Easy Like Sunday Morning

by Jeanie, Reinventing Mommy

It is Sunday morning.  I’m leaning back in my chair, feet dangling carelessly in the pool as my hair begins to stick to the back of my neck.  I lift my head towards the sky to soak in the warm glow of the sun as it kisses my forehead.  Under my watchful eye, my boy plays along the water’s edge.  His squeals of delight watching the water pour are bubbling up beneath the surface.  His hands flutter and his mouth drops open in an expression of joy that is so uniquely Jack.  I find my mouth creasing into a smile and find myself in the midst of heaven on earth.

—

Summer is approaching with a ferocity that seems to be a fact of life in the South.  This time of year, I am taken back to my childhood and the beautiful days of all-too-short summers spent at the beach.

Both sets of my grandparents had beach houses – one on the Florida coast and the other on one of the Georgia barrier islands.  Summers were spent between these two locales embracing all of the sweetness of the season.

I felt so at home on the beach.  As a child, I was an avid body boarder.  I planned excursions down to the beach based on the tidal schedules.  The freedom felt when gravity releases you, as the waves take over, is simply indescribable.  It feels like flying.

I have not gone body boarding in years.  In fact, to do so would probably result in a performance more worthy of America’s Funniest Home Videos than ESPN.  Another thing I have not done in years is take a vacation to the beach.  In fact, I haven’t been on vacation since Jack was born.  The closest I have come to the coast since his birth is when I go visit my Dad about once a year.

This bothers Brian very little.  Growing up, his family’s travels took them all over the place, thus they never developed the same loyalty to a particular location or setting.  When it comes to the beach, I think Brian could take it or leave it.

This year promises to be no exception to our hiatus from vacationing.  My husband will be going up to visit family up North, but Jack still has a self-imposed travel ban placed upon us as a family.  The logistics of traveling with Jack, from the change in routine to rescheduling all of his therapies to working around ESY to the questions of “How do we get there with our sanity?” to finding food that he’ll eat and a place where he will sleep, it all wears down on us when we even attempt to plan it.

So, what is a family to do?  Or, in reality, what is this mama to do?

The answer came in Jack’s Easter basket this year – an inflatable swimming pool.  Sure, it’s just big enough for Jack and my feet, but it will do, my friends.

Sunday morning was to be a warm day.  A scorcher nearing 88 degrees.  For the end of April/early May, that’s hot.  To kick off what Mother Nature had decided herself to dub as the unofficial start of summer, I cracked the pool out and warmed up my lungs for what would be an exhausting 30 minutes of inflating the thing.

At least I know my lungs are nice and healthy.

We found a sunny place in the backyard and began to fill the pool.  Now Jack loves playing with water, but he’s very anxious when it comes to actually getting in.  That’s okay, because this mama has all the time in the world. Sunscreen in hand and a couple of lawn chairs to set poolside, we headed outside for a day of sunshine and water play.  We stayed out there all day, only coming inside to eat lunch and dinner and to take a nap.  Jack had his usual meltdowns and transitioning problems that seem to come standard with the lack of structure on the weekends these days, but for a few moments out by that pool, as he was watching the water fall back into the pool from his cup, there was nothing but peace and tranquility.

It was blissful.

Jack loved the water.  The introduction of a few bubbles to the party was what it took to finally coax him into the water, but he refused to bend down or do anything to get himself too wet.  You’ve gotta love those sensory issues.

He played and enjoyed watching the water pour from a cup back into the pool over and over again.  Sure it was a stimmy kind-of activity, but he was enjoying a few moments of peace and sunshine.

As was I.

For a few moments, I could almost imagine myself back at the beach.  The sand warming my toes and the waves gently lapping my feet.  The heat of the sun enveloping me.  The feeling of letting go.  Yet, this was better than the beach could be this year, because my boy was there enjoying it with me.

Later in the day, after I had fixed myself a lovely frozen beverage, I flopped my feet into the water and thought about how perfect that moment was.  My little boy seemed to be having a good time.  I was relaxed.  I leaned my head back and decided that the little “resort” I had created would suit me just fine.

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Jeanie is a former engineer turned stay-at-home wife and mom to an amazing 3-year old little boy on the autism spectrum. After her only child was diagnosed at 24-months with autism and an alphabet soup of special needs, she began to write about life parenting a very young child with special needs with honesty, optimism, and as always, a touch of humor. You can find Jeanie at her regular blog, Reinventing Mommy (http://reinventingmommy.blogspot.com/).

Running In The Rain

By Jeanie, Reinventing Mommy

I’ve made some changes over the past couple of weeks. I’m spending more time on my writing, trying to make some things happen.

I’ve also gotten my hair cut, a move that the majority of my family may or may not approve of once they see it. It actually aged me a bit, which is good, because I’m a lot older than I look. And yes, I’m typing that with a smile. I know I’ll appreciate my “baby face” when I’m in my 60s.

It had been a while since my hair was this short, since the days at my 9 to 5. Once Jack was born and throwing up all over me on a daily basis, I figured that no hair cut could hide the vomit stains on my clothes and the sour milk smell that hung heavy in the air around my person.

Ironically enough, I think that Jack is really confused by it. For example, take this exchange from when I picked him up at school yesterday:

Me: “Hi, Jack!”
Jack: No response, no eye contact.
Me: Trying to prompt him – “Jack says, ‘Hi, Mmmm…'”
Jack: “Hi, Ms. (his private OT’s name)!”
Me: “Nope, I’m not Ms. (OT). Try again. Jack says, ‘Hi, Mmmm….'”
Jack: “Hi, Ms. (his preschool teacher’s name)!”
Me: “No, I’m not Ms. (preschool teacher). Jack says, ‘Hi, Mommy!'”

To which Jack looked at me for the first time in this whole exchange, with a look that said, To hell you say! You’re not MY Mommy!
Yeah, that wasn’t my intent by making changes.

Ultimately, I’ve decided that I needed to do some things for me – to make me happy. I need to discover who I am and what I like and want out of my life.

As a means of getting to that goal, I’ve started running again. I used to run when I was younger. Really, my neighborhood is the perfect place to run. It is very hilly around where I live, but my neighborhood sits on a rare oasis of perfectly flat ground. The main street actually loops around the neighborhood, serving almost as a track, if you wish.

I had not gone running since before I got pregnant with Jack, which was in 2008. Once Jack was born, he always had so many needs that it seemed like running was more of a hassle. I thought about getting a treadmill, but they’re just so damned expensive.

That and I far prefer to run outdoors. I like the feeling of the wind on my face. I like the fresh air and the smells of the grass, the various blooms of the season, and the smell of rain as it is coming in.

Much to my neighbors’ confusion, the time you will always see me running is in the rain. I adore running in the rain. As long as there is no thunder and lightning, I don’t let a little thing like precipitation get in my way. I love feeling the rain roll down my skin. I love the slight chill as the wind lashes against my wet skin. I love the solitude, the peace, of the rain. It is so cleansing, as though the rain just washes away all of your cares, your concerns, and your fears.

I can do some of my best thinking in the rain. I basically write out a piece in my head while running. It gives me a chance to really examine myself. What do I like? What do I want? These are questions I’ve never really asked myself, but I feel like I should after all of these years of being so concerned by the answers others would give. Now, I actually am starting to care about what I have to say.

I’m probably happier now than I have been in years…and yes, that’s with an autistic child. He has a long way to go, but he’s made great progress and I feel like we’ve got the right combination of therapies with the right therapists and we will continue to see progress as he continues to work with them in the years to come. I feel confidence in that. I have proven to myself multiple times that I – and I alone – can fight for Jack and make things happen for him. That has been so empowering. I am doing some things just for myself that make me feel good.

You may look at Jack and some of the issues I deal with on a daily basis and feel either sympathy or sadness, but don’t. I’m at a point where autism is just a “normal” part of my life and, even though some days are harder than others, for the most part I just deal with things as they come and make the accommodations I need for him. Sure, it sucks at times when I see what he can’t do (evaluation time comes to mind), but then I remember how far he’s come.

And I helped get him there.

It’s the same with running in the rain. You might look at me out of your window and think, That poor woman! She’s soaked! She must be miserable! However, if you looked at my face, you’d see a smile as I think about how far I’ve come.

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Jeanie is a former engineer turned stay-at-home wife and mom to an amazing 3-year old little boy on the autism spectrum. After her only child was diagnosed at 24-months with autism and an alphabet soup of special needs, she began to write about life parenting a very young child with special needs with honesty, optimism, and as always, a touch of humor. You can find Jeanie at her regular blog, Reinventing Mommy (http://reinventingmommy.blogspot.com/).

This post was originally published HERE and used with permission.

Donning My Mask

by Terri, It’s A Wonderful Life: The Power of One

Okay, I don’t mean to sound like a bragger, but if I’m going to anyway I figured this is the right place to do it! Where to begin? First let me say that I’m sharing this very personal information because I feel like I think many of my hero blogger’s must, that if even one other person can see themselves in this post, and it motivates or encourages them to take better care of themselves or not feel so isolated in their journey, than it is worth it. So here we go…

In November, I decided something in my life needed to change, what could I control, as I was spinning out of control? I decided it was finally time to ask for help, just like Jess at Diary of a Mom talked about in her blog post Avalanche at  http://oxygenmaskproject.com/2012/01/18/avalanche in January.

And let me tell you:

IT IS THE BEST THING I HAVE EVER DONE FOR MYSELF!

(And yes, I want to scream it from the mountain top!) So, here I am on the mountain top, or as close as I can get for today.

I know there are people that think medications are over used, and in some cases they are; but when used appropriately, they can be life changing, if not life saving. I wasn’t sure at first how to ask for help, because I wasn’t really depressed, and I wasn’t really anxious, I was just really, really, really stressed. I figured, “well, there’s no pill for stress so I guess I just have to suck it up” and I did, for a really long time, until finally all that “sucking” started oozing out of every pore of my being, and quite simply I began to suck. I was irritable, agitated with everyone for even the smallest reason, in fact, I had no concept of the “small stuff” not to sweat, because nothing was small to me. I describe it as having no gauge for big or little insults or transgressions. My irritability shifted from once being only aimed at ignorant strangers who were inconsiderate of others, to those that I loved and were my safe harbor; first my husband, and then slowly to my children. I knew that I had a great life, but I certainly wasn’t acting like it. My wonderful husband, whom I am madly in love with summed it up best, when he said in the most loving way possible, “you were always mean to everyone else, but now you’re mean to me too.” That and hearing myself snap at my adorable 2 & 4 year old sons, who were in all honesty just doing their jobs being really good at being 2 & 4, bit by bit I seemed to lose every bit of patience I had prided myself on as having as a really good mom. Yes I have a child with Autism, this is to be expected right? Wrong. Man was I wrong.

Prior to having children I always said, “I’m just a b&*ch, if you don’t like it, you don’t have to be my friend” and trust me, I didn’t have a lot of friends, but my husband always loved me, even though I’m sure he thought I was losing it at times. For me to hear my best friend say I was being mean to him now too, hurt and shocked me into change. I married my husband because I love him more than anything, not because I wanted to have children. I never wanted children to change “us” (spoken like a person who had never been married with children before). And slowly after the last 5 years of having two difficult pregnancies, then infants, toddlers and pre-schoolers, one of them with Autism, “we” had in fact changed because I had changed.

My husband looked at me one night and said “why are you so miserable, aren’t you happy?” I was so sad. I was happy damn it! What was he talking about? I’m just really stressed! Gosh, how COULD YOU ASK ME THAT! Sounds pretty happy, right? OMG, what is wrong with me? Cue, November 2011, asking for help.

I saw a wonderful psychiatrist who said, you know what? You have some type of mood thing, this is NOT JUST WHO YOU ARE, this is not just your personality, you are not just a b*&ch. With proper medication and therapy you can be HAPPY. That is when my life changed.

Fast forward 6 months later. Tuesday, April 10th, sitting in Panera enjoying a sandwich by myself. Lots of therapy has proven to me in fact – I am not just a b*&ch! I had a lot of stress and a biologically based chemical imbalance in my brain. I’m not crazy, I was just unbalanced. Now with the help of an appropriate dose of the SSRI that works for me, and lots of therapy, and the support of the most amazing husband, friend and children, I can honestly say:

I am the happiest I have ever been in my life.

Did you read that? Yes, I am the happiest I have ever been in my life. Those of you who know me, know that means change, true change & commitment to it. I never knew that I could be happier than when I married my best friend, or when I had not one, but two perfect little boys, but guess what? I could, and I am! I am so happy, I want everyone to feel this way. I don’t want anyone to waste another moment stressing over the small stuff that they aren’t even capable of identifying as small. I am excited for the opportunity to have friends, and for people to like me because I’m happy & nice and not overwhelmed by my life. I put my oxygen mask on, and I breathed it in, slowly at first, one small pill, one hour of therapy every Tuesday evening. Then it was as simple as emptying my hot water heater. What do I mean? I took a shower so long that I used all the hot water. When was the last time I did that? Then it snowballed, and every day it got a little easier to take care of myself too.

Every Tuesday evening after therapy I went on a date with myself. I did something just for me. All alone. Can you imagine? I’d go to the bathroom alone, read a book, sit by the fireplace at Panera, browse the dollar aisle at Target, whatever I wanted, all by myself. Since then I’ve graduated, I’m feeling so good, I have such little to report at therapy besides happiness, that I go every three weeks now. But guess what? Every Tuesday night I still go on a date with myself. Occasionally I let someone join me, maybe a new friend. Maybe you, as I sit here typing this. The joy has been contagious, I’ve spread it willingly, lovingly, without resentment; my husband dates himself every Thursday and I’m confident he is happier too because of it.

After 8 years of marriage, and two wonderful sons, I can say with all sincerity that I am the luckiest woman in the world. I am the happiest I have ever been in my life. I feel like my marriage has never been more solid, that I have never been a better wife, friend or mother, and I am a better person for putting on my mask, emptying my water heater and asking for help. I never knew, I never knew, I could be so happy & my sincere hope is that you will be too. See you on Tuesday – I’ll be the one sitting by the fireplace, with the content, satisfied, fulfilled look on my face, I hope you’ll join me.

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Terri can be found at facebook.com/Its.A.Wonderful.Life.ThePowerofOne and says: Because I made the conscious choice to don my oxygen mask first, I am a better wife than ever to my amazing husband & partner, and also mother to my two wonderfully, amazing boys, one of whom has PDD-NOS on the Autism Spectrum.  When I’m not busy during the week running my boys around from school, to school, to therapy and back, I spend my weekends caring for others’ loved ones as a psychiatric nurse.  I am busy, and worn down at times, but I am also happy and determined that I will make a difference, not only in the lives of those that I love, but also for others who need a voice.  I believe in the power of one; one person can make a difference.  This is my attempt to do that…one person at a time.

Strange, isn’t it? Each man’s life touches so many other lives.

When he isn’t around he leaves an awful hole, doesn’t he?

    –It’s a Wonderful Life–

Let’s Go Fly A Kite

by Alysia, Try Defying Gravity

The Mary Poppins Game

I’m going to call this: “The Mary Poppins Game”.

It came to me in the shower this morning.  All my good ideas come to me in the shower.  It’s also where I cry, but I digress…

It has been a very long week here.  My kids were on spring break and although the weather was lovely, we were all just out of sorts.  My kids needed me night and day.  That’s not just an expression this time.  There was not one night this week when all three kids slept through the night in their own beds.  We didn’t do anything very vacation-y either – my husband still had to work and therapy appointments and piano lessons and baseball games went on as planned.

I. Am. Tired.

So, this morning, in the first real shower I’ve had all week, I had this idea.  The Mary Poppins Game.

Let’s pretend that Mary Poppins floated down from the sky at 6am and said “I’m here to take care of your kids for 24 hours.  Go.  Do something for you.”

What would you do?

Now, I know you.  You will say something along the lines of “well, even Mary Poppins couldn’t take care of my kids.  They have very specific needs : feeding tubes and therapy sessions and toileting problems and sleep issues.  And they have soccer games and lacrosse practice and piano lessons and if you don’t cut their sandwich into the perfect four triangles they won’t eat it and for goodness sake don’t let them eat anything with any food dyes or we’ll pay for it for days!”

Did you know that Mary Poppins is an ABA certified occupational therapist/registered nurse/nutritionist/physical education teacher/musician/chauffeur/chef?  She is.

So…

Let’s hear it.

Your perfect day.  From sunrise to sunrise.  Let your imagination run.  You can do anything you want in those 24 hours.

As long as it’s for you.

Tell us all your perfect day here in the comments.  Let us live your day with you.

To get things going (and because it’s my idea) I’ll start:

First, I would go back to bed.  Until I woke up on my own – not by alarm or by crying over the baby monitor.  Next, a long shower when I actually wash my hair.  I’ll put on one of the many Glee episodes that I have on the DVR and watch while I got dressed.  Then, out to the diner for a cup of coffee and Eggs Florentine.  I’ll bring my iPad to catch up on my Draw Something games and order a second cup.  Next, a drive over to the bookstore, belting out a little Adele with the windows down.

I’ll buy a new book and head down to our local beach with a lawn chair.  I would sit in the sun and read.  Maybe I’ll fall asleep.  Nope, I’ll definitely fall asleep.

I know a trip to our local outlet shopping area would be next.  I would actually try clothes on in the store and pick out a new outfit.  Have a chicken salad sandwich on toast and an iced tea.

I’ll return back home and drive over to our town baseball field to watch my oldest play ball.  Yes, this is still for me.  I have yet to see him pitch or stay long enough at a game to cheer him on from the bench.  I want to sit with the other mothers and chat and gossip and jump up and down when my son gets a hit.

I’ll bring him home, tell him how proud I was of him out there, and then take my husband out for dinner.  In my new clothes.

I’ll have a glass of wine.  Or two.

And I’ll smile and laugh and hold his hand.

I’ll get home, actually change into real pajamas (not just passing out in my clothes), and fall asleep without worrying about the pile of laundry in the corner or the dirty dishes in the sink because they would be gone.  I won’t think about which kid will be up in the middle of the night because Mary will take care of it for me.

I’ll sleep peacefully for the first time in ten years.

And I’ll feel like me again.

**********

So?  Who will play The Mary Poppins Game with me?  Tell me what you would do with a whole day just for you?

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Alysia is a stay-at-home mom to three young boys, two with autism spectrum disorder.  She writes about that and other things at her personal blog Try Defying Gravity.  She’s also the managing editor of the SPD Blogger Network, a group blog for parents with children living with sensory processing disorder.  She’s so happy to have found this home here at The Oxygen Mask Project along with her friend Shannon.  (And yes, the idea for The Oxygen Mask Project was also hatched in the shower.)

The Respite Requirement

by Hartley, Hartley’s Life With 3 Boys

I have been a special needs mom now for nearly 10 years. That sounds much more impressive than it is mostly because when my oldest was young, I didn’t believe I was a special needs mom, let alone have the guts to say it. The only thing I really would admit to was that parenting my son was challenging.

Ok not just challenging, but demanding, and unusually exhausting. Which made me feel like an utter failure. I remember having conversations with my husband where I was in tears saying I needed help with everything from the kids to the housework, where I tried to explain how I could be so overwhelmed after a day at home ‘just’ taking care of the kids and running errands. He never understood why I wasn’t giving Mary Poppins a run for her money and reminded me often that it was ME who wanted to be a stay at home mom. He was right  –  I did want to be a SAHM  –  but I never expected it to be so unbelievably hard, and I sure didn’t expect to be so bad at it.

I watched friends and neighbors parent their kids and it seemed like it was effortless for them. Packing up their toddlers and babies and heading to grab lunch with their friends at a restaurant, or heading over to watch the city parade on a whim, or strapping their little ones into a double stroller and hitting the mall to do some shoe shopping. How did they manage that?! Back then I didn’t really understand how incredibly different my life was from theirs. I hadn’t adopted the term ’special needs’ for my boys, or me and I sure didn’t think about respite. Perhaps I was even opposed to it. That somehow my need for a break only confirmed how much I sucked at parenting.

Fast forward a few years, add two more boys to the mix and a handful of diagnostic acronyms, and the picture was a tad clearer: I am a special needs mom.

And with that term came permission for me to acknowledge how much time and energy went into all of the logistics of having a special needs child(ren), not to mention the emotional worry and constant planning for their future that sneaks into your conscious thoughts (alongside the awareness that the future is completely out of your control) and the daily grind of everything from making peanut butter sandwiches with only creamy Jiff, on white bread, with the crusts cut off and cut into four perfect rectangles (or be forced to throw it away and start over) or going through social stories and preparing impromptu visual schedules just to make an unplanned trip to the grocery store. Why wouldn’t I be exhausted? Exhaustion should’ve been a given. Which means respite should’ve been too.

Parenting a child that has special needs requires you to be ‘on’ every day  –  all day. This is not for pansies  –  this is no meet-your-girlfriends-at-the-park-for-coffee type of parenting. This is 100% emotionally, mentally, and physically demanding of everything you have, every minute of every day and it never lets up. Like I said, exhaustion is a given, and respite should be too.

My kids are difficult. Don’t get me wrong, I love my boys and wouldn’t trade them for anything, but the truth is, most days, I need a break. Some time when I am not calling the doctor, or filling out another assessment form, or running to the pharmacy, or planning what to cook, or washing the ‘right’ clothes for morning, or picking up Legos, or whatever. And other days? Other days I think running away to Mexico is a good idea, because maybe they won’t find me and my wine-serving taco truck on the beach and drag me home.

Years ago I felt guilty for wanting a break. Not anymore. I still get exhausted, overwhelmed and worn out because I am parenting in a high-demand, insanely busy world, where my ‘bosses’ are three small boys who could not have higher expectations of me. But now I know Mary Poppins has got nothing on me.

So long as I get my respite time, and lots of it. It is a requirement of my sanity and my ability to perform my job. I have to find time to regroup, unwind, de-stress and generally NOT have to be ‘on’.

And after 10 years of this intense parenting stuff, I have learned that needing respite time doesn’t mean I am bad at parenting, it means I am GOOD at it.

You are too.

This was originally published on the SPD Foundation’s Blog  – head over there are read the other amazing posts from great SPD moms and dads!

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Hartley Steiner lives in the Seattle area with her three sons. She is the award winning author of the SPD Children’s book This is Gabriel Making Sense of School with a 2nd Edition to be released April 2012, and Sensational Journeys (available now at http://www.fhautism.com) as well as the founder of the SPD Blogger Network (www.spdbloggernetwork.com). She is a contributing writer for the SPD Foundation’s blog, S.I. Focus Magazine and Autism Spectrum Quarterly, among dozens of other online websites and blogs. You can find her chronicling the never ending chaos that is her life on the blog Hartley’s Life With 3 Boys (www.hartleysboys.com) and on Twitter as @ParentingSPD. When she isn’t writing, or dealing with a meltdown, she enjoys spending time in the company of other adults preferably with good food and even better wine.

#yearoftheoxygenmask or I Ran Away For The Weekend

by J, Mom To Boy Wonder

Because I can’t take care of the 3 maniacs if I can’t take care of myself.
Because the last 6 months nearly broke me.
Because the years are short but the days are long especially when you are a special needs mama.
Because I have things going on that are difficult that I can’t share just yet.
Because I could, I ran away for the weekend and sat by the pool with my lovely wonderful friend. 
I needed it. I feel like I can draw a deep breath and I’m ready for whatever 2012 is going to throw my way.
2012 is the Year Of The Oxygen Mask Project. Do something for you. I did and it feels really really good.

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Mom to Boy Wonder has 3 small children who range in ages from 2 to 6 years old. Her son was diagnosed with autism at the age of 2. She is returning to school in order to become an advocate for other special needs parents. In November 2011 she ran the ING NYC Marathon in support of Autism Speaks and is already signed up to run again it again this year.  In her spare time, she blogs about life as a self-described Autism Mama, and enjoys reading, learning about wines, traveling, her kids’ nap times and watching television that is not Dora the Explorer. Her deepest belief is that you do not know what you are capable of until you try.

This post originally appeared on her blog HERE and republished with her permission.

Taking A Break

by Di, The Bright Side of Life!

We all know that April is big in the autism community. For us in South Africa, April also means school holidays and long weekends, which makes for a very topsy turvy month! My birthday is in April, although it is a bit of a non event in my house! For my husband, April brings the extra challenge of running the Two Oceans Ultra Marathon in Cape Town.

Funnily enough, my birthday, the marathon and the expiry of my RDI subscription all fall on the same day!

Anyway, for the month of April, I have decided to give myself a birthday present!


I am going to take a break!

Obviously I am not giving myself a break from autism, so to speak! That would be rather silly considering that my child has autism and I certainly can’t ignore him! 🙂

Why am I taking a break?  I am tired, so tired of trying my best, so tired of trying to be Super Mum. I am tired of wearing my sensible big girl undies. I am tired of trying hard to maintain a balance. I admit it, more time and energy is put into my child with special needs than into me or the rest of the family. So, for the month of April I am going to tilt that balance in the opposite direction………

I am also going to give myself permission to NOT FEEL GUILTY if I don’t give my child 100%….. Oops, that sounds a bit far fetched, but I am sure that you catch my drift!

I am not going to think about assignments, interactions and engagement. I am not going to think about following through on the O.T, Physio and SLT homework. In fact, I am going to try really hard not to think about any type of intervention.

If my child wants to eat Spaghetti Bolognaise (loaded with lentils and carrots!) every night during April, well then, so be it! If my boy wants to hop into my bed to watch a bit of TV in the early hours of the morning (not before 6am though!) I think I may join him. 


I am giving myself permission to take a break and not feel guilty about it!

In fact, I am going to be a very chilled mum woman from the first day of April right up until the very last day of April!

I also think that Nick is going to love having a relaxed mum!  I may have a little battle on my hands when May comes around and we commence with the whole routine again! 🙂

Oh yeah, I am also going to Cape Town for a long weekend with the Hubs and Teenager. Can’t let the man run a marathon and not be there to catch him at the finish line. I wish we could take Nick with us; however, there are going to be too many people, too many social functions and too many changes ~ I know that he will be much happier staying at home!


I am giving myself permission to take a break and not feel guilty about it!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY *ME*

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Gidday, I am a kiwi girl living in South Africa. I have one husband and two sons that keep me on my toes – Allan (the bald one!) Thomas, who is a typical teenager (although more of an academic than a party boy!). Nick, the boy who has thrown our life inside and out, up and down…. Nick has autism with co-occurring issues!! All in all, our life to date has been very interesting!!

This post was originally published HERE and used with permission.

I’m Putting On My Oxygen Mask This Year

by Jeannette, Autism Mumma

I don’t know if you are already aware of the “Oxygen Mask Project” and the hashtag #yearoftheoxygenmask?

If not, let me elaborate a bit. It’s a project being run to encourage us all to take a little bit of time out for ourselves, or doing something for ourselves.

Parenting a special needs child is exhausting, I can sometimes spend a whole day running from one thing to other, never actually achieving a great deal but getting through it because the school runs have to be done, the routines need to be kept to and once your children are in bed, that’s when you start thinking about what else needs to be done, and so it goes on.

I’ve had flu this week and I spent the weekend on the sofa, either snuggled up under covers or throwing them off because I was hot or cold and then because Hubbie had to be at work Sunday and football coaching Saturday, it was still me doing the chores, the cooking and everything else albeit at a much slower pace.

It makes you think about just how much of your day is taken up caring for others.

I’ve put on my “oxygen mask” this week and I’m thinking of ways I can take more time for me, or at least enhance the free time that I currently have.

I made time to have a haircut today – nothing radical – but it was “me” time and instead of looking in the mirror and chopping my fringe myself, I let someone else do it.

One of my resolves this year is to stop the childminding from July, this will be a natural end then as one child will leave to start Reception in September – his mother is a school teacher so she has the summer holidays off. I need to think about either something I can do from home during school hours or find a suitable job. Suggestions for the home element would be welcomed please.

I need to make more time for reading – books, blog posts, those weekly magazines that end up at the side of the bed. You can immerse yourself into a well written book and whether you come out of it feeling happy or sad at the end, it’s that time that you’ve taken for you. Reading is so relaxing, I’m so glad my children all enjoy it.

I need to take up those coffee offers when they come in, otherwise they’ll stop.
But at the same time…
I removed a negative element from my life yesterday. The comments, the voicemails dictating what I should not blog about finally got to me. No more.

Little things but they are going to enhance my life and keep me on track.

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I’m a proud mum of three – two sons aged 17 & 9 (C & T) and a daughter aged 7 (D). She has autism, delayed motor skills and enhanced sensory skills. This can make for a “challenging” time but we wouldn’t be without her.

And I’m a wife to one – Hubbie – works very hard to support us and very protective of his family. Supporter of Chelsea FC and a football coach at Saints Hawks (who our middle son plays for).

Two cat sisters – itsey & Bitsey – and 3 guinea pigs – George, Bungle & Zippy. Also childmind during the week.

I’m a learner driver too.

Life is busy but I prefer it that way, less time to stop and think!

This post was originally published HERE and used with permission.

The day I dated myself

by Shona, A Life Less Ordinary

Things in our household have been a bit stressful as of late. I know this because my fuse has been short, my hair has been unwashed, and I walk by the mirror and don’t recognize the face staring back at me. It is at times like these when this little voice in my head tells me I need to take a break. It should be that simple. I should just listen and obey. Take a break. But instead I argue with myself about how I need to be at home and how it isn’t fair to leave my husband to take care of Kendyl by himself.

I make excuses for why I can’t spend the money to go shopping and I don’t need to waste calories on that latte at Starbucks. All the while I am trying to convince myself that I cannot get away, my fuse is getting shorter, my appearance more haggard, and my attitude more negative. This goes on until eventually I have what I consider to be a nervous breakdown…complete with sobbing and binge eating of chocolate. I finally decided that this has to stop.

So as corny as this sounds, I decided to start dating myself. My first date with myself, I took myself out to a movie. Sweet and simple. I figured I wouldn’t have to small talk with myself if I turned out not to be good company. I chose to see a comedy. I bought myself some Twizzlers. I put on make-up. I wore my favorite green sweater and pink scarf. I walked past the mirror on my way out the door and for the first time in a long time, I recognized the face. It wasn’t a bad looking face either. I smiled. A genuine smile. Incredibly, I had a really nice time with myself. I am a pretty good date. I actually enjoyed spending time with me and by the time I got home from my date, I was lighter.

So the next step I decided, was to spend a whole day with me….alone. Now this was a terrifying prospect. What was I going to do all day long without someone to take care of? Someone who needed me? But what I discovered was that I did have someone to take care of and who needed me….me.

I spent the morning at my favorite Yoga studio, I had a leisurely lunch (I actually sat down at the table, as opposed to being huddled over the sink shoving food down my throat). I had that latte (tall skinny peppermint decaf…I still felt guilty about the calories). I saw another movie. I played my guitar and my trumpet. I listened to my favorite music really loud and danced around the house. Before I knew it, the day was done. I did it. A whole day alone. You know what I discovered? Me.

The me I thought died the day the world turned upside down. The me I thought was buried forever under a cycle of grief that I can never seem to get ahead of. The me I thought I had to say good-bye to because I had the mistaken belief that moms of children with special needs must never think of themselves. They must spend 100% of their time, energy, money, and love on their child or they are abandoning them to their disability.

I’m not saying that I should write a book or anything. I’m sure this concept is already in some obscure psychology book somewhere anyway.  But it never dawned on me that I could see myself as someone worthy of being dated.  Now don’t blame my husband for not making me feel worthy. My husband takes me out (when Kendyl is healthy and we can mesh schedules with our babysitter…which happens about once every four or five months). He tells me I’m beautiful, important, worthy of love…He still opens the car door for me after 12 years of marriage. I guess I just never believed it myself. Until the day I took myself to the movies.

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Shona is the ordinary mom to one extraordinary little girl with a very rare chromosomal abnormality. She blogs about grief, loss, and rebuilding life when the one God gives you isn’t the one you expected. When she isn’t blogging, she is chef, chauffeur, therapist, nutritionist, teacher, advocate extraordinaire…and sometimes dabbles in living a life of her own as a yogi, musician, wife, friend, sister, and daughter.

This post was originally published HERE and used with permission.

I Am An Autism Mom and I Am An Alcoholic

by Cheairs Graves, Redefining Typical

Drinking.

Wine.

So beautifully packaged.

Perfect.

Golden.

Pouring you into a cup so that I can breathe.

Waiting for that five o’clock hour so that you can help me.

Shhhh….nobody can know.

It is our little secret.

I will only bring you forth from your bottle when nobody is looking.

When he is with the kids I will sneak to the kitchen and grab you.

I will pour.

Don’t worry I won’t leave you alone for long.

I need you.

You help me.

I deserve you.

My son has autism.

Six letters no mother should ever have to hear.

Six letters that leave me on the cold kitchen floor.

Rocking.

Holding my knees.

Clinching my fists.

Crying.

My back hitting the wall.

And I am alone.

So very alone.

And my sweet boy rolls on the ground.

In a world that I do not know.

And my  precious girl. She needs me. Oh, how she needs me.

And I stand.

I walk to your most sacred place where you are kept.

I take hold of you.

My heart begins to slow because you…..my most beautiful wine…..you will help me.

And I pour you.

I take a sip.

Because you my friend -you help me to stand.

And the one glass of wine to take off the edge….. turns to two.

Two turns to three.

Three to four.

One bottle of wine turns to two bottles of wine.

And I yell at my children.

And when my husband  travels I drink more.

And when he is home I drink more.

Trips to the store to make sure I have enough of you.

Because I can’t do it.

I can’t do it without you.

My sweet, sweet friend.

My wine.

And then I pass out.

Leaving him.

Leaving them.

All alone.

I wake in the middle of the night.

Head pounding.

Face splotchy and red.

I can’t remember conversations with my husband.

My marriage-slipping away.

My daughter’s questions-“What are you drinking mommy?”

And more lies come from my lips as I laugh, “It is mommy juice.”

The planning.

The scheming.

To make sure I have enough of my new best friend.

My  beautiful-fun-wine.

But I am still there.

Curled up on the cold kitchen floor.

Hands around my knees.

Rocking.

And this best friend.

My wine.

This lovely liquid that I chose for my Oxygen Mask.

It is chocking me.

It is killing me.

And I will die.

But I can’t give up my best friend.

I am scared to give her up.

I don’t know how…..

What will I do without her?

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It has been two years and ten months since I have had any alcohol.

It was on bended knee that I started seeing an amazing therapist whose grace, gift, and loving hands have helped guide me on this road of recovery.

It  was with great hope that I went to see my physician who started me on an antidepressant.

It was my husband who held me tight and whispered the words  “I love you. We will get through this.” when I told him that I did not know how to stop drinking.

It is with encouragement of family, friends, and you that I began to share my journey through my blog. To cry the tears in the written word and let others hold them and wipe them away.

I had to let go of that friend.

I had to say good-bye to my most precious wine.

Oh, she still calls my name.

But I won’t go back.

I can’t

Because…..

I can feel the pain.

I can feel the sad.

They won’t crush me.

I am not alone.

I have my husband.

My children.

My writing.

My therapist.

My exercise.

My friends.

My church.

They lift me when I can’t stand.

They hold me when I cry.

They rock with me when the pain feels like too much.

Yes, they are my oxygen mask.

My glorious and wonderful oxygen mask.

And they-yes they- help me to breathe.

Coyright Cheairs Graves March 22, 2012

Photo Credit to Susan Lowe at http://www.sflphotography.com

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Cheairs can be found at Redefining Typical. She writes about her most supportive and gentle spirited husband and their amazing, sweet, and fun-eight year old son Dawson who has autism and their ever moving, energetic, and peace loving six year old typically developing daughter Mae Mae.  She writes about their life: the joy, the sorrow, the triumphs, and everything in the middle. She is forever in the process of Redefining Typical.You can also find Cheairs at her Redefining Typical facebook page.