Changes ahead

When I began this blog, it was a way to let distant family read cute stories about the boys--things that were worth sharing, but not really something you would take the time to call four or five people (or more!) and tell them about. But the internet is forever, and with the boys' recent diagnoses, the blog has become much more personal--and has information that a teenage boy may not want a classmate to be able to google and find. So I'm going to make some changes to the blog. Nothing (I don't think) will be deleted, but I will be systematically removing the boys' names from the posts. I will also be creating a new blog soon. Actually, I've already created it, I just haven't quite organized exactly how it's going to be differentiated from this one. My brain isn't working as well as I'd like :D

I think, though, that this blog will continue to be focused on the boys and stories about them, and the other will be focused more on their triumphs and struggles, as well as ours. Right now, it's hard to think clearly, and everything is still a little shaky in my head. But these things I know for sure:

1. My boys are more than their diagnoses. There is no way a label or a test or a piece of paper can explain who they are, any more than saying they are blondes would define them. Their respective diagnoses are what they have, not who they are. And they are descriptors, NOT excuses.
2. I love my boys, and I will move heaven and earth to help them reach their full potential.
3. I may not be the mom they need. I am the mom they HAVE, and I will work towards becoming the mom they need. (Thanks again, Tabitha, for this life lesson. Even if you don't remember it :D )

So, there are changes ahead. Massive changes. But the changes for the blog should be minor :D

To Kahlil Joseph

Too many years ago to count, I acted in a show you directed. I pulled from the depths of my soul to give you everything I had to bring your character to life. And the notes you gave after the performance, while Cindy and I were sobbing in exhaustion in each others' arms, with our friends who had watched the performance-most also crying- gathered around us, were, "ok, good, but if you could just give me more . . ."

Thank you. My children need me to find reserves of strength I didn't know I had, and energy to help them when I thought I was running on empty. YOU taught me that there's always more to give, even (perhaps especially) when you think there's not.

Forget Kindergarten--Everything I need to know I learned in the theatre.
I cried tonight.

It caught me utterly and completely by surprise, and yet there was no surprise at all. Actually, I wanted to cry so badly last week that I scheduled a time for it. I promised myself that if I could just get through the morning, and get the twins to therapy, and then get them to preschool, I could cry for a solid 90 minutes, and still have time to pull myself together before I picked them up. But then I remembered I had to go to the bank and the pharmacy, which still left me about an hour for my waterworks. And then the school called, and Fighter had a fever, so I picked both of the twins up and brought them home and made snacks and got Superhero off the bus, and it passed.

I wanted to cry for so many reasons. The utter exhaustion from being everyone’s everything. The fear and confusion of not knowing what my boys need, but being completely certain I’m not giving it to them. The unfairness of my non-smoking, non-drinking mother battling cancer, the frustration of not being able to find the house that could be our home, the worry, concern, and anger as I watch my husband struggle, more than a year later, with an injury caused by the negligence of a system that doesn’t even care enough to apologize. And so much more.

But I didn’t cry. I pulled myself together and I picked up my boys and we went on with our lives.

Tonight, though, there was no going forward. Because today, we got the preliminary results from the evaluations we’ve been waiting on for months. My creative, intelligent Superhero has Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, as well as (most likely) Asperger’s Syndrome. My little Fighter is Autistic. And my beautiful, loving Artist needs to have an MRI and CT scan to confirm a brain abnormality.

These are the same three little boys I had yesterday, last week, last month, last year. And yet the task of raising them suddenly seems so daunting, so impossible, that I don’t even know how to breathe.

How can I do this? They need so much, and they need it from me, and I just don’t know if I have it to give. And that’s not even touching on the overwhelming guilt—what on earth did I do to my children? Three children with such amazing challenges: how could that NOT, at least in some ways, be MY fault?

And so I put my children to bed, made sure they were asleep, and then I cried. I cried not in mourning for the children I don’t have, but in agony for the amazing children I DO have, and the mother they need that I’m not sure I can be. I cried in fear for a marriage already shaken by the stress of the last few years—can it possibly stand more? I cried for my mother, who I am sure is frightened and angry and frustrated in her own right, and whose only daughter is so caught up in her own world that she has little to offer. I cried because I don’t know what the future holds, but I suspect I simply am not up to confronting it.

And I cried because sometimes, there is just nothing else you can do.

Tonight, I cried.

Tomorrow, I will pull myself together and gather my boys into my arms, and we will go on with our lives.

Because sometimes, there is just nothing else you can do.

Super Powers

While driving to the pediatrician today (to find out that Fighter most likely does NOT have an ear infection, YEAH!), Fighter suddenly started clapping his hands excitedly and then began signing and saying 'Flower! Flower!'

We were passing a graveyard.

One of Fighter's superpowers is the ability to look at things in a completely different way than the norm. I love him for it, and I'm so glad he shares his views with me!

Mother's Day

One of the joys of public school that I had given little thought to until this year is the receipt of multiple handmade gifts for holidays. Christmas resulted in an absolute treasure trove of painted, glued, and glittered projects, all but the latter earning a hallowed spot in my Christmas decorations for future years (sorry, but I have an aversion to glitter, especially when it's falling off all over everything). There were a handful of items for Valentine's day, and today, Superhero came home with my Mother's day gifts.

I got a flower planted in a Dixie cup (I didn't have the heart to tell Superhero that even if it were some sort of uber plant that would grow in the dessert, it still wouldn't survive my brown thumb for more than a few weeks). I also received a silhouette--a project I've been wanting to do for a while now, and the laminated one is just impetus to make the pretty ones I bought the supplies for before Christmas. My beautiful, hand colored and written Mother's day card, says:

Dear Mom,

I love u mommy bekuls u love me oh i theink u r such a grat cook

Love *Superhero*

There are some things a six year old just can't put into words, so I decided to interpret this as 'I love you for all you are and all you do.' I honestly have no idea where the great cook came from, since he rarely eats anything I actually cook, so I can only presume that he was both hungry and dreaming about my canned ravioli skilz.

Then came both the sweetest and funniest gift of all. A xeroxed Mad Libs type page, where Superhero filled in the blanks. I giggled and laughed uproariously, and was surprised when Superhero looked over and said 'Mommy, are you crying?'--surprised to find that I was :P

My Special Mother

My mother is the most wonderful mom in the whole world!!

She's as pretty as a picture . She weighs about 10.20 pounds and she's 100 feet tall.

Her favorite color is purple.

Her favorite food is carrots w/ranch dressing.

In the good old days when Mom was a little girl, she used to play with dolls.

Her mother always made her watch tv.

I think Mom looks funny when she gets out of the bed.

My favorite outfit on her is a purple wedding dress.

I know she's angry when she grounds me.

I wish Mom would play video games and go to the playground with me everyday.

Love, *Superhero*

For the record, I do not own and have never owned a purple wedding dress--our best guess is he's referring to a burgundy nightgown I have. I can't stand ranch dressing. And I weigh a BIT more than 10.20 pounds, though I can see how 5'7" might be mistaken for 100 feet tall when you're six.