Then end of 2008

What a year! After 2007, I expected 2008 to be a breeze...although even with the challenges we've faced, I would definitely still do 2008 over 2007 any day. 2007 sucked. :)

January: On the 23rd, Jeffy was diagnosed with metopic craniosynostis, and Andrew was diagnosed with autism. I still can't believe we did both of those appointments in one day.

February: Jeffy had his ridiculous skull/brain surgery to fix the early fusing of his skull. I remember the tears that came as I passed my little guy off to the surgeons. Healing came quickly after surgery, and he looks fantastic.

March: I think that was an "easy" month? :)

April: I bent down to pick up a clipboard off of my classroom floor and herniated my L5. Ouch! Luckily, my fifth graders were good enough to get help. That was my second ambulance ride of 2008. :)

May: I pretty well finished up my last month of my first year at Iowa Elementary. It was not the easiest of years, but I was definitely blessed to be able to get a job at the school. Great teachers, great staff, great kids.

June: Second honeymoon to Texas! Even better than our first honeymoon.

July: A trip to the Oregon coast, and the celebration of my daughter's 4th birthday.

August: My son Jeff and I celebrated our birthdays on August 8, along with my twin sister. My 7th anniversary hit a few days later, and I am so glad we were able to celebrate it with so much joy. First ever family camping trip at Wallowa Lake..what a blast! And then, the start of my second year at Iowa Elementary. A much smoother start, a much better year so far.

September: Kadee Joy started ballet, and has been so fun to watch as she continues to improve.

October, November: Good months, and Andrew started preschool in November after turning three years old. What a blessing to have him get right into to a great school that he LOVES. We had a visit from my brother and sister-in-law as well, which was fantastic.

December: Jeffy diagnosed with reactive arthritis. He is now responding to the steroids, and is (hopefully) getting closer to walking. We had visits from two different sets of grandmas and one grandpa, and are now getting ready to have some friends over for New Year's Eve.

Thank you Lord for your protection during this year. Thank you for the strength you provide us in times of doubt or fear. And thank you Lord for the plans you have for our lives...So much better than any we could hope for.

May we be used for your good purpose in the coming year.

Happy New Year, everyone!

Strength

First off...thank you all for the comments. I never quite know if I'm supposed to respond to them, but I do appreciate them. So many of your blogs are such an encouragement to me.

And now, for this one...

About two years ago I received the clearest calling from God I have ever received in my life. My marriage had disintegrated, my mind was in turmoil, and I was sick every morning with the nausea that accompanied my third pregnancy.

God called me in that moment to keep going with my marriage. Literally everything about the situation was calling me to give in. Everything. There were so many times when I just wanted to end it, feeling that if I ended it I would also end the pain that met me nearly every moment of every day.

In spite of this temptation to just be done, with the strength of God and the knowledge of his calling on my life, I kept going. And eventually, after much, much waiting, God showed me why He had called me to stick with it. Chris and I found a reconciliation, a resurrection, and a new calling in our redeemed marriage.

I've written about this experience before, but today God struck me with a new truth. The calling is not over. There are still days, weeks when it feels like the easiest thing to do would just not be to work on my marriage; days when I feel that things are just getting too hard, or days when ghosts of the past rear their ugly heads long enough to make me doubt this calling.

But God's calling in our lives is always going to be fought by the temptations in this life for a quick fix. Ending my pain by ending my marriage, or worse, my life, was a temptation that I know I am not alone in feeling. But of course, the truth of the matter is that it would not have ended my pain, or made life easier...the price Satan exacts for the sin he brings you into is your ultimate destruction and death, and with a far greater amount of pain, for both you and the people around you.

I guess I'm just reminded that we each have a calling on our life, one placed by God, and one that will sometimes seem harder than it should be and its' importance blurred by the constant distractions and issues of life. But I amazed at how knowing what my calling was and is helped me to continue the journey, even when light or hope was unable to be seen or felt. My calling has taken me to places I had not imagined, and never would have been able to do without going on the journey I've been on. I always have to suppress a smile when people arrogantly say that they would never be or put themselves into certain situations. God knows us so much better than we know ourselves, and has an ultimate plan for our lives that is generally far outside of our small realm of thinking.

And in my life, God has used the past and present hardships to grow me, painful though it is sometimes, and to help me draw closer to Him.

God, grant me the strength and vision to continue in Your calling on my life.

It has a name

Today, our rheumatologist diagnosed Jeffy with Reiter's syndrome, or reactive arthritis. It doesn't normally hit kids this young...but apparently that is what it is. He found the arthritis in Jeffy's ankles. Reactive arthritis can hit a variety of places, and is technically a chronic autoimmune disease. But the stats on it are pretty promising. About half the people who are diagnosed with it don't ever have another episode again after they've been healed. But I should say that I know very little about it, having only heard of it four hours ago. And our son has it.

So we start steroids tonight, which should heal him from his current attack. Thank you for your prayers, particularly in that we would find the source of Jeffy's pain. It has been found, and we will do what we need to do to get him healed.

The Rudder of a Ship

Anyone else been having trouble with their mouths lately? Mine has been sailing me into rough waters. With the same mouth that tells my husband I love him, I also manage to tell him hundreds of little, tiny criticisms or complaints that just steadily steer me into storms.

If you know Chris Tiner at all, you probably know many of his strengths. If not, let me tell you about them. ;)

I first met Chris at NNU, although he first saw me before he ever became a student there. He was the loudest, most talkative person I had ever met. I stood next to him in Northwesterners, and I had no idea what to do with him. He would poke me in the ribs all the time, and as most of you probably know, the man has no bubble. I think the poking was a physical attempt to pop my very large personal space bubble.

One of the things that amazes me so much about my husband is his perserverance. Once he finds something he wants, he pursues it wholeheartedly. I found myself on the receiving end of this pursuit once he decided that I was the one for him. At one of our rehearsals, he asked me out nine times. And I said no every single time except for the last when, out of exasperation, I realized it would be the only way to get him to stop. Did I secretly love the pursuit? Of course. :)

He didn't make it to the first date before finding a different way into my heart. He came over to "study" with my sister for a religion class they were taking, but they never got there. He'd brought his guitar and played for me instead. After that, we were inseperable. Apparently we shocked the campus with the mixture of our personalities. It's funny to me now that Chris and I were such an odd pair. I mean, we still are in a lot of ways, but now I can't imagine my life without him.

Chris is an extremely talented man, and I got a recent reminder of that. I was at a ladies night out at my church doing one of the season's many gift exchanges when all of a sudden "Silent Night" broke into the air. Listening, I honestly thought it was a recording. But, oh no...it was my husband with his quartet. He came in with his folder in hand and sang in his beautiful bass voice. While he was singing, I beamed with pride (I think I beam?), and was amazed that this man was my husband, and that I actually got to take him home with me.

He leads worship at our church, and uses his gifts of music and words wonderfully well. Getting people comfortable around me is not easy...for Chris it is as natural as breathing. He has such a wonderful way of finding things in common with other people, and with humor gets them to feel welcome. His hugs are constant, and his teasing rarely fails to put a smile on people's faces.

Chris and I have never had an easy marriage, mainly due to the huge differences in our personalities and mode of communication. But I love the fact that our differences bring about such positive sharpening of the other person. Chris has opened my eyes to so many different worlds, is always looking for ways of showing me that he loves me, and is such a comfort to me in difficult times.

He is a WONDERFUL dad. And if you've ever seen him with our dear Andrew, you'll realize just what an amazing person he is. He stays at home with our kids so that Andrew has the best chance at this life, of getting the help that he needs. I may joke about Chris having a big head, but finding a man with the humility to stay at home and take care of the kids and house is a rarity, and I am lucky enough to be married to one.

We have had our deep valleys. There was a time when I was quite certain we were done. But the thing that I have grown to love most about my husband is his love for his Lord. In the darkest, deepest pit, he saw God's path for him, and with his perserverant heart climbed out of the pit to get back onto God's path. He has not turned back, and he continues to press on, even though the chains of the past frequently seek to try and hold him back. And sometimes, sadly, I am the one bringing the chains. I praise God for protecting Chris, and for giving him the strength that he has needed to continue on this road of peace.

Right now he's out on a body call...Not a booty call :)...a body call. At night, he is on call for a funeral home, and when he gets a call, he goes to houses or hospitals to pick up the body of someone who has died and takes the body to the funeral home. He does this so that he can still stay home with our kids. What an amazing man.

He has never been one to shy away from helping with diapers, he is the cook in our family, and he is the main communicator. I always laugh when people bring up the typical number of words the husband says compared to the typical number of words the wife says. Our numbers are definitely quite the opposite. He has always included me in his discussion of sports, and always lets me know as soon as something tragic, awesome, or anything in the middle has happened to one of his teams, players, or even anyone he thinks I might be interested in. I am lucky in that...he is always trying to include me in the interests of his life.

He is a closet genius. He has a goofy front that he puts out a lot, but underneath this is a man far more intelligent than myself, with a brain that can sort out an amazing range of subjects. He is one of the best spellers I've ever met, dominates at Trivial Pursuit, and can figure out most strategy games within the first few minutes of playing. He is always my competition in games, and generally beats me, although he does so graciously most of the time. His coordination is amazing, and I am always so proud of him when he plays sports, dances, or plays the piano or guitar.

I could go on and on, and the sad thing is, I rarely do. I have always been one of those people who feels that they should compliment rarely so that when one is given, it is taken for great worth. There is a little bit of good in that, but it has kept me from saying so many things that would have been so encouraging to other people, and what help is that?

This holdout has hurt my husband the most. There are SO MANY things that are wonderful about my husband, and most people have rarely heard me comment on any of them. He is an exceptional man, passionate, obviously with some faults, but overwhelmingly with so many strengths. I am blessed to call him my husband, and find myself frustrated constantly with how infrequently I am the one in the right. :) He is wise beyond his years, humble at his core being, and a truly wonderful husband and man of God.

So Lord, teach me how to steer my tongue in the direction of love, encouragement, and thanksgiving. And thank You for this wonderful man I am privileged to call my husband.

Jeffy's Pain

The day Thanksgiving Break started was the day Jeffy started acting funny. Just odd, weird, fussy behavior. As the weekend progressed, his fussy behavior was accompanied by slow movement. He wanted to be held all the time, he was waking himself up by crying in the night. There weren't any other symptoms, though, so we didn't really know what to make of it. He then started showing a strained face whenever he had to hold up his neck, or go from a lying down position to a sitting position.

Sunday night, I realized that he didn't seem to be getting any better, so I told Chris he would need to try and get him into the doctor on Monday. The word meningitis had been suggested to me, so with that scary thought, I went to work, and Chris took Jeffy to our pediatrician on Monday. At his appointment, our pediatrician agreed that something was indeed wrong, but was confused by the lack of additional symptoms. So she ordered a slough of blood tests to be done, which Chris immediately took Jeffy to the lab to take care of. Jeffy and Chris came back home, and Jeffy's symptoms got worse. He was soon dragging one of his legs while he crawled, straining to move his head or body in any way...we were puzzled and worried, and had no idea what was wrong with our dear boy. I went to work on Tuesday, still thinking that it just might be meningitis.

It's never good when the pediatrician calls after hours. Our call came at 9:00 pm at night. The blood work results had come in. Jeffy was normal in all tests...but one. His SED (sp?) rate was abnormally high. The SED rate measures the amount of inflammation in the body. Normal is 5. Jeffy had 60. Our pediatrician mentioned two possibilities...arthritis or another type of autoimmune disease. We didn't really know what to make of these...and tried to let the information settle that night. The next day, our pediatrician called the specialists, and determined that Jeff needed to get in to a rheumatologist who deals with children with arthritis. I was a bit persistent with both offices, and was able to get Jeffy an appointment with the specialist for the 18th of December. The rheumatologist was quite insistent that he see Jeffy in two weeks, which apparently is rather rare. The usual wait is quite a bit longer.

Meanwhile, starting on Tuesday, Jeff wasn't able to stand up in his crib...or sit up. Or turn his head. He was crying and we knew he wanted to get up, but he just wasn't able to move. When I would go and get him out of his crib in the morning, his whole face would screw up in pain, and his entire body was rigid with it. I would lay him down on the ground so that he could play and he wouldn't move...at all. He would reach over for toys with his hand, but be unable to turn his head to look for them. We had to take to placing lightweight toys on his chest so the he could feel them, although he was not able to see them since that would involve moving his head down slightly. It was horrible. I've never seen any of my children in such terrible pain. He was on an anti-inflammatory, but about 2 hours before he was able to take his next dose, the medication would wear off and he would go back into the paralyzing stiffness and pain. When I called my doctor about that yesterday morning, she was shocked, and asked for us to come back in this Monday, but also added that he could have Tylenol halfway through the doses of Ibuprofen. This certainly seemed to help. When the pain medication had kicked in, he was totally different. As soon as it started wearing off, the pain was easy to read on Jeffy's face and in his movement.

So naturally, I've been reading up on Juvenile Arthritis, wondering if this could indeed be what is plaguing my son. It's a chronic, lifelong illness that can prey upon the young and can cause debilitating flare-ups that sounded eerily similar to what Jeffy is going through. As I started reading, I started to kick myself as I wondered if this was why Jeffy, at the age of 16 months, was still unable to walk, why he never put pressure back when someone would try to stand him on their laps, why it took him so long to start crawling, why he would sometimes move around with one leg looking as though he was trying to stand, and the other one dragging in the crawling position...I'd always been reassuredby others, and reassured myself that it was because of his skull and brain surgery, and that he was simply behind because of that.

And it still may be. Jeffy woke up this morning in a delightful mood, without the ibuprofen that he's been depending on for the past week. He seems to be moving well, at least well enough to crawl, although he's getting a little slower as the morning goes on. Is this episode over? Is the whole thing over? We'll find out soon enough I guess. For now, I am just so glad that his pain has subsided for the time being. I had forgotten what a happy child he normally is until he woke up this morning in such a good mood. He'd been so sad, so irritable, so full of pain, he had become a different child.

So we'll see what our pediatrician says on Monday.

And, as in all things, we will be put our baby boy back in the arms of his Heavenly Father, who in all things has been his Protector and the Keeper of his life.

So I'm one of THOSE parents

I think that everyone has a certain idea of how they think things are going to be once they become a parent. I never had a better idea of how to raise children than when I didn't have any. As a teacher, I would often times find myself come up with quick and easy solutions on how to "fix" each of my difficult students. Ahhhh...the life of the ignorant.

Once I had children, I lost most of my easy fix solutions. Each of my kids were and are so different, and they've had their fair share of public humiliation (at least, for me) in the way of tantrums or screaming fits.

One thing that we often hear as teachers are how parents don't know that certain events were scheduled for certain days. "Mrs. Tiner, my mom doesn't know when the program is." "Did she get the three letters I sent out?" "I don't think my teacher gave me those letters...."

Then on Work Days, when there is no school, we always seem to have kids show up at the front door expecting to go to school, with their parents dropping them off. And the inevitable grumbling shows up in the staff lounge. "We sent out how many reminders, and announced it how many times this week? How could they not know that there is no school today. There's always SOMEBODY."

Well, today, it was my turn to get Andrew up for school. The alarm went off, I turned it off...and that's the last I remember until I woke up and saw that the alarm said 7:14. Andrew's bus comes promptly at 7:10. RATS! He'd missed the bus. So I jumped out of bed and informed Chris of the dilemma. I hopped into the shower while Chris got a sleepy Andrew ready for school. Chris defrosted the car for me while I got ready. Andrew and I jumped into the car and got to his school just a couple of minutes before it was supposed to start.

As I drove into the parking lot, I noticed that there were a TON of cars in the visitor parking. I had to park a little ways away, got Andrew out, put his little backpack on, and held his hand while we walked towards the school.

And that's when I noticed a familiar sight that did not bode well for Andrew. I saw teachers walking into the school with jeans on and Starbucks in hand. 2 minutes before the bell rings is a little late for 10 teachers to be walking into the school. And that's when I stopped one of them.

"Excuse me, is there school today?"

"No...," she said. "Idiot!" she thought.

I looked up at the reader board, and sure enough, November 25-28, no school.

So Andrew's school had ONE day this week. Odd to anyone else? We got back into the car, headed back home, I dropped Andrew off and then drove to my school, since we actually did have school today.

So I certainly had a nice taste of humble pie, and will now stick up for those poor parents who simply forget or honestly don't know that their kids don't have school, or who miss the three notes that let them know when certain events are happening. There is so much in life to keep up with! At least, that's what I'm telling myself today. :)

And on a very happy note, Andrew ended up having a great day at home, and actually ate a hot dog for dinner! Second time in the history of his life that he has eaten meat. I know that hot dogs are kind of questionable in the meat department, but hey, it's a start!

Saturday Update

Apparently I grossed a few people out with my last post. Please understand...it was much grosser to deal with than it would have been to read about. I promise you. When you have 3 kids age four and under, sometimes the stories get gross.

So yesterday was an interesting day. I woke up being unable to walk without falling over or running into walls. All I kept thinking was, "I shoulda hadda V-8."

Anyway, my dear husband grabbed me around the waist, and walked me back to bed and kept getting the kids ready. Finally I realized that I would need to get up and get ready for work. So Chris monitored the noise while I took a shower, promising to come in if he heard a thud. :) I drove to school (don't worry, I think it's stupid now), and still was having trouble walking a straight line. Finally, after it was pronounced that my eyes looked weird, I was given a sub, and went home (Chris came and picked me up). I was dizzy and unable to walk well for a whole day. Not fun, let me tell you.

My poor dad had days like that all the time during the last five years of his life. I can't even imagine trying to function with that nearly every day for five years. Doctors never were quite able to tell exactly what was wrong. They kept changing the diagnosis up until he died...at least in regards to his vertigo/dizziness.

Today we've been doing our normal Saturday stuff. Kadee Joy went to ballet and didn't get that great a report on behavior...apparently she likes to do her own thing sometimes. I wish this had been surprising to me, but it sounded all too much like Kadee Joy. She's so her own person, which is fantastic in so many ways and just AGGRAVATING to her poor mother who is such a stick to the rules kind of a person. Ahhh, the stretching that parenthood brings.

We're excited for Thanksgiving next week. We're expecting a fun time with my brother Aaron and his wife Dina, Jason and Kaylene Hoyt, and Chris' brother Rich. I'm very excited to get to see my brother and Dina again. Kadee Joy is also especially thrilled. She adores both of them.

It was a somewhat volatile week at work. The pressures of education and the expectations put on educators are very, very high...and thus everyone's stress levels are following suit, and I'm afraid often turns very stressed people on other very stressed people, which doesn't help.

I had a great turnout from parents for my second grade Thanksgiving program, and the kids were great. Next is Christmas with the third graders. This is generally my busy time of year with programs, but so far it is going fairly smoothly.

That's it for now. I'm hoping the dizziness was temporary. Good day so far today, although I'll confess that I've been watching the new Harry Potter trailer over and over again...I can't wait for July!

Di-sgu-sting

So last night I was laying next to Andrew while he was in the first few hours of sleep. I must have fallen asleep because I usually leave after he starts to fall asleep. I started to hear an odd sound. Andrew didn't change his movement at all, so I figured it must be something outside. Then the noise became more frequent...and then a smell accompanied it..and then I recognized the sound...GROSS.

Andrew had a RANK case of diarrhea. It was EVERYWHERE. I was glad I hadn't left last night. Otherwise, I can only imagine the devastation he would have made to our house as he traveled from his room to our room.

So I had to get him up, run him to the bathroom, peel off the gross clothes, and try to clean him off as best I could. It was like midnight, so I definitely didn't want to wake up the rest of the house. Unfortunately Andrew, who was still in the strange place between awake and asleep, was not happy about the cleansing he was going through and started to SCREAM. He kept trying to go back to his room, wanted his blanket, both of which were impossible because of the amount of grossness he had gotten all over him. Once I'd gotten him cleaned up and in a new diaper, I deposited him in our bed with a groggy Chris, and ran back out to clean up the rest of the room.

Anyway, it ended up that Andrew and I both slept in my room, Chris went to join Kadee Joy to get some more sleep, and Andrew was awake for much of the rest of the night with the cramping that often accompanies the Rhea. Chris got the other kids up and ready at the usual time, and Andrew and I slept in, sort of. He's still got it, although not as bad as it was last night.

It's funny though, because as I was laying there in the aftermath with Andrew snoozing away, I started to think about what I'd read with the whole "detox" thing we're doing with his diet. I remember specifically reading that 21 days into the detox, one little boy had had an exploding case of diarrhea, and had then started to act much more normal, displaying far fewer signs of autism, and being able to communicate in sentences and desiring to actually know the answer of the other person.

And so I started to imagine waking up and having Andrew ask me how I was, what I wanted to do, telling me about what he was thinking, etc...I mean, it's around day 21 of this diet, he just had the exploding diarrhea...

So this morning as Andrew was waking up, I looked over at him in great anticipation. He looked over at me, stretched, and then went "Joooooot?" Nothing different about that. That's how he always asks for Juice. "Gobet?" Know that one...he wants his blanket. "Sorry, but, it's still in the washer. I'll have to put it in the dryer." All he heard was "Sorry..." which to him means no. He did one of his muffled screams of frustration.

So no, no change. No miracle. Still Andrew with one word requests, or phrases that he wants you to repeat back so that he can quote a scene from a movie.

I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up. I was so, so disappointed, and was putting so much hope in what my little guy would be able to do, just based on this diet.

What do I want for him, again? To be capable, contributing, and communicative. He has been making so much progress. And I know that. I'm afraid that the little episode of illness was nothing more than his body reacting to being in a public school for the first time.

Not the precursor to a miracle. Not an introduction into a world of normalcy. Or at least not an introduction into the world of normal communication. I guess I keep hoping for a miracle. As I was talking to Chris about it on his way out the door to church this morning, he said, "Steph, it's not like he's going to 'sober up' one day." I think in some sort of idealistic way I was hoping that he kind of would. I love my child, love who he is...and yet I still wish he could be different from who he is. I still wish that he could tell me things, that I could tell him things, that he would be able to have a conversation with a friend...that he could have a friend. That he could do and have all of those things RIGHT NOW.

No miracle.

At least, not today.

Or at least, not in the way I had hoped for.

It is a process, not a one night switch into to a new person.

Lord, teach me how to pray for my child.

Andrew's in school!

So Andrew is officially going to school now. His little bus comes and picks him up bright and early at 7:10 am. These are honestly the best pictures we could get. :) So far he seems to be going okay. His first comments from his teacher were kind of funny. "He likes playtime. He likes playing with the horses. He is showing resistance to sitting and working at the table."

Yep, that's Andrew. The bus picture is a good indication of just how early it really is.

Poor Andrew! So tired!

Too tired to even look at the camera.

What a week!

This week was quite eventful. Actually that's kind of a lame way of putting it. I really didn't know how I would get through this week. But here I am, on Saturday morning, listening to my kids (well, two of them) interact with their cousins at breakfast time.

The craziness started out when I first made plans to come to Tillamook for a dear friends wedding. She's getting married tomorrow, and Mom was gracious enough to fly us over. Chris decided to stay home with Andrew, since we weren't sure if his job would have him on call or not. So we bought tickets for me and Kadee Joy to fly over, and of course I would just bring Jeffy as a lap child.

We got a call on Sunday night from Chris' dad, and sadly had to inform Chris that his grandpa, a wonderful man in all respects, had passed away. Chris was obviously upset over it, and we kept his whole family in our prayers.

The next day, Chris let me know that he really felt that he wanted to go to Texas for the funeral. While I certainly wanted Chris to go, I had parent teacher conferences this week, and the flight he would take wouldn't get him back until two days after I left for Tillamook. Problem? Child care during the day, and a place for Andrew to go for two nights. Me taking Andrew just wasn't an option...Andrew freaks out on plane rides, and I knew that if he decided to run in the airport, I would have to ditch the other two to chase after him. This wouldn't be safe for anyone.

Well, God was very gracious in allowing two places for Andrew to go while we were gone. Chris flew out for Texas on Tuesday. That was Election Day, and I still have my Washington license. So, wanting to make sure I would be able to vote in Idaho, I went to the DMV to change my driver's license to an Idaho one. I thought it would just be a matter of giving them my old license, showing proof of address, and paying a fee, since it had only been two years since I'd had an Idaho license. But oh, no...I had to take the written test. So, I arrogantly set off to take the test, thinking I'd pass it with flying colors.

The Idaho test is taken on a touch screen with ANCIENT computers. You were supposed to touch the answer, and then click on a confirmation button. Problem? The touch screens were TERRIBLE. Each answer had to be clicked, I kid you not, at least 20 times before it would go on to the confirmation part. I took me an hour to take a 40 minute test. And not because I needed that long to answer the questions. It was just that slow.

So, as my anxiety built (I had to get back to teach), my confidence started to shake. I ended up FAILING the freaking test by ONE answer. I felt so dumb...So I have to go back next week and take it. I missed all the questions that were like, "If there is a car coming towards you with its' headlights on, do you dim your headlights at 100 feet, 200 feet, 300 feet, or 500 feet?"...all feet questions. Like I can actually tell the exact number of feet I am away from a vehicle. DUMB. So my head was hung low as I left with my driver's manual, told to return after three days.

Luckily it didn't impair my ability to vote. Chris voted before he left, and I voted before I went and picked up the kids from the babysitters house. I felt good about my votes, and watched the elections later that night with my kids.

On Tuesday night, I received a visit from a man dressed as a police officer (I'm still a little suspicious as to whether or not he was actually a police officer) who informed me that there had been a string of burglaries in the neighborhood, and that the suspect had been seen hanging out right in front of our house. I was to call if I saw anything or anyone suspicious. Awesome. Naturally I slept well that night. :)

So, the kids went to a babysitter during the next day, we snuggled at night, and then on Thursday Jeffy, Kadee Joy, and I flew out, while Andrew stayed behind. And it was Andrew's third birthday. :( He SCREAMED, when I took the other two to the car. I came back in and he came up, bawling, and wrapped his arms around me, saying "Bye-bye? Bye-bye?", indicating that he wanted to go with us. It was AWFUL.

So we left for the airport, and right before we were supposed to fly out, I got a call from Chris. He had lost his wallet and its' entire contents in Texas. Credit cards, driver's license, SOCIAL SECURITY CARD (which of course you are NEVER supposed to carry around), everything. He'd lost it and he couldn't find it. Apparently he had put it on top of the rental car, got distracted, and then drove off.

So, I was supposed to go and get the rental car in Portland without a valid credit card (when Chris canceled his, it automatically canceled mine). I was a little unhappy. However, I kept together my desire to freak out, and told him that I would pray for him and that somehow he would be able to get back home (ever tried to fly without ID?...we know of one person who was able to do it...).

So, I ended up flying over without problems (Jeffy was VEEERY good on the plane and Kadee Joy was pretty good...she kind of freaked out the girl sitting next to us by asking her to say and spell her first, middle, and last names), and then got our luggage and went to the car rental place. My debit card still worked, so they took that gladly...and tacked on an extra 20%. Great.

So we drove it horrifically stormy weather across the Wilson River highway, which is a ridiculously curvy road, and of course Kadee Joy threw up. Finally we arrived at Mom's house, and everyone was very happy.

Then, yesterday afternoon, I got another call from Chris. In a last ditch effort he had called the Corpus Christi police again and asked if they'd found a wallet. They asked his name, which he gave, and said "Oh yeah, it's here. Would you like to come get it? We tried to contact Northwest Nazarene University but they had no current record of you." Real quick thought...Chris is a current STUDENT at NNU...why the heck wouldn't they have any info on him?

ANYWAY, so he went and claimed it, and everything except for 10 dollars was in there. So Chris can come home, and still has his Social Security card. :)

We've been having a fantastic time at Mom's house, and Andrew slept through the night while visiting the first house he stayed at. Chris is on his way back to Nampa today, and hopefully will have a great reunion with Andrew. I got to have a very fun night last night at the "groom's dinner" of my friend, and I get to go to the wedding today. I'm getting to see my family, enjoying Starbucks and non-casein, gluten free food.

Life is good...and hopefully will stay uneventful for the next few days. :)

I don't KNOW why I'm crying!

So today was my day to cry. Since going on an anti-depressant over a year and a half ago, I have very few days where I cry. It's not that I don't feel sad anymore...I'm just not crying every few hours, every day like I used to. But today, the floodgates were open and I let loose...right before my appointment to get my hair done.

For the most part during the week I feel great in the morning, energized at work, happy with the way things are working out...And then I get home. And once I get home, I go into shutdown mode. I literally lose all motivation to get anything accomplished. I feel physically exhausted, emotionally drained, and want so badly just to sleep. But of course, Chris has been at home all day with the kids, and he too would like a break.

I was trying to figure it out today. Trying to figure out why I feel so exhausted, why I felt so emotional today, why I started crying when I did.

I think that I'm just starting to hit a bit of a wall. These past five years have not been anywhere near stable. In fact, in God's presence and His Word are the only places where I have found any sort of stability. And I know that that's a life lesson many people have yet to learn, and something that Christians are supposed to try to learn. But today I just really felt like I wanted life to calm down...even if it was just for a little bit.

Andrew started his glutein free, casein free diet, which basically means he can't have anything he used to eat. And while we are seeing improvements, trying to get him to eat, which has always been a struggle, is now quite exhausting. But we are determined to stick with it, hoping that it will bring him more clarity of mind and help him to adapt to each environment more easily.

On Thursday we had his second meeting at his new school. This was the IEP meeting where we set goals for Andrew, and where we get all the paperwork in to get him enrolled. The meeting went much more smoothly than the first, even with Andrew running around constantly, trying to color on any surface he could find. We finally have a service coordinator, and she is WONDERFUL, and was also at the meeting. So Andrew will start his special preschool on November 10th.

I had my first program of the year (the first of three in the next 6 weeks), and it went well. We had our school carnival, which also went well. It was a little hard in some ways, though, because it kind of reinforced the isolation I feel sometimes with my position. Grade level teams all hang out together, work together, made baskets to sell together...and then there's me. Alone in the music room. Normally it doesn't bother me, and I try to include myself in various roles, but sometimes it just feels downright lonely to have to try and include myself, rather than naturally be included. I don't get automatic lunch plans on collaboration/work days, or continuous daily collaboration with colleagues...I have to find and make time for those things completely on my own. I realize this sounds like a pity party, but please know that I really do love my job. The natural isolation is just harder some times than others.

And then we went to the Halloween party where Andrew was in his usual "lots of people" form. He started throwing rocks into the small duck pool (I think it was supposed to be a game?), which of course was not okay. I foresaw another summer playdate tragedy coming, and tried to take him somewhere else. We stumbled across a small stream with lots of rocks next to it...perfect! At least, perfect for Andrew to throw rocks. Not so perfect for socializing with other grownups from my church.

And Andrew has not been sleeping...again. The melatonin was working great, but for the past few nights he's been up again, wide awake, and taking off all his clothes.

So, I'm tired. Very, very tired. And Chris is too. Andrew's diet and behavior are very isolatory as well (as far as going out in public), so we're kind of stuck in our house a lot. And that's really okay, most of the time. But while I would never trade having Andrew, there are days like this when I reminisce about the days when I didn't have to survey the environment for potential triggers, obstacles, or safety issues, and where we could go wherever we wanted to, for as long as we wanted to.

But this is life. And God is so faithful in giving us the strength that we need for each day.

Lord, please carry me tonight.

The problem with random thoughts...

So the blog that I wrote right before this one was written BEFORE I ready Jenny McCarthy's book "Mother Warriors." This one is being written at 1:30 am AFTER I have finished the book.

I think I spoke too soon. And if you read my blog on humility, you can appreciate how much I hate being wrong. But I also really hate being judgmental, and I was, to a great fault, on this one.

Her premise is not that she "cured" her son of autism, but rather that she recovered him from it. The amount of changes to his diet, therapies both conventional and non, were quite extreme, and took time. She also listed the stories of mothers who had gone through or were going through the same things.

And in those stories I saw myself and Andrew, although we have yet to go to the extreme measures that these "Mother Warriors" have gone to with their children. I have not yet even remotely explored the depth of possibilities that people have found to be successful. And I will wholeheartedly admit that my mother-in-law, despite my skepticism, took lactose out of my son's diet while he was visiting her for two weeks (during Jeff's surgery), and two days after he came back, he was able to point to body parts and accurately identify them. And I don't believe that was a coincidence. And while his speech certainly was not always understandable, the amount of speech he tried, and still uses, went from from almost completely non-verbal to constant jabbering.

And the thing that I really misspoke on was her attitude that a certain regimen would work for every child. She never says that. And she very clearly states that she knows that some parents have tried the things she did and found no success in them, and expresses great sadness about that fact.

But she continues, and I agree with her, that just because a certain change in diet, or a certain drug, or certain other extreme therapies I had never heard of doesn't help your particular child does not mean that they won't help another. So while I still am not sold on the vaccine thing (although you'd better believe I'm digging out my son's vaccine card to see what the date of his MMR shot was) I think that in many points she was right on the money.

So, Jenny McCarthy, I apologize, even though I realize that you will probably never read this blog. You were trying to give hope to a growing number of parents who find themselves trying desperately to recover their own children, and I applaud you for that. I all too quickly jumped on the bandwagon of despair and judgment, and am joyful for you in being able to get your son back.

Random thoughts

I think that I have seen that title on every blog I've ever read.

Random Thought #1: I'm really not a big fan of Jenny McCarthy's views of autism. She's all about "greening our vaccines." She claims that the mercury-tainted vaccines, or aluminum, or something in our vaccines are what cause autism.

I don't know how many more studies need to come out saying that there is NO LINK between vaccinations and autism, but I'm really getting tired of hearing about more studies looking for the non-existent link. PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE, send that money to fund research on other techniques or drugs that will help our kids who already have autism.

It also is very difficult to hear that she has cured her son of autism. I'm very skeptical of this...curing autism is something supported by virtually no one in the medical world. It's a different way of thinking, perceiving, feeling...not a disease to be cured. Changes in diet, medication, and continuous therapies can help the child to adapt more easily and act more "normal", but it never fully "cures" the child. At least not from what I've read. I'm not above believing in miraculous healing...but I also don't believe that there is a prescribed set of medications, diets, and exercises that will always "cure" a child with autism. It's too broad, to distinct in each case, too varied in its' symptoms from child to child.

Random Thought #2: We had an AWESOME experience with Andrew last night. Andrew has the arm of a Major League pitcher. His accuracy and speed of pitch are amazing. He hurls things so fast and so hard that he could easily dent walls, bruise skin, and break glass. Last night as we were riding back home, Andrew finished with his glass of juice. Sometimes he just drops the cup on the ground. Sometimes he asks for more. Last night, he chucked it as hard as he could. As it so happened, my head happened to be in his juice cup's path. I didn't have any idea it was coming either, as Chris and I were in the middle of what was a very deep conversation. So when it hit my head, I let out of scream of both pain and surprise.

Andrew is not particularly sensitive to sound, at least not in comparison to many kids with autism are. However, the human scream is one he cannot hear without tears of his own. He immediately began bawling, and while I wanted to comfort him, I spent the first 30 seconds after the hit rubbing my very sore head.

Then all of a sudden, breaking through the sobs, we heard Andrew shout, "SAAAA-WWWWYYY!" (SOOOOOORRRRY! (sorry)) And then he kept saying it. "Sawwy! Sawwy! Sawwy!" while the tears kept flowing. I finally (after a bit of shock) turned around and took Andrew's hand and held while I told him that it was okay. He finally settled down, and we continued on our way home.

It was an amazing moment because it wasn't prompted, because it was connected to another human being's feelings, and because it was at the appropriate time and setting. Yay, Andrew! He's getting it!

Random Thought #3: I miss the days of illness accompanied by concern, care, and rest. Before kids, both Chris and I were pretty good about trying to take care of the other person. Chris was particularly caring and nurturing.

Now, though, with three kids and a shortage of time and sleep, it's every spouse for themselves. And since Chris is home all day with the kids, he's certainly put in his time with them by the time I get home. So, no rest for the weary. :)

Random Thought #4: I went to NNU today to pick up something for Chris, and while I was there saw the sights and smelled the smells so unique to NNU. Immediately, memories of my college days came back, and I became a little wistful as I remembered those days when studies, coffee, and friends were the primary responsibilities and pleasures to be had.

"Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean.
Tears from the depth of some divine despair
Rise from the heart and gather in the eyes
in looking on the happy autumn fields
and thinking of the days that are no more."

-Alfred Lord Tennyson

Sick day, sick day

I do actually have a tune in my head while I type my title. It has been YEEEEEAAAARRRRS since I have actually had paid sick days to take. Usually they all go to maternity leave. So yesterday, when my frustration continued to mount as my voice continued to leave me, I decided to plunge ahead and take a sick day. So I put out a sub request, got my lesson plans in order, contacted the necessary people, and TOOK IT!

So now it's 8:23 on a school day and I am not going to school. Instead, I'm drinking my tea, listening to my children interact, my husband organize (a fantastic sound), and my refrigerator run. And while I don't feel well, I definitely feel relaxed.

The battle for sleep had a victory last night. Andrew was going on 4 weeks of sleeping only a few hours a night (with us also only sleeping a few hours). Chris and I were at each other's throats constantly, bringing back vivid memories of our first newborn experience ("I just got up with her! You get up with her!"), and neither of us were really getting any good sleep.

So then last Saturday, Chris went to one of his city league football games and got reacquainted with a guy who does a great deal of work with autism. He suggested melatonin, which is a homeopathic pill that adds a hormone that children with autism are oftentimes greatly lacking in. This hormone happens to be the one that also tells your brain you're tired and you need to go to sleep. At least, this is the theory behind the pill.

So we were all over that idea, and I went out and bought a bottle of the stuff. So far, it has worked WONDERS, and Andrew had his first full night of sleep last night. I don't remember the last time Andrew has slept through the night. As a result, our whole family was able to sleep through the night, although Chris did get up once to check on Andrew when he though he heard him moaning. Cup refill, Andrew takes a drink, Andrew is quiet again, and still asleep.

So we are all in great moods this morning, although it looks like I may have given the illness that plagues me to my kids. I'd love to say that I'm not going to do anything today, but that would be untrue. Chris is going to try and get little errands done, I'm going to try and catch up on the laundry, and anything else I can do around here.

So it's a sick day, but a good day. And we're very grateful for the sleep we were given.

Saturday morning fun

So here I sit, writing a blog, dressed warmly, listening to the sound of typing as well as my boys drinking their milk and playing with toys. Our house is warm compared to the freezing wind outside. We all just dropped Kadee Joy off at ballet. She is just the cutest think ever in her black leotard, pink tights, and hair pulled back into two buns. The house is much quieter without her here, although we'll be going to pick her up again in just a few minutes.

Andrew isn't sleeping well. He has so many sensory issues that I think nighttime is just a little overwhelming. His pajamas always seem to bother him, he's always looking for something to chew on, and he's would just love for his mommy to stay next to him the whole night because he loves to be held close. And he's always singing or quoting something while he's trying to go to sleep...I think his mind has difficulty shutting off just like many grownups do, but there's nothing we've been able to find that helps him shut it down...he just has to keep quoting and singing until he's asleep.

And so with his lack of sleep comes our lack of sleep. Andrew can't be left to wander the house, which he would love to do, particularly as he has recently mastered unlocking the deadbolt. He also can break all our child locks on the doors, and likes nothing better than to raid (well, destroy) the pantry. But mostly he just loves to come into our room and wait for us to take him back to his room...or better yet, be so deeply asleep that he can sneak into our bed and try to go undetected for as long as possible.

I remember the days when he used to be able to sleep all night just by sticking him in his crib with a bottle. He would drink his bottle, fall asleep, and would stay there until we came to get him the next morning. Ahhh, the days.

Chris has football and worship team practice on Saturdays, so it's usually just me and the kids until around dinner time. I'm hoping that we all get a nap today (at the same time...), and that I am able to use the time I have with them for fun, snuggles, and anything else that seems to be restricted to the early days of childhood. I know these days will pass by sooner than I would imagine, and that they are not days I will be able to get back.

Off to get Kadee Joy!

"Out of the mouths of babes..."

So first off Jeffy's standing. He's very funny because he loves to stand up (with the help of furniture) but gets tired very quickly and has no earthly idea of how to sit back down. So we have to rescue him quite frequently.



Secondly, Kadee Joy drew a family picture. One of the people in the picture stood out as having quite a large noggin. I asked her who it was and she answered, "Daddy." Chris came over, saw his image, and asked Kadee Joy why his head was so big. "Because you have a big head, daddy!"



Can I get an amen from those of you who know Chris well?



:)

Midnight Musings

So first of all, let me just say that I reserve the right to pull this blog immediately upon posting it. It's not even midnight...it's 3:14 am as I begin to write this. If your wondering what a full-time teaching mother of three is doing writing a blog at this time in the morning instead of sleeping, don't worry, I'm sure I will be wondering the same thing when the real morning hits. But for now...I write.

I had some friends over last night, and one of the friends asked me, "So....what do you foresee for Andrew when he's, say, twenty?"

I didn't take a lot of time to think. I've thought a lot about it before. "Oh, he'll probably still be living with us."

She seemed a little shocked by this. So I explained. "Of course, the ultimate goal is to have Andrew be as independent as possible. And there are many places out there for people to live semi-independently who have disabilities and disorders of all kinds...and that is what we would hope for him. But Chris and I have always prepared ourselves for the very real possibility that he will live with us for the rest of his/our lives." But I went on to say that we really didn't know what Andrew would be capable of in two years, yet alone twenty.

As I was lying in bed tonight/this morning though...I started to think of the even more true reality that really NONE of us know what life will be like in twenty years. Our economy is crumbling, literally in front of our eyes. Hundreds of newly built subdivisions are as populated as ghost towns. Stores are closing. There are few industries who are not cutting jobs, and even fewer who are actually hiring more.

The way of life that I remember best is one of instant gratification on every front. And I am not immune to that lifestyle. My addiction to Starbucks is my best proof of that. I wonder if in twenty years I will scoff at the thought of paying so much money for what in reality is so little and unnecessary. Boredom and idleness are our nations' current epidemics. For much of America, myself included, the search for and time spent on entertainment far outweighs the amount of time serving those in need.

My sister and I were discussing the state of the economy last night, and particularly the houses that stand empty. She said something that intrigued me. "I wonder if we will look back on the rows of empty, lavish houses, and see them as monuments to our own greed." I think we will. My sister lives in a two bedroom attic apartment with her two sons and husband. Vancouver BC prices on gas, meat, milk, and of course housing are far higher than those even in places like Seattle, so they have lived with far more frugality than my family has. I know that she oftentimes feels like hitting people down here when they sigh at the lack of room they have in their 3 bedroom, two bath houses with a living room, full kitchen, and at least a dining room. She pays the same for rent as I pay for my mortgage, and I have a four bedroom, two bath house. And it's not because they're not careful with their money...The most basic of houses in Vancouver starts at around $500,000. And they're both pastors in a fairly small church...good luck. :)

But I envy her in many ways. She is content with her life, and if major changes are coming, there will be little she has to do to change her lifestyle.

I compare what I will have to do with those in the South before the civil war. They lived a lifestyle that was simply unsustainable. Only theirs was built on slave labor...mine is built on my dependency on being able to get what I want, when I want it, and to go where I want to go, no matter how far, when I want to go. Their still standing plantation mansions are their monument to times long past. I think ours will be our subdivisions, our empty malls, our Starbucks on every corner, our gas stations that no longer have anything to sell.

I realize that this sounds somewhat fatalistic. But I believe that if this change is coming, it is one that was inevitable, and one that will probably help us all to live the way Christ intended us to all along.

My go to guy

I am not the cleanest woman in the woman. Okay, when I say that, I mean my house is not the cleanest in the world...hygienically, I think I'm personally alright. :)

It's not that I don't like a clean house...usually one of the first things I notice upon entering someone else's house is how clean and organized it is. And 99 times out of 100, the house I'm entering is more organized and clean than my own. And I then start thinking, "I need to organize my house. This is nice. Oh, look how the toys are in various, easily identified boxes and containers. Where are all the piles of papers? Where to they keep all their stuff? How come I can't keep my house this clean? I'm going to clean it when I get home."

And then I get home. And that's when I get overwhelmed. It's so much that I don't see the need to clean as it is that I have no earthly idea of where to start. My organizational skills are HORRENDOUS. When I start trying to organize, I end up with a bigger mess and more piles than I started with.

My daughter is the same way I am. Her room is generally a disaster, and I don't even know how to organize it to make it better. I don't remember a time in my life when I kept my room clean...And my mom is quite the neat freak.

Andrew doesn't seem to get that there's a mess. He just ends up destroying any organization anyway...If there's a stack of neatly folded laundry, his greatest delight is in throwing them all to the ground. He really likes lining up his toy cars and then throwing them all to the ground. So that adds a little to it as well.

Chris isn't a terribly messy person. And he's actually quite a genius at cleaning and organizing efficiently. Most of the time the house is well picked up when I get home.

And then there's Jeffy. We were at a birthday party the first time he displayed his gift of cleaning. There was a huuuuuuuuuuge pile of toys that Andrew had dumped out onto the ground before he had gone on to bigger and better things. Jeffy, who had just recently learned to crawl, reached the pile of toys and played for a few minutes.

And then the magic happened. He picked up one of the toys, and then hoisted himself up and put it in the large bin it belonged in. I watched, wondering if it was a fluke. But then he picked up another one and put it in. The kid can only say two words, but he will clean up without being told.

So now Jeffy is my go to guy when it comes to cleaning up. When it's Andrew who's made the mess, and I'm holding him in my arms while he's squirming and screaming while I try to make him clean up, Jeffy crawls over and immediately starts cleaning up.

He's also an excellent vacuum cleaner when it comes to crumbs. :) This part is gross, but also reassuring as it indicates he doesn't have a sensory issue in his mouth. Jeffy is watched very closely. His willingness to clean up, his eye contact, and his desire to try new foods is very reassuring. 1 in 94 boys are diagnosed with autism. If you have a child already diagnosed, subsequent children are given a 1 in 20 chance of being diagnosed...and that's Jeffy. He has a 1 in 20 chance of being diagnosed with autism.

So anyway, perhaps my household organizational problems will soon be on the mend as Jeffy seems to have inherited his daddy's ability to put things back in a place that makes sense.

Yaaaayyy Jeffy!

Lessons in humility

I'm a bit of a know-it-all. It's sad but true. When I was younger, if I didn't know an answer I would just make one up. This kept up until high school and college. Then I would infuse what little truth I did know with a more interesting "twist". And I was quiet, and fairly intelligent, so it was seldom questioned.

I got called on it enough times in college to make me a slightly more humble person who might actually say "I don't know." Life has thrown enough curveballs at me to let me know that I don't know, that my experience in my life is MY experience and cannot always be generalized, and that there are areas of expertise that I might not actually belong to.

I also have a weak tendency towards sticking with the things that I know I do well, and shutting out most areas that I don't immediately excel in. I try every once in a while...but I'm a person who really, really gets a lot out of verbal affirmation, and I usually get more of it sticking to the usual things.

Well, God has pointed out to me twice in the last 24 hours that even just sticking to things I think I do well still do not completely protect me from the occasional humiliation that will remind me once again that I am human, certainly not perfect, and still have much to learn.

The first came last night at choir practice. Our usual accompanists were gone, so we had another gal from our church doing it. And she was doing a great job. Then we got hit with a song that had a lot trickier rhythms in it, and she seemed a little hesitant to try and sight-read it. So naturally, being the wonderfully musically gifted human being I am, I volunteered to play the parts.

First of all, while I am not too bad at sight-reading while I'm singing, I am a TERRIBLE sight-reader while playing the piano. And even if I'm not sight-reading, I'm still not a confident player. So whatever possessed me to think that I could actually do a better job than the gifted piano player who was already up there was...I don't know.

But needless to say, two notes into it I messed up...I don't know that I ever actually completely transitioned into the key we were supposed to be in. And trying to play more than two parts at a time? Forget about it. So, I had to call the other gal up like five minutes after getting up there. EMBARRASSING.

Then today at school I had a gal from NNU come to observe me for a field experience. So I'm thinking to myself, "Wow, I must be getting pretty good to have someone come and WATCH me teach...Oh, and it's this kindergarten class with a lesson I've already done with the other class...yess....How do I look? Professional? Yeah! Lookin' good for being 29 with three babies!"

And so my conversation with myself goes. So I meet the gal, and she's very nice, and I tell her a little bit about myself, what grades she'll be seeing me teach, etc...

And then the kindergarten class comes in. I kid you not, I think someone had paid them money to act up at that precise moment. Even the normally well behaved kids were talking out of turn, making animal sounds, crawling around when they were supposed to be sitting...It was terrible. I had to send two of the really out of control ones to a time-out spot, and then had the others put their heads down...and this was within the first ten minutes of the class.

Then at the end, one of the girls (again, usually well behaved) started to throw a bonafide tantrum. It was AWESOME. Right after they left, the third graders started coming in for their turn and were talking as they came in...a big no-no. So I threw out of my mind that someone was watching and immediately let them know that they needed to shape up and do what they were supposed to do.

So behaviorally, they were fine. However, they seemed to have no clue as to how to do any of the things we did today. They were reading simple rhythms, and kids who normally have no problem doing it could not get out even the most basic ones. I'm sure it seemed that I was asking them to complete a ridiculously advanced task, but I KNOW they can do it normally.

And that's been my last 24 hours. Needless to say, I was very glad to be home. And of course, I just have to laugh now as I realize how ridiculous the situation is. I'm sure that kids will give a better showing later, and I will never again volunteer to accompany. :)

Time for Praise

So my last few blogs have been, well, serious to say the least. I get more depressed every time I read them. I have been realizing that while there may be some things in my life that are tough, there are many, many more things that should give me great cause for joy. Here are some of them:

The top picture shows Jeffy right after he was diagnosed with metopic craniosynostosis, an early fusing of the front of the skull. The middle shows him two days after his major surgery to fix it. The bottom shows his recently...beautiful, his scar hidden by his hair. Praise the Lord!

Miss Kadee Joy has recently started ballet. I praise God for her beauty, her gifts, her abilities, and for the patient and loving way she treats her brother Andrew. I also praise the Lord for the affectionate and fun relationship she and I have.

I am so grateful for where my marriage is. God has been so incredibly faithful to Chris and I. He has given me a gift in the man that I married. He is a wonderful father, and incredibly caring husband, and full of so many wonderful qualities that I keep finding more and more of the longer we are married. Neither of us is or has been anywhere near perfect, but God has been gracious in taking us both at our lowest and darkest points, and growing our marriage while growing us.

And of course, the ever popular subject of my blog, my Andrew. I praise the Lord for where he is now compared to where he was a year ago. He speaks a few words. He calls me Mama. He calls Chris Daddy. He calls Kadee Joy Sissy. He calls Jeffy baby. He will tell people hello without prompting. He has eaten meat. His attention span is longer. And he can tell me that he loves me.

He IS making progress. And Lord, I AM thankful for that.

I don't know

I'm "watching" Veggie Tales with Andrew. Andrew pipes in a quote every once in a while, and is utterly engrossed in the movie. I sometimes wonder what it is about movies and TV that makes Andrew so willing to pay attention, listen, and even answer questions, while with actual people he rarely gets past saying "hi."

I recently saw a t-shirt that said "I have hope for a child with autism." I've been starting to realize that I have my own prejudices to get over regarding this disorder. I find myself constantly calling Andrew "my autistic child" and letting lots and lots of people know that "he's autistic".

And apparently, in the world of neurological disorders, calling my child "autistic" is quite politically incorrect, a huge faux pas, a label that limits one's vision to the disorder rather than the child. He is a child who has autism, rather than simply "autistic."

Am I only seeing him for his disorder? I think in some ways I am still grieving the future I used to see for my child. And perhaps I do see his disorder more than his actual self. How horrible is that? There are times when I feel like I know him so well, and other times when I realize that I have no idea of his feelings, his goals, of what he's thinking. I don't know ANY of those things, and certainly have no way finding out from him, at least verbally. And he is my child. I can guess at some of his basic feelings (anger, hunger, frustration, contentedness), but anything deeper may always be a mystery to me.

I peer into the eyes of my child and there are times when I wonder if there is a little boy inside just begging to get out, begging to tell his side of the story, what he feels, what he wants, where he'd like to go, what he'd like to do.

But then a more negative side of me tends to think that he knows and wants for nothing more than the tiny world that he is so comfortable in. Is school something that will ultimately benefit him, or just something that will be a hellish part of his existence? What is best for my Andrew?

I pray nearly every night for Andrew to somehow be able to have a relationship with God. I don't even remotely know where to start to help Andrew find Him. He doesn't know enough words for me to even begin to put together a sentence about God and his love for us.

I love my boy so much. It is still so painful to think of this hostile world. It treats "normal" kids so cruelly...what will it do to my Andrew? In my home, he is safe. He is loved. He knows his place. He knows his way around.

My fear is that I am doing exactly what I fear others doing:
Losing sight of Andrew in the blurred vision of autism.

Heavenly Father, help me to see my dear boy with YOUR sight. Forgive me for my fear, my worry, and my limited vision. I know that you have a plan for my Andrew, a far better one than I can see right now. Give me wisdom, Lord, and enough light to see the next step. Be my hope, Lord, in a place that right now feels so hopeless. Help me, in all things, to point my child closer to you. I have trusted you this far Lord....I place my trust in You once again.

The Meeting

It’s hard to say what I’m feeling right now. I just got done with Andrew’s first school meeting at Lakevue Elementary, a school in the Vallivue district. The meeting was to determine whether or not he should be placed in the preschool for special needs learners, which he would start at age three.

I am overwhelmed with feelings right now. I can’t seem to stop crying. The specialists and administration there were very kind, asked their questions very professionally…but I felt even in that setting the reticence they must be feeling about getting a child who has already been labeled “a runner” and “a screamer” and autistic. I could see them considering the exits, and watched as each tried to convince Andrew not to leave the room.

I feel overwhelmed because I now see each side of it. I was a teacher who looked at the inconvenience of having any child with a behavior problem. To have an autistic child prone to meltdowns was positively frightening. I have called them runners, screamers, throwers, biters, scratchers, and severely autistic, and rarely meant that in some sort of positive way. It was simply something to try and avoid at all costs.

And now I live with a human being, my own son, who does and is all of those things. But to think that those words could possibly encompass who my son is, is not only deeply disturbing to me as a mother, but is also so mistakenly misleading. He does those things…but that is not who he is. My Andrew is a snuggler, my Andrew is a smiler, my Andrew is a dancer, my Andrew is a jabberer, my Andrew us a singer, my Andrew is affectionate, and my Andrew is MY ANDREW. He is my son, he is my boy, he is the child who wakes me in the night to help him get back to sleep. He knows me, loves me, and never questions whether or not I will take care of him. It is as natural to him as it is to breathe.

It is heartbreaking to think that the words I used before are all that some people will ever know of him, and all that some people will ever care to know. He will be an inconvenience to them, a sighing morsel of gossip in the staff lounge, an exasperation in their classrooms and hallways, and a mystery not worth solving.

And I don’t blame them. The classroom in and of itself can feel like an impossible place to succeed for these teachers when the numbers get high, the behaviors get chronic, and the test scores don’t raise. Add in an Andrew, and the situation will feel unbearable.

So that is my dilemma. I want the best for my son. I want him to be surrounded by those who love him and want the same for him. I want him to be able to excel at something the world will find valuable so that he can be accepted more.

Pray for me in my struggle and agony as a mother, a teacher, and an advocate for my dear son.

The little things

As I woke up this morning, I discovered that there are so many sounds and everyday routines that are unique to my life.

First, Kadee Joy came stumbling into our room with her cup, which she clumsily shoved at Chris, saying, "Daddy...I want more appuh jooce." (she insists on saying it like this...apparently she has a higher success rate with it)

Chris had had a fairly eventful night last night getting up with the kids, so I decided to give him a break. I got up with Miss Thing, and got her a drink.

Next came the inevitable request. "Mommy, I want you to sleep with me."

Kadee Joy is a girl after her mommy's own heart. She would snuggle with me every night, every nap, if she could. I am not an openly affectionate person...unless it's my family. Then I can't seem to help always hugging and kissing on them. And snuggling is the best.

So I laid down with Kadee Joy (it was already 6:45 am, so I knew we wouldn't be there long). After about 5 minutes, she was snoozing away. I was starting to get drowsy again, when all of a sudden I heard the quick footsteps of Andrew heading towards my bedroom. I knew that Chris was still trying to sleep, so I started to at least think about getting back up. :)

And then I heard a sweet, sing-song voice start babbling, "Hi! Hi! Da-da? Da-da? Hi! Hi!"
Jeffy was awake, and was beginning his morning conversation with his (as yet) unseen Daddy. So I got out of bed, and went into Jeffy's room.

Jeffy's smile is pretty infectious, as were all my kids at that age. He started bouncing up and down in his crib, and started repeating, "Hi!" even more rapidly. So I picked him up, and then went to search for Andrew.

Andrew had also started his morning routine conversation. Andrew speaks in movie quotes. Movie quotes and songs. The only time he doesn't it is when his basic needs to to be met. "Joooooooce? Mut? Mut? (Juice? Milk? Milk?)"

This morning, he was singing a BackYardigans song. "Tooooper-Pah!!!!!!" (Super Spy!) As he heard my footsteps approaching, he prepared himself for his normal greeting. "Hah!" (Hi) Then he ran towards me, wrapped his arms around my legs, and buried his head into me while he said "MMMMMMMMM." And then he saw his blanket. "Gobet?" (Blanket?)

Whenever Andrew says anything, the only thing he wants is for you to repeat it back. Then he can go on. If he falls on the ground, he'll look up at you and say, "Okay?" It is your job to say, "Are you okay?" Then he says, "Kay...." and gets up and continues on.

I could go on and on, but this is already probably enough...And probably only interesting to my heart. :) Either way...I love these sounds. They keep a smile on my face and remind me that in spite of the difficulties that come every once in while, these kids are a huge blessing to me, and I am privileged to be their mommy.

The Absence of Gray

I'm growing impatient with the world.

When I was in college, I turned from a fairly black and white person into a barely black and white person. Nearly all moral lines were blurred, mostly as a result of me crossing them. I hid from the light because I was scared to death of what it would show. I lived in a world of gray, a world in which rationalizing could change any right to wrong, and any wrong into right. It was a world of pain, a world of lies, and a world of tears. It took me many years to recover from the wounds I received while living in that world.

I don't think I fully appreciated the light until about two years ago. Many of you know what happened, and the crippling blow my marriage took. It was one that most marriages do not heal from. It was by the light of Christ, though, that the blow was seen by both my husband and I for its' true, destructive self. Once we were able to see it for what it really was, we were able to, with God's ever-sustaining grace, be healed and have our marriage regrown. Our marriage now has the foundation it always needed, and God's light is constantly shining down on us to show where we are, who we are, and the path He would have us take.

But with that realization came several things. One was a great deal of empathy for those dealing with similar struggles in their marriages. Another was a great deal of respect for the work successful marriages have to have placed into them.

But the one that has stood out to me of late is the utter contempt I have for the rationalization so many are using in the destructive decisions they make in regard to their marriages. I am sickened tonight by yet another person my age who is taking their marriage and tossing it away for a perceived happiness that may or may not be out there. A perceived happiness based in someone else, or something else. They are so utterly deceived.

Don't get me wrong. I have been deceived. My husband has been deceived. We have both suffered a tremendous amount because of our actions on the basis of this deception. I know that I am no better in my actions than the dear one who acted on them tonight.

But I have also lived the hell that being on the other end of it is. I know the feelings of abandonment, the despair, the pain, the crippling self-doubt. And I think that those who inflict this have virtually no comprehension of what they are inflicting.

They are so deceived. Their world is gray, but the hell that they are putting their families through, and will eventually go through themselves is not.

Please, Lord....Speak into the heart of the person on my mind. Bring hope to the family, even when hope cannot be seen. Please pour your peace into their family, and bring light into their world.

"So runs my dream..."

First off, I need to say that I had another fantastic week of school...until the last few hours. But other than those few hours (which are usually crazy before three day weekends anyway), it was a great week of work.

I'm not sure why, but this week I have been hit with a heavy number of dreams about my dad. Dad passed away three and a half years ago after a ridiculously short, painful battle with a cancer that managed to invade his entire body in a matter of a few short weeks.

Right after he died, my dreams were filled with horrific pictures of his deathbed. In my dreams, I would not see the dad of my youth, but rather I would see my dad at his death. The man I said goodbye to on February 15th, 2005 was only a shadow of the once strength filled man I had grown up with. His face was drawn, his nose was pinched, his skin was yellow from his defeated liver, and he was painfully thin with the exception of his heavily bloated stomach. He had difficulty focusing on what we were saying to him because he was in such incredible pain.

My dreams this week have been different. They have been a roller-coaster of repressed emotions. In one of my dreams, dad walked into our old house, in his work clothes, and I was overwhelmed with joy as I determined he was still alive. I have visited my old house in my dreams many times this week. And in all of these dreams, dad is there, alive and healthy.

And then, what feels like one minute before I wake up, I get a flash of many pictures. Dad is sick again, I see him on his deathbed, and then I see his gravestone. I wake up wracked with grief, and once more relive the painful reality that Dad is not here.

In some ways, though, I think these dreams have been helpful to me. I've been reading a new series (new to me, anyway) that has for some reason turned my focus to the age and life steps that I am approaching. I have, at times, started to ponder my age, my role as a mother of three, even being married...not really regret, but more just realize that I am not getting any younger, any prettier, or ever going to experience the passions of youth like I did in my teens and early twenties. I started to, for the first time in my life, wish to be able to experience the pleasures and freedoms of my youth...first love, a clean slate, freedom of time and plans without being forced to consider others. I wished to be young again, and started to experience real heartache as I realized that so much of what the world holds dear is experienced at an age that I have already passed.

If this is beginning to sound selfish, don't worry...I myself know that it is, and have lived out the reality of those dangerous thoughts enough to know that they have to be repelled.

And so, in a strange way my dreams of dad have been helpful. Had my dad decided to forego the point in his life that I am at, I would not have had the wonderful years I did with him. He sacrificed so much to have such a good relationship with his children and wife, but his sacrifice proved to be so fruitful in what it produced in us. He kept his focus on what God had called him to be, and proved his faithfulness to the end.

It is with this that I find a renewed sense of peace in the place where I am at. I am so blessed to be a wife, a mother, and have been reminded of the amazing parts of life that these roles have brought me. I am LOVED. And it is not a love based on ever-changing emotions and passions, or on fanciful dreams...it is a love that has been refined by many fires, and with a God at the center of it who has so much more good planned for me than I could ever have imagined. I refuse to sacrifice the well-being of my children and husband for the sake of pursuing an idea of worldly happiness that will never last. Lord, help me to remain focused on the plan that YOU have for my life, and forgive me for those times that I try to fill my soul and mind with yearnings for the things in this world that has so deceived so many men and women in my stage of life.