I want to get back to "Simple"

One of the reasons I left corporate America, moved away from the windy city and embarked this new chapter in a small midwestern town was to simplify.

I had visions of writing in my journal more, playing with the kids outdoors, baking with fresh foods not boxed foods, learning about birds, reading books, scrap booking maybe even making soaps. I know, the soap dream may be a little ambitious, but my approach was to take it easy, slow down, care for myself so that I can care for my children.

It's been 20 months since we have moved. In the beginning, I did slow down. It was like I was on vacation. We rode our bikes everywhere, spent many morning hours at the beach and afternoon hours napping. I managed the home easily with simple lists that I would write up that would remind me which days I needed to dust, clean bathrooms, floors, laundry. For some reason I was able to manage all of my responsibilities and my life was happy.

I am not sure what happened though. At what point did it all go awry? When did I stop making lists? When did the laundry pile up to the ceiling? When did my calendar go from clean white boxes to scribbles, arrows and abbreviations that I can't recall and people's birthdays that I still forget to acknowledge? When did I go from feeling like my feet were strong to feeling weak in the knees and a strong desire to sleep in even though my children wake with the sun? Why do I make plans to do all these wonderful activities then dread the days and minutes leading up to them and then resent the moments following each appointment?

It all started last night, my realization that this wasn't the life I signed up for. Perhaps this isn't my first ah-ha moment at realizing the dysfunctions in my life and it certainly will not be my final epiphany either. Sienna, my first grader's spring break started this week. Feeling like there is nothing that my daughter enjoys other than her devotion to her Nintendo DS, I made the decision to do something special with her in hopes to draw her attention away from her DS. We were going on a date, a mom and daughter date. We would get our nails done then go out to dinner together, just she and me.

When I mentioned my idea to her, at first, she became angry. Why? I don't know. I have no idea. So, I just dropped the idea and decided that we would just stay at home - again! Oh well, after all, I have mounds of laundry to tend to.

Then, later in the afternoon, she walked up to me, hugged me and asked if we were going on our date. I said sure! I wanted to grab my keys and leave at that instant, happily wanting to bond with my little girl. We waiting for my husband to get home and the second he pulled in the drive, off we went. I realize that Sienna gets stirred up if I talk too much, and when I am excited, I tend to chatter on and on, so on the drive, I tried to distant myself from her and listen to the radio softly. The sun was glowing and the spring birds were dancing circles around our van as we drove past the fields on a country road into town. Not sure what happened in the back seat, but for some reason, Sienna instantly became demanding and had her angry eyes on. We had a heart to heart and then she said she was grumpy but didn't know why. That seems to be a running theme in her life these days. Mine too.

We pulled up to the nail salon, she walked up to the window, smashing her face into the window. I opened the door for her, warned her that the smells would be strong and then tried to distract her by asking her what color she was going to pick for her nails. She instantly told me she had changed her mind and decided that she DID want a pedicure too. Originally she was afraid of sticking her "feet in boiling hot water." But, when she spotted the fancy leather chairs and colored glass foot tubs, she experienced the powerful temptation of a glorious pedicure. A temptation that will revisit her as she continues her life journey past adolescence and into womanhood. She selected glittery polishes. I selected a basic dark rose color. We both sat in the chairs, quietly smiling and enjoying the sights, sounds, smells and the vibrations coming from our massage chairs. As we sat comfortably on our pedicure thrones, the asian ladies doing our toes just kept giggling at my daughter's expressions. It was one of those motherhood moments that was priceless to share with anyone who witnessed it.

Almost two hours of pampering, and $80 later, we slipped on our shoes and coats and headed to Pizza Hut where we would enjoy a free pizza Sienna earned from her Book It Reading program. As we were waiting for a table, there was a group of young girls also waiting for a table. They were a group of fifth graders we recognized from her school. It isn't like she flinched when she saw them, but she did change her demeanor in a flash. She started talking like a baby, tried sitting in the high chair that was next to us. She jumped up and down, she pulled on me and in trying to help her I compassionately told her that I understood that she was nervous. I suggested she stand like a lady who just had her nails done and be proud and happy to be on a girls night out with her mom. But, she couldn't hear a word I said because she would jet out her jaw and pout out her lips and whine like she was a toddler not getting her way. I asked her if we should just leave and she shook her head saying "no no no no no no!" as if she was having a panic attack or a nightmare. In hindsight, I realize I should have left at this point.

But, the hostess redirected us, handed her some crayons and walked us to our table. My daughter insisted that I sit with her on her side of the booth. I agreed and at first we enjoyed playing some of the games on the back of the paper placemat. Then, the group of girls walked by our table and were seated close to us. Sienna instantly jetted her jaw out again and speak in baby language, while banging her crayons. Again, I warned her to act appropriately or else we would need to leave the restaurant.

Was I too hard on her? At what point do you allow your children to be just children, faulty and quirky and when do you do what ever you can to help them to conform in attempt to help them?

She shut down. She tried melting down to the floor, I sternly told her to sit up, bottom on the seat, feet on the floor. She obeyed but still managed laying down on the booth seat. I decided to move to the other side of the booth, sitting across from her. She acted like I rejected her and went into full vicim mode on the verge of a tearful pout.

This was a familiar experience I used to have with my own mother. I was still playing the mother role then, and she would act out like Sienna. So many scenes were caused with her. Too many public embarrassment moments to mention or even to remember. I do recall the big ones, like at my highschool play, my graduations both from high school and college, my wedding, my pregnancy and delivery with my first born... When I was a child, I was the mother to my mother.

She would give the same looks to me when I would try to set boundaries with her. Such a life that I am more than willing to leave in the past yet still creeps up when I least expect it and least need to be reminded of it.

Anyhow, the pizza arrived and I found myself catching the stares of the people around us. Trying to not accept their judgements, although they did consume me in the moment and I felt as though I was an overstrict mean, terrible mother, not allowing my child to just be a child from some glares from fellow diners. From the other glares, I felt the conviction of not being strict enough and allowing my child of getting away with poor behavior. Public opinion on my parenting is a never ending never winning jury so I decided to take a recess, box up the pizza, tip the waitress and put my daughter's coat on her since she was unable to do it herself - at age seven. As she barked and made mild puppy noises, we exited from the restaurant and were safe from a possible scene, or did we make a scene? I can never tell anymore. The lines are fuzzy. All I know is that when the door closed behind us, the experience was also behind us. Finally. A nice moment to be shared between a mother and daughter in hopes of laughter and bonding, was now turned into an experience that finally had passed. Whew! Regretfully, whew.

We walked in the cool evening to the car, both glad for the change of scenery. Our happy toes and fingers smiling at us with each step. As we approached the van, I reached for my keys awkwardly with my left hand into my right pocket so that with my right hand I could hold on to the moment of holding Sienna's soft, tender hand. She hopped into the van and we both cheerfully buckled up. As we drove home, I told Sienna, "Thanks for going out on a date with me. I had so much fun with you!"

She replied, "Mom? Are we home yet?"

Whoa! Not expecting that tone of disrespect, I thought I would take a deep breath and use this moment as a teachable time. I told her, "If someone tells you that they had a nice time with you and then they even thank you for the time that you shared with them, you could say, "Thanks," or "Shucks, I had a good time with you too" but you don't change the subject with an angry tone. That is rude. Do you understand what I just said?"

With rolling eyes, Sienna replied a hasty "Shucks... Are we home yet?"

"Sienna, I loved spending the evening with you so much. But when you are rude like you are being right now, do you think that will make me want to plan something special like this again?"

She replied, "I said shucks, just like you told me to say." Why did I feel like I did something wrong? What just happened, I thought...

Then, she cried and screamed from the back seat of the van, "I was looking forward to this day for a long time and you ruined it for me. You made me so sad." Where did this drama come from? What is happening here?

Thankfully, we were pulling in our driveway. I opened the garage door, walked inside the house. I felt a familiar confusion, a resentment that a mom is not supposed to feel towards her beautiful little girl. I needed time to process it all. After my husband tucked her into bed, and he and I started talking about the evening, guess what the first thing my husband asked me?

"A two hour manicure and pedicure? How much did that cost?"

I used to get manis and pedis at least once a month at a spa. I used feel so lost in the mounds of confusion not to mention laundry. My life used to be more predictable, goal setting and achieving, rewarding. I used to just be a girl who fought a lot with her mother. I had stresses with being a woman in corporate America. Now, my mom has passed away. And now, my daughter has Aspergers, ADHD and Mood Disorders. I don't understand how to be a good mom to her. I fail so many times at my new role as a house wife. I fail at caring for myself like I want, like I need.

I take it a day at a time. I manage what I got. I cope through writing. Thanks for reading this long narrative.

My life as a parent is like swimming in scalding hot waters, then sometimes freezing waters. I don't even know how to detect the temperatures any more. I don't even try. At times, I even forget how to swim. At those moments, I quit kicking and I cry out to God, "Calm these waters Lord. Help me to endure. I'd ask you to help me to swim, but I would rather you just let me float right now. I am weary, wasted, wet with worry and the waters are too much for me." I glance at my earlier phases of life, I had a great suit, good form, I swam even labs, took even breaths, I was swimming and swimming. I just kept going without knowing where. Now, here I am. How did I get here? What is all this laundry doing in this water?

Entering a New Chapter of Motherhood

Yesterday, as the school psychologist left my home after reviewing Sarah's assessment with me, I realized that I was entering into a new chapter of motherhood.

My youngest daughter, Sarah will be turning three in March and will be phasing out of the 0 - 3 program that is government funded and has been providing therapy in our home two times a week. When a child turns three, there is a transition process that takes place so that another government funded agency can give proper services and therapy for the child to prepare him or her for school. And, after several hours of testing spread out into several sessions throughout the past couple of weeks, the 'professionals' have reported that my daughter will not be eligible for any services.

With one side of my heart I am relieved! I am thankful to know that we no longer need to have our weekly schedule spent doing therapy. I am also grateful that my daughter tested 'Superior' in language and cognitive skills. I mean, I should be proud, right? However, my concerns are honed in that along with those high results, she tested borderline and very low in social and emotional development. She also struggles with sensory issues as reported by the Occupational Therapist. This report only reiterates my original concerns for my child as I have lived this chapter of parenting several years ago with my oldest daughter, now age seven. My seven year old has Aspergers Syndrome, although, we didn't know that at the time. In fact, we just are learning about it as I key this post in.

Asperger Syndrome is such a tricky disorder that has taxed me as a mother. It has changed my life in ways that I could have never imagined. It has given me a mix of challenges and blessings. And, as I am still learning parent strategies to get through each day and learning to restructure my dreams for my oldest child's future, I now am seeing that both my daughters may be walking in the similar paths.

Life is all about choices. We chose what we will believe, how we will live and who we will be. Although I am tempted to chose to be a victim, befuddled, judged and in daily grief, I chose another window to look out from. I admit that there are days when I do glance from the darkened viewpoint and I am overrun with tears and isolation. I do let myself have healthy pity parties from time to time, I mean after all, it's only fair! I am hoping that the pity parties will occur less and less as I grow into my new role as a mother to children on the autism spectrum.

And, as I watch the psychologist leave my home on a Tuesday morning in February, I am thankful that I am able to process and condense my thoughts long enough to realize what are my challenges. And, I come up with a new mantra as I enter into a new chapter of motherhood:

I will accept the quirks of my children and the ignorance of others and find healthy coping strategies while maintaining an eternal vision.

More about this mantra in future posts...

ADHD Support

WANTED: Mothering Advice for Raising My Child with ADHD


I have a lot of mixed emotions lately about my parenting skills. I have a daughter, age 7. She has been diagnosed with PDD-NOS which is on the autism spectrum. I have done a lot of research, read a lot of books and been involved with a lot of support groups on this matter. During her last assessment, the doctor advised me to not focus on the PDD-NOS as much anymore because she wasn't exhibiting the problems that tend to follow that disorder as much as she was with the ADHD and Mood Disorders. She suggested that I get more informed on those subjects. That appointment was about 8 months ago and I haven't really done much since then as I am still trying to sort it all out!

Lately, I have been feeling very confused about being a mom. I don't feel like I got the memo that was passed out, or maybe my What to Expect books didn't come with the right chapters. I see other moms who seem so natural at raising their children. I am very hard on myself because I am educated, empathetic and feel like I have tried and given so much to my family. Yet, as much as I give, nothing seems to satisfy my family's needs.

It was during this past weekend, our pediatrician advised that we increase my daughter's medication dosage. So, we did. I am also on the same medication and need an increased dosage. We both started the medication, Vyvanse last fall. We were prescribed the lowest dosage for our weight. When we first started on it, we noticed results. But, after about three months, I realize that we need more. I hope this isn't an ongoing tolerance issue to a prescription drug, but that isn't the point of my post here, so allow me to get back on topic... Also, I have learned recently that I have also struggled with ADHD my entire life, yet it wasn't until recently in discovering my daughter's deficits that I also had ADHD. Another post for another day!

Last night, after realizing how exhausted I was from the multiple prompts that were needed to get my daughter to do a simple task like brush her teeth or get out of the tub, I realized that I needed some help. at her. Now, if you have been reading my blog, you know that I have been working oI am thinking of looking into a parent support group for ADHD or something like that.

I have talked with my daughter and have told her that we need to work together to come up with ways for her to listen and obey me so that I don't have to yell. If you have been reading my blog, you will know that I have been Scream-Free for a few months now. I am proud of myself in this accomplishment. However, I feel like my daughter will only hear me if I scream at her. And, I do NOT want to do that. I want guide her. I want her to flourish.

Can I still guide her without having to yell? Will she be able to flourish and not feel like she is broken or disabled, unable to help herself without the use of medication or being yelled at?

I really am reaching out here. I strive to be a good mommy to her, and to my youngest, who by the way in the midst of being potty trained. Wow! Talk about will power for a mom. I am rewarding her with 3 M&Ms every 30 minutes she keeps her training pants dry... Today is day 7! I will be so proud of her once we accomplish the potty scene. Moreover, I will be proud of myself. I need something to make me feel accomplished these days. I miss my professional rewards big time. Wow, I really digress. Now, I must go, it appears there has been pee spotted, but, it is NOT in the potty, only on the carpet. Must go...

A Scream-Free Home: Day 14

During my last therapy session two weeks ago, my counselor encouraged me to stop yelling at my kids. Reluctantly, I agreed to his challenge, with the help of some parenting strategies he suggested.

Please don't judge me, I was raised by a screaming mother and it seems that my yelling is as natural as breathing. Add on to my daughter's lack of attention and sensory issues, it is very difficult for her to pay attention and follow my instructions. After a gentle approach of a calm request like, "Sienna, come to the dinner table." She ignores me. Repeat this process three times and I default to screaming. I don't like to scream, although at times I admit it is a release of my frustration and the success factor is pretty good. Screaming is the only way I have been able to get any type of reaction from her. It is like it startles her out of a gaze and she finally does what was requested, instantly - out of fear.

It has been two weeks though since I have talked to my daughter about not screaming at her any more. She seemed glad, of course and so far, I have been doing a pretty good job.

What has helped me to do this new sans-screaming method? Here is a short list of the reasons I think my screaming has left the building. Perhaps they will be tips that may help you too!

1. Pediatrician put my daughter on medication for her ADHD. I saw instant results in her behavior! Since I have always wondered if I might also have ADHD, perhaps medication could also help me?
2. Doctor put me on medication. From the first day I started taking it, I felt like my thoughts were stronger, almost like they were being funneled together. I felt like I had some self control and I felt more confident like I could take on a new approach to parenting.
3. I went on a sugar-free diet. To read more about my post on my new diet, click here. No more extreme blood sugar highs and lows. I didn't do this solely for the self-control to stop screaming, however it has been an added benefit to my parenting technique!
4. I started taking a first aid kit in my purse at all times. It consisted of gum, Band-Aids, baby asprin and Tums. This helps when my daughter "freaks-out" over small boo-boos. From my perspective, her teeny tiny scratches are no big deal, somewhat ridiculous and her over reaction to them used to make me so upset. Once I realized that they were huge anxiety triggers for my daughter, I learned that these first aid items could calm her.
5. No more PDO's (Public Display Outbursts)! One thing that really caused a fire of rage in me was when she would throw a tantrum in public. I would hold it all inside and as soon as we were in private, I would scream and yell. I am now trying a new approach. As soon as I see she is starting to rev up for a tantrum, I remove her from the public eye. We go out side, in a hallway or into our van. This is supposed to dismantle her power and give the parent more control. So far, we haven't had to use this technique. But just knowing about the strategy gives me confidence that I will use it when the time comes.
5.1 I am learning to put zero value on public opinion. Also, one of the most difficult obstacles for me to overcome in parenting my children on the spectrum is to let go of the public opinion! I have lived a life of thinking about what others think of me. God helped me overcome this worry by allowing me to experience children on the autism spectrum. I am letting go of that worry. It takes a lot of energy that I just don't have any more! Again, don't judge me. But, if you choose to judge, then, oh well. Your judgement doesn't bother me as much as it used to!
6. Stop talking about it over and over. Just do it! Instead of telling her, nagging at her to clean her room over and over again. I just started to silently take her toys away that she was not taking care of. One evening, I had a large bag overflowing with her toys. She asked me what the bag was for. I replied that I was removing them from her room because she wasn't taking care of them. I told her that I was thinking about giving them to the thrift store so that some other child could play with them. I also spent four hours one day cleaning, organizing and purging her room for her. More about organizing an Aspie's bedroom in a later post...
7. Let her be late for school and face the consequences. She's gifted and in the first grade. She is able to get dressed, eat and leave for school on time. I shouldn't have to remind her over and over of what she needs to be doing minute by minute of every morning. I have made her morning charts zillions of times. Sometimes they work but most of the time she loses the charts and relies on my nagging and screaming to get her to school on time. But, by nagging at her every morning, I have become a mute nuisance to her ears. Realizing my growing level of frustration, I have relinquished the morning drill-sergeant role. I remind her gently from time to time throughout the morning now, but overall she knows that I will not get stressed out any more about if she is late. The other day, she tested this new approach and decided to hide under the couch. I finished making her lunch, walked by her telling her I was going upstairs to get dressed so I could walk her into the principal's office. When I came downstairs, in stealth mode, I pulled her from out from the couch, put her coat on and walked her across the street to school. We then walked into the principal's office and I told her to tell him why she was late. And that was that. No screaming. No mommie-dearest! She was tardy, she will learn not be tardy.

These strategies have helped me so much so far! Overall I realize that parenting is a work in progress. I am taking monumental steps in the right direction. There are sometimes when I slip and I start to scream. And then, I say aloud, "NO! I AM NOT GOING TO SCREAM ANYMORE!" I breathe deeply. I recall my new strategies and move forward, quietly and calmly. Slowly I am realizing that I have overcome a lot. I have broken the cycle from the past of screaming and I hope to have a home filled with peace, love and understanding. I have a hope that despite the way I was raised and despite the challenges that autism, ADHD and other sensory issues bring to a family, that I can still have a home of peace.

How about you? Do you scream at your kids? What are your triggers? How do you cope? Or, have you lost hope and just settle on being a Mommie Dearest?

Two Bags and Now I'm Nurse Hag!

This week has been charred with a few out of body experiences. Can you relate with those stressful times in your life when the room fades into surreal and all you can hear is your heart pounding. It is like you can only understand because you are watching the scene from the outside - kind of like you are sitting in your own living room watching the stressful moment of your own life unfold on a TV screen. You can barely concentrate on what others are saying to you because you are just trying to absorb the tears that are swelling up in your eyes. You know that if the tear falls onto your cheek, it will give you permission to let the floodgates pour.

That is what it was like for me as my very own drama aired two times and both incidents happened to be from a doctor's office.

The first scene I watched was of my darling husband, Fred. He was sitting in a pre-op room with his blue bonnet, booties and hospital gown. His eyes looked at me like a scared little boy as the IV cord dangled from his strong forearm. I tried to listen and not fall apart as the nurse had him sign all sorts of paperwork basically starting with, "In case something should happen..."

I couldn't imagine something happening to my husband. From the 15 years we have been together, he has practically never even been sick! I on the other hand, get sick each month with PMS and also am plagued with migraines periodically, not to mention my inability to manage stress appropriately so I physically can feel every bump in the road on my life's journey. Oh, and I occasionally am a hypercondriac too! Most of the time when I am starting to feel a little edgy, my husband is helpful. He takes care of the kids and gives me my space. He also encourages me to take the time for self care so that I don't get too uptight emotionally and physically. Yes, my husband is a pretty great blue ribbon guy. There are times when I feel guilty leaving him with the kids to get bathed and ready for bed while I go out for a jog or a walk with a friend. But then he gives me unlimited stack of "Get Out of Guilt-Free Cards" and let's me go on my own way. He understands how I tick and I am so grateful for him.

To sit in the visitor seat and watch my strong husband have to be the patient was so difficult for me. I wanted to be strong, stable and spoil him into recovery as soon as his urological surgery was finished. And, within a couple of hours, he was ready for me to pull the car around as the nurse helped him walk to the passenger seat. He was holding two bags, one with his extra clothes that I sent along with him and another bag for his catheter that he would become very close with for the next few days.

Although he was on some 'mechanical-strength' pain killer, he was extra sensitive to every bump on the very long drive home. About two hours and 2,000 bumps later we arrived home, he went straight up to bed. He slept for about four days. I would prepare his meals and take them on a silver tray up to him in bed. I would also make sure I was there with him as he'd stumble to the bathroom to empty his bag filled with yellow liquid. Along with playing nurse, I knew that one of his "love languages" was the act of doing things for him. And, I knew that he appreciated a tidy house so I tried my hardest to keep the house in order.

The more I tried to stay on top of the cleaning, the cooking the serving, the more impatient I grew. I admittedly was enjoying caring for him and the house and family but I was so used to Fred taking care of a lot of the chores like the garbage and sharing with the laundry and dishes and cooking. To not have him around was like having one of my arms cut off. As hard as I tried to keep it all together, my nerves were frazzled like Bob Marley's dreadlocks in an electric socket. I couldn't control my temper!

So, how do other wives handle this stress? I was out of control. All I could do is yell and scream at everyone around me. I am so ashamed on how I lashed out on everyone. I had no time for reprieve. I was lacking in sleep and self care and my darling husband and two sweet daughters who are also high maintenance got the best of me by 7:00 a.m. and after that, they all got the worst of me each day for four days.

Who did I become? Where was the person I wanted to be? I didn't sign up for this trashy unraveled tantrum tizzy I had turned into. I was starting to think I was more like my bipolar mother. The more I would try to control and manage my stress, the more stressed out I would get and lash out. I also realized that my daughter Sienna, who is also diagnosed with bipolar along with ADHD and PDD-NOS struggles with similar inter-personal conflict herself. It is times like these when I can better understand her. I always tell her, "You have choices to make Sienna. You can choose to throw those fits and deal with the consequences, or you can walk away, count to ten, do something that will help you relax... BLAH BLAH BLAH."

If someone were to confront ME during these past four days and lecture me like that. I would have told them to go away and COUNT MY FRICKIN ACE! (my frickin ace is a fancy word for my gosh darn behind!) And I would have probably growled at them or thrown something at them. Who knows? No one would have dared lectured me this past week. I was like a shark who just sensed blood and was ready to attack, like Bruce the Great White shark in Finding Nemo. He really wanted to overcome his addiction to eating fish but he just couldn't help being who he was. Interesting discovery... hmmm.... (I just realized this discovery through my blog writing. This helps me to accept my daughter more and more! I struggle with this sometimes. I want to change her make her conform too much of the time.)

Today is Monday. My husband is finally on his feet and back to work. He still has the catheter in but I think I am feeling a little more myself and less Nurse Cratchett.

Throughout all of this chaos, my toddler daughter has been getting over a flu with lots of green river snot to wipe and dirty diarrhea diapers to change. Good times.

The other out of body experience that I discovered as the drama unfolded in the doctor's office was about my six year old daughter. I will share in tomorrow's post...

"School" of Thought

I had a quick meeting scheduled yesterday at 3:05 with Sienna's teacher to talk about the tasks I needed to help with on Thursday afternoons when I volunteer in Sienna's class. So what that meant is that I would wait until Sienna rode her bike home and then we would just cross the street together and head over to Mrs. Banna's class.

But, Sienna didn't know we had this meeting scheduled. And she obviously didn't want to go so she tried pulling her retaliating, stubborn, "I'm not going and you can't make me" routine. After trying to negotiate, I did the 1-2-3 and then picked her up and carried her across the street. I put her down, she froze in place. Sarah, obediently walked along with me, we would both take a couple of steps, look behind us and then do the whole negotiate-1-2-3-pick-up to cross the school drop off drive way. I think I had to do the routine one more time before we were on the sidewalk safe haven. 

There were about 20 random kids and adults lingering around the front doors. All eyes were on us. I felt so judged and ridiculous. I was so angry at Sienna. Frankly, if it wasn't Sienna throwing a fit though, it probably would have been Sarah. It is just a little less publicly humiliating carrying a two year old than an almost seven year old. As we approached the front doors, the aid who normally holds the doors open for the kids both before and after school stood there whispering to another aid who has made inappropriate comments, although possibly misunderstood I have now come to realize. I saw them in one another's ears and more rage filled in me although all I could do was squat to keep Sarah's attention focused on just walking in the doors. She is so distracted by so much. It is a full time job getting eye leveled and helping her to move forward, both in day to day activities and development issues. 

I am hoping that Sienna is following us not caring if she stews or not. "Please do not make a scene today please do not make a scene today," the thoughts were telling one another in my mind not realizing that we already had put on the public show and entertainment just a few minutes earlier. Must have been in denial.

Then, one of the aids leans towards me to say something that soothed my soul better than chocolate on a rainy day. It was as if I were entering into the pearly gates and John, Peter, Paul or Gabriel or whoever that guy is who is apparently standing at the gates of heaven leans over to me and says, "We feel so sorry for you. We don't know how you do it!"

WHAT? I thought those aids were the biggest judges of all of the school personnel towards me! They are the reason I detest going to that school. They represent the entire school to me, the same 'school' who doesn't see anything wrong with my child and who claim it is all poor parenting. These words were like music engraved on my heart. I think I might have even flinched and said something like, "Seriously? I thought... well, I didn't think you liked me." Lame, I know. 

And, a tear welled up in my eye. I wanted to hug them and take refuge in that moment. I pulled it together as soon as I saw the vice principal. I didn't want him to see me teary eyed. I had to look like I was in control, somewhat professional.

It was a blessing. Encouragement. It was exactly what I needed, just some support and understanding. I wish I had more encounters like that to report!

Feeling like Dirt on a piece of ^%@%!

So, last week at my therapist's I told him that I was thinking of ending my therapy sessions for the time being. There are times when you need therapy - REALLY NEED therapy and then there are other times that I consider therapy a mere luxury. And, frankly, I'd rather get a pedicure.

But my therapist suggested that I pencil something in and see how my month goes. My husband who is naturally tight with money also agreed that I continue to go. Good suggestion! How did I know that I would have caught a pretty bad case of the blues over the weekend?

We took an overnight trip to visit my family. And, on the way home, like almost every trip before, I left with an extra huge suitcase filled with disappointment.

Usually on the drive home, I can cry it off or sleep it off or eat junk food to purge the pain but this visit was different. I'm still swimming in the muck today.

It was all too much for me to bear. One thing I have realized raising two daughters on the spectrum is that I need to surround myself only around supportive people. I do not feel very supportive or accepted by my family. I am not even sure I should be calling them family right now. I am just a step-child really and all that they have given me in my life has been part of a consolation offering. Since my folks divorced when I was two, I have really not been worthy for anything more from a real family.

I actually have matured and forgiven a lot throughout the years. In fact, I believe I have always tried to take the high road. Despite my struggles as a teen and my flirtations with the party scene, I have always tried to gain the attention and approval of my family members. I can remember telling my dad how grateful I was that he was my day and what a good man I thought he was for staying in touch with me after he left my mother.

Um... HELLO? What a low self image of myself that I didn't have the innate knowledge that as my father, he is supposed to not only 'stay in touch with me' in fact, he should have stayed with my mom and dealt with her mental health issues. At age two, I should have not been left alone with her to take care of her for the next 30 years or so while he went along to get himself a new wife and home and family and live happily ever after. (More on this in later posts. I actually love my step-mom and consider her a blessing to my life. I am just sorting out some junk right now so things have to get messy until I get reorganized!)

As we get the van loaded and I try to round up my two free spirited too wound-up daughters whose issues still aren't completely understood by the extended family yet, I notice my dad putting oil in his car, my step mom cleaning the inside of the windows of his car and her father or, "Pappaw" as everyone calls him put white touchup paint on the exterior. I thought what strange timing to be cleaning Dad's car. I wish I had time to do that to our car. Better yet, wish they could move their assembly line over to our van! We have Cheerios and hand prints on the windows that have been there for years!

Then, I realized, they are GIVING my 30 year old brother their car. I also caught a glimpse of them giving my brother $100 for gas money while he picked through all of my dad's watches and neckties. My dad asked him, "When do you get paid next?" He is a corporate attorney in Chicago... HELLO? Does anyone realize how charmed a life he has? Does anyone realize that I, my family really are the ones in NEED gas money? Oh. How I am not feeling the love!

Now that my dad is handicapped, he can't drive and he won't be needing all his fancy clothes and jewelry. I wonder if he throws in his Rolex, I mean, why not? My brother could use it! He definitely needs a Rolex in fact. Why not? He's earned it. He's worked his way up the easy trail of Moochville and is entitled to the Rolex by now. They already have helped him through college, then straight into business school for his MBA and then immediately into law school. He hasn't had to work a day in his life. He has worked, but he really hasn't HAD to work because my parents, or I guess, HIS parents pay for his everything. And, he hasn't gone without much. He frequents the White Sox ballgames at about $80 a ticket, he wears Versace shades and suits, North Face jackets and drives a Maxima and he has always lived in the chic parts of Chicago. He lives a lifestyle like he is a day trader or a drug dealer. And, I think about how he treats my parents - I mean HIS parents. I can't even type it in now because I am so emotional about it. It isn't like he is cruel or abusive towards them, it just seems that he takes and takes and never seems appreciative or willing to give back. He doesn't even buy anyone gifts. Oh, well, he did give my daughters some stuffed animals for Christmas last year. My step mom DROVE him to the mall, helped pick out the gifts, paid for them and then wrapped them for him. Then, she bragged about how he is such a great uncle getting the girls such cute gifts. BARF. He gives birthday cards, sometimes six weeks late. And, when he does give one of his stupid not-very-funny cards, my parents, I mean HIS parents always laugh their heads off and say, "Isn't that so thoughtful?" Double BARF BARF.

I was an A or B student throughout high school. I wanted to go to college but they said I needed to figure out what I wanted to be. Even though Pappaw was the school's guidance counselor, didn't they know that most kids who go to college figure all the out later? The real reason they didn't want me to go to college was because when I was two, the divorce attorney told my dad he had to pay for college for me. My mom told him that she'd hope I'd want to go to Harvard. So, well if they don't encourage me to go to college, they win. Well, I did end up going to college, four years after high school and they paid for it until I was able to get financial aid and scholarships at age 23. I thought all this resentment was washed away in the 'Bye-Gone" file of my mind. I thought I had forgiven them for this. Why am I wasting my precious energy thinking about it and typing about it? To use my daughter's boo-boo analogy, it is still a wound. I thought it was healed but the bone and marrow is still weak that without the proper care, it can still break.

So, here I sit wounded. And, I am reminded that in my family, I am as important as dirt on a piece of shit. I apologize for the swearing. I really try not to do that but I just know no other analogy to describe how demeaned I feel right now. I don't understand how I could have had such a difficult upbringing and now have children who are so challenging. I don't have the proper skills or support from family to manage all of it! My in-laws who only live 15 minutes away are worse. But, another post for another day.

And no matter how hard I try to 'grin and bear' it, I feel so rejected, so misunderstood, so sad and angry. I don't think it is physically possible for me to take this on. I am going to have to call my doctor and get on medication today. I hate that because it is just more money to spend and I haven't been able to find medication that doesn't make me sweat like a pig. I might try to just hold my head up, put a smile on and go about the day running errands as usual. I am putting this personal conflict on a blog shelf for now...

Why don't they love me just the way I am? I love my girls just the way they are.

8 Things I have learned on Jon and Kate + 8

One of my favorite shows is Jon and Kate + 8. I enjoy the personalities of Jon and Kate and their little children. I cry and laugh, but most of all, I learn a lot from it. And, being a mom to two children on the autism spectrum, I need all the encouragement and parent tips I can get!

Here are the top eight things the Gosselins have taught me:

1. Free tummy tucks do come true.

2. If Kate can take 8 kids to a boutique to paint pottery, then maybe I can take my 2 kids too.

3. There is a family out there with more shoes that we have.

4. Monkey Bread is reserved for Christmas mornings only.

5. Each child needs his or her own special day alone with the parents every year.

6. Having the kids sweep after dinner "may only pick up a couple of crumbs, but that is still better than no crumbs."

7. No matter how much I want more kids, seeing the clip of Kate's pregnant stomach is the best type of birth control ever!

8. You can still be a cool mom like Kate and not feed your kids SunnyDelight and fruit snacks.