Wednesday, October 16, 2013

What's the big idea?

I am doing something scary.  I don't mean scary as in, "Boo!"  I mean wow this is huge and big and I could really do this.  Or I could totally screw this up and make a fool of myself.  But I don't think I will.  I think I will make this work.  And I think it will change me and what I think I can do.  

I got an idea.  The idea would not leave me alone.  It would pop into my head when I was waiting for coffee, or at 3 am when baby B was up to nurse, often when I couldn't sleep.  It kept coming back.  It.would.not.go.away.

I am a bit of a dreamer. I come up with lots of ideas but most of the time I don't do much with them.  The amount of work, the cost, or the talent needed is lacking on my part.  The ideas drift in and out and until now nothing ever pushed right out of my head and into reality.

This spring the idea was screaming so loud in my head that I could not ignore it anymore.  I texted a friend to meet for lunch.  Then I panicked.  She is going to think I am crazy, a foolish dreamer wasting her time.  Somehow I managed to not lose the few marbles I still have and made it to lunch.  

The results of that meeting...and many meetings since will result in something.  I am not ready to share the details yet, but soon.  In 2 weeks or so I will launch my idea and hopefully not fall on my face and look like a loser.  I am calling in favours all over town and discovering the many talents of my wonderful friends.

I am so excited and totally terrified. 

Wednesday, September 4, 2013

Melting down the meltdowns.

I have some how kept a truth about my life a secret without even trying.  I did not realize I was so good at keeping secrets.  My own mother often chides me for over-sharing on Facebook.  I do share…and sometimes more than my mother can handle but it turns out I also keep some things so hidden I don’t even realize I have hid them.  Confused yet?

While camping my sister and I disagreed with how I was dealing with my son.  She is doing her masters in family and marriage counseling – she is too smart!!  So her and I sometimes have differing views – what the books say vs. what a parent says.  I was about at my wits end for that day.  My son was being hard to deal with.  I don’t know if I have mentioned it on the blog but he has Sensory Processing Disorder – an Autism Spectrum Disorder.   Being his parent can be exhausting.  Mentally and physically it will suck the life out of you at times.  This was one of those times.  I had been fending off a meltdown all day.  I had distracted, intervened, and done the ‘please oh please don’t have a meltdown’ dance all day.  I.was.done.

So I let my sister do what she wanted to do. I let her parent him.  She didn’t do anything wrong.  But it all went to hell in a hand basket pretty quickly.  The meltdown started. 

A meltdown for a sensory child occurs when they cannot take anymore.  There brains cannot handle what is going on.  It is often a little thing that sends them over the edge.  So little that no one can figure out why that was a problem.  In reality it is not the most recent thing, it is a collection of the whole day, week, month of events. 

Every child acts out differently.  Mine screams.  Screams like he has severed a limb.  It is blood curdling and shocks people.   Sometimes he runs – like into traffic or out of a building.  He will hit others or himself.  He will bite himself and say he is ‘a bad boy, I am not worth anything’.   He will obsessively grab at his tongue as if a hair is in the back of his mouth.  He will then throw up over and over until he is sure the hair is gone.  He then sobs.  Sobs as if his life is ending. 

I am used to it.  I know what is happening.   It breaks my heart every time he says he should be sent to jail for being so bad.  It turns out people, even my sister, do not know that this is my reality.  This is my son.  This is a regular occurrence. 

Things like this happen at school, at church, at a friend house.  They happen everywhere.  In general they happen more often when he is out of our home.  This is because I control a lot of his environment when I am the boss.  I also know his cues.  I pick up on the signs that he is overloaded.  I have never managed to prevent a meltdown.  I have been able to prepare myself, my husband, and even him that one is coming. 

My poor sister was horrifically upset.  She had never seen him like this.  I starred at her dumbfounded.  How is it possible that she had never seen this?  I thought about it then and realized most of our family had never seen him meltdown.  I haven’t hidden it – but I also don’t record it on instagram.  In some ways these meltdowns are as much a part of my life as getting dressed or drinking coffee (sweet sweet nectar of motherhood).  I forget that people don’t know this.

Tonight I needed to vent about it.  If you have managed to make it through the first 650 words – here are a few more.

To the mother with a child losing their Schmidt – I feel ya sister!  Can I buy you a coffee and a donut?  Here let me take your grocery buggy back for you while you strap that screaming child into the car.  PS.  You are doing a great job handling this.

To my mother - Yes, mom, I just threw this up on the Internet.  I over shared.  Consider it my therapy…I was out of vodka.

To my beautiful sister – I love you SGF.  Someday you will be a great mom…or just that weird aunt.  Whatever.  The little dude is so blessed to have you.  I am blessed to have you – even when you tell me to calm the heck down and be patient.

To those that have no idea what it is like to have a child that is different – it is harder than it looks this motherhood deal, eh?  I know sometimes your kids make you nuts too.  All I ask is please don’t give me that judgmental look when my kid is freaking out in Walmart.  Explain to your shocked kids that sometimes people feel things differently and sometimes they don’t know how to act when it gets to be too much.   Smile at me.  Send me the silent mom vibe that says “You got this!” - even if I obviously don’t.

And lastly,

To my little man, I love you so.  No matter how many times things get wonky you keep on going.  Life is so hard for you.  I know I don’t truly understand what it is like to be in your shoes.  You teach me everyday how to lighten up, how to forgive, how to love, and how to keep going even when it hurts.  I wouldn’t trade you for anyone else.  I am so glad I get to be your mom.

Thursday, March 21, 2013

Dress to Impress

I was gifted with a bag of clothes for my eldest daughter by a friend who's daughter had grown out of them.  Can I get a 'woot woot' for free clothes!?!?!

Cut to a few weeks later.

After a night of many wake ups with baby B, I am snoozing in bed, while my saint of a husband is getting the big kids ready for school.  G comes in and I wake up because I sense something is close to me - I crack open my eyes and I can feel her breath on my face as she asks,

"Mommy, can I wear this?"

I see her wearing a tank top.

"G it is March.  If you want to wear a tank top put a T-shirt on underneath."


A few minutes later Ry walks in,

"Are you sure she can wear that?"

I am not awake enough to care about anything.  I want him to go away so I can sleep.

"As long as she is wearing a shirt underneath it is fine."

I rolled back over and went to sleep. zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

G goes to school.  In a tank top.  In March.


My mom was at the kids school that day so she offered to bring them home.

They knock on the door and let themselves in.

My jaw hits the floor.  I mean my mouth is gaping open as I stare at my daughter.  Who is wearing a tank a dress...with sheer black tights that have bagged around the ankle.


"Where are your pants? Skirt?  Anything??"

I continue,


It is at this point that Ry looks over at me and points out I said as long as she wore a shirt it was fine.

Well yes I did when I was half awake, in a darkened room, and she was right next to the bed so I didn't notice the NO PANTS part!

As the Blogess would say her "lady garden" was covered by little more than some princess panties and sheer tights.  That tank top just hit the bottom of her 'southern' cheeks.


"I checked with you.  You said it was fine."


"A shirt?  G said it was a dress."  He is beginning to see the error of his ways.

"That is a tank top."

After further discussion we have created some new house rules.

New house rules:
     1. G must always wear pants
     2. Don't ask mom important questions in a dark room when she is sleeping
     3.  If it looks like a shirt, smells like a shirt and walks like a's a shirt.  No matter what  
          the 5 year old says.