Saturday, August 22, 2009

There's No Place Like Home...

*Note to reading family members & friends from the mother ship: I love you all and mean absolutely nothing personal by the following post! Mwah!

We are on day 10 of our 13-day journey back to the mother ship. As absolutely fantabulous as it is to have help and see the people we love and miss dearly, I am cooked and ready to go home. Is it just a natural rigidity that sets in as we age that makes us not able to sleep on other mattresses or fully relax in someone else's home? Or is it the fact that I am paranoid at all moments that one of my kids (namely M) will wander off and chew or scratch someone's leather chairs or eat their books and dvd covers? As much as people tell me not to worry about such things...or that it bothers me more than it bothers them...I cannot let these things go. My parents in particular have a ridiculously pristine home that offers zero kid-friendliness other than the fact that everything is on one story. I immediately covered their over-priced leather barcaloungers with towels and sheets as a precautionary that was most definitely warranted since M made every attempt he could to scratch them when one of the sheets was moved by B to 'help his animals go to sleep.'

It is priceless to see the way M lights up around his grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and best friend, C. And he is enjoying the ability to swim in his grandparents' pool each and every day. But it is obvious that he is struggling a bit this past week and missing the comforts of his own home and his own routine. He is flapping a lot more. He skips around the house doing his own version of running laps. His food obsession has become magnified, leaving him a teary mess when we have to keep everyone else's glutinous plates out of his reach. He is so restless when he sleeps that I find him lying crossways in the bed with the covers completely tangled around him. He's cooked too.

And then there is my own ever-growing paranoia. I am well aware of the fault I have carried since childhood of worrying too much about what people think of me. If you've already been gifted such an annoying trait, I think it only magnifies when you are the parent of a child with special needs. All of these people who care so much about us...are they scrutinizing the way we handle every meltdown? Do they feel we aren't doing enough to address M's schooling crisis? Are they concerned about the state of the other half's and my relationship? I worry way too much that they are instead of just being myself and not giving a shit about it. Oh, how I wish I could stop being this way! It's all part of the process, isn't it?

I'd say that B is the one faring the very best of all of us. He has been a pleasure on this trip aside from not wanting to stay in his seat belt during turbulence on the plane. He is having an absolute ball with everyone and has even taken a few naps here in there! He wants to sleep with me every night, and though I realize I may have a little adjustment to getting him back in his own bed when we get home, I have relished the snuggling time with him. Each morning he wakes up well before I am ready to get out of bed, walks around to my side of the bed with his stuffed animal and blankie in hand, and says, 'Mommy, are we at my Grandma's house?' Or, 'Mommy, I am all done with sleeping.' He melts my heart and help keeps me sane.

Well, this stream of consciousness is hitting a brick wall. My brain is not as sharp as it needs to be with this inability to sleep straight through a night.
I will leave by saying that I am more confused than ever as to what the right answer is for my beautiful M and his future. I am fairly sure that it involves moving back to the mother ship, but I am not sure which city makes the most sense. I am worn out from the constant thinking about it and beyond ready to finally understand which direction this family is going to go next....

Saturday, August 8, 2009

Are You Kidding Me??

The other half went out for a beer tonight. He started off at our local brew pub, a respectable enough place that unfortunately had a bad Rolling Stones cover band and a lead singer whose Mick impersonation was apparently scaring people off the dance floor. And so, he decided to leave...for the bar next door. This bar is not quite as respectable, but can certainly be more fun at times. The people watching is first class, and there is a sign over the pool table that reads 'No Fighting.' Naturally, most nights you can catch a fight or two.

The other half comes home looking a bit bewildered. I asked if he enjoyed himself and he began the following tale...

Apparently a rather unattractive, down-on-her-luck 'lady' was doing her best to put the moves on my man. He went to the bathroom at one point, leaving his glasses on the bar. This 'lady' told him when he got back that she almost took them so that he'd have to call her to get them back. Niiice.

But wait! It gets way classier, ladies and gents! She then says to him, 'Hey, want to hear a bad joke?' Hold onto your hats, this one's good...

Question: 'What's better than winning two medals at the special olympics?'
Answer: 'Not being retarded!'


Are you effing kidding me? Seriously, we cannot make this stuff up, people. My husband, a father to a precious boy with autism who may very well be mentally challenged as well, got hit on by a woman with a special olympics joke!

She asked why he didn't laugh and he told her that a.) it wasn't funny, and b.) he had a son who is autistic. The classy lady went on to tell the other half about her 'research' in autism and how there isn't any gray area with these's just black or white. Uh-okay. Funny thing, we've got one of them-thar 'gray autistics.'

Maybe I should find this woman--who by the way has a son--and see if she'd like to babysit for us?

(Please tell me someone else laughed when they read this!)

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Happy 6th Birthday, M!

I'm over here today...
Come take a look around!

Sunday, August 2, 2009

Thankful Sunday

Today I am thankful for the ocean. The one I look at as I wash dishes, take a shower, walk by my dining room table...something I try hard not to take for granted. I look to see how many fishing boats are heading out each morning, and to see the lone light of the last one in after dusk. I look to see if the waves are high by counting the black dots of surfers in wetsuits. I gauge the outside temperature by how far off the coast the fog lies. I love this ocean.

When we decided to move here the main plus that kept coming up was how good we thought the ocean would be for M. I must admit that for the first ten of our fifteen months here I did not have much confidence in taking my two boys to the beach. After several failed attempts I could not see the worth of trying. But as of late, when my boy gets agitated on just about any errand or outing we take, the ocean has become my sanctuary. It is the place I know he will remain content watching the waves crash, and digging, digging the sand with his fingers and toes. And because B loves to hunt for 'treasures,' run as fast as he can and dive into the sand over and over, and humors my new obsession of hunting for sea glass, I look forward to our visits to the beach. This amazing ocean is the thing that continues to cause me doubt in ever leaving this place.

I wish I could win the lottery and start an autism school of my own here on the coast...oh, and move all of our family here so we can have the support and love we miss so very much!