel these precious movements again after he gets here.  So I try to savor each one.




We did the 3D ultrasounds with both of our boys, so I thought we should do one this time. I went back and forth on whether or not we should do it. I finally made our appointment and we went to it today.  I have been dying to see this little guy's face.  And I mean who doesn't love an ultrasound?! We went after my regular doctors appointment.  I had the glucose test this morning, and had not ate much at all, so by the time we got to the ultrasound place I was so hungry.  Warren was pretty lazy and not amused by our attempts at getting a picture of him.  He kept trying to turn over and go to sleep. He also kept putting his hands up in his face.  But we finally mashed him enough to get him to cooperate a little! And he is such a cute little boy! I see a lot of his brothers' features in him. But I mostly see Eli in him.  It's pretty amazing to see such similarities between the 3 of them.

Baby Books...

So I held off on buying a baby book until today.  I have been meaning to pick one up for weeks because I have all of these ultrasound pictures and no where to put them.  I didn't want one too babyish or frilly, so I picked a light blue book.  It looked pretty plain and not too cutesy.  So I started flipping through it and I was quickly reminded of what a slacker I am.  I seriously think these book companies need to make baby books for NEW FIRST TIME MOMS and then one for 2nd time moms and then one for moms of more than 2 kids.  Because let's face it...after a couple of kids your not going to fill all that stuff out.

I mean most of the books out there are perfect for the first time moms.  I remember filling out each page for Eli's baby book. I wrote the letter to him while I was still pregnant and wrote all my feelings about his impending arrival.  I filled out many of the 'first milestones' and added lots of pictures of his first year.  Fast forward to when I had Zack.  I put all his ultrasound pictures inside the book...not actually where they were supposed to go I just stuck them in the book.  I filled out his name, weight and date of birth.  I filled out his first doctors visit info.  After that it's pretty bare.  I may have stuck a couple of pictures from his first days...like in the hospital.  So the books that are out there are fine for 1st and some 2nd time parents.  But there needs to be a very small thin book made for parents of more than 2 kids. This needs to just be a book with one of those little plastic zip lock envelopes to stick ultrasound pictures in and maybe a few pages to fill out about the birth.  Mainly 'Name, Date, Weight, Length'.  Nothing more really needs to be included because the chances that you'll actually remember or have time to fill it out is pretty slim.  I mean who has time to write down 'you first focused your eyes on.....'  What the heck...I don't even know how to tell when  a baby FOCUSES it's eyes. I mean I'm not actually looking thru their eyes. And I really don't remember when either of my kids 'grasped an object' for the first time. Who has the time or memory for this stuff?! I mean those firsts are very sweet and lovely if you remember them. But juggling more than 2 kids...your memory starts slipping. At the moment I only have 2 to take care of and my memory SUCKS.  I can't even remember SNACK day for my kindergartner and they send home a calendar to remind me.

This book I bought...it's pretty much setting me up for failure. :)

2nd Trimester Awesomeness

I LOVE being in the 2nd trimester.  It's my favorite part of pregnancy. After months of being so sick that I wanted to just quit life in general, this new fun part of pregnancy is very much welcomed.  But I admit that I am one LAZY pregnant person.  And I will tell you why. This is my last pregnancy.  As much as I know that I am done after this little guy gets here, there is something bittersweet about knowing I'll never experience this again.  So while there is laundry to do, toys to be picked up, messes to be cleaned, when I sit down and start feeling little kicks and movements...I just sit and enjoy it.  I may sit for 15 minutes or an hour.  Because in 16 short weeks I will be holding a baby and I'll never get to feel this again.

I know I should probably be doing so much more with my time, but it can wait.  I'm enjoying this amazing little baby moving inside of me.  I'll vacuum in the morning...

Welcome to the Club.

I've shared this on my facebook once or twice. But I thought it would be great to share on here as well.  Enjoy...and try not to cry ;) For those of us walking this walk with our kiddos...it can feel overwhelming at times but it will be OK. For both of my boys..

My Aspie who insists on wearing green. every.single.day <3

And my Zack who surprised every speech therapist and teacher who has worked with him.

They are my everything. They are teaching me to celebrate all victories no matter how small they may seem!

Welcome to the Club

 by Jess at Diary of a Mom

I am so sorry for your pain.

Don’t worry; no one else sees it, I promise. To the rest of the world, you’re fine. But when you’ve been there, you can’t miss it.

I see it in your eyes. That awful, combustible mixture of heart-wrenching pain and abject fear.... I remember the fear.

I see it in the weight of that invisible cloak that you wear. I remember the coarseness of its fabric on my skin. Like raw wool in the middle of the desert. You see, it was mine for a time.

I never would have wanted to pass it on to you, my love. I remember so well suffocating under the weight of it, struggling for breath, fighting to throw it off while wrapping myself in its awful warmth, clutching its worn edges for dear life.

I know that it feels like it’s permanent, fixed. But one day down the line you will wake up and find that you’ve left it next to the bed. Eventually, you’ll hang it in the closet. You’ll visit it now and then. You’ll try it on for size. You’ll run your fingers over the fabric and remember when you lived in it, when it was constant, when you couldn’t take it off and leave it behind. But soon days will go by before you wear it again, then weeks, then months.

I know you are staring down what looks to be an impossibly steep learning curve. I know it looks like an immovable mountain. It is not. I know you don’t believe me, but step by step you will climb until suddenly, without warning, you will look down. You will see how far you’ve come. You’ll breathe. I promise. You might even be able to take in the view.

You will doubt yourself. You won’t trust your instincts right away. You will be afraid that you don’t have the capacity to be what your baby will need you to be. Worse, you’ll think that you don’t even know what she needs you to be. You do. I promise. You will.

When you became a mother, you held that tiny baby girl in your arms and in an instant, she filled your heart. You were overwhelmed with love. The kind of love you never expected. The kind that knocks the wind out of you. The kind of all encompassing love that you think couldn’t possibly leave room for any other. But it did.

When your son was born, you looked into those big blue eyes and he crawled right into your heart. He made room for himself, didn’t he? He carved out a space all his own. Suddenly your heart was just bigger. And then again when your youngest was born. She made herself right at home there too.

That’s how it happens. When you need capacity you find it. Your heart expands. It just does. It’s elastic. I promise.

You are so much stronger than you think you are. Trust me. I know you.... I am you.

You will find people in your life who get it and some that don’t. You’ll find some that want to get it and some that never will. You’ll find a closeness with people you never thought you had anything in common with. You’ll find comfort and relief with friends who speak your new language. You’ll find your village.

You’ll change. One day you’ll notice a shift. You’ll realize that certain words have dropped out of your lexicon. The ones you hadn’t ever thought could be hurtful. Dude, that’s retarded. Never again. You won’t laugh at vulnerability. You’ll see the world through a lens of sensitivity. The people around you will notice. You’ll change them too.

You will learn to ask for help. You’ll have to. It won’t be easy. You’ll forget sometimes. Life will remind you.

You will read more than you can process. You’ll buy books that you can’t handle reading. You’ll feel guilty that they’re sitting by the side of the bed unopened. Take small bites. The information isn’t going anywhere. Let your heart heal. It will. Breathe. You can.

You will blame yourself. You’ll think you missed signs you should have seen. You’ll be convinced that you should have known. That you should have somehow gotten help earlier. You couldn’t have known. Don’t let yourself live there for long.

You will dig deep and find reserves of energy you never would have believed you had. You will run on adrenaline and crash into dreamless sleep. But you will come through it. I swear, you will. You will find a rhythm.

You will neglect yourself. You will suddenly realize that you haven’t stopped moving. You’ve missed the gym. You’ve taken care of everyone but you. You will forget how important it is to take care of yourself. Listen to me. If you hear nothing else, hear this. You MUST take care of yourself. You are no use to anyone unless you are healthy. I mean that holistically, my friend. HEALTHY. Nourished, rested, soul-fed. Your children deserve that example.

A friend will force you to take a walk. You will go outside. You will look at the sky. Follow the clouds upward. Try to find where they end. You’ll need that. You’ll need the air. You’ll need to remember how small we all really are.

You will question your faith. Or find it. Maybe both.

You will never, ever take progress for granted. Every milestone met, no matter what the timing, will be cause for celebration. Every baby step will be a quantum leap. You will find the people who understand that. You will revel in their support and love and shared excitement.

You will encounter people who care for your child in ways that restore your faith in humanity. You will cherish the teachers and therapists and caregivers who see past your child’s challenges and who truly understand her strengths. They will feel like family.

You will examine and re-examine every one of your own insecurities. You will recognize some of your child’s challenges as your own. You will get to know yourself as you get to know your child. You will look to the tools you have used to mitigate your own challenges. You will share them. You will both be better for it.

You will come to understand that there are gifts in all of this. Tolerance, compassion, understanding. Precious, life altering gifts.

You will worry about your other children. You will feel like you’re not giving them enough time. You will find the time. Yes, you will. No, really. You will. You will discover that the time that means something to them is not big. It’s not a trip to the circus. It doesn’t involve planning. It’s free. You will forget the dog and pony shows. Instead, you will find fifteen minutes before bed. You will close the door. You will sit on the floor. You’ll play Barbies with your daughter or Legos with your son. You’ll talk. You’ll listen. You’ll listen some more. You’ll start to believe they’ll be OK. And they will. You will be a better parent for all of it.

You will find the tools that you need. You will take bits and pieces of different theories and practices. You’ll talk to parents and doctors and therapists. You’ll take something from each of them. You’ll even find value in those you don’t agree with at all. Sometimes the most. From the scraps that you gather, you will start to build your child’s quilt. A little of this, a little of that, a lot of love.

You will speak hesitantly at first, but you’ll find your voice. You will come to see that no one knows your child better than you do. You will respectfully listen to the experts in each field. You will value their experience and their knowledge. But you will ultimately remember that while they are the experts in science, you are the expert in your child.

You will think you can’t handle it. You will be wrong.

This is not an easy road, but its rewards are tremendous. It’s joys are the very sweetest of life’s nectar. You will drink them in and taste and smell and feel every last drop of them.

You will be OK.

You will help your sweet girl be far better than OK. You will show her boundless love. She will know that she is accepted and cherished and celebrated for every last morsel of who she is. She will know that her Mama’s there at every turn. She will believe in herself as you believe in her. She will astound you. Over and over and over again. She will teach you far more than you teach her. She will fly.

You will be OK.

We're ALMOST There...

School is almost is over!!! We have almost survived the first year of actual school! My youngest finished with preschool a couple of weeks ago.  While I am over here doing my happy dance because in a few short days I will no longer have to get up and make a pb&j while I am still half asleep or drop him off wearing yoga pants, unshaven legs and a Johnny Depp t-shirt, I'm also a little terrifed.  I mean they are going to be home ALL.DAY.LONG.  And this isn't just spring break people...its for ALL OF SUMMER.  My husband is excited...he can take the boys to breakfast. *yay* I'm left here all day to entertain them.  It's easy at first..a few trips to the park and bounce house place.  But after about 2 weeks the excitement wears off and I'm too tired to even think about loading them up and heading out somewhere. Let's just stay home and watch Spongebob today...we'll call it Chill Out Thursday!!

But seriously, summer is exciting! I get to sleep in...the kids get to wake up at 6am every day sleep in. We get to go swimming and play outside! I can't wait. But right now we are struggling to make it through this last week!  Yesterday I got an email because my dear sweet child spit on another kid that was teasing him.  I calmly looked him in the eyes and just said 'buddy, we are in the homestretch...we are ALMOST there.  Let's just hold it together this last week. I know the kid was making fun of you, but you still can't spit on him...use our words.'  He got the message. I'm just as exhausted with these kids as he is.  The ones who are nice to him when he brings a cool toy, but never let him play with them on the playground.  The ones who tease him because he isn't as big as they are, or punch him then deny it when the teacher confronts them.  I'm tired of them too.  So I am excited that my kiddo gets however many weeks it is without these kids tormenting him.

He has had a good Kindergarten year.  It hasn't been perfect. I have gotten a few phone calls, emails and letters home.  But for the most part....it's been a really great year.  I wish I could say that I was that super over achiever mom who went to every party and school function.  I'm so not.  I missed the open house for his class, therefore missing ALL the information about the parties. Open house was before school even started and all the parties were already planned and people signed up then to bring food and all. So I heard about the parties in the monthly letter home...after they already happened. <supermom> I also only attended a few school functions.  I barely made it to the Mother's Day Tea, because my invitation somehow was sent to Jeff Gordon.  I'm serious.  The entire class made these over the top elaborate invites to their moms for this tea party thing.  My sweet child never brought mine home. He didn't write 'Mommy' on the outside of the envelope...nope he didn't invite the one person who carried him for 9 long months and let him bounce on my bladder.  He wrote Jeff Gordon on the outside. I still have no idea where that invite went. For all I know he stuck it in the mail box and the mail lady got a good laugh! I found out via text message from one of the moms who DID attend the open house, asking if I was going.  Apparently this Mothers Day thing is a BIG DEAL! So I went...and when I realized all these sweet kids wrote books about their moms and they were going to be read aloud...sheer panic.  I'm not kidding I started sweating. What had he wrote about me?!  He was so excited that I was there, he didn't even notice that Jeff Gordon was absent.  All the other kids wrote these adorable books about how their moms tuck them in every night, read them a story or my personal favorite 'My mom is OSOME.'  <----Yep that's some awesome 6 year old spelling. Dude, it sounds like that...it should be spelled like it. If not for spell checker most of my words would be like that! The teacher had Eli read like at the very end...you know to add to the suspense of what he had put in that book about me. I mean I am sure I was like pale and shaking when he stepped up the microphone. It started out innocent enough.  He said I liked purple....and pink and red.  And that I liked to eat pickles...and then...My mommy LOVES to lay in the bed!  I am sure my face turned 1,000 shades of red. Because what he neglected to add was that 'My mommy has been puking her guts out for 5 months because she is pregnant with my baby brother.'  That would have went nicely after that sentence.

So, we are nearing the end and I kept getting these little green papers home in his folder asking for volunteers for field day. One of the jobs was to pull around a cart full of water for the duration of the day. Um...let me think about that...NO THANKS.  I didn't sign up for anything. And then Eli started talking about field day.  It started out as 'I don't want to go to field day.'  It then quickly escalated to 'I'm NOT GOING to field day!" I asked him why he didn't want to go and he looked at me like I was an idiot, "It's an ENTIRE day of PE, mommy!  It is going to be AWFUL."  I mean I couldn't really argue with him, staying outside in the hot sun running and sweating...it's not my cup of tea either.  But I tried to make it sound fun, there was going to be inflatables! That didn't really appeal to him, all he kept saying  was 'there's a race they are MAKING ME DO!'  This is where my therapy training kicks in, all the therapists are always giving me tips for him. So, I took a deep breath and told him that we all have to do things that we don't really want to do. It's part of life...and that just sends him into hysterics.  He starts 'PLEASE don't make me go!!! Can't you pick me up!?!'  Well, technically I could after 11:46, but your class is doing the very first half of the day so it wouldn't help.  Lucky for him, he spiked a fever this evening. Field day is tomorrow! He was so excited to be sick, until he actually started feeling really bad once his fever escalated to 101.3.  But he still remained optimistic muttering 'at least I get to miss field day!'  I have to admit I am relieved too.

Bring it on Summer....