Singing in the Wind

Self portrait

- by Seth O'Neil

Example of talking oneself out of a continuous negative loop...

My kitchen counters are awful. AWFUL old lady pinkish marble-ish, with silver piping, fifties style, but not retro and cute. Just fifties. And they pile up. No flat surface in this house can stay clear more than 1/2 a day.

They'll be replaced within the year. Until then, I don't have to worry about setting hot pots or pans on them, nicking them. Who cares about them! They are practically disposable!

I'm drowning in this house. Suffocating. I can't keep up with it. As I stood on the precipice of this life, I'm certain I didn't say, "Gee. I'd love to be a full time housekeeper."

HT doesn't give a rip if the house is messy, and most of the time I don't care either. There is much creativity happening here. He is always willing to help if I ask. Willing without any sort of resentment or attitude. If I ask.

The needs! The constant demands! "Mommy, I'm still hungry." Shut up you are not I just fed you an hour ago.

Healthy boy. Great appetite.

If I could just get new counter tops, it would solve a lot of problems. Don't get me started on the basement. Still torn up. Will be for a long time to come. It was supposed to be a play room. A playroom would solve a lot of problems.

We have plenty of room without a playroom. It is a spacious house. And did I mention affordable? Real estate in Cleveland is affordable. Truly.

The two main floors are okay. Besides the kitchen. Oh, and except for the computer area, where there is dust and piles of papers. Also, the shelves which host the children's things, games, puzzles, blocks, markers, glue. That area is a mess.

This area is just going to be messy. Lots happening there. Get over it.

My attic office is not a mess, but it's not my color. It's baby blue. My color is yellow. And the floors are wood and old and unfinished, giving it a rustic look. Sick of rustic. Sick of baby blue. Need a new floor, and paint. Yellow paint. It would solve a lot of problems.

So I'll buy a couple gallons of paint. Today.

The kid's rooms, I can live with. Pink. Purple. Their dresser tops are so cluttered. They both need shelves. Shelves would solve a lot of problems.

So I'll get some shelves. Soon.

Let's not talk about the bathroom. Let's just not even go there.

Yes, lets not even go there.

Riley went back to school yesterday and Seth is going back today.

The doctor said he just has bruising between the bone plates=NO CAST!

Ten days home with children. Too much. LET ME OUT!!!

Many people would go mad at their job if they did it 10 days in a row non stop with just a small break here or there.

Especially in such a crappy house. Did I tell you about my awful kitchen counters? They are pinkish. If I could just replace the counter tops...

It's not a crappy house at all. It's a fine house, with endless opportunities for improvement. We may not be able to afford everything we'd like to do for it this minute, but we are able to afford therapeutic riding lessons, therapeutic martial arts, therapeutic day camp this summer, etc. We've always been able to provide what our kids need.

And Thai food. We are able to afford Thai food. Every other Monday.

Life really isn't so bad.

Example of a negative continuous loop...Or, Why I'm not home school material

My kitchen counters are awful. AWFUL old lady pinkish marble-ish, with silver piping, fifties style, but not retro and cute. Just fifties. And they pile up. No flat surface in this house can stay clear more than 1/2 a day. I'm drowning in this house. Suffocating. I can't keep up with it. As I stood on the precipice of this life, I'm certain I didn't say, "Gee. I'd love to be a full time housekeeper." The needs! The constant demands! "Mommy, I'm still hungry."

Shut up you are not I just fed you an hour ago.

If I could just get new countertops, it would solve a lot of problems.

Don't get me started on the basement. Still torn up. Will be for a long time to come. It was supposed to be a play room. A playroom would solve a lot of problems.

The two main floors are okay. Besides the kitchen. Oh, and except for the computer area, where there is dust and piles of papers. Also, the shelves which host the children's things, games, puzzles, blocks, markers, glue. That area is a mess.

My attic office is not a mess, but it's not my color. It's baby blue. My color is yellow. And the floors are wood and old and unfinished, giving it a rustic look. Sick of rustic. Sick of baby blue. Need a new floor, and paint. Yellow paint. It would solve a lot of problems.

The kid's rooms, I can live with. Pink. Purple. Their dresser tops are so cluttered. They both need shelves. Shelves would solve a lot of problems.

Let's not talk about the bathroom. Let's just not even go there.

Riley went back to school today but Seth is still home, off to the bone doctor this afternoon.

Ten days home with children.

Too much. LET ME OUT!!!

Especially in such a crappy house. Did I tell you about my awful kitchen counters? They are pinkish. If I could just replace the countertops...

So he's squeaked himself at least one extra day of spring break...

It all started out so smoothly. We walked to the library. Took out some videos. We then walked a block further to a fabulous little strip of shops. We stopped at the pet store and looked at the animals. They have these little rooms you can take the puppies in, so we made friends with a baby Laphso who wanted to eat Seth's ankles and lick Riley's face. We ate at a little cafe. Soup for Riley, PB & J for Seth, I had a sandwich (tomato, red pepper, provolone, pesto).

Passing the library on the way back, Seth climbed up on a retainer wall, about waist high to me. The wall got higher,about four feet or so, and I thought nothing of it. He has good balance, and the wall is wide. Riley wanted to climb up there too, and as she struggled to even hoist herself up on the low end, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Seth look like he was about to jump, down onto the concrete sidewalk.

Couldn't be. He was scared to jump from a height much lower than that, just a couple of days ago at the park. I had to come over and convince him to jump into my arms to get down. Even that was touch and go. This wall is higher. He won't, he wouldn't, he...what the hell is he....oh no!

Slow mo. Seth leaps, landing badly on his left arm.

I knew it was probably broken, but all I could think was,"Thank God it wasn't his head."

THANK GOD IT WASN'T HIS HEAD. THANK GOD. Holy Crap. Right on the concrete.

We had to walk 1/2 mile home and he was in some pain. Riley was sweet, patting his shoulder all the while.

The hospital, God bless Cleveland, has a pediatric ER, where they get little ones in and out quickly and they know how to deal with them. One hour. We were in the ER one hour only. It's a miracle.

All the way there I just felt so blessed it wasn't his head, that we have health insurance, that Riley's sensory issues are so much better now and she surely won't have a problem in the ER. She didn't. Even with babies crying all over, she was FINE. She used to shriek at crying babies. The sound hurt her ears so much.

"BAD BABY!" she'd scream, never putting together the logic that she herself was crying too.

Like I said, she was fine in the ER. Todd is working tonight and he was the only pharmacist on duty, so he could not leave his hospital, but we were fine! Not a peep from Riley. The ultimate big sister. Scoring herself a popsicle. "Red, please."

The actual arm bones are okay, but it looks like some damage between the bone plates. We have to see a bone doctor on Monday. Seth's in a temporary cast. All teary, he worried, "If you break a part of your body does it fall off? Will you grow a new one?" Sometimes I forget how little he is. My heart aches for little ones with autism, with no speech, who can't verbalize such fears. Aches for them.

He's sleeping now; his mattress on the floor in his sister's room.

It's odd. Seth hurt his arm and I feel so blessed.

Sweet dreams little love.

Curled Up With a Book

If I'm not blogging, blame Courtney. I wrote about my love of TED, and she told me to watch this TED talk which I hadn't seen yet, and it was so very moving, I had to buy the author's book and now I can't put it down. Plus, the kids are home for spring break. Day 8. Still in love with them, just not as much.

XO

Spring Break

This is Riley's creation. It is a little dish garden. Rocks, moss, sticks feathers, shells. There is grass seed under the soil; soon it will sprout up. We were invited to a birthday party at our neighbor's house over the weekend and this was the activity they were doing. Cool, huh?

The birthday party really got our creative juices flowing, just in time for spring break.

We colored T-shirts with fabric markers. You'll have to wait for those pictures because they were so fancy we had to wear them immediately and now they are in the washer.

The kids also painted toy models. GRRRRR!
And made scenery for the painted toys.

But that wasn't enough. They had to collect rocks to paint, some for the scenery above, some just as treasures to further clutter up their dressers and windowsills.

This is Seth's garden. He's proudest of the feather flag at the top. When Riley was three and four, all the other kids colored with ease. She'd get so frustrated, she'd scream, crumple her paper; her crayons would wind up flying across the room. Like a lot of kids in the A club, she got kicked out of preschool. Kicked out without even a referral.

One day it just clicked, and now she can't get enough of making art.

The kids have spent a lot of time in pj's this week(so has their mother). They each get one hour of computer per day. And they collectively get one hour of TV, at least that's what I tell myself.

It's usually way more than that. Mommy takes a phone call, a video goes in, stat. Or they stay up to watch Dancing With the Stars. That doesn't count as TV time, right?

Seth's mattress is on the floor in Riley's room so they can stay up late, chatting. It's usually a Friday thing, but we've left it in her room all week.

HT's is working, but he's made sure I get a couple of hours every morning before he leaves so I can hole up in my office and do my thing.

It's really been a wonderful spring break so far.

I love my family.

WANTED

Multi-generational Families for TV Show

A wonderful writer friend is developing an unscripted tv show and needs families where several generations live in one house. If you have a big, colorful family—grandparents, parents, aunts and uncles, siblings, kids and pets coming out your ears—write and tell her why you should be featured on the show.

Interested people can respond to: onerooftv@gmail.com

A Walk in the Park

This play structure is the bane of my existance. The park is within walking distance. So convenient! It has a great playground. All the mature trees make it ideal for shade, plus it has a lake we can hike around.

So not worth it.

This is as high as Riley can climb. She clings on that first tier, terrified. With her depth perception issues, it no doubt feels like she's 100 feet up. No one is pushing her to climb, but she wants to. Yesterday, she chewed out Seth for trying to help her, so he gave up and went to play in the treehouse.

She'd been clinging there for a good twenty minutes, when a little guy of four or five hopped on and scampered all the way to the top like it was nothing.

Two insults:

1) When someone else gets on, the whole thing wobbles.

2) He was littler than her and he could climb circles around her.

She started to fret and jiggle. Her whole body rippled with upset. I went over and forced her off the play structure; it was clear she was about to lose it.

As we walked away she began to shriek,

"YOU BAD LITTLE BOY! YOU ARE A BIG SHOW OFF!"

Social skills, anyone?

Tears streamed down her face, and we continued to walk, eventually finding a boulder to sit on. I took her under my arm.

"Riley he wasn't showing off. He was just climbing."

"It isn't fair he can climb all the way to the top. I hate that boy! He is such a big bragger," she cried.

She'd hit black and white mode and could not see it any other way.

"Riley. There are so many things you are good at. You don't need to compare yourself to other people. Everyone does things in their own time."

"I WISH I HAD A FITNESS TALENT, THAT I COULD DO AND I WISH I COULD SHOW OFF AND MAKE SOMEONE ELSE FEEL BAD!"

"No you don't Dolly. You are such a sweetie. You have such a good heart. You would never try to hurt anyone's feelings on purpose."

She put her head on my shoulder and sobbed.

"I'm such a loser!"

"Riley, the reason you feel so bad is because you are thinking all these terrible things about yourself, and God doesn't agree. You're not lined up with Source, that's why you're hurting so much."

"GOD THINKS I'M A BIG DORK!!!"

Note to self: When someone is hurting, it's often a better idea to just offer a shoulder, instead of trying to convince them of any deep spiritual truths.

I freely admit it...

I'm addicted to TED.

TED, I visit you whenever I could use a little inspiration, and you never let me down. Scrolling through your archives, I always wind up clicking on just the thing. I could spend hours with you, but twenty minutes is usually enough to put me back in a good space.

I love you TED, and I don't care who knows it.

XO

MO'N

Um, Carrie? When's a good time to call?

So I asked Seth yesterday,

"Did someone come and take you out of the classroom for testing recently?"

"Yeah. Two people did," he said, as he fiddled with his Planet Hero. "I didn't know them."

"Do you know what they said about you? Those people who gave you those tests?"

"What?" he shrugged.

Looking him in the eye I told him, "They said you are a very smart little boy. Did you know that about you?"

He looked down and said,

"Not really. Because I never get my work done."

Kill me now.

"Getting your work done doesn't mean anything about smart."

I grabbed his chin and made him look at me.

"Seriously Seth. People learn in all different kinds of ways. Maybe that kindergarten class doesn't match your way of learning. You are a very smart kid. Do you hear me?"

He smiled and said,

"Okay."

Okay.
_____________

We stayed in PJ's all day this first day of spring break. After an hour long dance party to my new chorus music, Seth had a revelation.

"Mom. I think I figured out why I can't get my work done."

"Why, Seth?"

"Because there's music in my head."

Seth is a child who hums random little tunes under his breath every waking moment.

"Whenever I try to concentrate, there is too much music inside me and it distracts me."

"I see," I said.

I see.

Waltz her around the floor, Marie

So I told you I joined a chorus here in Cleveland, right? It's a feminist chorus. One of the songs is a very sweet waltz about two girls, Stephanie and Marie, who were granted the right to attend their high school prom together as a couple, per court order. Two of about 18 songs in the repertoire are gay themed.

Riley is so very musical. She knows all the songs by heart after hearing them twice on CD, and she wanted to come with me to rehearsal today. She sat by my side, singing her little heart out for two full hours. It was awesome. There are few things in life I love as much as singing with Riley.

Anyway, during the above mentioned song, there is a lyric:

And they walk through that door,
just as proud as can be,
Steph in a gown and the tux on Marie,
and they each wear an orchid
and they know they'll both lead.....

Riley leaned over and whispered, "Why is the tux on Marie?"

I whispered back, "Because sometimes in couples with two girls, on fancy occasions, one wears a gown and the other chooses to wear a tux. Not all girls feel comfortable in dresses."

Riley matter of factly said, "Oh," and proceeded to sing.

Cartwheels and Smiles

Cartwheels, riding a bike, blowing a bubble. All things Riley hasn't mastered yet. Who cares, right? Not a big deal in the grand scheme of things, right? Tell that to her.

At martial arts last week the teacher gave everyone a break, so she could check on a child who was taking too long in the bathroom. She asked her assistant, a visiting instructor from South America to take over for a sec. He is one of those martial artists who can run up walls and fly through the air, Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon style.

As soon as the main teacher left the room, a little boy who is five and who appears to be very ADHD and autistic promptly did a cartwheel.

Oh God no.

Riley started to get ramped up, and I could hear the voice in her head.

He's only five and he can do a cartwheel. I can't do one. I'm such a loser. I'm never going to be able to do a cartwheel, etc.

The little guy did another.

Her body started the pre-meltdown jiggle and cutting her off at the pass, I asked, "Mr. Crouching Tiger, do you think you could show us all how to do a cartwheel? Riley has really been wanting to learn."

He brought her out to the middle of the mat, and took her through the motions. Hands, head down, step off, etc. He held her body while she made several attempts, seeing her through to the other side. She has no clue where her body is in space. She could not even begin to get it. The main teacher came in and quickly changed the subject taking them all back to the regular class routine.

I breathed. That was a close one.

After class, Crouching Tiger came over and told me to bring Riley early next time and he'd work with her on cartwheels.

I was verklempt.

Today was her first cartwheel tutorial. Every attempt left her flopped in a heap on the mat, starting to cry. Each time, Crouching Tiger made her jump up and commanded her to smile.

"I'm not going to teach you if you don't smile," he said.

It was amazing.

She'd flop. Be all defeated, and then jump up smiling. It was like the order to smile was snapping her out of all the negative self-talk. The smiling made it much more playful and less result oriented.

She didn't get that cartwheel today, but she didn't flip out either.

She worked hard. Her body got the feel of it a bit.

I'm going to work on some visualizations with her.

She'll get there one day.

I'm smiling just imagining it.

While I was on the computer just now...

I turned around to see this:
Love.

Gifted Schmifted

When Riley was a baby, HT and I had friends with a "gifted" son. He was gifted, gifted, gifted. Blah, gifted, blah, gifted, blah! They talked about it incessantly. Fulfilling their own unfulfilled childhood dreams(they actually admitted this),they pushed their little guy hard in academics and sports. The last time we saw him he was eight. His five year old sister constantly fell asleep at the dinner table having eaten a pop tart to tide her over. Dinner was usually at 9:00PM, when they got home from all the boy's activities. They aren't the only parents we know like this.

It left a bad taste in our mouths for "giftedness." Whenever someone mentions the giftedness of their child, HT and I have all we can do not to laugh, and we mock them behind their backs. You should know this about us.

Last year, one of Riley's teachers offered us the choice to have her tested for giftedness, and we declined. No doubt she's gifted but it would mean a lot more homework. It is already a huge battle much of the time. No thanks.

So when the form came home to test Seth for "giftedness," I tossed the permission slip aside and never thought of it again.

Seth's teacher has talked to me several times this year about how he never gets his work done on time. He drifts off, spaces out. He's not defiant. Not a behavior problem, but he zones. We're keeping an eye on him. Perhaps there is a processing issue, or maybe he's just not interested. So much of kindergarten is boring worksheets. He'd rather play. Or daydream.

When we volunteered in his class last month, Seth's teacher noted we hadn't turned in our permission slip for gifted testing. I hastily signed the form to appease her, and promptly forgot about it.

Gifted, schmifted. It doesn't mean anything.

Seth's results came in the mail today.

He's gifted.

What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

Fun Times

Yesterday Riley did something most people take for granted. She got her hair cut at a salon, and in doing so, she allowed herself to be shampooed in the salon sink. Usually the hair stylist has to wet down her hair with a spray bottle. Riley white knuckled it, holding on to the chair and flinched each time the water was turned on. She even asked for a break because her neck was getting tired. She didn't start crying or have a meltdown.

Her stipulation for even going was, "No blow dryers."

But...Lori the stylist said, "I have this glitter spray, and your hair needs to be dry for it to work. It's totally up to you though."

Riley's eyes went wide, "Glitter?"

We agreed to use the blow dryer on the very lowest setting. Lori turned it on and let her get used to the sound before coming near her head with it. Riley's shoulders were up to her ears the whole time, but that little girl had her first blow out!

We needed to cut her hair because combing it had become a nightmare. Her sensory issues made it a 20 minute screaming fest each morning before school. Her worst fear was that she'd look like a boy with her hair cut shorter.

The expression on her face, grinning ear to ear as she checked herself out in the mirror was too precious to even fathom. Her hair is cut to just below her shoulders in a little bob. In the car on the way home, she said, "We have a lot of fun times together." I'm sure I've never heard a more beautiful sentence.

This morning I anticipate a very hard time getting her out the home door and in the school door. The fear of everyone noticing her hair will likely be overwhelming.

Living and learning here.

She has decided to grow out her bangs, and she is giving her ponytails to Locks of Love.

I have decided to be happy about the experience yesterday no matter what happens on the way in to school today.

Love and glitter,

MO'N

Possibilities, Disabilities & The Arts

Last night HT and I watched Possibilities, Disabilities & the Arts, the latest film by director Keri Bowers of Normal People Scare Me fame. Keri is just lovely with her thoughtful and creative spirit (and her long blond braids)! She is a mom further along on the path and she brings with her such strength and wisdom.

The new documentary brings up many ideas about the therapeutic benefits of the arts, and possible career paths for people with autism and other disabilities such as Down Syndrome. It is chock full of interviews with some big names in autism, Temple Grandin and Donna Williams among them. It also poses many interesting questions. When is an artist an artist? Are they artists straight up? Or artists with disabilities? Will the disability help sell the work? Will the disability affect the artist's willingness to sell the work?

One concept the film covered was something I'd never thought of before. The idea of having professional aides for disabled adults, in order to help them navigate highly productive careers. We hope Riley will one day be self-sufficient, but what if she isn't? Should her brilliant mind be relegated to some monotonous low paying job because she doesn't interpret social cues well?

Why do we assume a child who has needed support throughout the school age years should be expected to go it alone in the real world as an adult?

Todd and I both know undiagnosed adults on the spectrum who are very bright, who alienate everyone around them and flounder professionally. What if someone were paid to act as a buffer? What if that were a tract in college: Major in Supportive Services for Individuals With Autism? What if employers willingly paid for their services in exchange for gleaning the genious of these amazing minds?

Consider the possibilities!

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Leprechaun sighting at our house.
~

If you like Irish music, this is a fun band. Order their CDs.

~

Erin go braless!

Monkeys and Parrots and a Bear

When I was big and pregnant with Riley my size 6 1/2 feet were barely squeezing into size nine shoes. My hands were so swollen, I got the nickname "Man Hands" at work(thanks to Seinfeld). I had carpel tunnel so bad, I had to sleep with braces on my wrists the last two months of the pregnancy. My midwife, convinced a pregnant woman is not a sick woman, wouldn't give me the out to quit work unless I begged. For some reason I really looked up to her and didn't want to let her down. I felt I had to press on. Other nurses were working right up 'til their due dates, why couldn't I?

Until I just couldn't.

When I finally quit, I was feeling so sad. Really down on myself. So one night, Todd moved our mattress into the baby's room.

We'd made our nursery a jungle. Vines criss-crossed under the ceiling. Monkeys, parrots, zebras and hippos hung from fishing wire at various levels. Todd would often check the nature store to see if there were any new animals. He'd come home all pumped up about hanging a new giraffe, or yet another monkey. And one time a brown bear.

That night, we laid in the nursery, imagining the baby. Who is it? A boy? A girl? I couldn't explain the depth of my sadness. It didn't make sense. We were having a baby. I should be thrilled. Why did I feel so overwhelmed? Todd held me. He allowed me to feel what I felt and that was enough. We were having a baby. It was okay to be overwhelmed. We drifted off to sleep beneath the twirling monkeys and giraffes, and one bear. What? Our jungle was inclusive.

Yesterday, Todd and I got in a fight. Hurtful things were said by both of us. Our relationship is so good, but it's not perfect. Sometimes the imperfections seem huge, looming over us, threatening to take all we have away.

A Course in Miracles teaches, in all difficulty, distress, moments of confusion, etc., "I could see this differently."

Last night when I was sad and couldn't sleep I asked God to help me see our situation differently, and immediately the image of us in Riley's nursery came to mind.

This is the guy who bought all those animals. This is the guy who moved our mattress into the baby's room that night. The one who held me and let me feel what I felt. This is the guy who still loves me with all his heart.

It was with these thoughts I finally drifted off, with visions of monkeys and parrots and one bear twirling in my head.

Today was a better day.

Tonight we'll order Thai food and watch Dancing With the Stars,

and hopefully as we go forward,

we'll remember to be more tender with each other's hearts.

The Jeans

Friday morning. Riley wakes up independently at dawn, excited about wearing her new jeans to school. She dresses without being prodded. She spontaneously decides to clean her room with all her excess energy. Typically, cleaning her room involves huge meltdowns.

After breakfast, the nerves start. I fail to realize it.

When I tell her it's time for school, and I want to take her picture before she leaves, she starts screaming. I get pissed. She does her best to appease me but her smile is forced and tight in the photo.

Walking to school she verbalizes to her dad she is scared everyone will be looking at her new jeans. Todd reassures her. Tells her everyone wears jeans. People won't notice.

They get into the school. First teacher they see,

"RILEY! LOOK AT YOUR NEW JEANS!"

Todd desperately tries to "ix-nay on the eeens-jay," but then another teacher rounds the corner,

"RILEY! YOUR JEANS!"

Doh!

Damn it. We all just love you. We are excited for you and your long awaited jeans.

Todd fears she is about to blow....

And then, a miracle occurs.

Riley says, "I need to see Mrs. M."

She knew her teacher Mrs. M. would help her calm down, and requested to be with her, instead of having a meltdown.

It sucks something she was so excited about could cause such anxiety. She really, really wanted those jeans.

But, she asked for help and she has supportive and loving teachers who willingly provide it.

Call me happy.

Call me sad.

~

I'm sorry I didn't anticipate your fear, and I'm just so sorry you have to go through it, little love.

Have a Great Weekend!

Thanks Lidi!

Loads of Hope

I think it was Mr. Rogers who encouraged parents to urge their children to "look for the helpers" during times of national or global disaster.

One way you can be a helper, and look cute in the process is by clicking on this link and ordering a T-shirt. In doing so you will be helping families going through desperate times. Tide travels to affected areas and provides trucks with mobile washing machines.

One truck can do a year's worth of laundry for a single family in one day.

So far, Tide Loads of Hope has washed more than 35,000 loads of laundry for over 20,000 families and they are equipped to take action whenever and wherever there is a need in the U.S.

This program began during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina. They washed 10,000 loads of laundry for the survivors.

"Look for the helpers," said Mr. Rogers. Always, look for the helpers.

My Right Foot

A while back I got upset with Riley. "Upset" isn't really a strong enough word. Furious. Rage filled is more like it. I can't even remember why. We were in the middle of moving. I know that. And my thyroid problem was undiagnosed, making me quite emotional.

In an effort not to unleash the anger I was experiencing on my child, I turned away from her and started to stomp down the hall. I had bare feet, and the force with which I brought that first foot onto the hardwood floor literally snapped a nerve.

Pain! My stomach sank and I had the feeling of,"Holy crap,you really did something serious here."

I thought my foot was broken, but waited over a year to see a doctor because I was ashamed of how my injury occurred. How could I be so angry at my child? I'm such a loser. What is wrong with me?

The first doctor I saw didn't take. His office was just disrespectful on a lot of levels and his instructions kept leading to more problems. But a month ago, I found a really great doctor here in Cleveland. Today he gave me a second cortisone shot in the foot to calm down that broken nerve. If this doesn't work, some minor surgery might be needed.

When I got home, I sat quietly, rubbing my foot with oil, talking to it, telling it thank you for taking the hit.

"I forgive you," she said.

How Well You Know Me Son

The following is a kid interview going around Facebook, thanks to Kerry Connors for this:

1. What is something mom always says to you? You love me.

2. What makes mom happy? Me and Riley.

3. What makes mom sad? Not me and Riley.

4. How does your mom make you laugh? Tickling me.

5. What was your mom like as a child? Me and Riley.

6. How old is your mom? I don’t know.

7. How tall is your mom? A little tall.

8. What is her favorite thing to do? Kiss me.

9. What does your mom do when you're not around? Do stuff with Riley.

10. If your mom becomes famous, what will it be for? I don’t know.

11. What is your mom really good at? Tickling me.

12. What is your mom not very good at? Not tickling me.

13. What does your mom do for a job? A book writer.

14.What is your mom's favorite food? Pizza.

15.What makes you proud of your mom? She takes good care of me.

16. If your mom were a cartoon character, who would she be? A Toon Town character or maybe a Funky.

17. What do you and your mom do together? Play and tickle.

18. How are you and your mom the same? We have the same colored eyes.

19. How are you and your mom different? We don’t have the same colored hair.

20. How do you know your mom loves you? She kisses me.

21. What does your mom like most about your dad? I don’t know.

22. Where is your mom's favorite place to go? Her chorus.

Now if you'll excuse me there's some tickling and kissing I've gotta go do.

Girls On the Run

Yesterday began a new after school program called Girls On the Run. It is a group of 3-5th grade girls who will be meeting twice a week after school to learn about running, team building, self-esteem, healthy eating, etc.

Two wonderful runner moms who live a stone's throw away from me, and have girls in third grade lead the program. I am along for the ride, to support Riley and to help when she doesn't need support.

The girls sat in a circle yesterday, and were asked to give one word responses starting with the same letter as their name to describe themselves.

"Respectful" Riley (how cute is it that she called herself this?) and I had discussed beforehand the possibility of educating the girls about Asperger's. Riley agreed it would be a good idea and we prepared together what would be said. The mom leaders gave me the green light.

The girls listened attentively and were really sweet and open. I think Riley felt welcome. I like that there were 4th and 5th graders there and girls from her own class as well. I feel like the more people at school who have some understanding of Riley, the better off she is.

The girls ran just a little yesterday and will be working up to a 5K run by the end of the school year.

Each week two awards are given. Riley got the "energy" award for her bravery in being open to allow her mom to talk about Asperger's.

She beamed.


*props to Seth who sat in the corner, headphones on, portable DVD player, eating a snack. Best boy ever. All those girls. Blech.

Delete

One of the ways Riley has blessed me is I've had to get cool with tantrums. I've had to learn how to not take them personally. I've had to rise above the battlefield and understand that a person having a tantrum is acting from a very fearful and disconnected place. I've had to realize that every time someone acts out, it is because they are hurting. No exceptions.

~

This also goes for grown up tantrums. It goes for hateful anonymous comments left on this blog.

~

I have technology that tells me where you are and who you are.

Reading a little about you this morning what I have to say is this:

You are no doubt a good mother, and you have suffered more than most parents could ever possibly imagine. I am sorry reading about my child's victories is painful for you and I have much compassion for you and your family.

~

That being said, I don't deserve your venom. Please know hateful negative comments will always be deleted.

Promotional Exam

So the kids had their martial arts promotional exam Saturday. Riley was testing for her yellow belt. Seth, for his yellow stripe, since he started a few months behind her.

You might recall how difficult the first test was for Riley. It was crowded with all the classes thrown together and she could not deal. Instructors she'd never met were there to judge. It was all so different from what she was used to. She had a meltdown almost immediately. We spent most of the time in her teacher's office, secluded, except when she somehow miraculously came out and did her form.

This time she sat in the big room the whole time, with all the other students. She got up and did her form, well. She finished and immediately ran over to me in tears, "I didn't do a good job." She had done an amazing job, but the black belt judging only gave her feedback on what could be improved. She took it as "my performance sucked."

Last night I was talking to a dear friend, who is a martial artist and the parent of an adult child in the high functioning club. She said, when a child can't read facial cues well, and doesn't understand non-verbal feedback, it is essential for instructors to spell out the good stuff. Riley seriously doesn't know if she's done a good job. She doesn't always "get" her teacher's smiles of encouragement. She needs to be told, in words, specifically what she has done well, along with feedback on what could be improved.

I'd been struggling with this, because I sometimes feel like Riley needs constant praise for everything she does. I worry that the whole world isn't going to always praise her every move, and I worry that her motivation isn't internal; that she always needs that pat on the back. Now I understand it better. We all get non-verbal pats on the back, all the time. She may get them but it doesn't mean she "gets" them. She needs to hear the words.

Side note, last year I took out a book on acting from the library. It was famous actors, each depicting a different facial expression in close up shots. Riley and I went over it and I was floored by how many emotions she got wrong. Way wrong. How confusing must the world be to her?

Seth was more nervous than I expected. He sat there, looking like he was going to be sick. When it was his turn, he remembered his whole form, but it was slow, like he was under water. You could see him talking it through in his mind. He was almost the littlest one there. So cute.

After the test, each student got the opportunity to break a board. Seth got it first try. Riley tried and tried and tried, and then the teacher, attempting to hold back a meltdown held Riley's hand and "helped" her. Riley immediately flipped out because, "she did it for me!"

When it was over, I hustled Seth out to the van as Todd stayed behind and helped Riley with her coat and shoes. I went nuts over his broken board. Told him how amazing he was before Riley got outside.

Riley progressed by leaps and bounds since her last test, but it took us hours to convince her she did a good job.

She did such a good job.

They both did.

...and on we go.

Close to Air

Adult content. Don't say you weren't warned.

Does everyone know Holly? She's the one who wrote this blog post about raiding her children's toys for batteries?

In related news, Holly has a new fictional piece over at Literary Mama. Congrats Holly! I don't think I'll ever forget the image of the laundry basket in this particular piece.

Go read it. Quick, like a *bunny.*

Girl Night

I am so in love with my daughter tonight, I can barely stand it. We went shopping. We went to dinner together at a restaurant. We had gourmet chocolate dipped marshmallows on sticks. We went to see a middle school production of High School Musical 2.

Riley got her first pair of jeans today. She was so stinking cute in the fitting room, checking herself out in the mirror. She still can't manage the button, so I'm taking them to a tailor and replacing it with a snap. My baby wants jeans, she's getting them damn it. And oh my God how adorable she is in them. No sensory issues to speak of.

We ate at a noodle place and she diligently used the kiddie chop sticks. She even ate her french fries with them. We sat cozy together on the same side of the booth.

On the way home, we saw an advertisement for the play. So being the spontaneous girls we are, we went.

Do you know how long I've waited for jeans? For spontaneous anything? For taking her to a play? I tried it when she was five. She was so traumatized from the raucous applause and hooting she went into the silent scream cry, her eyes begging me to get her out of there.

Tonight Riley was the one doing the hooting. She clapped along with great enthusiasm for each number. She was so happy. So engaged. We had conversations!

I'm inclined to say I never thought it would happen, but upon reflection that would be untrue.

Back when we lived in Virginia, Todd and I had a standing 10PM date. Each night we dropped everything and together we visualized a good life for this girl. We imagined the kids at random ages in the future, healthy and thriving. We envisioned Riley doing all kinds of amazing things.

I'll admit, it isn't always peaches and cream. But tonight it was chocolate dipped marshmallows.

And I'm not taking one second of it for granted.

The Homework Whisperer

Homework can be an exasperating time at our house. Riley is perfectly capable of doing it, but she gets overcome with anxiety, and often freaks out before she can even begin.

Seth and I were doing the dishes tonight, and HT had homework duty. Riley took one look at the sheet she was to complete and flipped out. She ran into the other room, screaming and crying. HT talked her back to the dining room table, but still she carried on. Then, she suddenly stopped.

How did he do it?

What technique did he use?

What super powers does he possess that can stop a child's cries, mid-meltdown?



Whatever works baby. Whatever works.

Focus

Whenever Seth is bored, or gets a scrape or a bump, or is just staring off into space, I implore him to focus. On my beauty.

"Mommy, there's nothing to do."

"You could focus on my beauty," I say with a smile.

He rolls his eyes. He averts his gaze so he definitely won't be focusing.

Whenever my children are watching TV, and a toy commercial comes on, Seth says, with feeling,

"I'm so gonna get those, all of those!"

Whenever Seth says, "I'm so gonna get those, all of those!" I feel compelled to fly into the room and say, "I'm so gonna kiss you! All of you!" and proceed to tackle him and give him 100 kisses, which he tries to wipe off, which I accuse him of rubbing in, like lotion, because he loves them so much.

Sometimes, I meet his gaze across a room, and give him the ole two finger to the eyes universal sign for focus on my beauty. He knows what it means.

He likes it. I'm sure he does.

Hey Mikey!

Facebook in Reality

Thanks to Shannon Coates for this. She posted it, where else? On Facebook.

Who's Your Doggy?

Today I'm sending in the matching forms to 4 Paws for Ability, telling them more specifics about Riley, and our preferences when it comes to her service dog.

It is so exciting.

Click here to see all the dogs in training. (FYI the page is written in the voice of the dogs who permanently call 4 Paws home). Riley's dog could be any one of the dogs listed, though probably not one intended for tracking purposes.

Riley's only request is that her dog be "fluffy."

Do you see any fluffy ones?

Sibs

This essay over at Literary Mama really touched me. (Laura Shumaker is the author of A Regular Guy With Autism. You can read the first three chapters here). We've been having our own sibling issues as of late.

Seth has begun to surpass Riley in a lot of physical areas. Swimming, biking, climbing. She is taking it hard, becoming furious at him for his typical development.

"YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME!" she'll scream in his face.

He thoughtfully, sweetly, tries to convince her, "No I'm not. No I'm not, Riley."

Today he swam underwater for the first time and she had a complete breakdown over it. She's nowhere near being able to do this; still clinging to the swim teacher for dear life. If we make a big deal of Seth's accomplishments, Riley falls to pieces. Screaming pieces. The level of self hatred she already has for not being able to do typical kid stuff, cartwheels, somersaults, etc. It's heartbreaking. I can talk up her strengths 'til I'm blue in the face, and it's in one ear and out the other.

We're sending Seth to a beautiful day camp for six weeks this summer. The director said they would try to accommodate Riley, perhaps if we hired an aide, etc. It might work.

I thanked her, but no.

Seth is a dream come true brother

and he needs some room to grow.