A string around her finger

My daughter is a very "in-the-moment" kind of girl. I liken her to a little butterfly flitting and floating about. She's very happy-go-lucky with intense quicksilver emotions. The only problem is that the objects in her world are very loosely attached to her too. If it's not needed in-the-moment, off it goes - flung off carelessly into the stratosphere - never to be thought of again until the next time it occurs to her to look.

This morning, it was her backpack. Unlike days gone by where it was a child's choice whether or not to carry one, now it is required by the school. When we got to the bus stop this morning, there she stood - 3 little ponies and a stuffed cat in hand - innocently asking "Mommy, where's my backpack?" Me, I hadn't noticed it wasn't there, as I had grabbed both kids' umbrellas in case the gray skies actually opened up on us.

Sigh - of course the *right* thing to do is send her back for it. Except, she won't learn the lesson, and I'd be stuck driving her to school. Meanwhile, Chris's bus is due any moment. I tell him to hand his stuffed tiger to his sister when it arrives. Off to get the backpack. I get halfway down the block to see his bus pull up. After making sure he got on, I continue on toward home for the backpack. (Incidentally, she was waiting with her best friend and best friend's mom). I get back and ask her if Chris gave her the tiger. Well - Responsible Son didn't want to leave it in the wrong place, so he took it with him. Turns out the bus driver is holding it for him. Thank you, Considerate Bus Driver - you must have kids too.

Yesterday I had made the mistake of sending her to school in layered shirts. It was picture day, and I'd grabbed a cute, inexpensive shirt at Walmart because it was a pretty color on her. Like many of the current fashions it was actually two pieces layered together. Because of picture day, I forgot that this is always a bad idea. I'd braided her long hair into pigtails as well, in hopes of keeping it looking nice for the picture - along with a stern warning to Leave Them Alone until afterwards. As she got off the bus her hair was flying loose, she handed me the hair elastics, and the top shirt was flying free, left dangling by the little plastic hang tag joining it to the shoulder of the shirt underneath. My wee little snake, constantly shedding her "skin" everywhere.

My mother loves to buy my kids these cute 3 piece outfits - pants, shirt, warm-up jacket - or pants, shirt, vest, etc. Yeah, not a good idea for Little Miss. It took me a while to catch on, but after numerous calls, emails and notes to teachers to "please send Charlotte's sweater/jacket/gloves/hat home again" I've come up with a system. All her school jackets have hoods, all her school gloves are dollar store cheapies, and in winter (when Little Miss is cold all the time) she wears a strappy camisole under the appropriate weight shirt or sweater - she's not allowed to run around school in that so she can't take her shirt off.

Now if I can just fasten her backpack to her coat I'll be all set...

The daily-ness of autism

When you are raising a child with special needs, you encounter many family dynamics and situations that are not covered by the standard parenting practices. It's hard to even define a "normal" day in a house with a special-needs child. The minute they receive their diagnosis, life ceases to be "normal." The best you can do is to create your own "new normal."

The special need we deal with in our household is autism. Despite what you read and hear from a few famous folks - autism has no specific known cause, no known cure, and no standard method of treatment. Many therapies have been proven to help, and many are just so much snake oil. Every autistic child is different. Not even a doctor can say which child will respond favorably to which treatment.

We are some of the "lucky" ones. Our son was diagnosed PDD-NOS when he was 31/2. After a year in a special preschool (offered gratis by our public school, otherwise he couldn't have gone) the doctor said he could now be considered merely Aspberger's (the mildest form). On a good day Chris seems just a little eccentric. On a bad day (or bad week, or month), like recently - well - let's just say postage to Timbuktu or Saskatchewan starts looking pretty good. For me.

People try to be helpful. "Well, I saw on Supernanny..." Um, no. Unless you have an autistic child or are trained to work them, you DON'T understand. No matter how much you think you do. If you have an autistic child you can safely throw all your regular parenting books out the window. What works with them changes yearly, monthly, daily, sometimes hourly. Schedules help. But as any mom knows - life happens to schedules.

I have within the past few years become blessed by friendship with the moms of some of my son's classmates/Scout mates. When we have a chance to talk - wow, the relief! Yes - here is somebody who understands what my life is like. For me, the hardest part of the day is from 4PM to 8PM - the time when my kids are all home but my husband isn't yet, and I have to somehow make dinner, referee homework, and sort out the various autism drama that each new day brings. With a constant eye on making sure Chris doesn't get red food coloring or MSG (autistic kids are notoriously sensitive to food additives) and an eye on his nutrition and vitamins (autistic kids are notoriously rigid eaters), keeping track of what this week's "currency" is to use for discipline, and hovering over him like a hawk to make sure he hasn't found yet another new thing to stim off of - those few hours can be the most exhausting of my whole day.

Oh, and let's not forget about the family dynamics between the autistic child and his "normal" siblings (though really, who knows how normal or not they are - since all the traits cluster together even without a formal diagnosis). Toss in one probably-should-have-been-diagnosed-ADD mom frantically trying to hold the whole schedule together - and you get what I lovingly refer to as My Three Ring Circus.

You know, people got on my case for years about why I wasn't Using My College Degree. Ha! If only they'd known. I tell you what - that degree in Psychobiology may not have led to a career, but it has become one of my most useful weapons in the war against autism. Funny isn't it, how things work out?

For now, it's back to my regularly scheduled chaos.

i need to start thinking in sound bytes

Since it's obviously too much trouble for me to actually finish a whole post, perhaps I should do like the media does - hit you with sound bytes.

Then you would know that while you've been seeing nothing but blog-silence my mind has been busily pondering...

- the fact that most of my daily jobs as a mom have nothing whatsoever to do with the 17 years of schooling I spent preparing for my life

- that having a special needs child impacts the whole family every day in ways I forget about until talking with moms of "normal" kids

- the amusing differences between Girl Scout and Boy Scout meetings

- the sea change going on in America's churches

- the fact that safety is really an illusion

- why it is that even though I'm married with kids I still react inside like the shy nervous teenager I was when flung into a new social situation

And maybe, just maybe - I'll have a chance to expand on one of those in the near future. But right now it's Conference Day at my kids' school so I must get ready to go discuss Important Things.

The hidden music

Back at the end of March of this year I was at a leader's retreat at church. On Saturday morning, between the time of finishing breakfast and the start of the first session, a bunch of us were standing loosely congregated around the worship musicians' corner of the room. We were chatting and randomly tossing out songs and having a fun time with some totally spontaneous worship. One of the gals tossed out a song called "God of This City" by Bluetree. If you listen to any Christian radio in America you've heard it, probably ad nauseum by this point. At the time I had heard the song on the radio, but did not even know it well enough to know the words to the chorus. I realized that I really liked the tune, though, and promised myself to pay better attention the next time I heard it on the radio.

Well, long story short I liked it so well that when I happened upon the group's album on sale for $5 I snapped it up (even though I rarely do this when I only know one song). I generally like to listen to a new CD on the regular stereo, but it was a very busy day/week/season of my life so I popped it onto my iPod, which I like to wear when I do boring jobs like folding laundry. One evening, as I was folding said laundry, while Brian finished up the kids' bath I was listening to the album. Now, understand I had *already* listened to it at least 3 or 4 times. As I was working, I noticed at one point that I was hearing an instrumental version of the theme of the title song - huh, that's funny, where is that on the album? It was so beautiful, a lovely piano theme and variations. How could I have missed it? I'd listened to the album while doing other stuff each time and I hadn't noticed it before. I zipped around the songs, confused that I couldn't find it again. Put it back at the beginning and tried to pay better attention this time.

What I discovered, such a small thing, became a huge epiphany in my life. This beautiful instrumental piece that I found so lovely and haunting? It was the ending part of the title song! I'm sure that the song gets cut off when they play it on the radio because it's a logical place to do so, they have time constraints, and most people want to hear the part with the singing. But the fact that I'd listened to it at least 4 times before (maybe more, because I liked it) and never noticed that part, never even noticed it was part of the song - well - picture a little light bulb over top of my head.

I put the song on again, and stopped to listen quite deliberately this time. Sure enough, at 4 min. 55 sec. there is a fadeout and pause from the main song, the place where it ends on the radio. You think the song is over, then at 4:56 it comes back in with this gorgeous piano instrumental version of the theme. It's delicate, lovely, and haunting - the deep ending chords resonated in my soul. I took my ear buds out and sat there stunned. This song is like my life - I missed the most beautiful part of the song because I was busy and not really paying attention.

How much of my LIFE had I been missing lately by being busy and not paying attention? It was quite a wake-up call, and that one tiny moment would become a turning point in my life. It was when I realized I was tired of the human do-ing and wanted to be a human be-ing again.

Perhaps a bit of overkill

Now I know why it takes me so long to get around to doing the Really Big Chores - like the big clothing sort n' toss I've been working on this week. It's because my slightly ADD brain, when it finally focuses in on something.....can't....let.....go. I made up my mind to very sensibly sort a box or bag or 2 a day. Today I have to wear one of my wrist braces because I overdid it with moving around big heavy bins and carrying monstrous amounts of stuff needing to be laundered.

Also, much of the clothing (mine, at least....I know what does or doesn't fit the kids) needs to be actually tried on. An odious task that - especially when you're sorting winter things and it's 80 degrees and humid. I keep vacillating as to how ruthless I want to be with the sorting - on the one hand, if I toss everything I haven't actually worn in the last year (like the experts recommend) I will finally be able to fit all my clothing in its allotted spaces. On the other hand, sometimes I find myself needing that odd bit of clothing - for a costume, a messy job, a camping trip, an unexpected cold/warm snap. And the sorting process itself is a walk down memory lane. That seems to be exclusively a "woman thing". Oh look, there's that cute dress I wore to work a lot when my husband and I were dating! And there's my favorite sweater that looked so cute when leggings were in the first time around. And the adorable miniskirt I pranced around my college campus in (yes, they go back that far - hush - I'm sorting it *now* that's what matters).

In the interest of not driving myself crazy, I'm trying something I read about. All the stuff that I can't/don't wear and is not sentimental - goes. The few things that are really hard to part with will get packed up in a special consider-it-again-a-year-from-now box. At this stage of the game, *anything* I can get out of this house or pack neatly in a labeled box is a plus. Twenty plus years of sorting will not happen overnight. It's sort of like weight loss - for my house. It didn't get cluttered overnight, and it won't get uncluttered overnight.

I'm working against 18+ years of training by my Depression-era parents. Like Flylady says - baby steps. Itty bitty baby steps, if necessary.

Except yesterday it became slightly addictive. I kept finding "just one more thing" to sort. Ended up feeding the kids ramen noodles for dinner - oops. Well, they were happy, and I was happy with a good day's work done.

...and a time to throw away

I've said before that when God is trying to get my attention He keeps sending me the same message in many different ways - over and over....and over. Yes, I can be dense sometimes - and stubborn. (That 'ole Welsh and Scottish heritage again....)

Two passages keep coming back to me right now through various means - friends, family, church, books, music. The first - "Be still and know that I am God." For about a year I tried to "be still" while being still busy. Didn't work. It's been around 5-ish months since I left the busy-ness behind. Had more than a few dark, depressing, lonely moments - a sort of busy-ness detox, I think.

Now a second passage keeps coming up over and over - the one from Ecclesiastes about "a time to every purpose under heaven". As it turns out, I've spent part of the past few months doing a lot of sorting and tossing - of old clothes and junk in particular. But also of other things. Lately I've come to realize that I've been holding on to a lot of thoughts, habits, beliefs, and ways of doing things that are no longer productive, necessary, or - in some cases - not even mine. One of the things I'm in the habit of doing is taking sermon notes in church. I found a bunch of old notes hanging around (when Connor dumped my Bible). As I sorted through them, I came upon a few sets from different churches. I'd internalized many of these teachings, and yet, as I looked through them - some of the teachings were diametrically opposed to each other. What's more, I sat there asking myself if I even *believed* everything that was in those notes. Some of the various teachers I'd taken the notes on laid out a point of view of certain passages that I realized was completely unlike any other interpretation of that passage I'd ever heard before - and I had swallowed it unquestioningly.

That gave me pause - a very big pause. I started rummaging around in my head and saw that I had many beliefs, habits, notions, and self-talk going on in there that weren't really mine. Again, I'd just absorbed them unquestioningly - from from church, culture, friends, family - like a good little sponge they'd all been absorbed.

So - I've been housecleaning - in more ways than one. Yes, it feels very good to lighten the burden of clutter in my house. It's good and necessary to get rid of things that are no longer used or useful. But - it is soul lightening (en-lightening?) to relieve my mind and my soul of the bits of flotsam and jetsam that have been floating around in there since I was a teenager. My journal's been very busy - and a necessary companion to help me dredge up the sludge so it can be washed away.

I've been amazed to rediscover (hidden beneath the mental and schedule related clutter) music, authors, and hobbies I'd forgotten I enjoyed. I picked up my sketchbook for the first time in probably 12 -13 years. I dug out my cookbooks and made some old fashioned home cooked meals (with actual vegetables that grew in the ground!) I did silly things with my children, like making "pinkalicious" cupcakes just for fun.

I'd been running around, restlessly searching for what I called "my missing puzzle piece" - and all along it's been inside of me (truly, the kingdom of God is within you). I just had to sit still long enough for God to find me.

It's hard to be a sage when you're up to your ears in laundry

The problem with spiritual journeys is that, unless you are a hermit, at some point real life intrudes. It's really hard to put the brakes on painful soul-searching, fervent prayer, and deep contemplation. It's hard for anybody. But it's magnified if you have kids. It has made for some alternately funny/frustrating moments lately.

Kids are the great equalizer. If you're feeling with it and on top of the world (spiritually or otherwise) you still have to turn around and break up the fight your kids are having over whatever toy has grabbed their attention. If you're having one of those days that make good 'ole Murphy look like an optimist, it's really hard to not be cheered up by your toddler's silly antics and megawatt smile.

I'll have a moment where God has ripped open my soul - and I have to stop, stuff all my emotions back inside, neatly zip them up - and go run to the bus stop to pick up my kids. Or, I'll be pouring out my heart in my journal (or blog) but I'll still have a bored toddler bouncing on me for attention, and a bored cat nipping at my ankles.

Sages are supposed to be unattached holy men sitting atop lonely mountains or wandering in barren deserts. They're not supposed to be moms of busy young children. Or so the world sees it. Used to have this problem in school too. It's not that I *can't* concentrate on algebra and the events that led up to WWII - but why would I *want* to when the sun is shining and the birds are singing and look! there's a beautiful Monarch butterfly over there on that flower?

My inner observer is always at work. I can't help myself. I'll be standing in line at the grocery store and find myself observing those around me and suddenly I'm off on a tangent wondering about the social implications of being attached to your cell phone or what life is like for moms in 3rd world countries who can't just drive over to the local grocery superstore to stock up on juice boxes and snacks.

It's become all the harder to do on this deep, rocky journey I find God leading me on. How does one dive deep and come up for air quickly? I've got many a spiritual case of "the bends" lately (diving sickness) from having to do that for the sake of the kids. Or the house, or the schedule, or whatever. Trying to walk around looking normal while inside my spirit is bleeding. I'm a very bad actor, evidently. People keep giving me funny looks - well, I always have worn my heart on my sleeve.

The best I can do is try to give myself permission - for a certain time only. Okay, this morning I'm allowed to dig deep and fall apart and let God put me back together. Check. Next item on the list. Now for the grocery shopping.

If only my brain had an off switch this would be so much easier....