This...

~"Welcome back my friends to the show that never ends..We're so glad you could attend..come inside come inside.."~Emerson,Lake and Palmer

             

         






                 Annnnnd another month of awareness is upon us...another month where people scramble to put on their ribbons..and sign up for walks..The Empire state building and other places "Light it Up Bluetm"!..This is it! The one month a year where people on the autism spectrum exist matter! Better make it MEAN something! Sparkle everyone-sparkle! Oh how I hate it..

   

  Don't get me wrong..I think that it is important to know about all kinds of people..to celebrate diversity..to understand that people come in all shapes, sizes..neurologies!...Those are wonderful things to celebrate..explore..learn about..But come on..does everything need a ribbon? Good lord-I could cover myself head to toe in the various ribbons of every possible cause and not have to worry about clothes for days.. And light bulbs! There are actual blue light bulbs that you can purchase to "Light it Up Blue"!tm ..to...I don't know..let people know you are extra aware? Extra aware and enjoy looking like a vampire? Doesn't anyone realize that blue lighting makes them look awful? I just don't get it. Autism awareness month has been around since the seventies..I'm pretty sure that people get it by now.(cue drum roll and cymbal crash).Autism exists. Now what?  

  I have to admit-I'm kind of worn out-worn down by all of it.  I have terrific kids...they are (for the most part) responsible, caring individuals...they are all somewhere on the spectrum. I say that because it is important to understand that while they share a diagnosis-each of them are different from each other.That's autism. It isn't one way-it is many different ways. What is significant to one person may mean nothing to another. *sigh* it sounds simple...but it isn't..

 This is the month where people(on-line) go out in full force...There will be the "How dare you write about your kid that way posts" followed by "the "How dare you say being autistic is amazing! My child, My life is deeply affected by all this!" posts and the "I feel guilty because it isn't easy and my life is falling apart posts" with (of course) the "You should feel guilty rebuttal" posts.  The on-line autism "community" is not the same as when I started blogging. Instead of supporting each other-we fight..instead of listening-we react...Instead of changing the world-we stay stagnant.

  .  
  I can not sit here and say that autism is the greatest thing that has ever happened to my kids...and I can't say that it isn't..because I don't know.  what I can say is that these are the children that I have been blessed with. That is it. It has not always been easy..sometimes it is downright terrifying-There are far too many nights when I don't sleep..I toss and turn-overwhelmed by fear..and the "what if's" ..the feeling that I should do more-and the guilt when I don't feel like doing anything..or worse-when I think that I haven't done enough-could have done more-should have done better. And the future!  What. about. the. future?! EEEEK! Sometimes, I just want to run away.

 I usually write a post every April..Something about awareness..blah blah blah...and I suppose that this year, I'm doing the same thing...But as I sit here writing..my daughters are in the room..Zoe, has decided that anytime Lily speaks...she is going to dance to Lily's words..with great gusto..Which is extremely funny to everyone...but Lily..at first...but she eventually breaks down and joins in-and in the background..Oscar is eeeing..and Sam is drawing and talking to Omar about his ideas..and the cats are winding around my legs and the kitchen is a mess because I've been baking..and.I look at this...soak in this family of mine..this cacophony of sound and smell and mess....and it is as if a light has gone on..(it is not blue) THIS...this moment of absolute chaos-and harmony...it is all of it- mine. This absolute joy shrouded by uncertainty-THIS is my awareness...Our awareness...and it feels just fine..

Little tiny pieces of contradictions..

~"Gonna keep on tryin' 

Till I reach my highest ground"~ Stevie Wonder

    

        A long time ago, when they were little, I had thought that if we made it this far-that this was the time when it was  going to get easier...that-because they were older..I would need to do less..That somehow they would magically turn into thoughtful young adults with a general idea of what they were going to do and how they were going to do it.  I had images of all of us sitting down with a cup of tea..I would be dressed in an adult sort of outfit..(not the fleece leggings and tee shirt I am wearing now) my hair would be brushed (unlike now)...and we would..I don't know..talk about adult sorts of things..and then (after they rinsed out their cups and put them in the dishwasher) off they would go..to do these adult things...and Omar and I would stand arm in arm in the doorway and wave them off ....and then??  I never dreamed about what fictional Omar and I were going to do after sending them off...perhaps we'd go where all the old couples go...to the early bird special-(dinner at three in the afternoon) and then home to watch Wheel Of Fortune,,,until bedtime or death I guess...It was a weird fantasy-I mean, I don't even like tea! But, I guess it was one of those things that got me through the tough times...before potty training..when I seemed to spend hours just looking for shoes and fixing snacks...and going to appointments...and finding shoes....

  Now, we are actually here...sort of. They find their own shoes-mostly, fix their own snacks...and occasionally put their dishes in the dishwasher. There was a time when I really thought that I'd be eighty years old and still filling snack bags with goldfish while herding them in to the mini-van..so that we wouldn't be late for my podiatrist appointment..

  I am just not one of those people who has ever thought "they grow too fast"..I've never mourned their childhoods...never wished them to be small again-hell no! But at the same time..I never gave much thought to their actually leaving. As in they were REALLY going to do it. Fantasized? Yes....But now that we are here...I'm not sure what I think...

  There is just so much more that they need to know...little things-the stuff you take for granted..The other day, I asked one of my kids to clean the sinks in the bathrooms.  They were icky-covered in toothpaste and all the other stuff bathroom sinks get covered with. I didn't really think about it...until I came home...The inside of the sinks were spotless-pristine even...the outside-where all the icky stuff was?  Not so much..."Hey bud?  I thought that I asked you to clean the sinks?"  "I did!"..."But...well...there is toothpaste and junk all over them..".."But you said to clean the sink...you didn't say the outside parts!"  *sigh* He was right-I didn't. I did not specify in exact detail what I wanted him to do.....THIS is the stuff that I worry about..the little bits...,the minutia..the details-oh how the devil is in the details!
I know-it sounds like nothing..but really?  These are the things they need to be able to figure out as they move on with their lives.  I feel like there just isn't enough time in the day..in the week..in the month...like I'm in some sort of RACE against time...If I don't teach them how to get from A to B...how will they ever get to C and D..and all the other letters? Their growing up has me in a tizzy..So much so that I sometimes forget..how far they have come...and how much they already know...

I don't  understand how...but my Oscar seems to have this sixth sense when it comes to me and my worries...The other night, he came to me and said "Mama?...What is the meaning of life?"..( He just blows me away sometimes) I said something along the lines of.."I think that is a question that humans have been asking since the beginning of time..what is our purpose?  Why are we here?..I don't think that there is really one answer..do you? "..He looked at me and said "I think that we are just supposed to live it.."

Out of the mouths of babes...

The number one rule of our family is "Be who you are" It is our mantra-our motto..The one thing that I have insisted upon since they were old enough to communicate..Yet here I am- worrying about who they aren't.  I do not like this about myself.  It makes me feel like a hypocrite...One hand is pushing them out while the other is having a hard time letting them go.  The world is not always the kindest place-especially if you are different. They know that because I tell them...But I also tell them that there is a place for them in it..that they belong. I know!  It is a total contradiction-and I own it. It is something that I have to work on in myself...Work I will...because it would be all too easy to give in to my anxiety..all too easy to convince them to stay...all to easy to convince myself that this is what they want to do. But what would that accomplish?  As Oscar so accurately put it-Life is supposed to be lived...

  My kids know that no matter what-they always have a home with us..Always. I think that knowing this..knowing that they always have a place to go to-encourages them to dream..to look ahead..to think about taking those steps towards living their own lives..It comforts me too..especially on my darker days..when anxiety is trying to take up residence in my head...I  just have to remember to breathe-Remember to be in the present..Remember to go over bathroom cleaning techniques and to brush my hair....the future although scary-is just that-the future....and it IS theirs.      

   

  

Wrestling in my head...

~"Speak out..you got to speak out against the madness..You got to speak your mind if you dare"~David Crosby

        

                           On Wednesday November 19th, 2008, I wrote my first ever blog post. It was in response to a show that Oprah.-Goddess of the daytime talk circuit(at the time)..did on the subject of autism.  I wasn't new to Autism-but I was new to how the world generally looked at people like my kids.  I had sat there and watched in absolute horror-her hour of tragedy..You know the kind of show...where there are a lot of close-ups of Oprah looking concerned..sometimes emotional (compassion close ups-because Oprah FEELS such strong FEELS-and she isn't afraid to show them..oh brave brave Oprah..sharing her serious sorrow deep feeling face with a billion people looking on...(I hope that the paycheck was worth it) using her quiet serious voice...There will be NO smiles when suffering is discussed...and oh was it ever discussed. Parents interviewed amongst piles of laundry...messy houses..wearing sweatpants and mourning the life they no longer had.  It was an hour long eulogy that Oprah spoon fed to her audience and they slurped it up along with the fine whine narrative.  Oprah said kids like mine were a tragedy-and thus in main stream media-it became so. I was pissed. I even wrote in and said "Hey!  look at my kids!  Look at my family!  You got this all wrong! I even invited her to my house-"meet them" I said,,"My kids are great! Their lives are wonderful!"...there was no response...I hadn't really expected one. But, like I said-I was pissed.  How dare this woman who had so much power-so much clout..so much sway..how dare she?  Thus-my blog was born...

  When I started up on this blogging adventure, I didn't know any other parents like me...didn't know any autistic adults..all that I knew were my kids-and being that they are pretty terrific..I thought that writing about them might do something...give a different perspective..show people that we were really just like any other family...we had our ups and downs-like any other family...and sometimes, we were even funny..I never expected to be read...and I was kind of thrilled when I was. It has been a great experience so far. I felt like I was making a difference..small as it may be...I was contributing to making the world a better place for people like my kids..I was DOING something. 

  Over the years, It seems as though I write less and less...well, actually-Ijust post less and less.(I'm always writing) It's just that  everything that  I write about kid wise-requires their approval, If they aren't comfortable-I am not going to post it. They are in the uncomfortable years.   Maybe some day...when they are older. And they are getting older..They continue to grow and thrive in their own ways..In one sense, we are coming to the end of parenthood,,and taking on more of a roll as mentors. Our house is very different from what it was eight years ago.  We no longer have a t.v. blasting 24/7..Thomas the tank engine is dead (hooray!) My Little Pony has found its way out of the house and has been replaced with writing and drawing...Oscar is becoming quite the swimmer,,,is about to join basketball,,,and wants to create a YouTube channel about growing up in this family.. Sam is spending his own time researching comparative religions for his comic book series... Our kids are looking outward and forward because we have guided them to...I mean, that's our job isn't it? To push them into making decisions and choices that have nothing to do with us. They are their own people.-and while we remain very tight as a family...they are finding their sense of self and purpose in their own right. It's scary..and beautiful at the same time. Parenting is very powerful...how easy it would have been to convince  them to stay still...to stay with us...to create an illusion of safety where they would be afraid to do anything away from us..it's a slippery slope...and so far we have managed it-until now...

  I think that every parent fears their kids going off on their own at one time or another for one reason or another.  In our case-it's autism.  Will they be accepted? Taken advantage of? Abused..neglected? Read the news-those are very real fears..At the same time-we have raised our kids to be true to themselves...to love who they are..to be responsible young adults in a world that doesn't always take responsibility for much of anything. It's a leap of faith-sending them out there...But it is the right leap.  They belong in the world..they deserve lives and adventures away from home. Our want for them to have this trumps the major anxiety that I have over them getting it.I am letting go-a breathe at a time....and then...this election process started..

  .Actually, it started with the attack on Paris...one of our kids caught a part of the news...she only heard the words...capitol city,,,shootings and Muslim...I was in the shower and was not aware of her panic...she ran to the phone to call Omar (who works in our state capitol) to see if he was safe...begging him to come home. She is twelve years old...and she like her brothers and sister are of mixed ethnicity...They are Arab...We have family across the world who are Muslim...my girl is anxious and afraid..and there is nothing that I can do to help it...not really.  Not when the "adults" either politicians...or people on the news..speak with such vitriol-such prejudice..such bigotry and hatred. That we as humanity- ALLOW this..is beyond me.  This isn't freedom of speech-it is freedom FROM responsibility.  We have tried to shield them as best as we can...but these things leak out....My child..my beautiful girl feels like her family is a target in her own country. How do I reconcile that while at the same time encourage them to go out in to the world because they have a lot to offer it? Good lord this parenting thing is tough...between raising kids, wrestling Oprah (verbally in my head) and some of the current candidates..I'm feeling rather lost...worn..while at the same time looking for answers. I had thought that maybe the world was changing in small increments...but now, I'm feeling back on square one.  How can I hope that things could ever get better for disabled people...i.e. acceptance and inclusion-services..if we can't even accept different ethnicities..religious beliefs,sexual orientation,skin color..or even responsibility for our words? It's times like this that I find myself desperately looking for a parent to give me the answers,,until I realize that I am the parent and I don't have any. My hope is that in another eight years, if I'm still alive...that maybe just maybe,,things will be better...and I'll be posting from my rocking chair..and my biggest worry will be if my kids will make it home for Christmas...No matter where I am-I know that I will always hope...and dream..speak out and wrestle with characters in my head...

To all my internet friends..Happiest of New years...

Work in progress...

~"Worry..Worry, Worry, Worry. 

Worry just will not seem to leave my mind alone."~ Ray Lamontagne

            .

watching the dolphins at Fort Popham

  I have been having trouble writing.  It's not that I don't have anything to say-I do..I ALWAYS do..It is just that finding the words to explain all that has happened..IS happening..it's hard. Most things are great-some, not so much.. Life has gotten a tad bit...insane...intense...complicated. After many weeks of searching..interviewing..resume sharing..starts and stops I have finally become gainfully employed.  Well, maybe "finally" isn't quite the right word. I actually have been hired by a number of places.  Places that had "lots of work" in my area...only to find that after accepting various positions, and training for specific jobs...well, it went a lot like this..

  
Employer-We think you would be a wonderful asset to our company! 

Me-Great!

Employer-We'd like to have you come in for training as soon as possible!
Me-O.K.!


Off I would scamper..bright eyed and bushy tailed to be "trained"...or in other words-watch a video from 1985 on the correct way to interact with clients...i.e. if they ask you for a date-say no...Don't show up to a clients house drunk or scantily clad...and by all means-leave your children home. I'll admit-it made me laugh the first three times that I saw it...but after five?  I was starting to wonder..have people ever actually shown up at a clients door, drunk, wearing nothing but a a boa..with their kids in tow?."Mama's here for your therapy!"...*hic*
 I mean-there had to be a reason these videos were made.....and then I thought...well,maybe I just  wasn't aiming high enough in the job market?... and then I thought..well..maybe I should get more experience before I look for something  different..So, I'd accept the job, go to the training...

                              And then- few days later....

"Ring Ring"
Me-"Hello."
Employer-"Hi Kathleen!  We have a job for you!"
Me-"Great!...tell me about it.." (I'd eagerly have pen and paper at the ready)
Employer-"Well..it involves taking this boy to swimming lessons on Wednesdays.."
Me-"O.K great!...what else?" 
Employer-"That's all!"
Me-"So...I swim with him...?"
Employer-"Oh no! (chuckle) You don't have to do that!! you just pick him up from his house and take him to his lesson and then drive him home,,,"
Me-"that's.......it?"
Employer-"Yes..oh, and it's in (names town eighty miles from home)..I hope that's o.k....and we don't pay mileage...or for driving time....You do have insurance-right? Can you start this week?!!"...

  I was readily becoming the best trained unemployed person in the world. 

  Until finally...I landed where I (hesitatingly) think that I belong..at least for now. I am working in an elementary school program for kids with developmental delays..autism..etc..kind of the same old same old(for me)..but wonderfully different-and with pay! It is an incredible place-filled with equally incredible people. In the eight weeks that I have been there, I have yet to hear an unkind word spoken against anyone by anyone at work..How wonderful is that? No drama..at least none of the ridiculous sort. The job is challenging, at times intense..but the people are dedicated and so supportive.  The kids are respected and loved. Everything is done with the utmost respect and care for them-for their needs. It's wonderful. I love that I am a part of it and I am doing my best to blend in...but..me being me...*sigh* I talk a lot..ask a lot questions..use a lot of words to say the simplest ideas..and the thing of it is..while I'm doing this..I am AWARE that I am doing this..and I just can't stop! In my head I"m telling myself "Just shut up! For the love of all things holy-Be Quiet!""..and yet...I simply... can not.  Alas...at fifty one, I am still a work in progress. 

  One of the great things about being gainfully employed is that it keeps me off-line.  Although I do miss many of my blogger friends..Have you been on Facebook lately? Yuck! Good lord what a mess...Oh if only those people expressing their RIGHT to "Freedom of speech" equally and as vehemently defended the idea of taking RESPONSIBILITY for their rights-and for what they say...it could be a different place...So..unless I have an interesting article or pictures to share or see or read...I'm going to stay away. The negativity was affecting me.  I find that I'm happier and better off without it-as are my kids. (I continue to be thankful that none of them are interested in having an account)

  It has been a little bit difficult trying to find my balance between working and being a Mama, . My youngest is struggling the most-and I, *sigh* am feeling guilty for that. There is  enormous anxiety.. she just plain misses having me around . I struggle with the idea of working with children-when my own need me. We are taking it a day at a time, Christmas break is coming up..and I am looking forward to just being there.Hanging out all day in our pajamas, and enjoying each others company.  Or at least that's my fantasy...because I know that within hours of our break starting...the girls will start fighting...the t.v. will be blaring...laundry will need doing..as well as cooking..cleaning...grocery shopping....I'm starting to think that my next real break will be when I am in a nursing home...where I will probably have difficulty because I will talk too much..and the staff will get annoyed...and I will continue trying to be a work in progress...

Unexpected potato

~"Since we can not change reality, let us change the eyes that see reality."~Nikos Kazantzakis

                        "How was your first day bud?"..."Great! I had a potato!"..."You...had a potato?" "Yeah it was good."  Well..THAT certainly wasn't what I had expected to hear. but it was wonderful..no, more than wonderful..it was all that I needed to hear and then some.  My boy, he is taking off..moving forward..and he likes it. 

  After a summer of absolutely no expectations..  June, July, August were lovely....we..swam, fished, camped- did what we felt like doing-when we felt like doing it. It was calm- wonderful. September felt like a shock....  We went from relaxed and easy to absolute chaos in less than a week.   Lots of change going on.. split second decisions being made.

 Lily started at a new school this year. Sixth grade had been rough for her.  Socially, emotionally..it was all too much. She was just eleven years old, and was suddenly sharing a building with kids in their late teens.  My joyful girl had lost her zest..her joy. She was bored and anxious..sad and very very lonely.Luckily, we were able to get her in to a charter school. At the end of august, we went as a family to her orientation. This was a big deal-we wanted to support her. We visited the school, met the teachers, listened to the head of school explain how they did school. We were impressed....and so was Sam. "I think that I would like it here." "Really? (I tried not to sound too excited-change is hard for him..I didn't want to scare him off.)" "Yes, it seems more creative than my school.".."Well..it is very different  ...if you'd like, I will put your name on the waiting list..?" "o.k.".."Are you SURE??"
"Yes, yes I am.."..Except he wasn't..

  The school does have a waiting list. I placed Sam on it thinking that maybe he would be able to get in next year-only to find out that they had an opening now.   "Hey Sam!  Great news!  The school has a space for you!" 

The following is a transcript of the next forty eight hours

 "..Oh..uuhhh...now?" "Yes!  you can start next week!".."..Oh..uhhh..I don't know..." "What do you mean?"  "I'm not sure.."But you like the new school! You were impressed about how creative it is!" "I am..it's just..maybe I should try one more year here."  "Why?"..."I don't know.."   Wash, Rinse, Repeat, Repeat, Repeat.....

 I admit-I did try and strongly  coerce convince him...but in the end-we had to leave the decision up to him.  It had to be his choice.  My fear was that he was sticking with what he knew because it felt safer.  But at the same time-we knew he wasn't happy .  This is where living in a tiny town gets tricky. Our schools are small. Sam is different. So he is treated that way. He is well liked-but he isn't well known..He was a special ed kid in grade school...thus his reputation was sealed. He couldn't just be a regular kid. His accomplishments, his academics..basketball...everything that he did or does-whether it be making the honor roll, scoring a basket or even GASP! going for his learners permit to drive..it is all viewed through special ed lenses.  I'm not complaining..I'm not. Our tiny town has embraced him.. It is just that the label that got him help-has wound up hindering him as well.  In a town this small-he'll never be able to shake it.   It has been incredibly frustrating-more so for my boy than for anyone else. Sam is a regular young man..he has ideas, and dreams, feelings-goals that have nothing to do with his diagnosis. He deserves the opportunity to fail or succeed without his diagnosis being a constant part of the equation.

  I was so disappointed when he told me that he had decided that he wanted to stay at his old school. *sigh*  So, on the first day..as he was gathering up his back pack and lunch to go wait for the bus, Lily with a look of absolute horror exclaimed (rather loudly).."You really want to stay here??!!! Are you crazy?!"   I guess that was the voice Sam needed to hear.. because he dropped his back pack, kicked off his shoes and said.."I've made up my mind-I'm going to the new school." (hallelujah!)  "Are you sure?" I asked...trying not to let my voice quiver with excitement.."Yes."...and that was that..

  He has been going for three weeks now and the transformation has been amazing. Sam, is naturally a loner-he enjoys his own company...but, for the first time in eleven years-he isn't alone. He has a group of friends, he sword fights at lunch..he is part of a design team..He WANTS to join some clubs..He-all of him- is valued...but more importantly-he sees that he is valued-for who he is-on his own merit. That is everything...well, that and...

                                                           He ate a potato! 

 You have to understand-For the past seven years, Sam has eaten the same exact thing for lunch. Every single day. Nothing different.  Food is a delicate topic with all of my kids..textures-smells...shapes..it all matters to them.  While Sam has gotten much better at trying different foods...it can still be a bit of an issue... So for him to happily get off of the bus-(on his first day at a new school)..and the first thing out of his mouth is about a new food that he ate-and liked?  It feels like hitting the jack pot. 

  I worry so much about this parenting thing..Sometimes it feels(and I am sure that I am not alone in this) like I make more mistakes than anything else.  But this time...my son started at a brand new school-by choice, he's made real friends-AND he ate a potato. It that isn't success-I don't know what is..  


  

Jump and spark

~"She needs wide open spaces.  Room to make her big mistakes."~ Susan Gibson

       

     Summer has started-almost like every other summer.  The kids are all home..I'm not working at the moment (partially by choice and partially because I haven't found the right opportunity-yet) so..we are spending much of time just hanging out together. I usually start the summer off with some kind of game plan..a whole list of ideas of things we are going to do,,,but never seem to get around to doing. So, this year..there is no list. I'm just letting the days happen..as they happen..The herd is getting older..and I have realized that they don't need me to schedule their time so much anymore..They can entertain themselves, feed themselves,groom themselves...they can find their own socks..shoes...snacks!  And I-I am learning to be able to insist let them. .

 "Mama..I'm hungry.."  "Go eat."..."Mama? I'm bored!" "I'm not.  Find something to do." "There's NOTHING to do.".."Well..I'm cleaning the garage..so you are more than welcome to help me." "Ewww..No!"  "O.K then..I'll be in the garage if you change your mind."."But.." "See ya!",,,

  It is liberating-this letting go. and scary..and anxiety causing and..... In two short years, Sam will be done with school! After which, he hopes to attend a program in California...over three thousand miles from home..Part of me is thrilled for him-he found his passion..his dream..his niche! Another part of me is anxious and worried and stressed,,can he do this? Will he be o,k,? The worry section of my brain envisions him wandering the streets of California wearing only one shoe (because he can't find the other one) snack-less and alone. I don't let him know about this worry of mine. I choose instead to focus on the positive..at least while anyone is around. Because for as much as he has grown,,as much as he has become independent-he still relies on my judgement.  It would be far too easy for me to convince him( and myself) that he really would be so much happier staying here-..at home..where it's familiar. Far too easy. I can not let my anxiety keep him from living his life.So, I push him..I push them all...*sigh* even though most of the time-I'd rather be pulling.

  I have spent the last week or so cleaning out my garage. I have boxes in there that have not been unpacked in years..One of them contained my mothers scrap books. My mother has been gone for over half my life,  I was twenty three when she died. I may have glanced at these books once or twice during various moves,,but I never really looked at them. 

  My mother was very reserved..proper..a devout Irish Catholic. She had a wonderful sense of humor-if you could get her to let go-which is something that I worked hard at!  I mean-there were six of us kids-and if you wanted her undivided attention-you needed to work it. She never really spoke about her past..Sure, there were stories here and there..about growing up..skipping school to see Frank Sinatra..sneaking lipstick. We knew that she had modeled briefly-but she never said much about it...so, we never really asked.  and even if we did ask a question about her childhood or modeling or really anything from her past- she would always say "It was so long ago-I forget." *sigh*  Kids tend to believe what their parents tell them. 

  To say that I was shocked by her scrapbooks would be an understatement. It turns out that my mother was a very different person than she had ever led us to believe, There are pages upon pages of photos and articles..of this vibrant beautiful young woman... Modeling in N.Y. fashion houses..her move to California at nineteen..society pages..theater stubs..an article that writes about her being the "mistress of ceremonies" (for some event )where she "entertained the crowd with jokes and song"!   My mother entertained a crowd??!!  Who the hell was this woman? !! This was NOT the choir singing, crossword doing, bible reading reserved very proper woman that I grew up with. 

I don't know what happened to her..what changed her...  I know that she loved my father..(I found such joyful pictures of them together) I know that she loved her children. But somewhere along the line-she lost her spark..her zest-her spontaneity...and it leaked on to us. We were raised (particularly the girls) to be ever so strong-never to be weak-weakness was a fault-sensitivity a sin.To be overly cautious...that trying new things would most probably end in failure...While I do appreciate her making me strong..and I am exceedingly strong..I wish she had given us permission to be weak...to occasionally break instead of bend. It is (I think) a luxury that I will never be able to have-whether I want it or not-I just wasn't built that way.

 I try and be as honest as I can with my kids.  I don't hide much of my past from them.  Although, there are some things they don't know because they have not lived enough to understand them-yet. Also because I don't want to hear-"Well YOU did it.!" I want them to know that I have failed and succeeded..that I tried and sometimes things worked and sometimes they didn't. I am so afraid of holding them back..of letting my fears get the better of them..So I sometimes, have to suck it up as I push them forward. I want them to jump as high and as far as they want...it doesn't matter how they land- as long as they keep jumping,

  My mom has been gone for twenty eight years, There are times (especially since I had kids) that I miss her deeply-and times when I don't think of her at all. Her past-her sadness- will always be a mystery to me. I find myself mourning a person that I never knew, I very much wish that she could have met Omar and her grandchildren. I think they would have given her such joy..and maybe..even possibly a little spark....

  Motherhood..being a mother...it's a powerful position.  Even now, twenty eight years later, my mom still has an impact on my life. She left us these scrapbooks..perhaps as a cautionary tale..or maybe just an explanation..I don't know.  But I will take them and use them..to show my kids that their grandmother was quite the jumper in her day..and I will remember that no matter how anxious..no matter how worried I am about growing these kids-about letting them go..I have encouraged them to jump..hopefully, they will always remember that I jumped with them....

  

  

wordless..

I am sorry-but I can not find the words to blog this week.  I am instead reposting "I am my children's mother"  It was something I wrote back in 2012 in response to another tragedy.

This week, nine people were shot dead in South Carolina-Simply because of the color of their skin. This was an act of terrorism.( No matter what many presidential hopefuls and media "analysts" are implying.) Racism is an ugly cancer in this country. Ignoring it, does not make it go away.  I am heartsick. This is the world that I am raising my children in.  We as humanity need to face this head on-look at it-acknowledge it-and fix it.

~"It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life."~ 

    Joseph Campbell

 

Down to the wire...really.

~"I was the first woman to burn my bra - it took the fire department four days to put it out"~ Dolly Parton

  So..school is almost done for the year..almost...just one more half day and we will be off for twelve glorious weeks..or until September second..I don't feel like doing the math..Actually, I don't feel like doing much of anything...The past few weeks have been an intense flurry of finishing up projects, assignments..applications..interviews...That I'm thinking that I might take the next week or twelve off and do absolutely nothing...aside from get a new job...

  You may remember- a few posts back, I wrote about my re-entry in to the working world, Yes-I became a customer service representative for our local purveyor of inexpensive goods for home and health...In other words, I was a dollar store cashier...in other-other words..I took peoples money, made change,,,and learned more about personal hygiene products than anyone should ever have to learn. You would be astounded by the vast amount of hemorrhoid and hemorrhoid related products! ( I think that I now know what is wrong with the world.) It all just became too much, So, I put down the suppositories..handed in my name tag..and began earnestly searching the "help wanteds".. I had been happy doing the job that I did-it served its purpose.  I made some extra cash, the kids got used to me working..it was just time to move on. I have a couple of possibilities..I'm hoping that they pan out...

  Until then..I'm helping the kids finish up all that they need to- so that we can start Summer off free and clear. It's been tough though..Some of my kids aren't exactly organized..Oh, believe me-I try. But four kids and four hundred thousand bits and pieces of paper and projects...*sigh* by the end of the school year..I'm kind of done...I admit-I've quit checking backpacks back in April...maybe March..I'm just ready for it to be over already. I may have slacked off a bit..o.k.-more than a bit..but I hang in there until the end,,,Like today..

  My girl-she had an issue with another student..This is a LONG going issue,,and this morning, it came to a head.  I had to go in to school and deal with it. She had emailed me from class-she was terribly upset..she needed me RIGHT NOW..so I went..RIGHT THEN.  I didn't take as much time..put much effort in to my appearance- as I probably should have...But it was an emergency!  I threw on an outfit and left..

  I got to the school-in record time. I found my girl and we went in to the office to speak with the principal. He's a very nice man.We have had a number of conversations this year-he really cares about the kids-and he's funny. But, I had to play the parent role..you know, act like a grown up and all that...This was not a casual meeting-it was professional..

He invited us in to his office...and as we were taking our seats..I felt a sudden SNAP! followed by a very sharp pain-like a dagger- shooting hot fire in to my upper right...girl part. Sharp- screaming pain!  Was it a heart attack..was I hit in by a sniper? No. It was the under-wire of my very old (but beloved) bra. It had had burst through the fabric and was proceeding to skewer my right breast like it was a chicken fixing to be BBQ 'd. Digging in with every single breath that I took-and there was nothing that I could do about it! I mean-I was being a "concerned parent" and concerned parents don't whimper in a meeting or cry out in pain.  We are stoic-serious-proper!.We listen and discuss..problem solve and mediate, We are the epitome of calm and reason. Concerned parents just DO NOT- under any circumstance- grab their boobs in the principals office.  It just isn't done.  

  I sat very still for the duration of that meeting.

We actually resolved the issue for the moment.

I believe that I am a candidate for saint-hood-or, the concerned parent of the year award.  

  There is only one half day of school left. I plan on being appropriately dressed for it..I am  going bra shopping tomorrow. I will not be buying any with under-wires...just in case. I can not wait for this school year to be over.

Not waiting for Mozart...

~"Fear is the lock and laughter the key to your heart.. and I love you."~Stephen Stills

         

   "Mama...my bag is packed.  where is the red sleeping bag?" "It's in the wash-it smells like dog..like lots of dog...lots and lots of smelly old dogs...so..maybe you had better take the blue one..." "O.K."...and with that...my boy left for his week at leadership camp. No anxiety-no worry..he packed and went. Weird thing is-I wasn't anxious either...Not like when Sam went on this trip two years ago..No, back then.. I spent the week doing laundry...loads and loads of laundry.If it wasn't nailed down it was in the washer..I was the queen of the spin cycle-the princess of Tide. It was the only way to keep my anxiety in check...But with Oscar? I didn't seem to have any...

  Honestly?  It isn't so much that I worry about Oscar..He's a great kid. He's funny..kind.. decent-AND he puts his laundry away..without being told! What more could a mother ask for? It's the world that worries me..  Oscar stims (A lot)  he takes his time processing things...his language is stilted..his motor skills are weak..and to anyone who doesn't know him-he probably seems odd..maybe even scary..I'd like to say-that's on them-which really-it is. But the world doesn't work that way..

 Today someone apologized to me because I have autistic kids. " Oh!..I'm sorry!."..Huh? Why in the world would someone say that to me? The topic of autism came up-and I made a simple statement. "I have autistic kids"  It wasn't like I fell to the ground sobbing or anything.I didn't gulp or stutter on the word "autistic".There was nothing on my manner that suggested I was in any way-shape or form...distraught. Nothing-and yet they apologized. 

 This is not the first time that this has happened. You'd be amazed (or maybe not) by what some people think is acceptable to say. I can't count the number of times people have either apologized, asked if my kids were adopted..or-sent me articles and meme's about such and such a person who was placed in an institution-because-there was NO HOPE..and then their mother, father, aunt, uncle, reiki practitioner..gave them a book on physics and BOOM! now they work at NASA or Microsoft. Good lord!  What is it about autism..or really, any disability that makes people so damn uncomfortable? More importantly though..why do people think that they have the right to apologize for my children?   I wish that it would stop. 

 My kids are regular kids.They do regular kid things...like anyone else, they have hopes and dreams.They are not brilliant mathematicians, physicists,or computer geniuses, They make messes..they clog the toilets..occasionally they clean their rooms.  They don't see themselves as tragic..they don't view their lives as hard..because their lives have always been the way that they are-and they do things the way that they do them because that is what they know.To them-it's regular..it's life..it's their normal. Do they struggle? Yes. But Omar and I do our best to help them sort it all out, to navigate.I do wish it were easier for them.  But I'm certainly not desperately waiting for them to magically morph into the next Bill Gates, Mozart ,Tesla,Temple Grandin,,,or my personal favorite (I actually got a picture meme with this on it) Adolph Hitler(holy crap!)  Like any parent-I just want them to grow into responsible adults with full happy lives. Although if they do happen to make a lot of money...

 ( I am not negating the fact that their are families whose struggles are incredibly difficult. Disability is a sin in our culture. It sometimes feels like the bigger the disability-the less support that there is. That is what we should be apologizing for.)

Mothersville...

~"If the sun refused to shine, I would still be loving you..."~ Robert Plant

    It has been sixteen years since I celebrated my first mothers day.  Sixteen (sometimes very long) years and four kids later-here I am, still standing. Sometimes I feel like a superhero-able to leap piles of laundry to unclog an overflowing toilet while helping with Spanish homework and simultaneously short order cooking for four kids- IN A SINGLE BOUND..other times I feel like a dried out husk slowly withering away in the wind...while leaping piles of laundry etc. etc. etc. It depends on the day.  Most of the time though-I feel pretty average..Like any other mother. Or at least I think I am..when I actually take the time to think about it

  Sometimes I wonder about my mothering skills...Of course I love my kids-adore them..they hang the moon..That's a given.  There is nothing that I would not do for them. But there are times..like-when I'm standing in the middle of the living room, ankle deep in toys and papers and all kinds of...kid crap...that I just...I don't want to do it anymore..I don't want to clean up, cook dinner, unclog the toilet (something I do at least twice a week), feed the dog, pay the bills, do the laundry....empty the dishwasher..make the coffee!  I do these things every single day-day in and out and I am bored! Bored I tell you!  But I do it anyway-because these things need to get done..Most of the time, I don't resent it...but then mothers day rolls around..

  Mothers day-that one day of the year  where mothers everywhere are told just how much they are appreciated.  There are cards and gifts-sentiments and meme's. "Mom-you are always there for me"- "Thanks for everything that you do!"..or-one of my favorites "My mom is my best friend!"..Let me tell you something-best friends don't stuff their dirty socks in  the couch..refuse to eat what their "pal" cooked for them..or fight with their siblings right outside their "B.F.F.'s" door at six a.m. *sigh* 

I don't want a day..I don't want a sentiment..I want a year! Or better yet-a town.  I'd call it "Mothersville"..and only mothers would be allowed inside. It would be a lovely place..all clean and organized. Everyone would know where their shoes were..and everyone would eat what was on their plate, The bathrooms would be plentiful..and private..with only clean towels, tubs and endless hot water. You could unwrap candy publicly!  Oh the freedom! 

It is a wonderful dream...and one I occasionally fantasize about...until I realize that it describes my life before kids. Before I had to think about anyone other than myself..Damn-but those were good times. I'm glad that I had them. Especially now that I am a mother. Sometimes, especially when I long for my old life, I need to remember that motherhood isn't all about the doing...sometimes it is just about the being. Being wanted, being needed and being loved-oh so loved..My children have taught me what unconditional means. Sometimes it's a burden. But mostly it is joy.

So, this mothers day I'll open all the wonderful hand made cards and drawings from the herd,,revel in the five minutes of peace this will give me, plant some flowers and maybe even eat a candy bar or two (or three) very quietly...after which I'll probably dig a few socks out of the couch...

Happy mothers day to all the mothers out there...

  

The shape of things to come..

        ~"And you, of the tender years can't know the fears

            that your elders grew by

           And so please help them with your youth, 

           they seek the truth before they can die."~ Graham Nash

         

     So..spring seems to be FINALLY showing itself in our little town...the snow has finally melted, the birds are singing...there have even been a few sightings of the reclusive (at least for most of the very long winter in Maine) very pale legs-in shorts (even though it's forty degrees)...But the most definite sign for me is...that we have IEP meetings.   I'm up to four a year now,,which is my limit..unless of course one of my chickens happens to need services..Which you know?...At this point, I would not be surprised.

 I have to admit-I'm over it. I just don't feel like doing them anymore. Of course that doesn't keep me from going..But really-it's basically the same thing every year-for every kid..You go in with a specific set of things that you want for your child-a.k.a.-everything possible, and in return, you are given things that are deemed necessary for your child's education. Some times it's very little-and sometimes it is a whole lot. I wish that IEP meetings were held in bars.."I'll take a whiskey and forty five minutes of speech therapy" 

  This year was tough. I have had to come to terms with some things that are hard to explain. 
                                    "Will he be able to get a diploma?"
                                     "I don't think so-probably not."

 Yeah..This shouldn't be a shock...but it is. It shouldn't hurt...but it does. It isn't really about a diploma..it isn't really about graduating...Honestly?  I don't much care. I don't worry about him-HE is great. The world however is a different story..It frightens me. I feel like the only thing we can do is to build him up..make him strong in who he is so that no one or no thing ever diminishes his light. That would be a tragedy. 

                                 "I have to die one day-unfortunately, it's inevitable."

 I have made that statement at least once a year in different IEP meetings for the past thirteen years. It is the truth and it is what drives me, I am going to die. I think that every parent worries about this at one time or another-for different reasons. I think about it a lot. Not in a morbid or creepy way-just...realistically.  I recently took a job for that very reason. All of my kids need to learn to be more independent,,and sure, I've heard "I liked when you stayed at home!" and "Why don't you call in sick?!" But I can't always listen to my subconscious. We all have to do things that are hard, like selling hemorrhoid creams and personal hygiene products.   My kids are fending for themselves a couple of hours a day..and it's a good thing. I'm not always going to be there to do their laundry or make lunches and cook dinner...hopefully it will be because I'm living in the South of France with Omar..and not because I'm dead...which I'm going to be one day (see?! I worry about this a lot) I think that they are enjoying this sense of freedom/independence..They are finding out that they are more capable than they knew. Mostly. We are having a few issues with "Who gets to be in charge"..and taking the time to read the list of chores that I have left them..but they are getting there..slowly. 

  So, I made it through another year of IEP's. We are getting what we think is necessary (services wise) for the kids. I'm lucky in that I have some very good people supporting them. There are things we need to work on..lots of things for me to worry about (besides my mortality) But I have hope..and humor and joy...and really great kids...and chickens that require nothing....so far.

Skipping April...

"April is the cruellest month..." T.S. Eliot

I hate autism awareness month. There-I said it. I think it's stupid..and that it serves no purpose-other than to raise money for certain organizations..blah blah blah...I've written about it before..So, this year, I thought that I would ignore it all together..I was just going to skip April. forget about it....keep my head down and my eyes closed-and hope that May came quickly...if only it were that easy..You see, April had other plans for me..

   At the end of March, I was invited by another writer to read/submit a of piece of mine for a project that they were putting together.  I was hesitant..I am not always confident in my writing (no! Not fishing for compliments here-or any comments!) Anyway-I decided "what the heck..why not?"..I had nothing to lose except my dignity..so I did it....I picked a piece that meant something to me..I read it with everything I had...and proceeded to fall flat on my face.  Holy crap it was awful! I'm not going to go into details but..I worked for a few years as an actress..I have had my fair share of rejection..you get used to it,,,But this? This was ten million times more awful..because I wasn't playing a character..these were my words..my life...and it was (sob) rejected. Oh the humanity!..What had I done wrong?! Wasn't I funny? Bittersweet? Soulful enough?! What was wrong with my words?! My wording?! Were my feelings not feely enough?.I licked my very big gaping wounds...and limped on...But it did make me think...reevaluate...look at what I was writing..what I was saying..and more importantly- how I was saying it....and in my time of reflection- came to realize that I am *sigh* never going to be the Maya Angelou(or any other passionate female writer) of parent/autism/family bloggers..never going to be able to eloquently beat my breast ..howl at the moon..or gnash my teeth... I simply don't have the angst..(or cup size) required, At least not when it comes to my kids....and I think I'm o.k. with that..

 That is how I spent much of April..in soulful reflection and being the best darn cashier I could be at my new job! Which let me tell you-has been eye opening! I have seen things...things that,,well, it will take a whole other blog post. .. I thought that I was going to slip quietly into May...until we got some disturbing literature in the mail..

Omar and I are both in our fifties. (It isn't a big deal to us..Coming from N.Y., it was normal to wait to have kids until your thirties...Here, we are the age of most grandparents. I find it amusing. Sometimes unsettling...it is kind of weird to go to school functions where most of the other parents are young enough to be your kids)..Since we were both around forty, we started receiving literature from AARP. We thought that it was funny. However, a decade later...it is starting to get kind of scary,,,Now, instead of every few months...we are getting letters every few weeks...insisting we join...insisting we take advantage of the benefits,,one of which included this-

I don't think that I have ever seen Omar so appalled! "Could you see me carrying this?!" he yelled indignantly..."*snicker* No...hahahaha..".."Why are you laughing?" "I'm trying to imagine you carrying a "tote"..".."Why would they think I would want this? "I don't know."  Are they telling me to just give up?  Do they think my life is over?  Why not just send me a coffin? Or a coffin discount?" .."Well.. maybe you'll be cremated and I can carry you in your tote."  Which of course just made me laugh harder... 

Thankfully, April is almost over. I seem to be back to the business of blogging...and all seems to be steady in our world....until September that is.. I'll have to let Omar know that it is "Senior citizen center" awareness month....I'll tell him to bring his tote...
 . 

Ten full days of awful...

~"Time doth flit: oh shit."~Dorothy Parker

             




                         

I have always considered myself a strong person.  I can't really say if this is because of my upbringing, life experiences-whatever. This is just how I have always seen myself. So far, there really hasn't been anything that I couldn't shoulder. I don't know if that is just plain luck-or sheer obstinance.. but there you go.  I am woman-hear me roar and all that..It's funny,I take so much pride in my strength that just the thought of being weak-or worse, being seen as weak makes me cringe!  

  There have been times when I have had to muster my strength..times when I have not felt particularly strong...when I have wanted to throw in the towel-change my name..move to a different time zone...Parenthood can do that to you. Raising children is definitely not for the faint of heart. Yet, here I am with four great kids who continue to grow and change and do all kinds of wonderful things. I had thought that I was at the top of my game..that nothing could faze me. I have potty trained..and short order cooked-fixed plumbing...nursed chickens back from the brink of death-and all of this in one afternoon!  I thought that I was indestructible!....Until I got a job..

  I haven't been gainfully employed in a steady sense for fourteen years. We had been very lucky because Omar did well enough for me to stay home with the kids. However, the last two years were very difficult financially for us-and although we are definitely in an upswing....I thought that a part time job would help. We also want the kids to be a little more independent. So..I found myself a little job. A no responsibility other than being pleasant, counting change and bagging purchases kind of job. Something that I could do while the kids were at school...something that allowed me to be home at night. While at the same time-gave the kids a little bit more responsibility in making their own lunches, taking care of homework..etc. etc. That kind of job. I'd care while I was there-and then go home.  No worries. HA!

Interviewer-"So...if you want this position, you have to be available from 2/27 to 3/5 in order to help set up the new store.."
Me-"Sure, no problem."
Interviewer-It is considered a temporary job.  If after that ten days,if the company believes you are a good worker,,they will hire you permanently."
Me-"Well, I'm a hard worker-that's for sure!"
Interviewer-"Great! Be at the store on 2/27 at 7:45..."
Me-"Great-thanks so much."

  I am fifty years old.  There is no denying that.  I don't hide my age-and in fact, am rather proud that I have made it thus far, I'm fit-and healthy-FOR MY AGE. So...you can imagine my dismay when....

  I showed up on the right day and at the right time...it was twenty two degrees below zero. I got out of my van and walked towards the huddled group of very cold people and cheerfully proclaimed "Hi-I'm Kathleen." One of the huddled said a weak "hi"...the rest just stared at me-rather sullenly- truth be told..."Well", I thought "it is cold...I'm sure that people will be happier once we get inside"..Only,  they weren't. 

 We were corralled over an ice mound that was blocking the entry into an enormous totally EMPTY building. An enormous empty UNHEATED building...where we were told that "This will be the hardest of the ten days...we have to unload this truck...we don't have hand carts..or a snow shovel..or ice melt...or even mats to prevent you from slipping on the ice as you carry these incredibly heavy and bulky pieces of equipment over this ice burg into the store....oh-and watch out-the floor can be slippery." 

I tried to stay optimistic as I stood there in my coat, jeans, nice sweater and clogs. "Well" I thought "They did ask on the application if I could lift fifty pounds" *sigh* "I just didn't think that they meant carrying fifty pounds while ice skating- consecutively for ten days. But I did it. I also didn't think that "setting up the store" meant literally building all of the massively heavy shelving units...hanging shelves on all of those units...and unloading over five thousand boxes of merchandise(again, no hand trucks) to load said shelves with...But I did it. Well..I did it as best as my fifty year old body would let me. Which in the eyes of all of the twenty somethings I was working with...seemed...weak. I was actually frowned upon-ME! frowned upon..seen as inept...incapable...and perhaps a tad bit irreverent.  Come on! If every single box you happened to be opening contained either enemas, douches or suppositories-wouldn't you find it funny? They say "No man is an island"..but I'll tell you...that afternoon, I was an archipelago of feminine hygiene and hemorrhoid treatment products! I thought it was a riot.  I was alone in my feelings...It was awful...ten full days of awful.

  But I made it...I carried the load..skated the ice..built the shelves..stocked the suppositories!  I had proven to the company and my fellow employees that I was tenacious-I could hang on! That I...I had what it took- to be a cashier.

 Today was my first day off since that fateful February morning. I spent it running errands and catching up on all the other things that I usually do,  the kids are slowly adjusting to me not always being home...I am hoping that things get smoother for them....and me. Change takes time..especially when your fifty. I may even get some of those serious twenty somethings to laugh...eventually. Until then-if you need any feminine hygiene supplies or hemorrhoid accessories..just give me a shout...