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.